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Acting Dominant By Tigger c2008, All Rights Reserved Permission is granted for Fictionmania, StorySite, Nifty, Big Closet, Bev's Balcony, and any other FREE site to archive and web publish this story, unchanged, so long as the site remains free and my authorship and copyright are acknowledged in the posting. I do not consider so- called adult-check systems to be free, and thus, these sites do not have permission to host this story. Acknowledgments: My sincere thanks to Brandy Dewinter for the gifts of her creativity, her insight, her eye for 'just the right word' (and just the wrong one of mine) and her, ummm, persistence. I can say without qualm that there were many times when I was about to take this story in a direction I did not want it to go because my characters were getting out of hand. In each case, she helped me see the problem and helped me rein them in. Not an easy task because, as I hope you'll see, ShaJuana Price is a lady who is VERY determined to go and get her own way! So it took BOTH of us to keep her in line! My muse and I thank you, Brandy! Special thanks to the TG-Fiction Listserv community who read this tale in its pre-publication form and provided me with feedback, editing help and encouragement. At some point in every writing project, it becomes impossible for me to read what I wrote because I 'see' what I thought I wrote. Any remaining errors are mine, probably because I wrongly thought my way was better than those recommended by my 'beta-testers'. Cautionary Notes: This is a love story with Female Dominant, Male Dominant, TV Dominant, Female Submissive, Male Submissive, TV Submissive themes. It is not 'Forced Femme' so much as 'Strongly Urged and Gently Manipulated Femme.' These are necessary to the story I want to tell, but I hope, as with my earlier story, "Contract Modifications," that most readers will not find these elements of theme too distressing. I consider this tale to be a 'Hard-R' in rating as due to the love/sexual scenes and due to some hard language. In truth, however, it is not much more graphic than most bodice-ripper romances available at your local book-store so I feel that an 'X' rating is inappropriate. It does, as noted above, feature Dominance and Submission themes, so the reader should take that into consideration when deciding to read this tale. Acting Dominant Prologue: Don't Call Us By Tigger c2008 "Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" Ty Edwards railed, even as he slammed his apartment door closed behind him. "Dammit _ALL_ to _HELL_!!!" Another audition down the toilet. Hell, the eight hours of minimum wage pay he MIGHT have earned had he not been standing around waiting for his turn to read for this part had long since spiraled down the porcelain throne, too. That fifty bucks wouldn't have paid his (seriously overdue) rent, but it would have meant something more appetizing than the three-day old bread and the pitiful bit of moldy cheese that would now be his dinner. But the worst - that absolute worst - was getting slapped squarely in the face with unequivocal proof of something he already knew and should have long ago acknowledged. Deep in his heart, anyway. He wasn't going to make it as a serious actor. The proof of that had come when he'd slipped back into the theater to retrieve his forgotten umbrella... ~-~ Once back inside the theater, Ty found that the audition room door cracked open. Crossing to the coat-tree from which his umbrella hung, he was able to make out voices from within the audition room - voices he recognized all too easily as belonging to producer and the director who'd conducted his audition. Unable to resist, and hoping to hear something positive, he stole over to the door for a quick, furtive peak through the tiny opening. He wasn't able to see much, but apparently the two men had been joined by a woman who had not been present for his reading. She was seated facing the two men with her back to the door. He couldn't see her face, but Ty could tell from her relaxed manner that she was perfectly at ease being so close to the brusque producer. "I really liked that Edwards-kid's delivery," the director said. "Too damned short," growled the producer, making the statement sound like an epithet. "And he can't sing for shit." "We might be able to work around his height - Alan Ladd was short, and he did just fine with the ladies. As for the singing, all he really needs is to be heard and understood. I'm sure he can. His enunciation and delivery were great." "This isn't Hollywood! This is live theater and you can't hide the fact that he's barely five-five when he has to trot out on stage or dance with the rest of the cast. Hell, Roxie Hunter is gonna be the female lead, and she's five-seven in her stocking feet! Not only that, but the only time she's EVER in only her stocking feet is when she's changing from one pair of heels to another." "Darling," a feminine voice put in, "language, please." "Sorry, luvie," the producer's tone became instantly contrite, but only in response to the woman's admonition. His voice hardened again when he turned his attention back to the director. "Roxie's a freakin' dancer! Her legs are her best feature so we have to play to them, and that kid can't. Forget him." "But he dances well - really gracefully - you saw the tape of his workout, Jazz," the director said, evidently to the woman because Ty thought he heard an affirmative murmur from her. "He'd be easy to choreograph, and he's got a real feel for the part..." The director's persistence gave Ty hope. "Look, the broads are taller, so the studs have to be taller, too. He isn't, so he isn't getting the part! Got it?" "Dar-ling," the voice of the woman called Jazz was sharp now. "I WON'T tell you again. Watch your mouth!" "Yes, sweetie." That must be some woman, Ty thought. He found himself wondering about a woman who could shut up the boorish producer in mid- spate - even if only for a few seconds. "He did move very well," she continued speculatively. "But, luvie," the producer countered, almost obsequiously, "What happens if he drops Roxie during one of the dance routines? The show would be ruined." Then, he changed the target of his remarks back to the director. "Don't waste my time with him, again - got it?" "Got it," the director sighed with an awful finality. "Look, Roxie would make your guy look fragile and dainty, for go.. goodness' sake. Find me somebody who's tall enough to make our star look dainty." "Okay, you're the boss." "Glad you finally remembered that fact." ~-~ The utter finality of that pronouncement was still ringing in his ears when Ty had crept away from the theater to wander aimlessly about the streets of downtown New York. For several gray, wet hours Ty had tried - really tried - to find that hoped-for something positive in what he'd overheard. On one hand, the director - that is to say - the TRUE theater professional in that damned room had wanted to give him a chance at the lead role. He, at least, had recognized Ty's professional acting abilities and had valued them. Unfortunately, it was the money men - the *angels* - and wasn't THAT term a joke when applied to that unfeeling oaf of a producer - and not the professionals who provided the monetary grease upon which the wheels of theatrical world turned. And this show's angel had just cast Ty out of the theater's bright lights and into the darkness of the 'real world.' Ty told himself that it was past time that he had accepted the harsh realities, and took stock of what passed for his life in this big, bad and lonely city. As he began to slowly make his way back across downtown toward his little apartment, he began mentally ticking off those painful truths on his wet fingers. Truth 1. He hadn't had a real acting job in nearly six months. Truth 2. Whatever money he could make