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Ready - OK Prologue Estelle Bailey loved being the boss. As manager of the regional office of Caldwell Pharmaceuticals, she had staff of twenty-three minions at her beck and call. She also loved her new figure - when her prick of her husband ran off with the secretary he'd gotten pregnant, she channeled her rage into self-improvement. Granted, some of her changes had been surgical, but whenever she looked in the mirror and saw the knockout blonde with the tight body that would have been hot for thirty-two, let alone the forty-two she'd never admit, she felt a great sense of accomplishment. If Dwayne could see what he was missing, he'd be begging her to let him come back, and she'd be laughing in his face. She enjoyed dressing a little more provocatively than the women who worked under her, and flirted casually with most of the men, confident in the knowledge that most of them were turned on by imagining her naked. But Corporate had recently issued some very strong memos about sexual harassment, so she had to cut back on overtly showing herself off. However, holiday parties were still allowed, and that gave Estelle a plan on how she could strut her stuff without fear of being fired. She called everybody into the conference room for a meeting after lunch on Friday, September 28: She was the last to arrive, and entered carrying a stack of papers and a plastic pumpkin, the sort that children use for trick-or-treating. She took the top two pages off the pile, and handed the rest off to her administrative assistant Sue to be passed around. Estelle told Sue to take one and pass the rest around. She wished she'd been able to hire some cute young male secretary, but she knew that when a customer calls in and gets a male voice on the line, they don't like to be transferred to a female voice; it makes them feel like they've been passed down. But Sue was competent, and looked older than she really was, so it just made her look that much better in comparison. Estelle explained her reason for gathering everyone. "Our office had a very good third quarter, better than the other divisions, so corporate has approved letting me give everyone a bonus." At this news, the room cheered! "And I thought that it would be fun if we threw a party to celebrate." There were more cheers! "Since it's the next big holiday coming up, a Halloween party makes the most sense." The cheering faded a little. "Because great teamwork got us those profits, I decided that everyone should wear a costume based on the theme 'Uniforms.' I've got a list of possible uniforms here, and I'll be passing them out." The cheering stopped. "So if you wear your assigned costume, and go to the Sweeping Pines Tavern on Saturday, October 27 from 7:30 pm through til question mark, I'll be handing out the bonus checks. The directions are on the sheets you've just been handed. Please let Sue know your meal selections before Friday the 12th. And there will be extra cash prizes for the best interpretation of the 'uniform' concept, most authentic costume, best presentation, most original costume, and a random door prize. If you want to poop the party, you'll still get your bonus check on the following Monday, but you'll be out of the running for the extra prizes." The attitude of the crowd was blank. "Did I mention the party would have an open bar?" The cheers came back. "And now without further ado, here are your costume assignments. You can bring a date to the party, but they will need to match your theme." So that it wouldn't look like she was cheating, she showed her sheet of heavier orange cardstock paper with costume names on it to the room, then creased it in quarters vertically and in sixths horizontally, then tore it along the creases into twenty-four pieces, and folded each piece in half before dropping it in her plastic pumpkin. Then she went around the room and for each person, she reached her hand into the pumpkin, swished it around a little, and handed the lucky person their appointed costume. Now there were some costumes in the bucket that she knew could become very sexy on her, but she didn't want to give them out to any of the other women. So she used a little trick. The special sexy costumes were the eight in the middle of the paper, so they had torn edges all the way around. The boring plain ones were all on the outside, so there was at least one perfectly straight edge. All Estelle had to do was feel the edges and know whether a costume was safe to hand to a given employee. Her plan worked brilliantly. The younger, attractive women all got stuck with hideous uniforms. Teresa the cute Latina customer service rep had to be an astronaut, so she'd be in a shapeless jumpsuit. Lynne the statuesque redhead who served as admin for the sales department, would be in the ugly uniform of a marching band member, looking like a high school geek. Beth the petite brunette admin would have to be a police officer. And best of all, Dina the perky blonde receptionist got stuck as a "Football player." Her figure would be obscured with bulky pads, and her sweet face would be hidden under a helmet. Estelle's secret extra sexy costume ideas were concealed among the men. Joe the head of sales got assigned the flight attendant uniform. She would have been a foxy stewardess from the sixties if she'd gotten that one, but he'd be stuck in a suit not too much unlike his usual work clothes. Jim the hot young stud working as a sales intern would have to play "housekeeper." Her plan for that one was going to be a French maid, but Jim would probably end up hidden under a janitor's coverall. Instead of Estelle dressing up as a naughty nurse, the fortyish African-American salesman Steve would probably just show up in scrubs. The supersized customer service rep Fred was handed "waiter/waitress," which was really too bad. She was going to spin that one as a Playboy bunny. The boring but efficient Craig from accounting got to be a cheerleader and bald, wrinkled Al from the shipping department would be dressed up as a superhero, so no miniskirt and go-go boots for Estelle. And no sexy Catholic schoolgirl uniform for her either, as Ken the nerdy intern ended up with "private school student." But the one Estelle did pull wasn't too bad. She'd be dressing as a "lifeguard," which means she'd get to show off her body in front of them wearing nothing but swimwear. Chapter 1: Craig's Plan So that's how it ended up that Craig Brooks, the office's accountant, ended up getting a card that said "Cheerleader." Now Craig had three main flaws in his personality, which were part of what made him such a good accountant. He was a perfectionist; he'd never do something unless he did it completely and correctly. And he was also persistent; once he started on a path it was hard to knock him off of it. And finally, he was socially awkward; although a part of him wanted to be friendly with the people around him he just didn't know how to talk to them and usually kept to himself working quietly. So in the big meeting when his card was read and Steve from sales said "Oooh Baby! I can't wait to see you shake your pompoms," it put an image in his head of what a cheerleader was, and that image was a cute girl in a short skirt. If he had been a little more sociable, he could have talked to some friends who would have noticed that Estelle only handed out costumes that could have worked for either a man or a woman, or reminded him that Will Ferrell used to play a male cheerleader on SNL, or even that George W. Bush was a cheerleader in college. But Craig really didn't think of any of that, he thought he was going to have to find a way to become a girl cheerleader in time for the party. So when he got home, he hopped onto the internet and started searching. First he went looking for "cheerleader uniforms" and found a place where he could order all of the pieces, once he figured out his sizes. He went and got the tape measure from his