Night Of One Hundred Bullets: Chapter 2 free porn video

Part 4: Pavel Danek "You look ... you look amazing!" Sandra Pazzini, the woman who just last night taken Leona in as a roommate, had emerged from the bathroom when she heard Leona return. Her head and body were wrapped in a towel and she looked perfectly at ease clearly not about to change into clothes. "I've had a few makeovers in my day, but none with results this dramatic. Now I really do have to worry about you bringing home boys." Leona smiled at the compliment, "I know the rules Sandra." Her new roommate had approached her and was softly touching her hair. Sandra had the non distinct but very real, smell of being freshly showered. "Extensions." Leona informed her. "Even so," Sandra said, "you have to have pretty thick and full hair to weave in extensions this thick and full. Not like my thin hair." Sandra touched her towel. Leona shrugged, not knowing much about the process before today. She about to repeat a remark her mother often made about the thick hair of their particular strain of Italian heritage, but decided to swallow it. "Sit down honey." Sandra gestured to the white leather couch seated before the marble framed gas fireplace. Not for the first time Leona marveled at the wealth poured into this space. "Okay," Sanda said, "I've got good news which is actually bad news, but more bad for me and pretty good for you." Leona didn't respond to the cryptic statement, waiting to hear the woman out. "I was able to get you a job. Off the books. But not the job I thought I could. So, against my better judgment, I called in a favor." Sandra slid across the leather couch so she was in a foot away from Leona. "So. I'm really going to need you to work out with the living together thing, and be decent person and not screw me over. Because to be honest, this is not something I wanted to do, but I trust my instincts and think you're okay." Leona kept her silence. She had heard snippets of what had been said about her over the years. Sometimes these things were said directly to her face. And from the people who had come to know her well, very few of these comments were complementary, in fact, "snake" came to mind as an oft repeated word. And none of these comments ever involved the words "instincts" and "okay" in the same sentence. Leona had become comfortable with this occasional hostility, because she recognized it as an accurate reflection of who she was. This was the path she had chosen to walk down almost upon becoming Leona, and one she took to with gusto upon the death of her mother. There was no need in pretending it was otherwise. "I wanted to get you working at this Vietnamese French fusion restaurant where I know the owners pretty well. But that went south. Some cousins or something are coming over to the States and they're all going to need jobs. But ..." she held up her index finger "I was able to get you into a hosting job at The Gold Standard." Now it was Leona's turn to speak. "That massive club downtown? That 'Gold Standard'?" "That's the one. There's a few things about it you need to know. Primarily, do not mention me in any way shape or form. Even if someone pretends they know you know me, do not fall for it. Can we be clear on that?" Leona nodded her head at yet another of Sandra's increasing list of secrecy rules. "You know how The Gold Standard is set up, right? Party girl like you has surely been there." "A party girl like me," Leona corrected, "has never been there. It is the most velvet roped off VIP only place I've ever seen. I've stood on the sidewalk in line all night and not gotten in more times than I would care to admit." "That sounds about right," Sandra said, nodding her head in agreement with Leona's assessment. "It's the spot. It's also a cavernous place. Seriously, it's huge. A large restaurant opens into a warehouse sized dance floor. In fact, I'm pretty sure the whole thing was a warehouse at some point. Sectioned off in an adjacent building, but connected by a hallway, is a pretty popular - what's the term - 'gentlemen's club'." "Strip club? Didn't know that. How does a club that serves alcohol share space with a strip club separated by just a hallway? In that part of town to boot. Who approves that kind of zoning?" "Approves the zoning?" The blonde haired woman laughed, "You sound like a city planner. Or a vice cop. Lots and lots of money changing hands is what approves that zoning." She stood up, done with the subject for now. "Leona Jade? I never asked you, do you cook?" "Do I? I make make a caponata that people rave over. Providing I get good enough eggplant, that is. Not the kind they try to pass off as decent in these chain grocery stores. Serve my caponata on some grilled bread rubbed in garlic salt and olive oil and - Voila!" Leona had thrown both her hands in the air for emphasis. She may no longer be her father's son, but she retained his passionate love of cooking. Sandra laughed heartily at Leona's enthusiasm. "We'll go shopping for your eggplant Leona Jade. And not and one of those chain grocery stores either. We can also pick up the rest of food you'll need to live since you half of the fridge is pretty empty right now. On the way I can tell The Gold Standard's newest hostess some more of the things she'll need to know.." Sandra Pazzini stood, pulled the towel from her head and dried her hair. She unfastened the towel from around her chest letting it fall nonchalantly at her feet, and stood in front of the seated woman. Leona was now a couple feet away from the tone, taut body of the young woman. Her breasts, Leona noted, looked far larger in the flesh, quite big enough that Leona, or anyone, would have taken notice right away when they met the woman. How did she miss that? Sandra seemed the type of girl to want to divert attention, Leona wondered if the woman wore a minimizing bra in her efforts to move around unnoticed. She also wondered if those mounds were real. But the primary question on Leona's mind was if this were some kind of test. To say this was not normal behavior by Sandra, was a bit of an understatement. Why would she drop her towel and stand so close. What exactly was Sandra trying to discern? As casual and uncaring a demeanor as Sandra seemed to strike, Leona felt these next couple of seconds were crucial. Instead of looking away, Leona gave Sandra's body a nice long look before smiling playfully and saying, "Wow. Tell you what. I'll trade you this hair for that body. Deal?" Sandra genuinely laughed, and headed for her bedroom, towels still piled on the floor. Her hips swaying as she walked away, still completely nude. "Start making a shopping list Leona Jade," the naked woman shouted over her shoulder. Leona couldn't be certain what had transpired there. But she seems to have passed the test. She also realized that she could not afford to relax around this woman. Not yet in any case. More test of this sort would inevitably come. ***************** Three weeks into the job and Leona realized none of the fun and glamor of going to the clubs, translated to the people working at the clubs. The Gold Standard, the dance club which filled inches of gossip columns all over the nation, the celebrity hangout, the place of the moment, was surprisingly tiresome work. Leona, as a hostess who had one of the easier jobs in the establishment, knew it could be outright hellish for the girls working some of the other positions. The largest problem, as Leona could see, was everyone one who crossed that velvet rope through the giant gold decorated doors, thought they were somebody, and acted like they were a somebody. Genuine movie stars, egomaniacal actresses from unwatched television shows buried deep in the cable network ghettos, athletes, porn stars, moguls, and hundreds of male and female "nobodies" allowed in as pretty decoration, all were equally demanding and unforgiving, and all were treated with the same attentive service. One of the many reasons people loved this place was