as a waiter, or short order cook, or in retail sales, was barely enough to keep him afloat here in the big bad city, and with the economic down turn, even those lousy jobs were hard to come by. They were hard to keep, too, since most employers preferred 'reliable' workers, which they defined to be a species that did not include wannabe actors who regularly asked for time off to go to auditions. Or who would quit without the desired notice if a 'real' acting job came along. Not that he'd seen one of those real acting jobs recently, anyway - see Truth 1 above. Truth 3. He currently didn't have one of those lousy jobs, either. He didn't have ANY job - period. Truth 4. He was flat broke. See Truth 3 above. So here he was, broke, out of work, three days from eviction from a ramshackle room, and looking forward to a meal that just might give him food poisoning. Not much to show for years of education, training, hard work and sweat. Fighting back the dark emotions that closed in about his soul, Ty cursed the gene set that had given him the talent and the drive to succeed, but had denied him the scant inches he needed to have the opportunity to express that talent. It was probably just as well that Ma Bell had cut off his phone service last week, he mused ironically. Otherwise he'd have to deal with the decision of whether he should call home to ask for money. Wouldn't his father just relish that 'I told you so' opportunity? Okay, he thought, let's call that 'Truth 5.' He had what almost any sane person would call a great job waiting for him back home - good salary, great benefits, a share of the company, and the fast track to the president's corner-office in a few years. God, but the last thing Ty wanted to do with his life was to 'work his way up the ladder', busting his ass to prove he had the 'right stuff' for the corporate world until his father finally deemed that he was ready to take over the family business. There WAS more to life than making money. Wasn't there? Ty had always hoped so - believed so - but what other choice did he have now? Being homeless and hungry on the streets of New York would flat-out suck. Even fuel injectors had to be better than that. Acting Dominant Chapter 1: Casting Call By Tigger c2008 The schizoid ringing of his door bell ("Be it ever so humble" with five or so of the notes randomly refusing to play) was a welcome distraction from that line of thought. A true survivor of the 'hard-knocks' school of city dwelling, Ty checked his peephole before starting to unlock his door. What, or rather who he saw on the other side had him hurrying to undo the four independently-keyed deadbolt security locks he'd installed at his own expense when he'd moved in so many months ago. "ShaJuana!" he said, real pleasure suffusing his tone. "What's up?" "Eaten yet?" the ebony-skinned goddess in jeans and a "Gold's Gym" muscle shirt asked, holding up a bulging bag with the logo of a nearby Chinese take-out place. "I have sweet and sour pork," she said, teasingly. "No!" he said in a rush, and then stepped back to let her in. "I was just trying to figure out what culinary wonder with which I would tempt my palette." "Well, if you're gonna cook, this can always get eaten as leftovers," ShaJuana offered. "No, I think this will be much better all around. Not to mention safer." "Great. You get some plates and stuff, and I'll lay this out and open the wine." In the claustrophobically-tight niche that the landlord had proudly advertized as a kitchen, Ty's mind was only half on sorting out knives, forks and plates - the other half was focused on the magnificent ShaJuana Price. ShaJuana was a singer/dancer who kept the wolves from her door by working part-time as both a fitness model and as a personal trainer when she was 'between acting engagements'. She was five feet, ten and a half inches and one hundred and fifty-nine pounds (okay, maybe 165) of tautly muscled, yet shapely black beauty. She was, in Ty's opinion, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. ShaJuana's problem in the theater was exactly the opposite of Ty's own. In three inch dancing heels, she towered over most leading men and just about every locally available male principal dancer. Few if any of the current crop of actors or dancers could partner her in a serious modern dance without risking a hernia. Last Ty had heard, she was looking to put a girl-group together - sort of a Destiny's Child Grows Up and Joins the WNBA with some of her taller girl-pals. Since she hadn't invited him to attend so much as a rehearsal, that probably wasn't going all that well either. "Hey, Ty-RONE," a voice called from the other side of the studio. "You gonna bring those plates or let us starve here?" Suddenly, he was ravenous. "Coming. And for calling me Tyrone, YOU have to surrender ALL the sweet and sour!" "Dream ON, Ty-RONE, you dream on." After the disappointments of the day, it felt good to laugh. ~-~ Somehow, over the meal, she had teased him into talking about the audition. When he'd asked her how she'd heard, she'd simply informed him that, "A little bird told me." And then she'd just listened, saying only enough to keep him talking until he'd finally run down. Only much later did Ty realize just how skillfully his friend had drawn him out, how much he had revealed that he might otherwise have preferred unsaid - even to as close a friend as Juana. "So," ShaJuana said, topping off his wineglass, "What are you going to do? Go back home to sticksville? Make fuel injectors for the rest of your life?" Ty sighed. "It's either that or porn, I guess." At the startled look on his guest's face, he chuckled. "One of my, umm, co-stars from an earlier acting gig shared a dressing room with me. He does the occasional adult video these days. Anyway, he calls me about once a month or so to ask me if I'm ready to earn some 'real money'. He thinks I've got - how do I put this politely? Ah, yes, I've got 'what it takes' to make it big in the skin-trade." "Oh really?" ShaJuana cooed, infusing a world of mock sensual interest into those two words. "Packin' large, are you, cutie? How many inches?" "Juana!" Ty yelped, and then glared at her as the tall woman dissolved into a surprisingly girlish giggle fit. "The... hee hee hee... LOOK... on your FACE!" she managed to gasp out. "Oh, god, Ty, that LOOK!" "I cannot say how pleased I am to have provided you with such amusement, I'm sure," he replied, calling upon the starchy, pompous dignity of a character role he'd once played in an Agatha Christie production. And then laughed back at ShaJuana when she started to babble out an apology. "Oh, you," she finally muttered when they'd both calmed down. "So, will I be able to see this... 