sewing kit and started getting his measurements, but then realized he'd need something to serve as breasts. He had to back up the plan a little. First he needed to make himself look like a girl, and then he needed to make that girl into a cheerleader. So he went looking for "cross- dressing tips" and got down to a message board where he could get ideas on how a first-timer could dress as a woman for Halloween. When he said expense didn't matter, (he figured that he could call it all a work-related expense and write it off) he was told he ought to get a decent set of breast forms, a "gaff" to hide his male genitals, a panty with bun and hip pads, and a cincher to reduce his waist, and sent a link for a site where to get them. One of the nice people even told him how to measure his chest for a bra, so he could pick the right size of breast forms. He decided he wanted to be a 38C, and placed an order. They also gave him links to where he could get videos that could teach him how to talk, walk, and to generally act like a woman. Now that he knew the right size, he then went back and ordered a cheerleader uniform. He went with a shell top and pleated skirt in black and gold, the colors of the company logo, mostly black with yellow stripes. Also he got a gold cheer brief that was designed to be shown if he did any high kicks or jumps, and got a pair of shiny black and gold pompons so he could shake them at Steve. For good measure, he also got a team jacket that he could wear over his uniform, embroidered with a big Caldwell where the school name would be on the back and a "CJB" monogram in cursive letters on the front. He also ordered white cheering shoes, after finding a conversion chart for male to female sizes, and white cheering socks with yellow stripes. They also sold sports bras, so he threw one onto his order. Then he went searching for a DVD that could teach him beginning cheering techniques, so he could try for the award for "best presentation." The experts also told him that if his hair wasn't long enough, he should get the best wig he could afford. But when he said he might be moving around vigorously as a cheerleader and a wig could fall off, they said he might want to consider hair extensions instead, which can be a little more secure. They advised him in either case to find a beauty salon that could give him a full treatment. So the next day he pulled out the yellow pages and scanned for a place that advertised waxing and hair extensions, but he didn't want to be embarrassed by going to a place that looked too big, so he called a few places that had fairly small ad boxes in the phone book. The first one he called laughed at the idea. The second one called him a pervert. But then he called "Scissors of Mercy." The girl on the other end of the line said that they'd done that sort of thing before, and if he came around at noon she could check him out and see if there was any potential. So he got the nerve up to go there and try, and expected to be mortified. But it turned out not to be like what he expected a beauty parlor to look like. It had mirrors and chairs like he'd expected, but the rest was a bit unusual. It was painted mostly black, but lit with neon tubes in interesting patterns on the ceiling. Some music he was unfamiliar with was pouring out of a speaker somewhere, and the receptionist by the door was a blonde in her twenties with a couple dozen piercings on her face and a tribal tattoo circling her right forearm. She wore a pink dress with a little white apron that looked like diner waitress uniform (with a nametag that said "Madge") and a pair of canvas high-top sneakers over black fishnet stockings. He said his name was Craig and he'd called earlier, and she told him to have a seat. The chairs in the waiting area looked as though they had once been attached to high school desks. He wasn't waiting long. Shortly Madge returned with a taller girl. She had very short pink hair, with a pattern of purple leopard spots in it. Her ears had at least six sets of holes in them, with connected little rings. She wore a lacy, silky, strappy black top that looked as far as Craig could tell like a bra, and an ultra-short pink mini-skirt that slung low across her hips. There was a stylized art deco black cat sitting in a martini glass tattooed on her left shoulder, and a set of tiny paw prints led a trail from just below her jeweled navel along a winding course that disappeared below her waistband. She held out a hand with long purple fingernails. "Hi, I'm Kitty. We spoke on the phone. Now, I can tell you're looking around and thinking you've come to the wrong place. But as I get a good look at you here, I can see you've got decent bones. We could give your inner girl the chance to come out and play, and I could make her look really pretty." Craig tried to protest. "I was challenged to look like a cheerleader, and my idea isn't to go for some punk/goth wild look, but rather more traditional. I think I'd better try somewhere else." "Hang on! Just because I don't choose the Wendy Whitebread look for myself, doesn't mean I don't know how to create it. If you want to look like the Homecoming Queen, we can do it. I'll make a deal with you. Give me 20 minutes of your time in my chair for a free makeover right now, and if I don't give you what you're looking for, you can find someone else. But if I totally nail what you're after, you agree to let me give you the full treatment. I promise that what I do now will come off and leave you exactly the way you are now - no permanent or lasting changes. I've heard of guys who wanted to do this before, but I've never had the chance to do it to one myself. So please give me a chance." Since it was free, Craig figured he didn't have anything to lose but his dignity, and that was pretty much gone anyway, since Kitty had been talking loud enough for the whole room to hear. She led him to an ancient adjustable chair that may have come from an evil dentist's office, and threw a cape around his shoulders, and put a tight little cap on his head that was like the toe of a giant stocking and poked his hair up under it all around. Then she placed him completely at her mercy by taking his glasses off and setting them on a counter. She rolled over a cart of something and told him not to worry; it wouldn't hurt a bit. He couldn't really see what was happening, but he felt some wet sponges on his face, and some powdering, and she made him pucker his lips while she brushed on lipstick with a little paintbrush-like thing, and then she told him to close his eyes, and something touched his lids and brushed his lashes and there was some poking and when she told him to open his eyes they felt heavier, and then there was some more powdering, and she did something to his eyebrows saying, "When we do this for real, I'll tweeze your brows down to beauty, but for now, I'll be masking them out and drawing in new ones." Then he was told to close his eyes and lean forward, and she put something on his head. He felt something brushing his neck and figured it was a wig. "Ok. Open your eyes." He looked up and saw a hand mirror in front of his face with a blurry girl looking at him. "Ahh, I get it. You can't see without your glasses. I have a solution. Look at me and smile, like your team just won the big game." He laughed and turned toward her and there was a flash, and he heard a motor. "Ok, now bat your eyes and open your mouth halfway in a little pout, like I'm the quarterback and you're going to give it up in the backseat of my dad's car." He laughed again and tried to make a sexy face, and there was another flash. "And finally, roll your eyes and purse your lips into a lemon-sucking bitch face, like you just found out the co-captain of your squad already did the quarterback." That was the silliest expression yet, and she took another photo. Then she perched his glasses on his face down near the end of his nose, and he got a better look in the mirror. He saw