Good News Bad News
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Good News, Bad News, Part 5 free porn video
Good News, Bad News, Part 4
By Pindick
I adjusted the ruffles in my short pink prom dress as I rode in the car
with Sandra, the personal shopper my wife had hired to take me shopping
for feminine clothes after my morning being made over at the spa. We had
just left Foundations, Inc., the city's most exclusive lingerie store,
after having to face a frenzy of gawkers and individuals with cell phone
cameras and video cameras. They knew exactly where to find us, because the
staff at the Pink Pearl Spa had posted photos - with full identification -
of me in various stages of having my nails, hair and makeup done. To make
matter worse, because of my prominent position as president of Powers
Design, the photos were rapidly being "shared" on Facebook.
"One bad thing about all the attention is that we're running way behind,"
said Sandra. "The simple fact of the matter is that you've got to get some
clothes, asap. All your boy clothes have been sent off to the Salvation
Army, and the only outfit you have right now is hanging on your back. You
can't wear the same dress two days in a row - it'd be embarrassing!"
She paused a moment to see if I would pick up on the irony. After my
public and private humiliations over the past 24 hours, wearing the same
thing two days in a row was the least of my worries.
"That's ok. We're kicking into overdrive now," she said. "You have garters
and stockings to go with everything you could conceivably wear in terms of
dresses and skirts, so we don't have to worry about that," she said. She
pulled into the mall parking deck and parked in a restricted space by the
door. "I got special permission to park in this area. The general public
isn't allowed in here, so we can avoid your fans for the moment," she said
with a chuckle.
We got out and were about to walk in when Sandra stopped and looked me in
the eye. "We need to go over the ground rules. You know those little
outbursts in the car and in the lingerie shop? If that happens again, I
will return this call. Do you know who that is?"
She held up her phone to reveal the Caller ID for Fox Channel 4, the
city's largest TV station.
"Now what do you think they might be interested in?"
We both knew exactly what they were pursuing. April, my company's
personnel director, had "shared" my makeover photos, ensuring that her
1,200 Facebook friends would see them. Among those friends was Daria
Henley, anchorwoman for the Six O'Clock News. Of course, hundreds of
people had shared them by now, so Daria Henley had no doubt been seeing
them all day.
"Did you actually talk to her?"
"Briefly, while you were changing. I told her we didn't have time for a
televised interview today, but she's persistent. You're a major local
business figure, and she thinks something this unconventional for somebody
in your position is news. Fortunately, she said April had agreed to an
interview addressing any concerns that this might create for the
business."
"APRIL?!! She'll hang me out to dry, and it's the president's job to do
interviews."
Sandra sighed deeply. "If you prefer, I can drive you over to the station
so you can do it yourself. But given the way you look, I don't advise it.
Maybe having her do it will satisfy their curiosity and buy you an extra
day before you have to go in front of the cameras."
Obviously, I had no choice but to take my chances with April. But I knew
that the problem wouldn't go away, and that the TV station would be after
me again the next day.
I hung my head in defeat, and Sandra said, "Excellent! Let's go shopping!"
Our first stop was Nordstrom's, which admitted us through a side door.
However, we had to walk straight through the store's main floor to reach
the escalator.
"Hi Mr. Powers," said a girl at the MAC counter. "Your makeup looks nice,
but come back by and let me show you what some bolder MAC colors can do!"
Two other employers and three shoppers - none of whom I knew - greeted me
by name. We soon reached the "Careers" section.
"We'll start here," said Sandra. She introduced me to three women who
already seemed to know my life story and were a bit too eager to help. I
was relieved - if that word could possibly apply - that the first few
outfits were relatively conservative.
"Every girl has to have a good wardrobe of career wear. You can't be
showing off the goods every day at the office," said Sandra. "Don't worry.
You won't be frumpy. We'll get some really hot shoes to go with each and
spice them up," she said. "Let's go see what they have in the shoe
department."
The shoe department was crowded, so we browsed among the shoes while
waiting for a salesperson. One greeted us in passing: "Hello, Mr. Powers.
We'll be with you in a few minutes." Finally, a thin, fortyish man
introduced himself.
"Hi Mr. Powers. I'm Ramon, and I'll be helping you pick out some shoes
today. Sandra and I have known each other for years, of course. What can I
help you with?"