while most clubs of the moment treated you as if you were lucky just to be there, The Gold Standard made them all feel like the happening people they felt they were. From that side of the fence, Leona imagined, it was all very magical. Complicating the work situation for her slightly was a mountain of a man named Pavel Danek, a Russian or Ukrainian or similar, Leona was never entirely sure. He ran the floor security, constantly moving about in a stylish black suit and highly polished shoes, earpiece in, talking into a wrist microphone like a secret service agent. He was a serious man who was serious about his job. He looked like he could snap a person's spine without thinking about it, primarily because he looked the type to have done it several times before. And out of the many dozens of uniformly beautiful women in this massive establishment, of which Leona - a quite captivating looker in her own right, particularly post makeover - considered herself quite average, Pavel seemed to have taken a fancy to her. The other girls would elbow Leona teasingly as Pavel tried his hand at courtship, even as going as far as to bring her flowers on occasion. In this environment where people who never heard the word "no" grabbed at her as if she were just another one of their possessions, Pavel Danek's nearly old fashioned approach was actually quite sweet, even if vastly inappropriate by the standards of the American workplace. But that aside it was also helpful. Some of these same grabby patrons thought twice when they saw Pavel's stern visage smile when speaking to her. But even if the man with his broken English and hands the size of her head was someone she would consider ... seeing ... she knew that mixing work with her personal life here was dangerous. Not only would she likely lose her job if her true gender were ever exposed, but it didn't seem out of the realm of reason that Pavel would break her into many pieces if he were to find out. Save nothing that drastic happening, it would still blow things with Sandra if she were to find out. Leona was too smart to discount Sandra Pazzini as a force to be reckoned with. A large part of Leona's job was coordinating with the wait staff through her headphones to get the right people at the right tables in both the restaurant and club when the spaces opened up. With certain people never wanting to look less important than their contemporaries, nor to be kept waiting, it was not just a matter of seating people when empty tables became available, it was a constant game of "juggling The VIPs." She would then have to quickly escort these patrons across the vast distances of the spacious entertainment complex. As part of the faux-Asian style clothing worn by the hostesses, these distances were made more difficult by the six inch height of her backless black stiletto slides and the tightness of her long black lycra hobble style skirt, making each step excruciatingly short but very quick. Her top was as tight as her skirt, made of the same clinging, unforgiving material. But where the other girls complained it was too hot and too tight, Leona saw it as an advantage. Underneath her shirt she wore a special mastectomy bra which, instead of having cups of material needing to be filled with boobs, was nothing more than slightly larger than D cup full silicone breasts held tightly against her body by flat thin bra straps. The effect caused her realistic looking breasts to protrude and be seen prominently through the lycra. To the entire world she was all but braless and extremely well endowed. Sure people "knew" they were implants, no tits that large could defy gravity like that, but in an establishment with a gentlemen's club down the hall where fake breasts were the norm, no one seemed to even care. Combine this with the ability to smile warmly through a pat on the ass here, and a lascivious squeeze there, made her best tipped hostess in the building by quite some way. With this type of clientele always willing to show off through their money, she brought home hundreds, but usually thousands, of dollars for a full nights work. It had been a particularly crazy night, and Leona figured she must have clocked a few miles in those heels and that highly restrictive skirt. She sat at a booth, counting out the tips and waiting for the manager to dismiss them for the night. She kicked off her heels, feet aching, and put them up on the seat. "Allow me so kindly." It was Pavel. He had sat across from her and grabbed her feet in his hand. One of the waitresses smiled slyly at Leona. They all found the lopsided smiling puppy love looks from this frightening boulder with legs to be the most endearing thing they'd seen. Not having the energy, or more practically shoes, to duck Pavel, Leona nodded with acceptance. Holy god, Leona thought to herself. She may have even inadvertently released a tiny moan of pleasure. These giant hands of Pavel, which had surely knocked out their share of men cold, were shockingly soft, yet as strong as they looked to be. He worked the nylon clad feet with his hands with a firm expertise, yet gentleness, Leona wouldn't have thought possible. He took his thumbs and worked them down the arch of her right foot. This time she actually did moan. The waitress, thinking this was turning into a private moment, left the two alone. Leona closed her eyes, and leaned her head back, allowing the man's magical fingers to do its work. This was truly exceptional. At some point during the massage, Pavel had positioned himself that her foot was now firmly between his legs, pressing against his growing bulge. For the second time that night, Leona had the thought "holy god" when it came to Pavel. She had heard stories and seen plenty of pornos with well endowed men, but she had never experienced it. This man was a horse. He continued to rub her foot pleasurably on the top, but it was now his scarily massive rock hard cock that was rubbing it from the other side. Leona head swiveled around, checking out the room. The staff was spread throughout the warehouse sized building, none close enough to see what they were doing below the table cloth. As a matter of thanking Pavel for the excellent foot rub, Leona mischievously, pointed her foot and moving her nylon enclosed, pedicured toes, up and down his thick, wide shaft. She could feel it grow even larger in his pants. Up and down her foot went, stiffer and stiffer he became, until she pulled her foot from his crotch and slid over right beside him. She had to see this wonder for herself. Looking around again, she unzipped him, and taking a cloth napkin from the table, wrapped it tightly around the head of his cock. Spitting on her hand to lubricate it, she slowly began stroking his dick. She couldn't begin to guess how wide or long it was, but it was the largest shaft she had ever seen. She stroked slowly, deliberately, her smoky bedroom eyes looking into the giant's. With her free hand, she dove into his pants, rolling his testicles around in her fingers, now jerking him off even more quickly. Pavel body straightened and his dick pulsated as the sperm fired endlessly into the material encasing the head of his dick. Leona waited for his massive gun to complete its firing, and cleaned up the cum around his head, and put the napkin in her purse to throw it away later. To his credit he didn't make a sound. Always the tease, she took the single remaining drop from his penis onto her index finger, and slid her finger teasingly deep into her mouth, sucking the finger, tasting his sperm. Pavel watched her with wide approving eyes. Leona slid back to the other side of the booth, putting both feet back into his lap. "Where were we Pavel?" With a smile, he picked up the massage where he had left off. ************ On her nights off Leona visited Sandra Pazzini at Abe's. Her roommate had never asked her to, but Leona saw that it helped break up the night on what had to be a relentlessly boring job. It was Leona's way of saying "thanks" and her way of casually getting Sandra to open up about herself, although the latter mission was very slow going, Sandra kept her cards very close to her vest. "... so that one actor, the one from the superhero movie last month was there. Talk about colossal assholes. He's one of those guys who actually comes in with two girls under each arm. And get this: a blonde, a brunette Latina, an African-American, and an Asian girl. Korean from the looks of her." "What, no red head?" "Well, actually, the black girl had red hair." Leona deadpanned truthfully. Sandra's belted laughter filled the empty cafe. One of the cooks who never had to cook, stuck his head out like a mouse peeking out of its hole, to see what was going on. Sandra added more seriously, "That shows you Hollywood is not as liberal as it seems to be, when someone who must be that gay, feels he has to look that straight. Four girls, each type, come on already. Overkill." "He called me doll." "Like he was Frank Sinatra? Oh dear god ..." Sandra burst out laughing even harder. "If he using the Sinatra template as a womanizer, he needs to update his film library." She wiped a tear of laughter rolling down her cheek. "So what about you?" Sandra asked, "any love life for you at The Gold Standard?" Leona paused for just a second. From time to time Sandra would ask what could be perfectly conversational, coincidental questions. But Leona suspected they were not. Leona believed Sandra was always testing her honesty. The woman got her the job in such a fashion that Leona didn't even need to meet anyone, just walk right in, shake hands with her new supervisor, and basically go straight work. Anyone who could do that had ways of knowing what was going on; so Leona worked with the assumption that she was always being watched. It was safer that way. Accordingly, as much as humanly possible, she tried not to tell Sandra flat out lies or hide things from her. "My love life is trying to get complicated, but I'm fighting to keep it simple. There's a human mountain by the name of Pavel Danek who runs security. He's become pretty sweet on me. Flowers and everything. I tried my hardest to shake him off. But he's like on ox. Surprisingly pleasant man though. For the past week or so now, I let him rub my feet after work. No way around it really. This is not a man you say 'no' to easily. Plus those heels and the distance we put in is insane. Anyway, I may have ...." Sandra watched Leona, hearing she was going to let the sentence drop, prompted her to continue, "And you may have ...?" Leona look at her lap smiling coyly, "I may have brought him off with my foot once or twice or more. For the record, he's got a cock like a elephant, that one." Leona had gambled. It very well may not be the type of answer Sandra wanted to hear. One of Sandra's many warnings were clear: do not fool around with the men there, none of them know why Leona is working off the books. Sandra smiled had faded. Had Leona stepped in it, she wondered? "Wow. Pavel Danek," Sandra was speaking largely to herself, not at all irritated as Leona thought she would be. She now addressed Leona, "Ok. I know a little bit about Pavel Danek. Don't ask me how. I'm surprised he brought you flowers, and so nicely rubbed your feet, though. That's not like him at all. He must really like you. That's actually good. Now ... normally ... normally I would try to ease your mind by saying 'don't let what I'm about say freak you out' but that won't do any good. You will freak out. But it very important you understand. So here it is: your want to be boyfriend Pavel's modus operandi is usually to break girl's necks. Sometimes there is rape involved. Rumor has it not always before the neck is broken. So ... playing the romance game with him lightly, and even bringing him off now and again, is probably smart. Dangerous, but smart. It's the girls who reject him outright that he really gets fixated on." Sandra continued, "But you he honestly likes, and he's like a hound dog. He'll not let go of your scent, but he may grow bored of the hunt after a while if you don't reject him outright. But for god's sake, Leona, be careful. Make sure you and he are always in a crowd. Worst case scenario, quit. Walking away from thousands a night may be tough, I know, but do it if you have to." Leona ran this revelation through her head. Sandra was right. She was freaked. It was not just that Pavel was a dangerous man that worried her. She felt she was smart enough to handle herself and avoid being alone with the man. What bothered her was how a man like Pavel Danek was hired to work around dozens of girls. If Sandra knew his story, someone else surely had to as well? The smile returned to Sandra's face, even if the caution didn't leave her eyes. "Crap. I freaked you out worse than I thought. Okay, let's get our minds off this. Let's do something fun tonight after I get off." "Anything but a club. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm a bit sick of clubs." "I get that. We can go to that all night theater. Do you like science fiction? They're running some of those hilarious science fiction films from the 50s. 'Attack of the 50 foot Woman', movies like that." "We'll call it date." ******** Leona woke up feeling pleased. Despite the caution that would need to be exercised at work in the face of Sandra's revelations, it felt like a new day of sorts had dawned. Since moving in together Leona and Sandra had a pleasant, amiable, but slightly distant relationship. They occupied space together, even had laughs together, but until last night's movies never did so truly as friends. Leona felt they were now paving a path toward friendship, however slowly. It was important to Leona that they did move beyond roommates and become friends. Part of her simply wanted that level of trusting companionship. The other part of her understood if Leona were to ever need to control the situation she was in, she would need to have that underlying platform of trust and friendship. But until this point it hadn't been easy, and even in the light of last night's progress, it would still be hard going. Sandra Pazzini was a woman who was clearly hiding much. She rarely spoke about the past, and when she did it was in general anecdotal terms that gave no real insight as to who she was and where she came from. She spent large parts of her day going places and doing things of which Sandra had no idea. Her bedroom door remained closed much of the time and a lock appeared on the office door the morning after Leona had arrived. To complicate matters, where Sandra was largely a mystery, Leona was simply a fiction. Leona Jade was born as a late teen just a few years ago. And of those few years, she had existed in public only in spurts, a few hours on a Friday night here, a few hours on a Saturday or Sunday there. Granted, Lee Corvetti had spent a great number of waking hours thinking about his female personae, and worked on how to improve it, so she was always gestating somewhere in his conscious. But the hard facts were no matter how real Leona may seem, in real terms add together the consecutive hours she had been in existence, and the sum would be less than three months total, and that was only because Leona Jade had been living around the clock since she left her father's house. This woman Sandra, who made an effort to obscure who she was, combined with a Leona, woman who was very much a studied fiction but growing into the role over time, and it was a wonder any chemistry could form at all. But that was not going to stop Leona from trying. The two of them had been sitting on the loveseat watching reruns of the ancient television science fiction show "Lost in Space". Last night's movie marathon had sparked, not sated, their craving for camp sci fi. Leona checked her watch. "I've got to go. There's a meeting at work. Something about changing the security and something something with the system we use for getting people to tables. I still need to