a cute bookish girl with huge eyes and a tiny nose, and a slight pink flush to her cheeks. She had light brown hair in wispy bangs on her forehead and waves down to her shoulders. He smiled at her and she smiled back, fluttering her eyelashes. Kitty showed him the Polaroids, and the girl in the pictures looked even cuter without his glasses messing up her look. "So, what do you think? Is that the look you wanted? I think for the real deal we'll want to go blonde - when I think cheerleader, I think blonde - but that was the only wig I had handy. It's actually mine; I wear it when I go visit the grandmother I still respect. We may be able to use your real hair and some extensions when the time comes," and she stopped either for a breath or to let him answer. He said "Wow," and felt himself becoming slightly aroused by the kissable lips in the mirror. "I think you nailed it. You're hired. Let me make an appointment, and you can tell me how much it's going to cost." Kitty took his glasses off, pointing out that he really ought to get contacts before the party if he wanted to make it work, ideally if he could get ones that made his eyes blue it would fit the all-American blonde cheerleader image better. Then she took another picture that she said was for her own use, and wouldn't be shown to anyone, and she took his wig off and started cleansing his face with a variety of lotions, sponges, and wipes. She then got out a memo pad and started writing something down. "I figure there's no better time to start this project than tonight. Go out and get everything on this list, then go home and take a shower so you're clean and dry everywhere then come back here with everything at 9, after we've closed to the public, and you can get your first waxing. That will cost $400, but we can take a credit card." He agreed and left the store. Kitty's "shopping list" was a bit odd, but Craig figured that was par for the course. He needed to get a scrubbing pouf (he didn't know what that was, until he got to the store and asked a clerk, then realized that the little scribble next to it on the list was a picture of one) and a bottle of exfoliating body wash, with coordinating after-bath lotion, a three-pack of size 7 women's bikini panties, a quart of chilled cranberry juice, a quart of chilled vodka, two one-liter bottles of water, and a bag of ice. Also, it said he needed to bring four of his favorite CDs. It almost felt like a scavenger hunt. But he did as he was told and showed up at the shop at 8:45, with a plastic grocery bag in each hand. Madge looked up from the counter and said "We're closing. Come back tomorrow or make an appointment." He said that Kitty told him to be there, so she shouted to the back of the room. A door opened and Kitty's head poked through. She said, "Ring him up for 400 bucks and then you can go home." Turning toward Craig, she added "When she's done with you, come back here. I'm just finishing setting up." Madge took his credit card and ran it through the register. She handed it back and said, "All set. Go on back there." He politely replied "Thanks, Madge," but she sneered at him "My name's not Madge" on her way out. What kind of weirdos had he gotten himself mixed up with? It was his last chance to back out and run away, but since he'd already paid he felt he needed to see this thing through to completion. He picked up his bags and walked across to the door. Chapter 2: Ouch! Unlike the gloomy black of the main salon, the back room was done in a calming blue. There was a counter with a couple of sinks and some kind of tools, and in the center of the little room was a large black adjustable chair with a stool next to it. Kitty directed Craig to sit in the chair, and she pulled some levers to recline his back slightly, and raise his feet. She then started looking through the bags he'd brought. She dumped the bag of ice into a sink, and made a little nest in it for the bottles after pouring some into two coffee cups and handing one to Craig. "Here you go. I figured it would be easier for you if you were a little drunk, and vodka-cranberry is the kind of semi-sophisticated cocktail a cheerleader would have at a cheap party." She nodded approval of his choice in brands for bath products, and put them back in their bag. She then held up the panties. The three-pack was a pink pair, a white pair, and a pair with pink and white stripes. "You made an interesting color choice. And the cut of these was a bold decision. They're almost a string bikini. I'll bet they'll look really cute on you." Craig blushed deeply and took a big swallow from his cup. She then turned a portable stereo on and loaded his CDs into the changer, commenting, "I never would have figured you for a 'classic rock' guy," as Led Zeppelin started coming out of the speakers. She told him to take his shoes off. To get him more relaxed, they'd be starting with a pedicure. She pumiced his calluses then trimmed, filed, and buffed his toenails. His hygiene was pretty good for a guy; there wasn't too much gross stuff under his nails. "Is anyone going to be seeing your feet in the next few weeks who doesn't know about your plan? Have you told your wife what's going on?" "Um, I'm not married," he stammered. "I don't think anyone will be seeing my feet. Why?" "I thought all you uptight square guys were married. Have you got a girlfriend, then?" she asked, while massaging his foot. Switching to a tickle, she teased, "Or is it a boyfriend?" "I'm not gay! I know I'm paying you to make me look like a girl, but it's not because I want a guy." He wasn't sure why he didn't want her to think he was gay. "And no, I don't have a girlfriend, at the moment." Was he trying to flirt with her? That would not be a good idea. "But why does it matter who sees my feet?" Noticing his cup had somehow become empty he added, "Can I get a refill?" She got up and poured him another drink. "Because this is the part in your pedicure where I'm about to put nail polish on your toes. So if anyone was going to see them it would let the cat out of the bag. Now I have a more important question for you: what kind of cheerleader are you?" "What do you mean?" "There are basically two kinds of girls who become cheerleaders: bitchy and perky. The bitchy cheerleader is the kind of girl who joined the squad because it's expected of her in her role as alpha female. She's usually regarded as one of the prettiest girls in her class, and she uses her sexuality to rule; cheering is just an extension of that. She's got a boyfriend on the team she cheers for, but will only keep him as long as he provides her with status. She may put out on special occasions in exchange for jewelry, but she's generally more of a tease than a slut. She likes being able to keep the boys frustrated; it proves she has power over them. The head cheerleader is almost always the bitchy type, but she will also have minions that model themselves after her. But in many cases the rank and file will be the perky kind. The perky cheerleader joined the squad because she's all about 'school spirit.' She truly believes that her cheering helps the team she's cheering for play better. While Bitchy is doing cheers to make all the boys in the stadium want to fuck her, Perky is actually trying to get the crowd excited about the game, so she sometimes is actually better at it than Bitchy. She probably has a boyfriend on the team she cheers for, and she dreams of following him to college, marrying him and having his babies. She may be saving herself, or she may have let him take her virginity. He's most likely planning to get her drunk enough that she'll blow the whole team at the party at the end of the season. So which are you?" "You've really thought a lot about it. Were you a cheerleader in school?" Kitty laughed uncontrollably for too long. "Hell, no. While it's true I didn't do all of this," gesturing to display herself, "until after I graduated, I never exactly fit in with the popular crowd. High