"Mr. Powers here is wearing the only shoes he owns at the moment, so I
hope you're on commission," said Sandra.
"You know I am, and I've become a big fan of Mr. Powers today," said Ramon
with a wide smile. "Lovely dress, but a bit froufrou for shopping, isn't
it?"
"We've been working on that too," sand Sandra. "I want him to try on
several different styles - starting with some sandals with an open heel.
Nothing less than 4" - or maybe 4 1/2" if it has a platform," she said.
She pointed to a pink heel. "That one looks nice for starters."
"Yes ma'am," said Ramon. As he went to retrieve the shoes in the back of
the store, Sandra turned to me. "Each style of shoe will play a different
role. The sandals look simple, but they are actually the most difficult to
walk in, because there's nothing holding them on your foot. How are your
feet feeling now?"
"They're killing me," I said.
"They'll be hurting a lot more before we're done. The sandals will make it
impossible to walk like a man, with big steps and putting your heel down
first. You'll have to take little short, feminine steps to avoid falling."
Ramon arrived with several boxes and pulled up a stool. I was sitting with
my legs crossed, trying to avoid exposing myself.
"Very ladylike, but I'm going to have to have a foot," said Ramon. I
uncrossed my legs and held one out. Ramon placed it up on the sloped
surface of the stool, causing my knees to separate. He glanced discreetly
up my skirt and quickly shift his gaze back to the foot.
"Lovely garter belt, by the way," he said. "Foundations Inc.?"
"Yes," I said.
"There. See if you can walk in those." Despite the simple appearance, the
heels felt impossible to walk in. I stumbled and fell into Ramon's arms.
"Don't worry. You'll get used to it. We'll take those," said Sandra. We
went through several more in similar styles, purchasing high heel sandals
in pink with white polka dots, yellow with ribbons, and red.
We moved on to strappy stilettos, which stayed on more easily but put more
of a strain on the balls of my feet. Ramon continued to glance up my dress
at every opportunity.
"Does he need anything for casual wear?" asked Ramon.
"I think not," said Sandra. "He won't learn a thing walking in flats and
low heels. "Say, didn't you stock some of those specialty heels for a
while?"
"The ones you called stripper heels?" he asked. "As a matter of fact, we
just got a new shipment and were going to set up the display tonight after
closing. Want to see some?"
"Yes, something outrageous," she said.
"Honey, they're ALL outrageous!" said Ramon with a laugh. "I'll be right
back."
He returned with several boxes and pulled out a pair of red platform
sandals. "Two-inch platform and seven-inch heel, but notice there's no
back or ankle strap. He could break an ankle in these if he's not
careful," he said.
"We'll take our chances. Do you have one with an ankle strap? Just in case
he's having trouble with the slip-ons," said Sandra.
"Right here," he said.
"Fine. I'll take both styles in red, hot pink and black if you have it."
"We have it," said Ramon. "You realize, these styles are a little more
flagrantly sexual than our usual lines."
Sandra laughed. "I shop for a living, Ramon! Trust me, I know. At any
rate, we're on our way to Forever 21."
"Well, these will go perfectly with their stuff!" said Ramon. He turned
back and took my hand, clasping it between both of his. "I can't tell you
what a pleasure it's been serving you. Actually, I could - but store
policy forbids it." He winked at Sandra.
Sandra looked at the bags. "We're going to have to take some of these out
to the car. Here are the keys. You take them while I pick out some
earrings. Meet me back in the jewelry department. Don't even think about
stealing my car and leaving, or you'll be pretty popular spending the
night in jail in that outfit!" she said.
My feet were aching from trying on all the shoes, and it took me forever
to get to the car and back. I was looking for the jewelry section when I
walked by the MAC counter again.
"Lost, Mr. Powers?" It was the same girl who had spoken with us earlier.
"Jewelry," I mumbled.
"Just around the corner. Y'know, I wasn't kidding. I'd love to do your
makeup," she said.
"That's up to the lady I'm shopping with," I said.
"Aha! Great! See ya later!" she said.
Sandra appeared to be peeved. "I don't like to be kept waiting," she said.
"Those studs in your ears make it look like you're trying to pretend to be
a boy. Get them out." I heard a giggle and realized that despite the
security guards' promise, we were attracting a small following. A girl
held up her camera and snapped a photo.