'what it takes' in Debbie Does Dallas 15, coming soon to an adult vid-shop near you?" Ty didn't answer immediately, and instead sipped his wine reflectively. It wasn't like he hadn't given the concept a good deal of thought. Truth to tell, the money would have been damned useful, but in the end, it wouldn't work for him and he knew it. "No. Too public, too much baggage. Even if I were never to work in the legitimate theater again, who knows who might recognize you from the few face shots a guy gets in one of those vids? Might make it hard to sell fuel injectors in the Bible Belt, you know?" Now it was the elegant black woman's turn to gaze thoughtfully into her wine glass. "You say so, but from what I've seen, about the only thing in the world more faceless than the chick doing a porn shoot is the stud doing her, but I can see it your way, too. So, it's the, ahhh, public nature of doin' porn that really stops you from goin' there?" "I guess so, when you put it that way. Why do you ask?" "'Cause I just might have a proposition for you, Ty. It's a little off in left field - okay," she grinned wickedly, "maybe it's a LOT out in left field, but if you agree, you're guaranteed $250.00 for two hours work - maybe twice that, with the chance for more of the same if things work out." "Who do I have to kill?" Ty demanded flippantly, and then saw the serious look on his friend's face. Suddenly, he put things together. "Not public... you want me to... to become a prostitute?" His voice cracked in shock. ShaJuana sat up and leaned towards him. "Not quite. What I have in mind isn't prostitution - not under the legal code of the City and State of New York, anyway. Look, Ty, my... employer and I have this client who likes to play on the edge. She's looking for some way to ... to meet his needs without," she hesitated, as if seeking the right words, then shrugged. "Without things going too far. Let's just leave it at that for the moment, okay?" "Okay, but I'm not sure what I could do to help you with a client of yours in that vein. I thought you were a personal trainer. Besides, isn't going to the edge with that kind of thing dangerous? What about heart attacks and..." The black woman's cheeks darkened as blood rushed to her face. She held up a hand to squelch his questions. "Well, I am a personal trainer, Ty, but just not quite the way you mean, and I do have a client who you COULD really help me with him. Without havin' to worry about a heart attack or such." "Oh, really? If you're not THAT type of trainer, and this ISN'T hooking, just what kind of client are we talking around here?" "A submissive," was her soft, almost whispered reply. "A what?" Ty asked, confused. "A submissive," she reiterated more firmly. "To put a point on it, the guy pays big bucks to be my part-time sex slave." "A sex slave," he repeated. "You said this wasn't about prostitution." "It's not prostitution because there is no intercourse, no oral sex, not even a hand job - by me, that is. If he gets off, he jacks off. I just watch, and give him some...pointed direction and make a few snide comments from time to time while he does it." "And you think I can help? How? I'm not exactly Mr. Studly, you know... Oh... you want me to play the part of another, what did you call him? Oh, yeah, another submissive with him?" He shrugged away the twinges of emotion - embarrassment and annoyance, that idea evoked in his heart. He was, after all, an actor, and a role was a role, and money was money! "No..." ShaJuana said, drawing out the word, "I want you to be the other dominant in a scene with him - a very passable TV mistress." "Huh? TV? Mistress? Don't tell there's some kind of reality show on the tube about learning to be a dominatrix now!? Must be one of the cable access channels 'cause I sure haven't seen it on my over-the- airwaves-only rabbit-ears." Chocolate brown eyes rolled heavenward in laughing disbelief. "Not TV - as in TELEVISION -, you knucklehead! Cripes, Ty, you kill me! I want you to be a TV - as in TRANSVESTITE - Mistress! I want to rig you out in leather, lace and latex, squeeze you into a corset and too-tight, too-high heels, slap a big-hair wig and some Goth-girl lip gloss on you and have you there when I work him. At the critical moment, we'll just, ah well, spring your true nature on him - literally." "You're kidding me, right? This is one of your practical jokes, isn't it?" "If it is a practical joke, it's on him - my client, that is -not you. Really, I'm serious about this, Ty. My, ah, boss is serious, too. Look, I'm not supposed to get into this with you, but she's already talked money with me about this. It's her idea, but she asked me if I knew anyone, from my actor friends, who might be able and willing to pull it off." "She talked money?" "She talked money - some of it up front, assuming you give it your best shot and don't wimp out on me. And if we can pull this off and really screw with his head for him? Maybe enough to give you some breathing space with your landlord." "He'll know I'm a guy from the beginning," he protested weakly. "There won't be any surprise or shock value or whatever it is you're planning." "Oh, trust me, cutie, just trust me. I've made uglier men than you into passable girls in my time as a 'personal trainer'. You'll be drop-dead sexy. And you'll be disguised so he'll never know what you really look like - as Tyrone, that is. Heck, the whole public thing won't even be an issue. He could meet you at the bus stop right after the session, and unless you forget to cream away your makeup, never even know you've been just introduced." "Great, just what I need to hear," he groaned. "Huh?" Juana interrupted, confused. "What's the matter now?" Ty could only shake his head and laugh. "What's the matter, the woman asks me. Shit, Juana, I'll tell you what's the matter. The very first time - in my WHOLE life - anyone has EVER said I could be 'drop-dead sexy?' She's talking about dressing me as a woman. What a world." Juana didn't say anything, letting her friend stew over it in his mind. Then, he turned back to her. "What makes you think I could pull this off? I have to tell you that in my sadly limited romantic experience, I haven't ever ravished anyone." ShaJuana tossed her wild mane of black curls back and laughed. With a saucy, suggestive smile, she purred, "Honey, it ain't about ravishin', it's about dominatin', and trust me, you can handle that part just fine." That stopped Ty in mid-argument. Dominating? Him? Well, that was certainly paradigm shift for his self image. It was rather exciting that a woman like ShaJuana Price thought he could be dominant. "You think I could pull that off?" he asked, hesitantly. The cackle of laughter that answered him sent shivers up and down his spine. "WHooooeeee, ty-RONE, How kin you axe me that?" his guest demanded in the heavy, city-black accent of a younger, less self- assured ShaJuana. "ME? Homegirl herself? Keee-ripes, sugah, ya most scared me white tryin' to teach me to talk good for that turkey play we was in, boy." Ty had to smile at that memory. He had first met the statuesque actress when they'd both been hired for the cast of an off-off-off- Broadway show about a mind-swapped couple. ShaJuana, as the maid into whom the Master's mind was swapped, had needed to recite her lines using an aristocratic English accent. Tyrone, as the Master into whom the maid's mind switched, had needed to learn how to 'shake his booty' for several dance sequences. Since neither of them had the financial wherewithal to pay for acting or dancing lessons, they'd coached each other, becoming close friends in the process. Ty had learned his lessons more easily than had ShaJuana, but by god, she'd eventually learned them. In time for the ill-fated show to fold before its third performance, but she HAD learned them. "Will you do it?" ShaJuana asked again. For a moment, Ty thought about refusing, only to remember that sticksville and fuel injectors still lurked out there in the darkness - waiting to pounce, waiting to suck the creative juices from him forever. As long as there was hope, another way open to him, he couldn't give up his dream and go crawling back to his father's business. Ty shrugged, and tried to smile. "Okay, when? I really do need money that badly." "The session is scheduled for two days from now, in the afternoon. How about you come to my place tomorrow, and we'll see what we can do to make you pretty, okay?" Ty hesitated just a moment more. If she could pull this off, it would just about put paid to his dreams of ever being a serious stage actor. Serious stage actors had to be 'leading men' - they didn't 'lead men' about while wearing leather catsuits and stiletto heels. Still, it was paid 'employment' - even acting - and it was legal. Or at least, it wasn't actually illegal. And it wasn't fuel injectors, which was all that needed to be said. "I'll be there," he promised. "10 o'clock okay with you?" ~-~ Acting Dominant Chapter 2: Stage Test 1: Act 1, Scene 1: Costume Fitting By Tigger c2008 