school is all about cliques and social strata. Although I will admit that for a year I was vaguely associated with the squad and got to watch them at close range. Don't laugh, but I was in the band." Craig tried not to giggle, but he let out a little noise. "Hey! I told you not to, but yes, I was briefly a band geek. I played alto sax." She topped off his drink and asked, "So have you decided which kind of cheerleader you are?" "Does it matter? Do I have to decide now?" "It matters a great deal. I need to know what kind of look to prepare for, and you've only got a month to practice your persona. You have to decide now because it impacts which color I use on your toes." She held up two bottles of nail polish. "If you're the bitchy cheerleader, you get evil burgundy. If you're the perky cheerleader, you get bubblegum pink." "I don't think I could handle being bitchy and evil. Let's go with the pink." "Good call. I think sweet and innocent fits you better." She shook up the bottle of pink polish, wedged some contoured pieces of foam between his toes, and started painting his nails. "Now that that's settled, have you thought of a name? When I'm finished with you, you won't look much like a 'Craig.' A Perky girl usually has a name that ends in a Y, or EY or IE or the worst just an I or even worst worst an EE." "Your name ends in a Y. Are you sure you're not a cheerleader?" "Ha ha. Don't make me mess up or I'll have to clean it off and start over. Not every girl with a Y is a Perky, but most Perkies are girls with Ys." "Oh, ok. I won't push it. But since I already got my real monogram put on my cheering stuff, I'll have to use a name beginning with a C. Could I borrow your real name? Isn't 'Kitty' usually short for 'Katherine?' I could be 'Cathy' with a C." "Kitty isn't short for anything. It's a nickname that was given to me that I chose to make my own." "What's your real name?" "My real self is named Kitty. Now I'm done with the first coat, but try not to move your feet while it dries." "What did your name used to be? Is it embarrassing or something? Wait - are you really a guy? Is that why you agreed to do this?" Craig tried to sit up, but the chair was tilted too far back. "No, no. Settle back there. You don't want to smudge your polish. If you really want to know, I'll tell you. I'm not a guy, although I guess I'm flattered that you think I could make one look like me. You're probably going to laugh at me again, but I expect you'll be even more embarrassed later, so try not to. My name was Laura." "I don't see what's so bad about that." "Let me finish. My name was Laura Katz, and there were these obnoxious bullies that used to tease me and call me Kitty Katz all through school, but when I turned 18 and got my first tattoo I decided I wasn't going to be pushed around anymore, I decided to own my own identity and claimed 'Kitty' for myself with some cat-themed ink, and I kept going with the theme over the years. Hey! You didn't laugh." She went and got him another refill. "I forgot I was supposed to. So when did you get the spots in your hair?" "They're new this year. I had streaks before, but I wanted a new look, and my partner Zell said she'd seen a technique for doing leopard style dying, and I let her try it out on me." "Your partner, eh? If you're a lesbian, why were you asking if I had a girlfriend earlier?" "She's my business partner, Stupid! When I got my esthetician's license, I didn't want to work for someone else anymore, so I got some like-minded friends together and we drew up a partnership plan. I'm one of the owners of this place - do you think a common employee would be allowed to handle a special customer like you after hours? And while I have tried the whole lesbian thing as part of my counterculture rebellion, I found it wasn't for me, and I don't know why I'm telling you this. I was so not hitting on you before; I was just asking about a girlfriend to make small talk. Really. So, where were we? Oh yeah, if you need a C name, I don't have one to give you, sorry. Although 'Cathi' could work just fine as a Perky name, although I'd go with an I rather than a Y, if only to make it less like that loser from the funny pages. Now hold still while I do a second coat." "I guess I could be a Cathi. I've never really thought about it." "I have. If I was a guy, I'd want to be a Felix, like the cat. But not a gay Felix like the Odd Couple guy, more like a Puerto Rican boxer." "You'd want to be a macho guy? You don't seem all that butch now, even when I did think you were a lesbian." "Thanks, I think. But really, what would be the point in becoming a man if I was going to be a girly one? I can be as girly as I want to be now as an actual girl. No, if I became a man, I'd want to be manly as well, with ripped muscles and a great big piece of man-meat that I'd use to drive the ladies wild; I'd leave you begging for more, Cathi, I'm sure. Ok, now we want this coat to dry, but we don't want to wait forever, so I'll put your feet under the dryer and it will be done in no time." Kitty adjusted the chair so he was sitting upright and lowered his feet and brought out a device that would blow warm air onto his toes. She worried that Craig might be getting too drunk to drive home on his own, so she asked him for his address and wrote it down, just in case she had to tell a cab where to take him. Then she had him take out his keys and show which one opened his townhouse door, and she took it from him and painted a pink spot on it with the nail polish to make it easier to pick out. She put the bottle in the bag with his bath products, so he could repair any chips. In only a few minutes his toes were dry to the touch. She then led him back into the main room of the salon and showed him the door to the bathroom. Handing him his pink panties, she said, "Next we're going to start your wax, so I want you to strip when you're in there, and come back wearing only these. You know, you might want to try sitting down to go, for practice. Make sure you wipe everything dry when you're done. We don't want any drips. And be gentle on your toes when you take your pants off; the polish might not be finished drying." Craig did sit down, but mainly because he was feeling a little tipsy and it was easier. It also gave him a good look at the color on his toes. He'd thought it was rather pale in the jar and wouldn't be so noticeable, but it was actually a fairly bold pink. Did he really want to do this? Maybe it was the liquor, but he was actually getting more curious about this whole project, so what the hell! He carefully pulled his feet out of his pants while he was sitting there and stepped into his panties. The color almost matched his toes. He remembered to wipe before pulling them up. He wasn't sure whether Kitty was expecting him to tuck his stuff under, so he just left it bulging in front. He took his shirt off and folded it on top of his pants. The linoleum on the salon floor was cold on his bare feet, so he quickly scampered back to the other room. Kitty had reconfigured the chair so that it was flat like a bed or a table. The headrest had been taken off and in its place was a round hole. She took his clothes from him and turned to place them on the counter, while peeking in the pile to see if he wore boxers or briefs - both, as it turns out: boxer briefs. She grabbed her Polaroid and took a picture of him standing there. He complained, but she showed that him that his head was completely out of the shot - she just wanted to have a set of before and after images to show him the difference. He relented and even turned around for her to shoot another of his back. This done, she pointed him at the chair/table/bed. "Hop up here and lie down, with your face looking through here. I'll be starting on your back because it's easier, and a little less embarrassing for you." When he was in position, she pulled out a strap from under the table and ran it around his waist. "Hey! I wasn't looking for