"Put these in," said Sandra. "You've already bought them." The earrings
were a massive hoops with concentric loops hanging down from a chain. They
clinked every time I moved my head.
"Perfect. Sometimes a girl's got to call attention to herself, and now
people will hear you coming," said Sandra. "As if you're not doing
anything ELSE to call attention to yourself." She giggled.
We walked out into the mall area and Sandra continued to talk.
"There are times in a girl's life when it isn't about quality and taste,
but about advertising her availability. Like your wife's been doing for
the past year! The clothes here are designed for teenagers, who as you
know tend to have pretty slutty tastes, so this is naturally the best
place for finding stuff to wear for when you're looking for some ...
action. The quality isn't great, but it's the effect we're after," said
Sandra.
"Hi Mikey Baby," said a girl with black hair, black eyeshadow and black
lips. I clearly had moved down about 10 classes. "Ready for some serious
minis? Sandra doesn't usually bring her upscale clients in here - not
their kinda store, I guess. So I was excited to hear you were coming!"
As had been the case all day, I had no choice, as the girl steered me into
a booth and handed me an outfit. "It's good that you're small and thin, so
we'll have a lot that will fit you. Keep the bra and fake boobs on under
the top and step into the skirt."
The top wasn't so bad - basically just a thin T-shirt - though I didn't
like the way the lacy lavender bra showed through it. The tight black
skirt was a different story. It couldn't possibly be more than eight
inches from waist to hem and was so tight that my penis made a bulge in
the material - right at the hem, so that it was obvious to anyone that (a)
I was a male, and (b) if the material shifted in the least, I would expose
myself. The skirt was so short it showed several inches of the garter.
Sandra instructed me to open the door and looked me over top to bottom.
"Hot!" said the Goth girl, who called herself Pica.
"Assuming he doesn't get arrested!"said Sandra. She turned back to me.
"Even Laney wouldn't be caught dead in that. Here, go over to the stool
and put these on and we'll get a photo," she said. She handed me one of
the pairs of stripper heels we had just bought. "If you can get those on
without exposing yourself, the skirt fits," she said. Several onlookers
roared with laughter as I fumbled with the shoes, trying to keep my
kneecaps faced away from the store. I stood up shakily.
"Let's see you walk!" said Pica. I took a few steps and realized that
Sandra had given her the video camera, which was running.
"Yep, I think that's a keeper," said Sandra, snapping the first of several
photos. I realized I had dropped my purse and bent over to get it.
"Whoa!" said Sandra, prompting a laugh. "Giving a peep is one thing, but
you just showed off the whole thing. That WILL get you arrested. Stoop,
don't kneel!"
"Maybe we should go with something a little bigger?" I said hopefully.
"No way," said Pica. "We girls wear that all the time. You should get a
taste of it. Just keep that teenie weenie hidden away. From what I've
been reading on Facebook, it's nothing you want to show off anyway. Three
and a quarter inches all hard? Is that what it said?"
"There's a new update on that. It was an even three inches last
measurement," said Sandra.
A crowd of at least a dozen had gathered around for the spectacle, and
they roared with laughter. Several were taking photos with their cameras,
and a couple seemed to be uploading - to Facebook, I assumed.
"How do you spell your name again?" someone asked.
"Powers," said Sandra. "Mike Powers. No rush folks, he's going to be
trying on several other outfits here."
I ended up with a purple bubble dress, a loose-fitting miniskirt and a red
skin tight stretch minidress. The red stretch minidress was the tightest
and shortest of all, and it was almost impossible to adjust pull it down
enough to hide my penis. To make things worse, I got an erection while
modeling it, and my cock poked out the bottom for all to see. A girl
screamed.
"That's OK," said Sandra. "Just be careful. He'll wear that one with
these." She pulled out the 7" stripper sandals. "You can bag up the rest,"
she said.
She stopped and looked at my legs. "That red looks just awful with the
lavender garters and stockings," she said. "I stuck the black garter belt
in my purse, but I don't have any black stockings with me."
"We do!" said Pica. "If he doesn't mind wearing fishnets."