Ty was far less certain about his decision the next morning when he presented himself at ShaJuana's flat. He'd almost called Juana twice to beg off. Vandalized public phones and his own disconnected service were all that had gotten him this far. He'd just have to tell her to her face that he couldn't do it. Unfortunately for that plan, telling ShaJuana Price 'no' -particularly face-to-face - was not something at which Tyrone Edwards had ever had any degree of success. Nor was this time the exception that might otherwise prove that rule. Juana had literally dragged him inside the door of her small flat before Ty had so much as drawn breath to speak. And then, she'd laid a finger across his lips to keep him shut up with one hand, while she passed a heavy parchment envelope to him with the other. "Not a word, Ty, until you've opened that and read the note inside." Baffled, he nodded his head and saw his name written on the envelope. The first thing he noticed was the handwriting. It was exquisite, and somehow, he knew without reading the first word that the author was female and proud of that fact. "Your boss?" he asked, holding up the envelope to ShaJuana. "I said 'not a word,' Tyrone, until you've read it," his friend replied sternly. "Either read it, or put it down now and we'll forget the whole deal." Seeing the resolve on his friend's lovely features, Ty shrugged, then broke the old-fashioned wax seal on the envelope. Inside were two items - a note on parchment stationery that matched the envelope, and a crisp, brand-new fifty-dollar bill. Ty glanced longingly at the bill before turning his full attention to unfolding the note and reading its contents. 'Dear Mr. Edwards, Since you are reading this, I must assume that ShaJuana has managed to convince you to attempt my little project. Once you have read this note, you may keep the enclosed $50.00 even if you elect not to take this any further. ShaJuana has been directed to give you a quick quiz on the contents of this note should you decide to leave. You must pass the quiz in order to keep the money, so I suggest you finish reading my little missive. What I have in mind is for you to help me play with one of my favorite clients. However, I am a perfectionist when it comes to my vocation, and I must have confidence that you can and will give satisfaction in the role I intend you to fill. In order to evaluate your abilities in this area, I propose two tests: one today, and one tomorrow. If you pass today's test, you will be given the opportunity to attempt tomorrow's challenge. Let me assure you that I will pay you at the end of each test, provided that you make an honest attempt. I point this out because, in honesty, the tests will be demanding, and for many men in our society, unacceptable to their basic self image. All I ask is that you start each test, and if you do reach a point where you find you cannot continue, be honest enough to share that with ShaJuana and myself. Today's exercise will be simple enough for you if you are, indeed, the actor ShaJuana believes you are. You must try to dress passably as a woman. Between your own talents and those of ShaJuana, that should not be difficult. Complete this day's challenge successfully, which I insist you prove by having a photograph of you taken en femme, and you will be given another $150.00. I hasten to add that the picture is not for the purposes of blackmailing you. As an actor, it would be very easy for you to pass off any such attempt as being required for a role - which in fact, it is. No, the picture is to ensure that ShaJuana fulfills her part of this exercise, which is to dress you properly. I know of the friendship between you, and of your current financial need. I also know that you have refused direct financial help from ShaJuana on at least two occasions. Unless she shows me 'before' and 'after' pictures of you, any money you receive will be deducted from her next paycheck. For an actor, this should be the easiest two hundred dollars you'll ever make, and it will be the prerequisite for taking tomorrow's test. For now, I won't go into specifics about what I intend to ask of you in that regard as I want your full attention on completing today's test to the best of your ability. I will say that tomorrow's test will be more in nature of 'method' training for the role I have in mind for you should you decide to play with us. If you come tomorrow, and give it your honest, best attempt, I will pay you $1,000, even if in the end either of us decides you cannot go any further. Consider your options carefully, Mr. Edwards. You risk very little, as anonymity is every bit as vital to my clients and me as it would be to you. No real harm will be inflicted on any person involved in this venture as that would both violate my personal ethics and would ruin my personal pleasure in my play. I hope to see you tomorrow at 10:00 AM. Sincerely, Maitresse Solange' "Holy shit," Ty muttered softly as he digested the unknown woman's words for a moment. She was right, he told himself. There was nothing about what she wanted him to do that couldn't be written off as preparation for part in a play - a strange play, certainly, but a play nonetheless. Come to that, it wasn't any more off-the-wall than learning to dance like a hip-hop music video girl for that first play with ShaJuana. And if no one was going to get hurt in all this... well, for TWELVE HUNDRED BUCKS, cripes, but he hadn't had that much money at one time in -well, he couldn't even remember when he had. He could handle a whole lot of teasing for that kind of money. Smiling for the first time that day, Ty raised his hand in the air like a school boy who needed to go to the bathroom. "Can I talk, now, teacher?" "Smartass," ShaJuana said with a rueful grin. Then she picked up a small recording device and turned it on. "Are you going to stay and finish today's exercises, Mr. Edwards?" she went on, in formal tones. "Yes, ShaJuana, I will stay and do my best." For just a moment, she shut her eyes in something like relief, before reaching over and turning off the recorder. "Glad that's over. The Maitresse can be the most total bitch when she's crossed. Now, you can keep that fifty without worrying about whether it is really my money." "She evidently knows a lot about me," Ty said carefully. "Including how close our friendship is." Serious again, ShaJuana nodded. "She had to know, Ty, before she decided to trust you even this far. She has to protect our clients and the other girls who work for her at the dungeon. I think it was the fact that you wouldn't take any money from me, even when you needed it to stay in that rathole flat of yours is what convinced her to give you a try in this role." "Okay, I can understand that. So what's the plan for today? Leather bustiers, latex panties and fishnet stockings?" "Hah, you wish!" "What? I wish?" "Can't go for a nice walk in the park in full-up Domme gear, honey." "HEY, no one said anything about going out..." "And we won't, unless I think you'll pass and you're willing..." "Which I won't..." "For another fifty bucks," ShaJuana said coaxingly. "Which, combined with the other two hundred she promised you will be enough to keep your landlord off your back for a few more days. Maitresse said that if the after pictures come from that little photo-booth outside the park, she'd spring for the extra fifty as a bonus," 'Juana wheedled. That stopped Ty in mid-sentence. Unfortunately, her assessment of the current state of his finances and his landlord's patience was only too true. "Bitch," he finally breathed, before giving her a bashful smile. "You promise you'll be honest with me? About passing?" "Would I lie to you, Ty-RONE?!?" "I won't answer that," he sniffed, and barely managed to duck the flying pillow that answered him. "So, to ask again, what's on the costume manager's list for