some kinky bondage stuff." "Just relax. It's merely a restraint to keep you from moving." She secured another strap around the back of his neck. "We use them mostly when we're doing piercings or tattoos, but since this is your first wax, you may be tempted to flinch. If you move too much, you could mess up what I'm doing, or worse get injured. And they'll keep you from taking a swing at me, as a reflex." She repositioned what had been the arms of the chair so they were sticking straight out like a crucifix, and strapped his arms down at the shoulder and wrist. Then she did something he wasn't expecting. She went back to his waist, and grabbed his panties and quickly pulled them down to his feet and off. He gasped. "Now how would you have expected me to wax your fuzzy little ass if you were still wearing these?" He could feel his face reddening. She then strapped his ankles down, and he realized that the foot end of the table was split, so each leg could be adjusted separately. She swung his legs slightly apart, and strapped him in at the knees. "I don't want you to kick me in the head, either. Now you're all strapped in." She went around to the front and poked her head under so he could see her. "Let me know if you have to use the restroom so I can undo all these, or fetch a bucket if it's too urgent. Do you want another drink? I've got a straw." "No thanks. I don't want to have to worry about that bucket. Maybe later." "Ok, now what I'm going to do is spread warm wax on you, press a strip of cloth into it, give it a few seconds to cool, then rip off the cloth, which will have stuck to the wax, along with most of your hairs on that area, as well as a thin layer of dead skin cells. Now it's probably going to hurt a little at first, kind of like ripping off a band-aid, but you'll get used to it after a while." She loosened the strap on his left shoulder, and started there. There was only a little hair there, but it was dark enough to matter. The heat of the wax was a new feeling for him; it almost felt nice. But the sudden ripping was something he was not prepared for. He let out a little noise. "Don't be afraid to shout or cry if it hurts. Remember that you're not Craig the big boy who doesn't cry, but Cathi the little girl who isn't concerned with trying to pretend to be tough." She worked her way down the back of his arm, adjusting the straps out of the way when necessary. She went across his back at the base of his neck, did the other shoulder and then down the other arm. By the time she was getting the hairs from his knuckles, he was weeping noticeably. He said he was ready for that straw, and she brought his drink over to beneath him and put a straw in his mouth. She wiped his face with a cloth, then went back and rubbed some soothing lotion into the pink skin on his arms. "It will be ok, Sweetie. Just hang in there. The stinging will fade." Next she did his legs, working from ankle to hip, stopping at the outside of his. He was able to bear it a little better, maybe because he knew what to expect, or maybe it was just the booze killing the pain; his latest vodka-cranberry was far more vodka than cranberry. Then it started to get trickier. She adjusted his legs so that they were spread wider, and got in there to wax between his buttocks. "Now this next part is going to hurt a little more, but it is definitely worth it. I've gotten it done myself several times. There's just nothing as sexy as a completely naked ass. I'm going to use a topical anesthetic that will help a little, but it won't numb you completely." Then Craig felt a cold spray on and around his anus, followed by the warm wax. He braced himself for it, but the intensity of the pain still came as a shock. He screamed, "Yowch! Are you sure this is really necessary? I don't really need a sexy asshole. I'm sure I'll be keeping my underwear on through the whole party - nobody's going to even see it." "You'll know. It really helps a girl's attitude when she knows she's feeling sexy, even if she hasn't got a guy to show herself to. Sometimes you wear your prettiest lingerie just for you. Trust me on this." She ripped out some more hairs and he shrieked again. "Besides, if you think this is bad, wait until we do the front. Consider this training for that. Now I'm going to do part of your perineum now, and catch the rest after we flip you over." He felt some more cold spray lower down, which must be where a perineum is, but the waxing there didn't quite feel as harsh. When Kitty finished and followed up with lotion all over his behind, she took extra care around his hole, and he thought he felt her rubbing a little of the lotion inside him. He let out a sigh of relief that was almost a moan of pleasure, and felt himself starting to become aroused. That could be a problem. He tried to remember the pain and put the soothing sensation out of his mind, so she wouldn't notice anything while she worked on unstrapping him. When the last of the straps was off, Kitty gave him a playful pat on his silky smooth bottom. "Ok, Cathi. Time to get up." She took his hand and helped him roll over and sit up. He moved a hand to his lap to cover things. "Your modesty is cute, but I'm going to be working down there soon. Do you want to take another bathroom break before we start again?" He nodded shyly. "I can give you your panties again if it will make you more comfortable." He nodded again, and she handed them to him and turned around to give him some privacy. Craig slipped them on and felt odd that wearing little pink panties was making him less uncomfortable. He looked at his arms and they didn't really seem different, although he could imagine that they were more feminine. He didn't really have a strong mental picture of himself as a particularly hairy guy. He was a little wobbly after Kitty helped him to his feet, but he was able to make his way to the powder room on his own. He sat down, even though there was some tenderness, and noticed the smoothness of his behind as he pulled down his panties. He ran his hands along the back of his hairless thighs, and down his silky calves - this did feel sexy! Oh no, there was a problem. He was turning himself on. He considered trying to masturbate himself to release, but he figured Kitty would somehow be able to tell that he had, so he just had to wait until he calmed down. He looked down at his pink toenails and tried to focus on how much the rest of this was going to hurt. Eventually he relaxed to the point where he could do his business, wipe himself, wash his hands, and return to where Kitty was waiting. The only thing that had changed in the room this time was that the headrest was plugging the hole in the table/chair again. It was still in a flat configuration. She had him lie down, face up this time, and put his arms out in a T again. The straps went around his waist, his neck and his arms, and then she pulled down his panties again. He flushed beet red and squirmed a little, trying to cross his legs, but she pushed his thighs down and strapped them in, and did the same to his ankles. He was helpless, vulnerable, and very embarrassed. Kitty tried to put him at ease by not staring, but she still started by spreading his legs apart. "Your legs look funny with smooth backs but hairy fronts, so we'll finish them first." Since he wasn't stuck looking at the floor this time, Craig got to see more of the waxing process. It was interesting in its way. She had a pot over on the counter on something like a hot plate that must have been the wax. She stirred this big flat stick that was kind of like a giant Popsicle stick or tongue depressor around in the pot, and then spread the wax out onto him like butter on toast. Then she took a strip of cloth like a bandage and stuck it into the wax. Since she was starting with his toes, the strips were very small, but they got bigger as she worked her way up his leg. The downside to being able to see what was happening is that now he was able to anticipate