get dressed." "You are dressed, you look nice, very casual. Surely they're not making you wear your work duds." Leona smiled at the compliment. She was reasonably comfortable, but her casual clothes differed radically from Sandra's. Leona would not dare wear sweatpants, a t-shirt, and walk around barefoot with no makeup as Sandra did. Leona's idea of casual was a version of "less dressed up". She always wore makeup, although with the salon hair removal treatments she no longer shaved at all and could wear light foundation around the clock. But she always applied mascara and eyeliner with light colored eyeshadow and lip gloss finishing it off in the times lipstick seemed overdone. She never wore sweatpants or baggy pants of any kind. And once out of the bedroom, shapewear and padding was always on her body. When in casual dress, she used the "top or bottom" theory. If she wore jeans with tennis shoes (always brightly colored like pink), then her top was always at its most feminine or cleavage revealing. If she wore a t-shirt, it was always combined with something like a denim skirt and heels or sandals no less than four inches high; exactly the outfit she sported today. "No uniform today. But I have to go put on my work tits. It's my signature feature, no going back to a C cup now. " The comment just underlined the oddity of their relationship. It was perfectly fine to discuss the ins and outs of being Leona with Sandra, she was after all, not delusional and very comfortable with it. But discussion of the Lee underneath the Leona was strictly verboten. So it was okay to talk about Leona having different breast sizes for different occasions, or to say she couldn't wear bikinis and pat her hips noting they were pads. But to say she played soccer as a child dreaming of playing for Real Madrid, was flat out, because it spoke directly to Lee the boy. Leona made the drive downtown and pulled into the club's large parking lot. There were only few cars, none of which she recognized. She got out of hers and entered the club in through the back. At least the door was unlocked. There was no sound, and the monstrously large place seem to be empty. It was still too early for the cleaning crew to get ready for the night. She wondered if she had the time right and checked her watch. No, this was the time Pavel told her just as she was leaving from work that night. The realization hit her head with burning sting. "Shit! Pavel!" "No 'shit'. Just Pavel," the Eastern European voice responded. The giant had stepped out from his security station. On the elevated platform he looked eleven feet tall. With Sandra's warnings not to be alone with this violent man still ringing in her ears, she seriously considered running but managed to hold her ground. She didn't want to alert Pavel that she knew he was a man who harmed women. He liked her, she still may be able to talk her way clear of this. Making matters worse, she had seen the large man dash across the club to break up fights. His size and shape were a deception, he was fast and nimble on his feet. Leona wouldn't make it ten steps toward the door. The first order of business then, was a smile that didn't betray her fear. "Pavel, sweetheart," She had never used a term of endearment with the man, but now seemed the time, "what are we doing here? Where is everyone one else?" The large man had been moving toward her as they spoke, closing the distance. There was absolutely no getting away from him now. Leona looked around again confirming they were completely alone. Panic set in. He was now standing two feet away. "Pavel? What are we doing here?" she repeated, fear not allowing her mind to form a different question, "where is everybody?" "There's nobody, just us," the slab of rock said, as he pointed to a table. For the first time Leona saw it had been set, and their was a continental breakfast laid out. "I don't understand," Leona said. He smiled that lopsided smile of his. "I knew you wouldn't go out with me. So we share food. This is a date." He took her hand in his, and walked her to the table. It was neatly set, the food made up of pastries and cereals, things that could be assembled without the ability to cook. Leona sat down, trying her best to make small talk, but for someone of her manipulative language skills, she was doing it very poorly. Of course, she had never been this genuinely frightened before. Not since the murder of her mother, in any case. He ate delicately with a silky grace, his pillar like fingers expressing amazing dexterity, which like his balance and nimbleness when running, was at great odds with his big bulky frame. His skill with English was not graceful, however, and in turn, caused him to be frighteningly blunt. "I like you very much. I see us dating and having good sex. Not just the hand and foot thing we do. What do you think?" "I can't Pavel, I would love to, but I can't. You're a wonderful man. But - '" He interrupted her. "It's because my thing is too large, isn't it? You would think this was a gift, but it scares so many girls... hurts them. But I will teach you to take it." "Will teach me to take it," Leona thought to herself. Through the language gap or his determination, Pavel was not hearing Leona's subtle rebuffs."I can't Pavel, I really can't." Leona said choking down the panic. "Where I come from, Pavel doesn't hear 'no' for an answer. But I like you. We will get naked together, and if you want, we do it, we have sex. If you do not, then we do not. And Pavel will leave you alone. But you have already jerked off Pavel, so you can lie with him now. I have an office with couch let's go." The look in his eyes told Leona this was happening. For any other girl, this would be the safest, if less than ideal, way out. And Leona believed in his twisted way, he was trying to be sweet, or at the very least reasonable. If Pavel wanted to rape her outright, he would have simply snatched Leona up. There was no question she could stop him. But he felt he could win her over once in bed. If Leona were a regular girl, she would lie with this hulk, jerk him off, maybe choke on trying to blow him, and be done with it. But Leona was no normal girl. And if she said no to this man now, he would take her into his room by force as seemed to be in his eyes. When that happened, the story of Pavel and Leona would go very badly fast. For one of the few times in her life, she absolutely had no idea what to do, and in spite of herself, she began to bawl. Tears flowed freely down her face as she sobbed. There was nothing she could do to stop them, nor did she care. She was going to have her life ended by the hands of this mountain, what were a few tears? It had never been her intention to speak at all. But with trembling lips, full of fear, the truth tumbled out of her surprising her even as she said it, "I can't lie with you Pavel. I'm a fake. I'm a complete fake. These boobs these hips this hair everything. Fake. I'm a boy underneath. I have a dick Pavel. I'm a boy." His face was impassive. "Come with me " He put his giant hand on her back, and guided her upstairs to his office locking the door behind him. Leona was wailing at this point. "Show me." Pavel said simply. Leona begged him not too. She knew the sight of her penis would anger this man rumored to have killed women with his hand. "Show me," he said again patiently. Leona slid her skirt and padded panties down around her ankles, stepping out of them, but leaving her heeled sandals on. Her penis, tiny and shrunken from terror, fell limply between her legs. "You say the boobs are fake too. Like padded fake," he confirmed. Leona nodded. "That is truly a shame, they were so nice and big ..." He stood examining her. "So you are a - " he inserted a foreign term that Leona had not heard before. "I don't know that word." She stammered. "Oh, it is a word we used in the prisons in Ukraine," he explained. "Sit. I tell you story." Not taking a chair, Leona slid her back straight down the wall, sitting