today?" "Nothing too unusual. Couple outfits, actually - just basic everyday stuff. Think sexy girl next door," then she grinned wickedly, "except for a pair of two, well, maybe three inch high heels. You'll need the practice." "Three inch heels? You're kidding, right?" ShaJuana smiled wickedly. "Nope. If you pull this gig off, you'll need them. Hey, the shortest I wear when I'm working a sub measure five inches, honey. For the scene, Maitresse will probably put you in four-inchers, at least, but you'd be kinda conspicuous walking around downtown in those ankle-breakers -particularly if you're a slow learner. Think of it as easing yourself into the role slowly." "Slow learner, my ass. So, where do I stand for my before-pic?" he asked, looking around for a decent backdrop for his first portrait of the day. ~-~ "Into the shower, ty-RONE," ShaJuana ordered sternly from behind the small bathroom's closed door. "That hair remover should be just about done." "Thank you, God," he breathed as he scampered for the relief of cool, running water to wash away the liquid fire she'd rubbed everywhere that wasn't covered by the Speedo swimsuit his friend had provided for his modesty. ShaJuana peaked through in the doorway, smiling as she heard heartfelt sighs of relief issue from the other side of the shower curtain. "Better get those trunks off, Ty, and soap up your crotch and butt real good. The hot soapy water will soften those pubes of yours and make them easier for me to shave for you." Ty's head burst out from a crack between the curtain-halves, the two panes clutched tightly about his body to preserve what little dignity he still possessed. "Shave?!? Down there?!? You're shitting me!" Smiling, 'Juana shook her head slowly, while dangling an unopened economy package of pink "Lady Bic" razors up for his examination. "Gotta be done, boy. Part of the costume, Ty. Maitresse's orders. Don't want no scraggly ol' guy-pubes showin' when you work our client. So, either you shave off what's left, or I do. And I figure those precious jewels are gonna be a whole lot safer in my hands than yours. Least-ways, I can see what I'm doin' down there, but hey, it's your choice. " She watched her friend struggle with this next step. Clearly, he hadn't fully digested that they were going to have to be nude or nearly nude in each other's presence; something that brought a whole new level of intimacy into their heretofore platonic if flirtatious relationship. In a less teasing voice, she said again, "If we do the scene, I'm going to see your treasures in all their glory, anyway, so it might as well be now. I am pretty good with a razor around the, ah, sensitive bits, ya know. I do mine every week, and have done more than a couple of my darlin' little sissy boys, too," she added, "at the dungeon. Of course," she added, in an exaggeratedly reflective tone, "I did those with a straight razor. I think I have one if..." "NO!" Ty bellowed, retreating back under the shower and letting the water stream down his body. Then, with a dripping shrug, he slipped out of the trunks, extended them out between the curtains, and tossed them to the floor at ShaJuana's feet. They made, he decided, a rather satisfyingly wet 'splat' when they hit, and he could only hope they'd splashed Juana. "Those safety razors will be just fine, thankyouverymuch!" ~-~ "Relax, Ty, I promise I won't cut off anything important!" "I know that in my head, but ... " "I know," ShaJuana said with a giggle, "It's your little head down here that's not getting the message. Not that it's all that little. Maybe you do have a future in adult vids, after all." She gave the length of his penis a sensually teasing slide with her soapy hand. "Mmmmmmmm," she purred suggestively from deep in her throat, "You DO have a nice one, white boy." "Juana! Don't DO that!" "Oh pooh, Ty. Just relax and enjoy it, okay? Besides, it's easier to get a smooth shave when the skin is taut." Another fondle had him shuddering. Women and sex, like money, had been in sadly short supply in recent times. It was all he could do to hold back the eruption that nearly overwhelmed his control as his ebony Amazon drew the razor down the center of his scrotum. And besides - this was 'Juana! His best friend, the angelic-Ty standing piously atop his right shoulder reminded him. She was, in the final analysis, just another buddy, for all she was a girl. Kind of like a sister, right? Like HELL, the little devil leering at her form his perch on Ty's left shoulder shouted in his mind. ShaJuana wasn't his sister and she wasn't JUST a girl - she was a damned GORGEOUS girl, and to hell with this 'just buddies' crap!! Before the little angel could retaliate with a suitable riposte to that argument, the little devil won. "I get to do you!" Ty blurted, and instantly regretted it as her grip on his manhood suddenly tightened reflexively. "Do me...WHAT, Ty-rone?" she demanded, her eyes wide and her lips a tight line. Swallowing hard, he considered backing down and making a joke. Only, he realized, he didn't think it was a joke. "I want to shave you," he managed to get past the lump in his throat. "Ummm, down there.... some time..." For a moment, he was sure he'd blown it, and then her face relaxed into the teasing smile that he'd learned to beware. "Do you really?" she mused, her hands returning to her task. "Well, maybe I'll let you." And the smile went from teasing to ... something more. Ty goggled, and ShaJuana laughed. "Maybe," she repeated. "Afterwards." "After what? You're done doing me?" Juana laughed throatily at that. "Hell, no, cute-thing. Sometime AFTER we blow my slave boy's mind together and after Maitresse pays you for what had damn well better be the most stellar performance of your acting career tomorrow." She leaned over, hinting at her mouth going to his now-throbbing manhood, then bent back up and gave him a quick pecking kiss on the tip of his nose. "Consider that offer as motivation for getting into your role, sweetie." ~-~ Acting Dominant Chapter 3: Stage Test 1 - Act 1, Scene 2: Just a Walk in the Park By Tigger c2008 "That wasn't so bad, now was it... Tyra?" Juana asked with the smug assurance of a parent whose child had just learned - the hard way - that broccoli wasn't poisonous. She was slipping the two strips of photo-booth pictures into an envelope for later delivery to her boss, confident that Maitresse would love them. "Don't leave your purse in the booth, sweetie." "Oh! Right!" the blonde came up short and hurried back into the booth, returning moments later carrying the small day purse over her shoulder. "Forgot about, well... and I guess it wasn't too bad - the picture taking I mean. It's not like I was in a war zone, being shot at..." "Or you could be in your daddy's factory, fiddling with carburetors?" At her companion's reluctant nod, she smiled. "How about a little walk, girl friend? Not to be too picky, but, honey? You could use the practice." "Okay, I guess," was the softly spoken reply. "And it's fuel injectors." One nice thing about trained actors, Juana mused, they already knew how to modulate their voices to suit the parts they were playing. Ty's pitch was already good enough to pass - they just needed to work on a few minor touches, and then only if Maitresse decided to give him a speaking part in her little comedy. However, her friend's body- carriage and movement still needed some pointed reminders that Tyra wasn't Ty and she shouldn't be moving like him. ShaJuana leaned over to whisper, "Don't clomp like that! You'll hurt yourself in them heels and, 'sides, you'll call attention to yourself!" "Oh!" Ty repeated. "Got it. I'll try, but let's not go too fast or too far from your place?" Ty asked, "I know these shoes aren't quite three inches, but I don't want to have to limp back to your place barefoot over the streets of New York because I got carried away in