the pains and was tensing up in advance, which was causing the wax to pull unevenly. She had to distract him somehow. "You know, it really doesn't seem fair that you're lying there nude while I'm completely clothed. I should at least meet you halfway, don't you think?" She took off her top, and the bounce of her 32B's and the glittering of her nipple rings got his attention. He wasn't watching the wax anymore. Guys are so predictable! He was getting a bit of an erection, but that could be an advantage when she got to waxing the bikini area, so she pretended not to notice. Craig couldn't help but look. Despite all the things Kitty had done to make herself look weird and unusual, she was still incredibly sexy. And it had been so long since he had been this close to a bare breast. Was she flirting with him, or was going topless just more of her nonconformity? He just couldn't understand women. Maybe what he was doing now with sort of becoming one, well pretending at least, would give him some insight into the female mind. The rings in each of her nipples were strange and unusual, but he didn't find them a turn-off. He could imagine touching one and seeing if it was held tightly in there, or if it could swing around in the hole. He was now picturing her leaning forward and seeing them swinging down into a vertical position. Would they swing back and forth during sex? His fantasy visions of swinging rings made him think of door knockers, and then the idea of "knockers on knockers" just set him giggling like crazy. "I didn't realize this was tickling you, but you'll have to cut that out. Your shaking like that is about to make me mess up, and your legs are almost finished." "Sorry. I guess I've gotten used to the pain, because I didn't notice how far you'd gotten." Pleased that her distraction plan was working, Kitty smiled to herself. The last few strips on his thigh went quickly. "Ok, the legs are done. I could continue working down here and do your bikini area, or would you rather I save that for last?" As she massaged lotion into his legs, she noticed that he was still very aroused. "What are my other choices?" "I could do your underarms next, which is tricky, but shouldn't take too long, and usually doesn't hurt too much. Or I could do your stomach and chest, which is easy and the skin is not particularly sensitive so it will only feel really painful when I get to the hair around your nipples. Or I could do your genital region which will probably hurt like hell. The other side was really rough on you, so we might want to save that for last. But if we do your bikini area first, I'll let you put your panties back on when I'm done. I guess it all boils down to how long do you want to be completely naked?" "Now that you mention it, I am feeling a little too exposed. So let's go with that." Kitty thought that he ought to get another drink in that case, so she loosened his neck strap and helped hold his head up with one hand and brought his cup over in the other so he could reach the straw. He took a few strong sips and felt heat in his throat and his head swam. "I don't think I'll be driving tonight. I'm starting to get a tit bipsy," he slurred, while stealing a sidelong glance at her chest. Kitty winked at him and gently set his head back down on the headrest. Then she went around and adjusted his legs so that were spread apart as wide as he'd let her. Some of the hairs were fairly long, so she started out by trimming things with a pair of scissors, teasing Craig, "If you want I can make you even more girlish with a couple of snips in the right place while I'm down here." He laughed uncomfortably, so she didn't push the joke any further. She used more of the anesthetic this time, but it still hurt. He shrieked. "It won't be too much longer, Honey. I promise. You know, you might want to consider keeping things trimmed down here even after Cathi goes away. 'Manscaping,' as it's called, is gaining popularity among the metrosexual crowd. Maybe you've seen the commercial of the guy with an electric shaver and a pair of kiwis. But really, a lot of guys are going for it. For one, it just looks cleaner and neater. Second, it's a courtesy to any potential partner you want giving you oral satisfaction - hairs are just not appetizing. And finally, there's the thing that real estate brokers tell you: trim the hedges smaller and it makes the house look bigger. Not to imply there's anything wrong with your house; I've known guys who've made do with a lot less, but would you really turn down the illusion of a couple extra inches? Oh, by the way, I meant to ask you earlier. Are you Jewish?" Craig was feeling a little overwhelmed, so it took him a while to appreciate that he'd been asked a question. "Um, no. I'm not Jewish. I was raised Presbyterian. Why?" "I could have introduced you to my grandmother, who's always worrying that I won't meet any decent guys. She'd have liked you. All the gentile guys I've known were uncut, sorry to assume." He finally realized what she was talking about and turned beet red. "Can we talk about something else?" "Ok. You need to make another decision anyway. What shape do you want me to make Cathi's bush?" His blank stare caused her to elaborate. She stood up and faced him. "It's going to be smooth and clear-cut all in here," and gestured with her hands along the tops of her inner thighs. "And smooth along the sides of where your vulva would be. But we can leave a little patch of hair up here," indicating the base of her pubic mound. "And that can be formed in a variety of shapes," and she drew the shapes with her fingers. "There's your basic triangle, or the long rectangle that you've probably seen in porn, or a little square if you favor extremely low- slung bottoms, or a trapezoid that's sort of a cross between the triangle and the rectangle, or the ever-popular romantic heart. Which do you prefer, or we could just go baby-smooth all over?" Trying to see if he could embarrass her for a change he asked, "What shape is yours?" It didn't work. She called his bluff. "I've got a rectangle, your standard 'landing-strip.' Want to see? I even dyed the carpet to match the curtains." He caved. "Maybe later. I guess I'll go with a triangle, or Cathi will, or whatever. Unless a Perky is supposed to go with the heart?" "Actually, that's an astute observation, but Perky would probably only get a heart on the day she's planning on letting her boyfriend take her virginity. If Cathi isn't anticipating having sex after the big game, I think a triangle is fine. Hearts are a bitch to maintain, and usually get turned into triangles anyway." The conversation had been an effective distraction, and she was almost done with the really painful part. It didn't even seem like he'd noticed that she'd been touching his genitals. She framed out a perfect little triangle, and cleared all around it. When she was done with the genital area, she swung his legs back together. Then she massaged the after-waxing lotion all over the area, and he became very excited. She tried to be thorough without lingering in any place for too long. "Can I get my underwear back now?" "Not yet. I want to make sure I've gotten everything off of your hips and your little tummy, where the waistband to your panties will cover. And don't just call them 'underwear.' A girlie girl wears 'lingerie' or 'delicates' or 'unmentionables' or 'underthings' if you really have to go in that direction. But I'll be satisfied if you just call them panties." She did a couple of passes at waist level, that didn't hurt too much. He was either used to it by this point, or that area just wasn't as sensitive, or he was drunker than he thought, or maybe some combination of the three. "Ok. Now ask me again, only do it right." "Can Cathi please put her panties back on, Miss Kitty?" Craig pursed his lips into a little pout and made puppy-dog-eyes at her, fluttering his eyelashes. She giggled and undid the straps on his legs, then pulled his