on the floor next to her discarded panties and skirt. "There are special prisons, not the regular prisons, where they put people like me in the Ukraine." Leona wanted to ask Pavel what type of person "people like me" were exactly, but sat and listened. She was barely holding it together as it was, and any answer he gave surely wouldn't help. "These are dangerous prisons. People get killed all the time. Guards kill prisoners, prisoners kill prisoners, prisoners kill guards, gangs from outside the prison are allowed to sneak in by the guards to kill prisoners. Very dangerous. Lots of killing." Pavel laughed as if this were a very funny joke. "Men like me ... how do you say here ...? hard men ... who do not care about death, can survive it. Young men, old men, soft men, men afraid to die, they do not do so well. Some of the young boys find a very smart way to stay alive, to be protected. They become like you, 'penis-women' is how the prison slang would translate into English. In the Ukrainian prison, this is safer than being simply a gay person, homosexual. Part because gay is not like gay in US, it is still considered a terrible thing. The other part is, a penis-woman is saying 'I am all the way a woman' and can sell himself as a wife for protection. He does every to look like a woman. The gay, they do not do this. They are just men who sleep with men." Leona stopped looking around for escape. She was intrigued. "Pavel, I don't think I understand. What do you mean? How are these ... these 't- girls' we will call them ... different than the other men? They're in prison. What do you mean when you say 'does everything to look like a woman'?" He reached down and pulled Leona off the floor, seating her next to him on his large office couch. He found a box of tissues and placed it in her lap. "Ukraine prison. Not USA prison," he continued, "the boys they shave their whole bodies and go to the prison doctor and get the shots of salt water underneath the chest muscles to get water boobies. The water tits go away after two days, but they work." Saline shots, Leona realized with some horror. The prison doctors were pumping the boy's chest full of saline, an effective, but in the wrong hands, not entirely safe way to provide short term mammaries. "Sometimes they would go to the doctor and get something else done, to make the boobs big and stay big the whole time. Not like the saline. The doctors also give them the drugs, the female drugs, to make their bodies turn more female like. Softer." "Hormones." Leona added. "Yes, yes hormones." Pavel confirmed, "The ones with the permanent boobs and the hormones are the most wanted. Best protected. "My third year in prison there was this boy. No, not a boy, not really, in her soul she was not a boy. Just had parts like a boy. But she was under the mark ... that means marked for a kill, by a Ukrainian gang outside the prison. She was as good as dead. So he came to me for protection. She became a girl and came to me almost all the way a girl, like you. More than you. She had the real permanent chest, she was on the female drug, she smuggled in the polish for her toes and hands. Long hair. But not just that, like you, she spoke like a woman." Pavel paused in thought for a moment. There was a stillness in him as he recalled the memory. "So, I promise to protect her. Mostly so I have someone to put my dick in to make the time go by faster. But this girl was different. She could draw. She used to draw these wonderful pictures of landscapes. All the things that we couldn't see from our cells. If you said to her, 'I miss waterfalls' she would draw you a lovely waterfall, so real, such detail. It would bring the tears to your eyes. "And when I would lie with her, she didn't make me feel like the freak with a dick that caused pain and hurt, like it did with all the real girls. She could take me in her mouth. Not at first, but she tried hard and learned. She could take me all the way inside her bottom hole, even though I know it hurt badly, but she would cry out so joyfully, so wonderfully. And afterward, she would put her head on my chest and tears of happiness would run down her cheeks. She whispered things to me. Awesome things. Wonderous things. All night until she fell asleep. She made me, Pavel Danek, the man people look away from with fear, feel like the greatest person alive." Pavel stopped pausing a very long while. Leona wasn't sure if was going to continue. "She was beautiful to look at, but she was beautiful inside too. And one morning she was just gone. The gang had paid the guards, and even under my protection, they snuck her out. Drugged me so I couldn't break them when they grabbed her. And I never saw her again. She knew this was going to happen," he stood up went to his desk and produced a folded drawing from the top drawer. It was an amazingly life like picture of him with a lovely nude woman lying against his bare chest. "She hid this under the mattress. I found it two weeks later. She didn't sign her name. She signed the words 'When you find me gone, do not worry Pavel. I leave you happier than when I met you." Leona was dumbfounded, "You ... you loved her didn't you? And she loved you. That's why she cried with happiness. She knew it wouldn't last and these were her last days. And her last days were full of joy because of you." "Yes, this is true. I loved her." Leona looked up at this massive man. His eyes were so haunted with anguish and regret that her heart broke for him so openly and painfully. It was a strange overwhelming feeling she had not known in this way before. Impulsively, she plunged forward locking him into a long lip pressing, passionate kiss, wrapping her arms around him. He met her kiss with equal passion, and the room was filled with nothing but the sounds of their breathing and lips. She placed his hand on her large fake breast. His hands rubbed and groped them over her shirt as though they were real. Finally, Leona took his hand in hers, "Make me weep with happiness Pavel." Leona took out the lubricant she always carried, and spread it over Pavel Danek's long growing shaft. She knew this was going to be painful beyond comprehension, but she dared not attempt to take it in her mouth, it was far too wide and long. She hated the sensation of choking. Leona stood up kissing him again passionately while working her own lubricated fingers in and out of her ass until the passageway was fully gelled. Lying back on his couch, she placed a cushion underneath her hips, and holding his hips with all her strength carefully guided him into her hole slowly. "Care love, careful, careful." The tip of his massive cock slip past her anus with an explosion of pain. "Okay, okay ..." she panted half pleaded, "right there, don't move, right there," Leona wrapped her legs around the hulking man the best she could, relaxing her entire body. Slowly his dick slid in her a bit deeper until, in concert with Leona's own penis becoming excited, the sphincter finally gave in, and Pavel's huge meat slid slowly all the way inside her. It stretched the walls of her canal, and filled her insides like nothing she had felt. No man she had been with had a cock this large, this wide, and never in a thousand years would she have inserted a dildo this massive. It was painful, but extremely pleasurable at the same time. "Alright Pavel, slowly, very slowly, fuck me." Pavel Danek, with slow care, pumped his penis in and out of Leona's ass, with each pump her ass swelled with his massive cock in a pain pleasure combination unknown to her before. It hurt, but it was glorious. "Not too fast Pavel, but a little quicker." The hulking man moved his giant dick in and out faster now. Leona's cries were part anguish, part joy, but she didn't want it to stop. Her ass stretched a bit more, and her canal relaxed enough that she begged him to go for it, "Fuck me Pavel! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Leona was crying out uncontrollably, repeating for Pavel to fuck her over and over unable conjure any words but those to make him pump her harder. This was different to the half fake moans she had made when having sex with boys before. But Pavel was no boy. "Oh god! Pavel, Oh god!" Her massive fake boobs bounced wildly as he slammed into her. Her entire lower body felt like it was filled with Pavel. Leona's hardened dick sprayed sperm all over her. Pavel exploded. His massive testicles shot waves of sperm into Leona's ass like a fire hydrant, she could feel it powering to depths unknown. Finally, expended, his cock softened. Still large enough in its flaccid that it had to be worked out of her ass carefully. It had been such an intense, wonderful feeling mixed with sensation she had not known before, that she craved to know again, that Leona was beginning to understand why the prison wife of Pavel's cried. She pushed Pavel into the lying position. Leona was a slim girl, Sandra was always telling her to eat more, but she was not particularly short. Wearing her usual five inch or higher shoes, only men six feet or over could look her in the eye. With Pavel she was able to fold her knees up and almost entirely lie on him as if he were the couch himself. With his huge arm wrapped around her, he made her feel like a petite little girl. She sighed contentedly, resting her head against his barrel chest. "Pavel, don't get mad," She said finally playing with his chest hair with her fingers, "But I thought when you found out about me, that, well, honestly, you would kill me. I mean the girl you bought flowers for, whose feet you rubbed ... and rubbed you back ... well you know what I'm saying. You could have felt tricked and humiliated." "Who said I wasn't still going to kill you?" Leona's head jerked up to look at his face, but was met with nothing but a big relaxed smile. It subsided a bit as he turned serious, "I was tricked. But I was not humiliated. Still your dick must stay a secret. I understand. Others will not." "No problem there." Leona responded. He went on, "If what I say next makes you walk away from Pavel, I will understand." He took a breath, "I've killed people. Many. This number is not important. But they were almost always bad people. At least as bad as me. We say in the Ukraine, 'the rats eating the rats'. But I have never harmed a woman. Not one hair on any woman's head. And you couldn't have known it before my story, but you are woman as anybody to Pavel." Leona continued looking him in the eye. "Again Pavel, don't get mad. But, and I can't remember where," she added quickly, "but I had heard some things ..." He shrugged before she finished. It actually moved her entire body up and down as she lie on him. "Hear anything you want." He said, "Pavel never hurts women." Leona was a decent judge of character. She knew in her heart Pavel Danek spoke the truth. The question was, why did Sandra tell her this? Was she mistaken, or was it a calculated lie? Pavel continued lazily sounding as though he were about to fall asleep, and maybe it was this sleepiness intertwined with the postcoital relaxation and whatever feelings he was having for Leona, that made him say such a thing so off handedly. "It's the reason I work here in the club doing security. That's a pretty lowly job for someone like Pavel. But I don't want to work at the naked girls part of the club, or other parts of the organization with the rest of the Ukrainians and Russians. Because then I have to work directly for that ... 'layno' ... how to say in English ... shit? fucker...? That fucker Gavriil Zakharov. He kills women. Says it sends a message. I don't work directly for men who kill women." Leona's blood ran cold. She could barely get the words out of her mouth. "Gavriil Zakharov is dead." "No Leona Jade. He is pretend dead. Very much alive. And like you having a dick, you speak of this to no one of course." "Of course." **************** Part 5: Cinzia Rossi Cynthia Corvetti would never be described as a slow driver. Her son Lee joked that at the speeds they were currently going they would arrive at Lee's grandparents house even before his dad and sister, both of whom had left the previous night on what was only a couple hour trip. Usually his mother laughed at such jokes, but now she was preoccupied. "Make me understand last night," she said at last. Cynthia referred to Lee's dressing up as a girl to allegedly go to a party, "because I've rolled it over in my head and it doesn't work." Lee feared his mother may know he didn't attend a party at all, but had headed into a bar, underage, dressed as a woman. He moved into her question cautiously, "Understand what exactly mom? What about last night?" She turned from the road to look at him for a moment, "All of it. The perfect makeup, how you walked around in high heels with nary a misstep. The cleavage. All of it. I had a young lady standing in my kitchen last night. At first I took it at face value, what you told me, but then the more I thought about it, the more it didn't work." Lee did his best to shrug it off, "I'm not sure what the problem is mom. Like I told you, there are hundreds of videos out there telling you how to look like a girl. Hundreds. I can show them to you. Lot's of average guys turning into girls." His mother raced down the road weaving in and out of traffic. Lee had never seen his bat out of hell mother get a ticket driving. He wondered if it were true cop's wives were never pulled over. "Lee, honey, I don't want this to be an adversarial thing. And I don't want you to feel like you have to lie to me. I promise you, I'm not judging. I just want to understand my baby boy, that's all. Listen, this often escapes notice, but your mom is a woman. I know all about makeup and women's clothes. And before I was Cynthia Corvetti, wife of Detective Daniel Corvetti, I was Cinzia Rossi." "Cinzia? Really? I thought that was just a nickname the grandparents called you." "It felt too Italian. So I anglicised it. I wasn't always as proud of my roots as I am now. As you should be. But my parents were so Old World ..." She took a breath, "But my point is Rossi women are usually five foot three, five feet four. I'm the tallest ever at five-five. When we're twelve years old they thrust us all into heels. It's important to look good at mass in our little dresses and our starter heels. So I've seen many of my sisters and cousins walk around. None could walk as good as you for a very long time. Hours and hours of practice. I was the best of them and I couldn't walk in them as good as you, all night, for a very long time. But its not just the shoes, Lee. It's the makeup. Makeup is hard. Look around, most women get it wrong. Take your sister. Karissa's done a lot more than just watch videos on makeup. And she still can't get it as right as you did. I'm always sending her back to do it over. I didn't have to send you back though. I almost felt like taking tips from you." She paused for emphasis. "So. Lee. Make me understand last night." "What do you want me to tell you mom? That I don't like girls? That I'm gay? Or I want to be a girl? That there's a girl trapped inside of me trying to get out? Because none of those things are true. I'm still the same Lee. I still want to play soccer in college and I still want to ... get to know girls like Megan better. And I still want to grow up to be a father to a son and kick the ball around with him in a backyard with my wife looking on." "But," his mother said. "I can hear the 'but' that you refuse to say. Just be truthful with me Lee." Cynthia said no more, waiting. "But," Lee said finally, with great resignation. He couldn't believe it was going to happen, but he was going to come clean to his mother. "But, there is something about women's clothes which is so much more fascinating than men's. Men's clothes aren't made to feel good when you put them on. They just sit there. Women's do feel good. The shoes are cool, I mean, heels are impractical, but they are very cool to wear. They make you tall, they make legs look great and you feel look great. Skirts are kind of neat too, they feel awesome, kinda of, so does pantyhose. " He glanced over at his mother. She said nothing. He finished, "I don't want to be a girl. No, what I mean is, I am happy being Lee, like I said. But it is very, very cool that I can be a girl. Look like one I mean. Have people think I'm one. Because I can sort of talk like one too, but I won't do that now because it's probably a little creepy for you. So, what I mean, is, what I'm saying is, be a girl like that, not like the being a girl who gets married and having babies, cook and clean kind of girl thing like you. More like see life from both sides be a girl thing. Who gets to do that? See life from both sides? If they could, without ridicule or discovery, who wouldn't? Seriously, wouldn't you? At least for a while, anyway?" Lee realized his confession was jumbled and rambling verging on nonsensical. Wondering if his mother understood anything he has said at all, he finished it off abruptly. He had said more than he intended anyway. "God," his mother said at last, "you are such a Corvetti. 