Better Latte Than Never
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Better Latte Than Never free porn video
Better Latte Than Never
By Ellie Dauber (c) 2005
"Mr. Hanson, I presume."
Al Hanson looked up. The speaker was a tall, slender man in a very
expensive-looking charcoal gray suit. "I am. Are you Jakov Pauli?"
Hanson's Missouri bottomlands accent was carefully controlled down to a
slight twang. Men found his voice friendly and attractive. Happily, so did
women.
The other man nodded. "I am. May I sit?"
"Please." Hanson noticed Pauli's thin face, expertly cut jet-black hair,
and aquiline nose. 'Old money,' he thought, 'or new money that knows what
to do with it.' It was a comforting thought. He fell into the second
category himself, but not as far in as he wanted. He was meeting Pauli as a
means of getting more of that new money, and in a way that would have
additional opportunities for accumulation later on.
They were in a coffee bar about three blocks from Hanson's office. The
place was almost empty. It was 2:30, too late for lunch, too early for the
afternoon break crowd, but perfect for meeting someone you didn't want to be
seen with.
"I am told that you may have a use for my skills."
"I may, but can you tell me a bit about yourself first. You were very
highly recommended, but my... my source was rather vague."
"To be brief. I am a remover of..." He shrugged, as if it were a minor
point. "...obstacles. I do so on a prepaid, well-agreed to basis. And I
am _very good_ at my work."
"You're an assassin," Hanson whispered. "You take money for killing
people."
The other man stiffened. "I am the fifth generation of my family to engage
in my profession, and in all that time no one in my family has killed
another human being."
"Not a very good recommendation."
"An assassin eliminates his target by ending that person's life, an
effective, if less than subtle method. I remove the person in question by
arranging for that person never to have been born."
Hanson laughed. "Never to... and how exactly do you manage that?"
"I have a small talent for altering reality. I can cause a person to have
had a different history, to have been born as a different human being. Once
this happens, they no longer present the problem they had before."
"Assuming I believe any of this, do you have any control on this new
history. Could I specify what sort of person... he becomes?"
Pauli shook his head. "No control whatsoever. Your... target may become
his female equivalent, the sister, if you will, of his original self, or she
may have no relationship to her original identity, living hundreds of miles
from here as a woman of an entirely different age and race."
"Why do you keep saying 'she'? How do you know that Kra... that _he'll_
become a woman?"
"Because the one certainty in the reality shift is a change in gender, men
become women and women, men." He shrugged again. "My family has looked
into the matter more than once, but, in all the years of investigation, we
have never been able to determine why this change always occurs."
"Well, I always did think he was a bit of a pussy." Hanson chuckled. "Will
he... will _she_ remember who she was?"
"How can she remember what -- to her -- has never been? Only I -- and my
client, of course -- ever remember."
"It'll be like he died then, only better."
"How can a person who was never born die? The identity will be gone, yes,
but the soul will survive in a new life. Call it a rebirth of identity, if
you will." Pauli took a small notebook out of a jacket pocket. "Excuse me
a moment." He looked quickly through the notebook, finally stopping on a
page. He read for a few seconds, then closed the book and put it away.
"May I ask the reason that you contacted me?"
"I found out a few days ago that I'm one of two candidates for a major
promotion in my firm. I want you to eliminate the other candidate."
"I see, but you do realize that someone else in your firm will then be in
that person's position. He or she may be just as strong a candidate for the
position you seek."
"This guy is a special case. Normally, I'd be the only candidate, based on
experience, chain of command, and such. My problem is that he and Mr.
Harriman, the head of my firm, happened to be on the same flight to London
about a year ago. They got to talking, and Kranich -- that's his name, John
Kranich -- did a hell of a sales job. He's been Harriman's fair-haired boy
ever since, and the old bastard wants to give him the job. The only reason
I'm still in the running is because of the work I've been doing and the fact
that standard policy would be to give me first shot."
"I see. If this Kranich never existed, then the position would
automatically be yours?"
"There'd still be some competition, but I've have the inside track by quite
a bit."
"And you deserve the position?"
"Damn straight. That and a lot more. I mean to run the company some day."
"I see. I'm afraid that I cannot take your commission to eliminate Mr.
Kranich."
"What do you mean?"
"I am on a..." Pauli looked thoughtful. "Call it a retainer for your Mr.
Harriman. Since you seek to do him harm, not only now by removing an asset
he values, but also in the future by eventually supplanting him as the head
of your company, said retainer is activated." He pulled a foot-long,
pencil-thin silver rod from his inside jacket pocket. He pointed it at
Hanson and whispered something too softly for the other man to make out.
Hanson flinched, as if expecting a bolt of lightening to shoot from the rod.
When nothing happened, he sat back in his chair and took a sip of the
latte he'd been drinking. "And I thought you were... What the hell." The
coffee, cup and all, disappeared from his hand.