your enthusiasms." "No prob, Tyra. Just keep movin' them hips to the rhythm of the city and you'll be just fine. You try to stride out like you're marching and those heels'll come back and bite you." "I suppose." Distracted by the reflection in one of the glass storefronts, Ty slipped up and fell back into 'male voice'. He'd played many roles, he thought wonderingly, from a teenaged boy to a stodgy, geriatric British aristocrat whose body had been taken over by the mind of a Jamaican tweenie. He was USED to seeing himself transformed by the magic of costume and makeup into someone completely different. But this? Never. The person who stared back from those murky depths would have been at home on any college campus in the country. Well, ones that had girls on them, anyway. She, for the reflected person was definitely a she, was of average height for a woman, thanks mostly to the aforementioned high heels. Because the shade suited Ty's natural coloration, the 'she' in that window had straight blond hair which Juana had combed back into a simple pony tail. Gold wire-framed glasses were perched on the nose of a very lightly made-up face, giving the reflected 'she' the large eyed look of a startled fawn. A figure hugging t-shirt clung lovingly to a modest, yet shapely bosom and was tucked into skin-tight, calf-length jeans that showed off very womanly hips and a rounded butt. Still amazed, Ty turned away from the glass, arched his back and looked over his shoulder at the back of the reflected girl. "I still can't believe you let me wear jeans..." "Voice!" ShaJuana hissed urgently, bringing Ty up short. Taking a deep breath, the blonde nodded, and started moving down the sidewalk. The tall black girl relaxed, as they put some distance between themselves and anyone who might have heard her partner's momentary slip. As mistakes went, it really hadn't been that bad, she thought, recalling her experiences as a dominatrix who often pushed her subbies out into the public world en femme, but then again, there was no point in taking undue risks. "Tyra? Why don't we take a turn around the park? I know you've got questions, and we'll have some privacy there for the answers." And if you slip up again, she thought, there won't be so many people who might pick up on it. With that, she took Ty's elbow gently in her hand, and firmly guided her creation across the street to the park entrance. ~-~ "Caught you by surprise, didn't it?" Juana asked when they were in a quiet section of the park. "When you saw yourself in that window and saw what other folks were seeing?" "My Go..." Ty's voice started, and then modulated into Tyra's, "od, Juana. You told me to swing my hips, and then I saw myself! I mean, I really have, well, hips to swing! I mean, I've heard of falsies - what guy hasn't - but I always thought that meant, well, you know," and Tyra's hands made a subtle cupping motion in the general direction of her modest bosom. "and... and these aren't even very big. I sort of expected, well, more..." Juana laughed at her friend's confused rambling. "Hey, some girls need help up top and some need booty-buildin'. Now, most of my special clients - the ones like YOU - well, they need help both ways, so we keep a supply of both types of falsies at the house. As to why your figure is more J-Lo than Dolly? In case you never thought about it, hon, it ain't boobs that say 'girl!' and bring out the 'yee-hah' in a guy's hormones. It's hips and it's a great ass that flare out from a small waist. Thanks to those falsies and that bit of corset, you, baby, got back!" "And the makeup? I know I told you I could do it, but..." "But you would have done what you've been trained to do with makeup, Ty, not what was needed today. It would have been more dramatic - stage makeup - much too obvious for this outing. I wanted your face to be subtle for the same reason I had you wear jeans instead of that skirt set. We don't want you getting too many second looks because you don't know enough about your role yet to pass the closer second look. You don't understand how to operate in a skirt without flashing half of Manhattan. Jeans aren't out of place. That light makeup isn't out of place. So, YOU, Tyra-the-girl aren't seen as being out of place. Got it? "Hiding in plain sight?" "Exactly! Any other questions?" "Can we go back to your place now? I need to get out of these shoes soon or I won't be able to walk tomorrow, let alone perform." "Sure, hon. Feel like some eggs and toast? I'll give you some 'Eating like a girl' lessons while we have lunch." Acting Dominant Interlude: A Family Affair. "Mistress?" a male voice called to her, interrupting her anticipation of tomorrow's little play. The woman looked up from her desk, and fought back the smile that threatened to soften her aristocratic features. He was a sight in nothing but his absurdly small mob cap, the white lace apron and the men's size 13 EEEE, six-inch-tall stiletto heels. A feather duster hanging from a leather lanyard at his wrist was his only accessory. Ridiculous as his costume might seem to others less discerning than herself, he was, in a word, perfect -at least for her. "Yes, what is it?" she demanded sternly. "I've finished cleaning up after dinner and am about to go down to prepare the dungeon, Mistress. I just wanted to know what type of wine you would like for afterwards? I have a very nice red that I could set to breathe, if you think that would suit?" She didn't answer immediately, as if she were carefully considering the possibilities. In reality, she was simply reveling in her view of her submissive flushing red with excitement from this mild humiliation she had imposed upon him. The 'unsightly' bulge beneath the lacy apron proved that she was not alone enjoying this little warmup scene before their night's main event. "I think I'm in the mood for something bubbly tonight. Put some Krug on ice, and then go wait for me in the dungeon. I'll be down shortly. I expect to be pleased with your cleaning and with your personal presentation." There was an implied 'or else' in her tone that sent shivers racing up and down her submissive's spine. As she'd intended. "Yes, Mistress," was the quick response. She heard the eagerness in his voice, and smiled as she watched him scurry bare-assed from the room, his heels clicking on the hard tile of the hallway floor. Those size-13's had been expensive, but well worth it for the fun they both had whenever she prescribed their wear for this task or another. With the preparations for the evening's entertainment now well in hand, she turned her attention back to the parcel she'd just received from ShaJuana. She laid the two strips of photographs carefully on her desk and examined them closely under the light of her lamp. The pictures were snapshot quality, but still sufficient for her purposes. The potential she'd expected to find was there, captured in Kodacolor. The child had made the effort to 'be in role' for the pictures, too, for the classic images of the 'just-barely-adult' female were there - the head cocked, teasing smile; wide eyes peaking over the lenses of those cute glasses (props to ShaJuana for that little embellishment) at the camera; the half-grin, with the glasses dangling near her mouth, and so on. However, it was the final picture that caught her eye, and that gave her confidence that this one could indeed pull off the role she envisioned for ShaJuana's friend. Lips tight and showing white teeth in a feral grin, and the manicured middle finger of one hand presented in the classic gesture, the sweet girl of the other photos was no where to be found in this one. No, this was the picture of a female predator, ready to pounce on her prey and then happily play with it before finally deigning to make the kill. If the young actor did as well tomorrow when she gave him his go-no-go test, then they'd see, wouldn't