"Fishnets are perfect. Ring them up, along with everything else." She
handed me the stockings and garter belt and sent me back to the changing
room. "Skin tight red micro mini with hooker heels and black garters and
fishnets. Yummy!" she said.
As Sandra handed Pica my credit card, her phone rang. I worried that it
might be the anchorwoman, but it obviously wasn't.
"Oh yeah, it's been great fun! Have you seen the pictures? Hmm, I don't
know how long I'm going to have him. Let me call you right back."
"Um, Sandra, can I make a copy of the pictures? My friends won't believe
it," asked Pica.
"Sure, if you'll do me a favor. She scribbled on a piece of paper. "That's
the receptionist at the Pink Pearl Spa, who's been posting his photos to
their web page. Would you email them to her?"
"Sure. We're in school together," said Pica. "Can I post them to my
Facebook page too?"
"Of course!" said Sandra. "Wait. Let's get one in the fishnets and you can
send her that too."
While Pica rang up the sale, Sandra made another call.
"Hi Laney. Am I interrupting anything sordid? You're kidding! Wow. Glad
you're having fun, but I bet it is getting pretty bruised. Are you going
to want your little hubby back tonight? If you'd like to go another round,
I have a friend who just invited us for drinks and maybe some dinner. You
sure? Wonderful!" She hung up.
"Well, we'll have to pick up some more things tomorrow, but that's about
it for this trip. A friend wants to meet us for drinks, as you probably
heard. He saw your photos and wanted to meet you," she said with a
sideways wink at Pica.
We started back through the mall. Walking was now twice as difficult in
the stripper heels, and I knew the dress would expose my peepee with the
tiniest movement. Even more people greeted me by name, and as we went
through the cosmetics are at Nordstrom the MAC girl who had greeted us
earlier said, "You're making a big mistake!"
That stopped Sandra in her tracks. "How do you mean?"
"His makeup is all upscale and classy. Very nice. But the dress is ...
well, you know. Tiny red dress, showing black garters, fishnets, and my
god! Those heels!"
"True."
"So where are you heading?"
"Iron Horse."
"The gay leather bar? And you're going to let him go in there with pink
lips and PTA mom makeup? No way! Why don't you let me do him a look that's
more appropriate. No obligation, and he'll fit in a lot better."
Sandra looked at her watch. "We have time," she said
"I don't want to go to a gay bar," I said.
"That settles it," said Sandra, who gave me a look that said "if we'd been
in the car I'd have bloodied your nose for that one."
"You gonna let me show you?"
"Every girl ... or whatever" she wrinkled her mouth in something
approaching a sneer, "has to have a whole portfolio of looks. Why not? Get
your ass up there, shorty."
I was taken aback by her hostility, but not enough to keep me from asking,
"But won't Angie get her feelings hurt, since we're re-doing the makeup
she did just this morning?"
"Not at all. She told me privately that she wished she had MAC's bolder
colors to work with."
"Angie at Pink Pearl? Yeah, she's my roomie. She hates that Aveda line
they carry, because it's so ... vanilla. Tell you what. I'll call her and
ask." She pulled out her iPhone and dialed. "Angie!! It's me, Chrystal.
Yeah, I've been watching the photos all day, and he's standing right here.
Listen, the shopper's got him all decked out in the sluttiest little dress
and hooker heels you ever saw, and they're meeting friends at Iron Horse.
Yeah, that was my reaction. So you wouldn't get your feelings hurt if I
did him over? I'm thinking thick liner, cocksucker lips. Colors you don't
have. You sure? Great! Yep, looking forward to it. See you tonight!"
She hung up the phone. "Angie says not only would her feelings not be
hurt, but she'd be horrified if you showed up in that outfit with that
makeup."
Sandra turned to me. "I told you, asswipe! Now, on the stool! And keep
your legs together. If you get arrested, I never heard of you." I noted
that Sandra was showing less and less respect for me as the day wore on.
The stool didn't have a back, and I knew I probably flashed anybody who
was looking, but I collected myself, crossed my legs and pointed my knees
toward the counter.
"Very nice," said Sandra. "OK, Chrystal, slut him up for me."
Chrystal laughed. "Well, that's not exactly the term we use for it, but
I'll accept it if you promise not to repeat it. We don't have to re-do the
foundation - just the eyes and lips. I'm going to do a very heavy eyeliner
- top and bottom, and do the membrane inside the eye as well, to make it
even more intense. Then some black eyeshadow in the crease coming out to
meet the liner at the point. That work for you?"