"It begins. This should be interesting. Normally, I conduct my business in
some private place. Since this caf? owes nothing beyond that coffee to your
existence, this will be different."
Hanson stood up. "I don't know what just happened, but I'm..." He stopped.
Light in the room faded, so that there was a grayness to the place. The few
people present seemed frozen in time.
"As I expected. The shifting of realities still manifests itself in gray
uncertainty."
Hanson tried to speak, to run. To scream, but he was frozen, too. He
felt an odd sensation, a tingling as if a mild electric current was running
under his skin. He did notice that the room seemed to be growing.
He was shrinking down from 6 foot 1 to 5 foot 7. As he shrank, his body
slimmed, male angles softening to female curves. His hair flowed down over
his ears and on down until it was touching the collar of his now oversized
jacket. Light brown hair with a bit of a curl became straight, and as black
as Pauli's own hair.
His body twitched as hair vanished from his arms, his legs, his trunk. The
fabric of his clothes felt rougher against his bare skin. The sleeves of
his jacket slid down to cover his hands, hands that were smaller now, with
long, slender fingers sporting inch long nails. His pants slid down from
his narrower waist. His hips were growing, but not fast enough. The pants
fell to the floor, pooling around his ankles.
The air felt cool against his bared legs, and he shivered. His legs were
developing the slender curves of a woman, even as his hips swelled outwards,
and his butt grew into the female teardrop.
His jaw rounded. His eyes seemed to grow bigger, and there was a fold of
skin and both eyes that gave a bit of a slant to them now. His lips grew
fuller as his nose grew smaller. An invisible painter reddened his lip,
then added blusher, mascara, and a deep purple eye shadow. Bushy eyebrows
narrowed to a pair of thin arches. It was a purely feminine face that
looked years younger than Al Hanson's 32 years.
He felt a heaviness on his chest. The area around his nipples darkened. A
moment later, those nipples rose as flesh formed behind them. Narrow cones
formed that rounded to a pleasing pair of 34B breasts.
His skin lightened to a honey tone. It was a match for his hair and eyes
now, the yellow-pink skin and delicate features of an oriental.
Suddenly, he could move again. He felt his breasts push against his shirt
and remembered what Pauli had said about sex change. A hand moved quickly
down against his boxers, which were still on by virtue of the waist elastic.
The bulge was barely half the size it had been and getting smaller as he
touched it. Smaller and smaller and... a finger pressed the cloth of the
boxers into the slit that was forming. It was small but sensitive; he felt
a pleasant warmth as his finger slid in.
"Change me back, you bastard." He -- no, she -- grabbed for Pauli, but the
man stepped back. When she tried to come after him, she was trapped by the
tangle of her pants.
Pauli smiled. "Back? Why you're not even halfway there."
As Pauli said it, Hanson felt her clothes shifting. Her pants simply
disappeared, though she found that she still couldn't move.
She still had a hand against her drawers, but now white cotton boxers
softened to a frilly, ivory-colored, silk French-cut panty. Her undershirt
tightened against her body. Sleeves disappeared as the neckline lowered.
The bottom rose up, stopping just below her new breasts, and, in moments,
the shirt had become a matching bra.
Her jacket and shirt merged into a green, translucent silk with swirls of
blue. It grew down almost to her knees becoming a dress that clung to the
curves of her body. At the same time the neckline opened out almost to her
shoulders and down to show the tops of her breasts. Her tie was separate
from the dress and shifted and shrank into itself, growing more metallic
until it was a thin silver chain with a small green stone that almost sank
into her cleavage.
At the same time, her socks crept up her legs. They were shear now and
flesh colored, jointing at her hips to become pantyhose. Three hundred
dollar oxfords lightened into a pair of green, cloth sneakers.
Hanson looked down at her new body. "_Now_, I'm done. Turn me back or so
help me... so... so help..." She closed her eyes for a moment to fight the
dizziness she was feeling.
Allison Chan opened her eyes and looked at the man sitting at table nine.
"So," she started, "have you decided what you'd like?" Her Taiwanese accent
was barely noticeable after living 15 of her 19 years in the U.S.
The man nodded. "A cinnamon latte with low fat milk, please, and one of
those almond biscotti to go with it."
Allison wrote the order on the small pad she was carrying. "Have it for you
in a jiff." She turned and hurried off. She was back in minutes with the
order. The place was almost empty, so she sat down at a table next to the
kitchen. She opened up the copy of _People_ she'd been reading, an article
on that hunky Ben Affleck.
Jakov Pauli took a sip of his latte. He took out the notebook, turning to
the page for Harriman Industries. The list of names Harriman had given him,
the over-ambitious ones, who might be a threat, was one name shorter. Since
Al Hanson had never existed, how could his name have been on the list.
Harriman would know what had happened, though. That was part of the magic.
The client always knew. Jakov took a bite of the biscotti and thought about
the extra charge that would be on Harriman's next billing. Retainer removals
weren't as large as some of the other types of charges, but they would do.
They would certainly do.
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