they? The possibilities, she mused, there were just such interesting possibilities. Smiling at the thought of those possibilities, she put the photos back in the envelope, carefully filed it away, and then rose from the desk. She had other things to do now, such as inspect her 'maid-servant's' attempts at housework. Her poor subbie had yet to do a really thorough job of cleaning anything the first time when she had him in those stilts. She had never figured out if it was because, a. being male, he was genetically incapable of properly cleaning anything; b. being that tall meant he didn't see the dirt that well, or c. that he rushed so he could get out of the shoes as quickly as possible, or d. because he liked being punished as much as she liked punishing him. Probably some or all of the above, she thought with a smile. In any case, she headed for the dining room and kitchen with every expectation that her darling mate would have to sleep on his tummy tonight; his penance for yet another botched clean-up assignment. When she finally let him go to sleep, that is. She had other tasks for him that would, she was sure, take up a goodly portion of the night, to their mutual pleasure. ~-~ Acting Dominant Chapter 4: Stage Test 2 - Staging and Scenery By Tigger c2008 The cacophony of the big city's rush hour assailed their ears as ShaJuana led Ty through the theater district towards an area undergoing serious regentrification. Ty expected that they would continue through that neighborhood and into the rougher, as-yet un-reclaimed section of town. Surely, he thought, that was where establishments such as 'dungeons' could thrive without bothering (or being bothered by) the neighbors. So he was surprised when they stopped in front of a 1940's era warehouse that had been converted into a rather high end street bazaar. The block-long building was filled from end to end with stylish boutiques and shops offering everything from designer clothes to designer foods to designer hair and grooming services. This couldn't be a 'dungeon', he thought. It was too, well, too out in plain sight. How could they hide what was going on with so many people about? Smiling at his obvious confusion, Juana took him by the arm and led him to a door at the far end of the block of store fronts. A sign on the door indicated it provided access to the "Service Associates, LLC." The door opened onto a well appointed foyer in which a perky, blond receptionist, seated on the other side of the well appointed room, greeted them. "Hi, Juana. The Boss told me to expect you. You and your friend are set to meet with her at 10 AM in Room Play Room - 3. You've got Prep Room -1 right now for your setups." "Thanks, DeeDee." "Have fun," the Little-Mary-Sunshine clone chirped as ShaJuana stepped up to the door next the receptionist's station and quickly keyed in a code on the electronic keypad next to the doorknob. When a soft buzzer sounded, she opened the door and indicated that Ty was to enter. Inside the door, a set of stairs led up to the second floor, where a complex of the expected offices were located. Juana led him down a short hallway to a door marked "Office Supplies" and entered. It seemed like a dead end to Ty, and he was about to ask what was up when the entire back wall of the supply closet, shelves and all, swung open to reveal another waiting room. They went inside and the hidden door closed behind them. "You need to understand, Ty, that you now have enough knowledge to do a lot of damage if you were so inclined, or if you slipped up and told the wrong people. The location of this dungeon is known only to the people who work directly for Maitresse and those people she trusts enough to take on as clients." "This is it? Really? I mean, this is not what I think of when I hear 'dungeon', Juana." The beautiful woman's face relaxed into a broad smile. "Oh, you just never know what you'll find where in New York. Besides, who says you gotta have a castle for a real dungeon, right?" Then she became serious again. "You do understand that Maitresse is trusting you, and I'm the one vouching for you?" "I won't violate your or her trusts, Juana." And there was a stiff, offended tone to his voice. ShaJuana relaxed, and smiled again. "I know, but I had to hear you say it. Okay, let me give you the nickel tour. Maitresse's business takes up the rest of this floor and all of the third floor of the old warehouse. From here to the other end of the block are the public and preparation rooms - where folks do the meet and greet, get ready to play or come down off a scene. There's even a real clinic down here, as opposed to the play clinic upstairs" "You ever needed that?" "Not since I've been here. Maitresse is very careful who she lets play here and how hard she lets them play, but you just never know for sure, right? You never need something like a clinic in-house until you really need it. Come on. Don't know how complicated today's gonna be, but we'll find out what Maitresse wants us, well, what she wants you to be and do today." The prep-room was a cross between a health club locker room and a theater dressing room. There were large, metal lockers on one wall opposite a large mirror, a multiple-seat vanity table and a dressing screen against the facing wall. The other two walls were lined with clothes racks filled with garments of all types and materials. Beneath the racks were what must have been more than one hundred pairs of shoes, while the shelf on top of one rack had mannikin heads, each sporting a different wig in a variety of colors and styles. The shelf on the other rack held a large number of strange headgear that really could not be called 'hats.' One thing was immediately obvious. None of the garments, shoes, wigs or headgear were in any way masculine. Well, Ty thought, no surprise there. While Ty had been staring at the room, ShaJuana had moved over to the vanity and picked up an envelope. Opening it, she quickly removed and scanned through the note, then shrugged. "Okay, Tyra, time to get you fitted out. Skin out of them boy clothes and put them in one of the lockers. All the way! It's just nine and we only have an hour to get ready. Good thing we got rid of the body hair yesterday," she added, more to herself. Ty just stared at her for a second, then turned to the locker and began to strip. "Gonna give me an idea on the script for this play, Juana?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. And nearly gave himself whiplash when he snapped back to see the gorgeous Juana already down to her bra and panties. "Umm... Juana? Don't you think you should use the screen?" "No, we don't have time," she replied forcefully, "and didn't I just tell you to strip, boy?" "Yes, ma'am," he said, and resumed his undressing, caught between that angel and devil again, wanting to respect her privacy while at the same time, wanting to enjoy her tall, voluptuous beauty. "Hurry up! We've got to get you into this corset, and that will take time." "We've got an hour," he offered, as he tossed the last of his clothes into the locker. Juana pushed her own into the same locker, and then set the combination lock. "Didn't you learn anything yesterday, knucklehead? Guess not! Okay, over to the corseting trapeze - NOW!" "Corseting trapeze? What the hell is that?!?" "Trust me. You'll love it!" As it turned out, he didn't. ~-~ At 9:45, both he and ShaJuana were mostly in costume. She hadn't been kidding about the heels, either. Hers were easily five inches, probably more, and his were at least four inches tall. Other than that, their costumes couldn't have been more different. Ty wore a classic French Maid's dress in black satin, the skirt stiffened from waist to hem so that it's lowest point was but bare inches lower than the smallest measure of his tightly corseted waist. Impressively realistic breast prosthetics gave the illusion