'Get married and having babies cook and clean kind of girl thing'? There's a lot more to being a woman than that. Is that what you think of me?" Lee marveled at his mother. She was certainly a complex woman. Of everything that had just poured out of his mouth, his rambling cross dressing confessional, this is what she fixated on. "You're my mom. I see you do mom stuff. I know you go out and do tons of other stuff, charity stuff and the like, but I never get to see it." "Apparently you don't." This was turning into a very odd day, but Cynthia Corvetti let the conversation drop. And for a great while, Lee thought it had gone away for good. But a year later, his senior year of college, it came roaring back in ways he could not expect. ****** It was the spring of his senior year in high school. His sister was traveling with her team for the statewide field hockey tournament, and Dan Corvetti was working with the organized crime unit on something so delicate, that he wouldn't even hint to Cynthia what it was. Lee felt it was nice to have the house to himself with only his mother around. She paid more attention to the boy, and having time free from dealing with his father or his sister, cooked elaborate pastas which the two shared while watching movies on cable. For Cynthia's part, it was rare opportunity that the teen boy let her into his life. As he was growing older taking on more of the teen affectations and attitude, it was harder and harder to get a glimpse of the little boy underneath. "I'm going to embarrass you badly," his mom said matter of factly between bites of tortiglioni in gorgonzola sauce as explosions from some mid- 1990s British action film roared at them from the living room television, "so just listen." Lee looked at his mom and braced himself. Corvettis were straightforward, even those who married into the name. If Cynthia Corvetti said she was going to embarrass Lee, this was not just an idle observation. "A year ago, maybe more, you said that your mother's life consisted of cooking, cleaning, taking care of men and birthing children. I believe the exact quote was 'get married and having babies cook and clean kind of girl thing like you'." Holy god, Lee thought, that was an exact quote. "You also mentioned, as part of your girl's clothes thing, that you get to see life from both sides. But it's pretty clear to me that you haven't. Not really. And as much as I love your father, and I love him with all my heart, I can't have you being just another stone age thinking Corvetti. Do you understand?" "No Mom. When you don't make sense, it's really hard for me to follow." Lee said lightheartedly, but there was swirl of emotions spinning inside of him. His mother was right, she was embarrassing him. "I'll make sense soon enough. Do the voice Lee." Lee knew exactly what she meant and didn't feel at all like speaking this way in front of his mother. A friend of Lee's in an unrelated context, once told him there was a huge difference between your parent's knowing you were having sex with girls, and catching you having sex with girls. The first may be a shock to their system but the second was something they would never be able to scrub from their brains. To Lee, falling into his feminine voice, with its well practiced cadences and teen girl speak, felt very much like something his mother would never be able to scrub from her brain. "Why?" He asked. Cynthia looked over at him, "I promise you, as excruciating as this may feel now, it will be ...'awesome sauce' later. Do the voice. If you can't do the voice, then the whole thing falls through. Lee stared at his mom for a moment. She was smiling ear to ear and her eyes glowed with mischief. Lee fell into the voice. Without realizing it, his hands kept time with his words, as if they were femininely conducting them along, "Mom!" he screeched in the faux embarrassed outrage that Cynthia would have heard from Karissa thousands of times, "No one says 'awesome sauce' anymore! What are we, like, seven years old or something? You sound like Penny Johnson's mother. She's always hanging around us saying stuff like that trying to be cool, but it only makes her sound old." Lee hit the word "old" with all the condescension of a teen girl who looked at youth as eternal state that she was never leave. "That was ..." his mother trailed off at a loss of words. "I know mom. I know. That's the part that sells it." He suspected right. Even though she asked for it, it was still a shock to the system, something she would never be able to unhear. "It must be that you're twin. Have a twin sister, I mean." Whatever connection Cynthia had made in her mind to Lee's ability to morph into a girl, and his being a twin, was never explained. She moved onto the reason for the demonstration. "Lee. Saturday is the Distinguished Women of Southern California Awards. It is a very fancy, very fun event. Comedians, singers, and yes, long speeches and awards. I'm receiving an award for my work with the Center For Uplifting Women charity that I spearhead. What makes the event different is it is women's only. Well, that's not strictly true, there is a section of the auditorium way off in the cheap seats where direct male family, usually husbands and sons can watch the proceedings. But the floor, the floor seats I mean, the balconies, almost every seat, is for women. Is all about women empowering women." "Congratulations mom, really. It's a Girl Power thing. I understand that. I also understand exactly where your 'Some Like It Hot' scheme is headed. This whole thing is quite hilarious actually. Aren't you afraid I'll be discovered and they'll rip the wig from my head and award from your hands? Make you hand back your gender or something?" She smiled at his wicked sense of humor. He was taking this more in stride than Cynthia suspected he would. Truth being, he is probably quite looking forward to a chance to dress up in public. "Normally, I would take Karissa. But she's traveling. And your father, well your father's doing whatever police thing it is that he does. More super secret than usual this time. But after your breathtakingly sexist remarks about cooking and cleaning, I think this would be good for you." "I understand, Mom. Really. I'm proud of you. I had no idea you were doing such important things. I mean, more important things than your cooking and cleaning. I'll sit through the super boring speeches, it'll be worth it." "Well if none of that embarrassed you, and it should have, maybe the mother-daughter shopping day we're going to have to go on to get you clothes for this thing will."Cynthia laughed. "This is very weird Mom. You know that right? Not at all normal. Very, very, very weird." Cynthia smiled, "I know. In fact I think I would have added a few more 'verys' to that myself." ************ Lee walked through the door, dropped his backpack and