panties up into place, where they were horribly tented, and she could see a small spot beginning to form. "I think we're going to need another break, so you can take care of that." She nodded in the general direction, and he got flustered. She undid the rest of the straps, and helped him sit up. "Can you stand ok, or are you still tipsy?" He was a little dizzy, so she helped him walk to the bathroom. "Now do what you've got to do in there, then see if you can tuck things away when you're done so they don't give us anymore trouble." He sat down and lowered his dainty girly underthings and looked down at definitely feminine pink toenails on bare legs. He ran his hands down his smooth thighs and it felt incredibly sexy! He examined himself closely, and there was no hair anywhere from his anus to his testicles to his penis, and all around there. There was only this cute little three-inch triangle pointing to the base of his member. He thought that maybe it did look a little bigger without all the hair. He took himself in his left hand, just to feel a little more like someone else, and started gently rubbing. He closed his eyes and pictured Kitty's chest, imagining he was looking down upon it while thrusting into her. His fantasy self reached down and gave her firm yet supple breast a playful squeeze, and ran his thumb across her nipple ring. He felt release coming, and opened his eyes to discover that his other hand had been playing with his own nipple. He aimed into the bowl and let sex just flow out of him in three or four spurts. He took a tissue and wiped himself off, but then decided that why he was there, he might as well try to pee, since he'd been drinking all night. He took a deep breath, relaxed, and had no trouble. Then he wiped himself again, flushed, and pulled up his precious frilly delicates. Remembering what she'd asked, he tried folding his stuff back, and pulling his panties up so they'd be really tight in the crotch area. He hoped it would pass muster. He nearly tripped on his way to the door, so he was grateful when he saw Kitty waiting there to escort him back to the torture chamber. She raised the back of the table and lowered the legs, turning it back into a chair, and had him sit down, then strapped him in tight and raised his arms up over his head. "We'll do your underarms next. There's a lot of hair here, so I'll start with the scissors again. Hair that's longer than a half inch or so doesn't wax as easily - there's too much opportunity for the hairs to break instead of pulling out." While she was at it, she also trimmed down some of the longer chest hairs around his nipples. Waxing his armpits hurt more than he was expecting it to but he managed to hold it in and didn't make any noise, although a couple of tears did form in the corners of his eyes. Kitty lowered his arms, but held back on the finishing lotion until she had completed the job everywhere. She then picked up where she'd left off at his waist, and waxed the rest of his stomach. The hair there didn't grow all in the same direction, and each change in the orientation of the grain made her need to change to a new strip. Craig just thought she was making an odd pattern, but didn't question it - it was clear by now that she knew what she was doing. She worked her way up to his chest, then went around and made sure his shoulders were clear of hair. She went down the middle, along his sternum and out over his collarbone on each side. All that was left was the area where Cathi's breasts would be. She brought out the anesthetic spray again, and made sure his nipples were very numb, after tweaking them into standing up. "Now this could hurt a lot, but I'll try to be as careful and gentle as I can." She ripped the hair out from his pectorals, spiraling in. When she got to the areola, he could tell. It was a burning, shooting pain that he thought would never fade. He screamed. Fortunately she was expecting it, so she didn't flinch in shock and hurt him worse. Three more strips that were just as bad and she announced. "There. Your left breast is nice and smooth." Before switching sides, she worked a generous amount of the lotion into his sore areas, rubbing back into the armpit while she was there. The right side was essentially the same process, only this time the spiral seemed to be delaying the inevitable. The second nipple was just as painful as the first, but when that was finished, there was nothing left to do so Craig felt a tremendous sense of relief as Kitty massaged healing lotion into his chest. "All right, that's the last section. We're finished! That wasn't so bad, was it?" The look on Craig's face answered her question. "Ok, it was so bad. But trust me on this; it was so totally worth it. I'll bet you'll start feeling girlish and pretty already, or at least you will when you wake up tomorrow. Cathi is going to be so cute!" She helped him stand up, then took another set of headless Polaroids, one from the front and one from the back, then showed him his Before and After images next to each other. It was amazing! The Before picture was a hairy guy wearing panties, but the After picture was a girl without much of a figure - she even seemed to have little breasts; Craig was a bit flabbier in the chest than he'd realized, and there was a shadow in the picture that made you think you were seeing more flesh, particularly since all the irritation had made his nipples bigger and pinker than usual. With his penis tucked away, there was nothing in the picture that read as male. The photo from the back was even worse: Craig's first impression was that the girl in the picture had a really sexy ass; it was something in the way the cut of the panties were letting her bare cheeks peek out at the edges! This confused him greatly. Kitty snapped out of it by handing him his clothes and telling him he could get dressed now. He didn't care that he was doing it in front of her; he just immediately pulled his pants on, without even bothering to change into his real underwear. He put on his undershirt, but his nipples were still hurting, so he didn't button his outer shirt. He sat down and put on his shoes and socks. She took him into the waiting area, and handed him a bottle of water. "I don't think you should drive home, and it's a little too late to get a cab to come out here without waiting forever, so I'll take you. Wait here while I clean up in there. Drink all of this, so you don't get a hangover tomorrow. I shouldn't be too long, but if you get bored you can read a magazine." Too late for a cab? What time was it anyway? Craig found his watch and fastened it around his hairless wrist. It was 1:17 a.m. He'd been there for over four hours! He looked through the stack of magazines and settled on one about liberal politics, after dismissing one full of pictures of horrible things people had done to themselves, and another about which celebrities were dating. Every so often, Kitty would poke her head out the door and remind him to drink his water. "I'm sorry it's taking so long; I have to disinfect everything. There's another bottle when you're done with that one." He was almost finished reading an article on global warming when she came out into the room, pushing a rolling trash barrel. "I've just got to take this out to the dumpster then we can get out of here." He tried offering to help, but when he stood up he wobbled a bit too much, so she made him stay. She quickly came back and got Craig's shopping bags and escorted him out, locking the door on her way out. Chapter 3: The Morning After Kitty's car was a lime green station wagon that looked at least twenty years old. She opened the passenger door and got him situated before going around to the driver's side. The complex where he lived was right off a main street so it was easy to find, but it was building after building of townhouses, so he had to show her which one was his. It was way too cookie-cutter for her taste. She helped him to the door, reminded