"Perfect. I'm going to the lady's room while you start," said Sandra.
Chrystal started to work.
"It's really cool meeting you. I feel like I know you! Have you seen all
the comments about your photos on Facebook?"
"No, I've been on the go all day. I know which photos are on the spa's
Facebook page, but not much more."
"Well, you can look at them all when you get home tonight, but you have
quite a fan base," said Chrystal. Now look up." She ran her pencil across
the inside of the membrane lining my eye. "Can I do the top one too?"
Without waiting for an answer, she pulled my eye open by the eyelashes and
did the same to the upper lid, then repeated on the other eye.
"Now we'll do the traditional eyeliner," she said, running the pencil
around the upper and lower lids. "I'm going to go into the crease with
Carbon, which is our blackest eye shadow. We usually just use it for
liner, but it fits your outfit!" Chrystal winked.
Sandra returned just as Chrystal was finishing up the eyeliner.
"Definitely glad you stopped us. You're right. This is much more fitting
for the outfit - and several of the other outfits in the bag," said
Sandra. "What about the lips? How literal were you being when you said
'cocksucker lips'?"
"There are several factors in choosing a lip color for an extreme sexy
look. One is color, and I think we agree it's either burgundy, deep purple
or bright red like mine. What's your preference?"
"What about you? What's your favorite?" Sandra asked.
"I'm wearing it," she said, pointing to her bright red lips. "But there's
a second factor. It's a little delicate though. Maybe I should ask him."
"Ask me. I make all the decisions," said Sandra.
"OK. If you mean it literally, you want to think about ... uh ... how much
fun he might be having in a night, and what effect you're going for. If
it's just one or two, you can go with a traditional lipstick like our Ruby
Woo plus Russian Red gloss. That'll make quite a mess, which can be pretty
cool and kind of sexy, especially if he's at a party and comes out of the
restroom with it all smeared."
"I like the way you think!" said Sandra.
"The other choice, which I'd recommend if he's likely to do five or six,
is our pro longwear product, which is basically a stain that will last
through the messiest ..." she looked around to make sure nobody could
overhear. "I mean ... that is very durable," she corrected herself,
winking at Sandra.
"I don't plan to do any at all," I protested.
Sandra's expression went dark, and she took out her keys. She held them
out under the stool and dropped them. "Oops! I dropped my keys. Pick them
up," she ordered.
I found it impossible to get off the stool without my knees flying apart
at least slightly, and by the timing of the laughs, I assumed the three or
four spectators had seen my privates. I remembered the lesson from Forever
21 and tried to stoop to get the keys rather than leaning over, but I
couldn't reach them.
"Come around to the other side and try it," Sandra ordered. I stooped
again and held my knees together to one side, but still the keys were out
of reach. "Reach in. You have 10 seconds," she said. My only choice was to
flail my kneels apart on either side of the stool and wedge my shoulders
in. I finally was able to grasp the keys, but I knew I had exposed myself.
Indeed, when I stood back up, I remained exposed because the dress had
been hiked up.
"Idiot!" said Sandra. "Pull your hem down." I did so, but had grown hard,
and even with the dress stretched over it, my penis was poking out like a
tent.
Chrystal intervened. "Here, hop back on the stool and I'll stand in front
of you," she whispered. The blocked the view, which was fortunate, because
I was now sticking straight toward the ceiling. She looked at Sandra, who
turned to the crowd.
"Move along, folks. Just a little accident. Nothing to see here," Sandra
said. She blocked the other angle and said, "Let's use the regular
lipstick. If folks see it smeared, that'll be good advertising."
Chrystal lined my lips with a burgundy pencil and filled them in with the
Ruby Woo lipstick. She added a heavy coat of rich, red gloss.
"This is a very heavy, high maintenance lip. It smears at the drop of a
hat, and it can be embarrassing, so keep a close eye on it. On the other
hand, it's beautiful, and I often wear it myself. Especially when I'm
looking for ... you know," said Chrystal.
Sandra smiled. "I do know indeed. We'll take all the products you used,
and if my boy here can tuck his little pecker away, we'll get out of here
and keep our date."
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