had not made it three steps before his mother greeted him. She hadn't met him at the door since his days in elementary school, but that was the least unusual thing that was going to happen this Friday afternoon. "I've laid out some things you can wear to go shopping in. Karissa's things of course. But you have some things of your own. I couldn't find them, but then I didn't go searching through your room. And I bet they're hidden aren't they? Maybe even outside in the old treehouse you don't use anymore." "Slow down Mom. Slow down," Cynthia had been firing words at him like a machine gun, "You're excited. And your being excited makes this more weird, not less weird. Not that this won't be fun. I think it will be fun. But, let's dial back the strange." Cynthia laughed brightly. She was feeling excited, she realized. She attributed much of that to the awards tomorrow, along with the rare chance to spend time with her son. As odd as it may be, they were sharing in the largest secret of his life together. Two conspirators. This was far larger than hiding Karissa's heels from her father, or not telling Dan about what boys the teen Corvetti girl had a crush on. Cynthia felt like she was sharing in a secret that would bond her with her son for life. She also couldn't help but look at her son like a giant doll to be dressed up and played with. Buying clothes with her daughter was enjoyable, but Karissa's tastes had developed over time and she had a distinct idea of style. Lee may have looked good in his party clothes, but he wouldn't likely have such strong opinions on semi-formal dresses, or women's business suits, both of which Cynthia was considering for him. Laid out on his bed was an entire host of Karissa's clothes, most of which would readily fit. Lee looked them over thoughtfully. "I figured you would be trying on a lot of outfits today, so I put out the things that you can change in and out of quickly." Lee smiled at his mother warmly. She was trying so hard. It was endearing. "Okay," he said moving into analytical mode, "All of those shirts over there, I can't wear. I'm a bit bigger than Karissa in the shoulders, and those things emphasize that, make my back look to broad. They also make it more difficult to taper properly and give me a waist and hips." He looked around at the pile some more, "I can wear jeans like those, but not the hip huggers like those others over there. They ride low, when you bend over, show the crack. My underwear has ass and hip pads. And I have to wear the underwear really high up so the hips sit in the right place and it pulls my ass up. Looks rounder when its higher up. Usually, I wear a second set of panties - a thong - to make sure the other underwear doesn't ride back down, otherwise I'm constantly having to pull at them to keep them in place. A skirt is probably our best bet all the way around." Lee walked around to the other side of the bed, still examining everything carefully. "These t-shirts and blouses would be the best because they're not too thin and they're tight in the chest to hold things in place. With them I could just pad a bra and not worry about making cleavage, as I would have to with those other more open blouses. That whole cleavage thing looks good enough, real enough, but doesn't do well with constantly getting in and out of tops. Things move. Things slip. Takes time to readjust. If I do go with the 'no cleavage' look, it will make buying anything strapless trickier. If we're thinking 'strapless' then I have wear a different type of bust pad and tape my chest up like crazy so nothing dare moves, so I'd prefer not to do strapless in the first place. Looks fantastic, trust me. But that's a whole lot of fear of things popping loose." Lee reached for a blue form fitting blouse, and white mid thigh gray skirt, which seemed to fit his criteria."Where are Karissa's platform wedges, the multicolored ones? I don't see them here. I think they will work best with this." "My god Lee." Cynthia said after his clothing monologue. "You have put a great deal of thought, and clearly time, into this. Listen to you, you sound like some kind of expert giving a lecture. I am a little ashamed that I didn't know this was going on. Not that I'm saying it is bad. But ... the .... just my not knowing something this big was happening under my roof. What if it would have been drugs?" "It wasn't, so there's that. And I don't do drugs. And if I did, there would have been other signs. With my ... hobby ... I put on the clothes, take them off, no lasting effects, no drop in grades, none of the other bad things public service announcements go on and on about." "Okay. I guess you're right," his mother said, "I have an entire evening planned for us. We should get started." At her insistence, Cynthia applied Lee's make up. She used a much lighter touch than Lee did, and she worked from an entirely different color palette, the color palette she used for herself. When Lee donned the jet black wig, similar in style to his mother's hair, Lee had the uncanny resemblance to his mother that would haunt Dan Corvetti all those years later. The shopping trip was more enjoyable than Lee would have imagined. His clothes buying up until that point had been on auction sites, or other places where he could directly request "discreet packaging." He also had to do a great deal of guesswork as to how something would fit. Many items he purchased were sent back, or discarded because they were too inexpensive to be worth the hassle of sending back. But in the mall he walked arm and arm with his mother, both laughing and smiling. It was quite a nice picture, and somewhat at odds with the teen girls who marched sullenly in front of their mothers demanding items from this store or that. The pair window shopped and sat in the food court eating ice cream with crumbled cookies. They walked in stores trying on things that had no intention of buying, just to see how they looked. Shop girls throughout the mall ran back and forths to racks, and Lee tried on countless outfits, stepping out to do twirls for his mother upon donning each one. It was several hours before they finally decided on something for the following day. When Cynthia sent Lee to bed that night, and later followed, both fell asleep to the same pleasant feeling and realization: a door had been opened. And whether Lee continued along this path for life or not, this had been a special day that could never be taken away. ************ Waking up with that same feeling. Lee insisted his mother drive to the awards separately. He promised he would meet her out front, but there was something he needed to do. Full of good feeling, and no small bit of pride for Cynthia, Lee wanted to drop back by the mall and buy her a necklace he had seen during the prior night's shopping; a congratulations and thank you gift. Cynthia had been mulling around in front of auditorium when Lee finally arrived. Unlike the night in the kitchen where her thoughts were dominated by confusion and trepidation, her heart actually filled with pride. She had seen the parts of the outfit, but not everything together. Lee's hair was tied up into an beautiful, tightly wound bun, held in place with silver hair clips. Lee wore long red chiffon dress, which in spite of Lee's earlier reservations, was both half backless and strapless ("do you know how much duct tape this is going to take Mom?"). Around his neck was a pair of black pearls given to Cinzia Rossi by her mother when she turned eighteen. Her son wore high red strappy backless sandals which perfectly matched the dress, with freshly painted red nail polish applied by his mother. Two chain bracelets sparkled on his left wrist, complementing the long dangling faux diamond earrings. On his opposite wrist he wore a very stylish gold watch which Cynthia had not seen before, and from the looks of how expensive it seemed to be, was almost certainly a fake. He was beautiful. It nearly took Cynthia's breath away. She jogged over to