him that he wanted the key with the pink spot, and carried his bags inside. He was so drunk and sleepy that she then needed to walk him upstairs to his room and undress him and put him to bed. At this point, Kitty was getting fairly tired herself, so she decided she'd crash at Craig's place and take him to get his car in the morning. She poked around the townhouse. His living room had a recliner, a rocking chair and a loveseat, none of which looked practical for spending the night. His only pieces of furniture in what should have been the second bedroom upstairs were a computer desk and a stationary bicycle. So she went back into Craig's room and saw that there was plenty of room in his king-size bed. Figuring that there were very few secrets left between them, she decided to join him. So it happened that when Craig woke up at 6:24 am with an extremely full bladder, he noticed an arm lying across his chest. He was surprised and confused, but other problems were more urgent so he carefully slipped out from under her arm and off the far side of his bed, walked around and went into the master bathroom, carefully shutting the door so it wouldn't make too much noise. He caught a look at his hairless body in the mirror and was reminded how feminine he looked. He saw that he was still wearing his pink panties and nothing else. Sitting down to relieve himself felt like the natural thing to do, and it gave him a few moments to think. How did he get here? Why was Kitty in his bed - had they had sex? He figured he'd be more damp and messy if that were the case, so probably not. It was too early, and he hadn't had a full night's rest so he really wanted to go back to sleep. But how could he do that with a sexy girl in his bed? He snuck back in and clung to the edge of his side of the bed, trying not to disturb his guest. About an hour later, they were both awakened by a loud yowl. Kitty opened her eyes to see an angry calico cat sitting on the end of the bed. Craig rubbed his eyes and said, "Sorry." "That's ok. I didn't know you were a cat person." She smiled at him. "I was apologizing to the cat, actually. But I'm sorry she woke you, too. She's complaining because her breakfast is overdue." He slid out of bed and the cat followed him downstairs. Kitty took advantage of the opportunity and grabbed a couple things out of her purse. When he came back into the room she asked, "How come I didn't see your cat before?" He sat on the edge of the bed. "Nitro usually hides from strangers. She's generally only friendly to me." "Nitro? That's a weird name for a cat." "She's unstable and requires careful handling. They nicknamed her that at the vet, and it was just too appropriate. I found her about seventeen months ago in the parking lot at the all-night grocery store. She was limping on one of her back legs, and so skinny I didn't think she'd been eating. I didn't know what to do, so I took her home and fed her some tuna. I brought her to a vet the next day and they treated her for a bunch of stuff and I was going to take her to an animal shelter, since I wasn't looking to own a pet, but they said she had an attitude problem and wouldn't be likely to be adopted if I did that. So I kept her, and eventually we got a routine. She still won't sit in my lap, but she will sit on the arm of my chair and let me scratch her behind the ears." "That's really sweet of you." She got an odd glint in her eye. "Say, do you need to go anywhere this morning, like church or something?" He looked confused. "No, I barely even go at Christmas anymore. I'm not doing anything today. Why do you ask?" "Then you should come back to bed." She pulled the covers back, and he saw that she was naked. She gave the space beside her a couple pats with her hand to show him where to go. He cautiously climbed over her and lay down. "Did we do anything last night I should remember?" She leaned over and kissed him fully and completely, passing him a curiously strong breath mint with her tongue. "No. Cathi was a good girl and kept her panties on all night. Now before we correct that oversight, I want to make something clear. I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I have already rendered every service for which you paid, and now I'm off the clock. This is me in my own time. I'm a certified, licensed esthetician, and we run a legitimate beauty establishment. We're not one of those brothels that pretend to be spas. I don't make it a habit of going to bed with my customers, but something about you makes me want to. Besides, I can show you some of the benefits of your waxing." "What do you mean?" "Without all that hair in the way, your skin is much more sensitive. Feel this." She gently scratched her nails across his chest, lightly making slight circles at his nipples. "Yesterday, that would have been a tangle of hair, but today your breasts can enjoy it. And see how sensual the feel of bare skin against bare skin can be." She turned on her side toward him and rubbed her leg against his - the feel of a smooth thigh against his was indeed pleasurable beyond words, and he even thought he felt her little pubic bush tickle his hip. He was making a tent in his panties again, so Kitty needed two hands to pull them off of him. She then took a condom out from under the pillow and unrolled it onto him. "You're still so uptight. Just relax." She kissed him again, and this time he responded more actively. She turned and lay on top of him and took his hands in hers, then released the kiss and sat up on his stomach, straddling him with her knees. She pulled his left hand to her lap. "See? This is what a vertical Brazilian bikini wax looks like. It's smooth over here," she moved his hand, "and smooth over here, but in the middle there's a line of fur for my kitty." It was indeed dyed the same bright pink as the hair on her head. She placed his hand right on her sex, and he wiggled his fingers. His thumb teased her labia, while his longer fingers sought her clitoris. "Ooh! Keep petting her like that, and she'll start to purr." She arched her back and gave a little moan. He took his other hand and reached up to touch her breast. He stroked her in small circles. She moved her hands down to brush his smooth chest, using her long nails to tease his nipples, which were still a little tender. He flipped his hand over and slipped a finger inside her. "You're better at this than I expected. But I guess since you're like forty you have more experience." He laughed, and since she was sitting on his diaphragm the vibration sent and incredible wave of pleasure through her. "I'm only thirty- two. You thought I was forty? I'm not all that bald or grey and wrinkled. I guess I do come across as square and uptight! So when you were giving me all those lessons on girl stuff you thought you were talking to someone twice your age? You have no respect for your elders, Missy!" He gave her nipple a playful tweak, and sure enough the ring in it did move. Meanwhile, he was up to three fingers squirming inside her. "You guess forty is twice my age? How young do you think I am, Gramps? Or is your math just that bad?" She leaned down and pulled his face up to hers for another kiss. He put his free arm around her and held the kiss longer, before releasing her and sliding his hand down to knead her buttock. "You're so vibrant and playful, I'd have said around nineteen, but I'm guessing I was wrong. My math is impeccable. Call me if you ever need help with your books - I'm in accounting." She eased his hand out, raised herself up, and shimmied backward. "I'm twenty-six. We're actually closer than either of us thought. Go figure." She took hold of his erection in her left hand and held her lips open with her right, then slowly lowered herself onto him. He raised his hips to help. Since Kitty was on top, she did most of the work, rocking herself up and down, and grinding her hips. Craig eventually figured out when to thrust back up at her. He tried to reach around