of a full bust and incredible cleavage. Black satin garters, attached to the corset, held up black fishnet stockings. He had a bow tie collar and cuff-linked wrist cuffs that looked like they'd been borrowed from a Playboy Bunny. A blond wig, this time done up in a tight, French braid, was on his head, and was accessorized with a lacy cap. "I feel like a kinky Mary Poppins who swallowed her umbrella," he groused. "Does this skirt have to poof out like this? It covers nothing and I can't even see my feet!" "Hey, 'least you ain't havin' to wear the hip and bun pads, boy. In case you haven't figured it out yet, Ty-RONE, that skirt's not s'posed ta cover anything. It has a built-in petticoat to make it stand out like that because that's what a French Maid's skirt looks like, and they're part of that skirt because it's easier for us dominatin' types that way. Only the skirt has to come off when it's time to get the client stripped for action. Petticoats just get in the way and time flies when you're havin' fun." and then she cast a teasing eye-twinkle at her friend. "You'll see... maybe." "Great. Oh well, the show must go on, even for Practically Imperfect in Every Way French Maids with poofed-out skirts." For her role, Juana was clad head to toe and throat to wrist in a white, leather catsuit that was so tight, it had taken both of them to get her zipped. The contrast between her flawless black skin and the shiny white suit was both shocking and erotic. Moreover, the deeply cut bodice made her breasts look huge. In fact, Ty wasn't entirely sure how what little of Juana's boobs that were covered stayed covered. Just one deep breath, he thought longingly, and all that glory would be just ... out there to enjoy. "Do your own makeup, Tyra," Juana ordered as she moved to the vanity herself. "Think about your costume, and think theater. In other words, lay it on thick, bright 'n heavy." Obeying, Ty moved to the vanity beside his friend. "What about the script?" The tall woman gave what might have been a sigh. "That's just it, Tyra, there ain't no script. This is all on the fly, improv-stuff, okay? You're a guy, masquerading as maid. Maitresse and I are gonna be the ones you're serving. The thing is, that if you're not spot-on perfect in both the servin' and the girl-stuff, you're gonna get punished as part of the scene." "Punished? I thought you said I was to play a dominant role in this little play! Punished, HOW?" "Dominant role's tomorrow, honey. You ain't gonna be a Domme today - not rigged out like that, okay? Maitresse wants to make sure you won't break, won't, well, go spaz during the real scene and ruin it for everyone - especially for the client. So she's going to try to push your buttons. As for the punishment? I'd guess some teasing - heavy teasing, maybe some bondage, and probably a spanking." ShaJuana considered that more carefully and continued. "I'd say a spanking's gonna be a 'for certain', Ty. Maitresse likes handin' out sexy spankings." Ty was flabbergasted. "SPANKING? She said no one would get hurt! When the hell did THAT change?! Let me out of here, dammit!" he snapped, bending over to undo the straps that held his feet in the inflexible shoes he already hated. Strong hands gripped his wrists, pulling him back upright so that he was looking up into Juana's chocolate eyes. "It WON'T hurt -not really - trust me, Ty, okay? Sting a little, maybe, but no more than that, I promise you. I went through worse during my training to be a Domme because I had to learn what everything felt like and how to control my strength. This test is to see if you can control yourself, stay in character when things get a little rough emotionally. So you won't mess up the works with Bil...I mean, my client. No more than that - believe me." Ty didn't answer, but she could see the doubt and scepticism in his eyes. "I don't know HER," he finally managed to get out. "Ty, if I thought she'd hurt you, you wouldn't be here, and neither would I, okay? And if she does hurt you, even by accident - and I truly believe that is the ONLY way she would hurt you - I'll have you out of there in a New York second! Got that?" "Okay, so if I mess up, and get spanked, I lose my 'Get out of dungeon free card', do not pass Go, but I still collect 1,000 dollars on my way out? I mean, if I'm not feminine enough, I can't do the thing tomorrow, is that it?" "Well, that's not quite what's goin' down, okay?" Juana momentarily struggled with what and how much to say, then decided to opt for full disclosure. Ty wasn't an experienced player -hell, he wasn't any kind of player - and he could really screw things up from pure ignorance and surprise. "Look, Ty... The thing is you ain't been doing 'girl' long enough NOT to mess up, and the Maitresse knows that - Hell, Ty, she expects it and more than that? She WANTS it. What I think this is about is that if you can remain in character as a woman during the scene, she'll figure you can handle whatever she has in mind for tomorrow, and give you the job." Ty thought about that for a few moments, during which ShaJuana held her breath. Finally, he shrugged. "Okay, I can always quit if it hurts. Guess that explains the REAL reason you didn't give me any fanny padding this time, huh?" ~-~ Climbing the stairs to the third floor in four inch heels was not the most fun thing Ty had done in his life. Especially since the steps weren't wide enough for him to put both the toe and the heel of the shoe on the step. The heel, such as it was, always hung over the edge of the step tread. The shoes also messed with his center of gravity, putting parts of his body where his muscle memory didn't expect those body parts to be. He was damned grateful for the stair railing because without it to hang on to, sure as anything, he would've found himself sitting at the bottom of the stairs with a very sore butt well before he'd managed half the damned steps. They stopped at a door labeled PR (Play Room)-3. "This is it, Tyra," ShaJuana said softly. "From here, I go in and close the door. Once we're sure everything in there is ready for us, you'll be summoned. Once you enter, the curtain raises and you're on. Your safe word is 'Shakespeare.' If you really get hurt, or if you just can't handle what's going down for ANY reason, before you hurt yourself or any one else, just say 'Shakespeare.' Okay? If you say it, we stop, the scene ends, we go get your clothes, get you get paid for today, and you don't come back tomorrow. Understand?" Ty nodded. "I need to you say the words, Tyra." "Yes, ShaJuana, I understand. It's okay with me," he told her. She nodded, and started to open the door. "Except for one thing," he amended quickly. Startled, Juana turned back to face him, concern on her lovely features. "Je m'appelle Tia, s'il vous pla?t?" "HUH? What did you say?" Ty grinned. "I said, my name is Tia, if you please. I'm not the one here who looks like Tyra Banks." ShaJuana gave a laughing snort. "Well, the only person I call Tia is my Tia Elaina. She's my dad's older sister, and you look a helluva lot more like Tyra Banks than you look like my maiden aunt. Hell, if she ever wore an outfit like the one you're wearin', she wouldn't have ended up an old maid. You're not going to sell yourself as *anyone's* auntie, little girl." The feminine face wrinkled into a frown. "Well, I still don't think Tyra works for me. I can't get my head around that getting into a role with that name. How about ... Tysa ... Tyma ... Tyka ... ummm... I KNOW! Tina. That's a nice maid name, eh?" "Tina," the tall goddess said, stretching the name out as if she were tasting it to see if the dish was properly seasoned. "Yes, that works just fine - nice and girly," and then she grinned wickedly. "Just like you." Bending down, she planted a soft kiss on Ty's heavily powdered cheek. "See ya on the other side ... Tina." And then she was gon