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My sincere thanks to Robyn Hoode for a patient editing job and suggestions. I've not used an editor before, and Robyn showed me just how useful one can be! Callie You Missed! "Eeeaayaarghhh!" It might have been a scream, or just a yawn, as Chris complained at the alarm clock. It was just a day, another day, so why did the alarm have to go off at all? Please, Chris thought, don't let it be just another day! Chris looked at himself as he shaved. It was the first shave in a few days. Being both blond and fine-haired he didn't need to shave daily. It irritated him slightly because being still young, and even younger looking due to his pale, clear skin, he'd really like to grow a moustache or beard, but his attempts were ridiculed by his friends, even after a few weeks of effort. The problem was that being clean shaven made him look boyish, and he was worried that he wasn't taken seriously. But it helped on weekends where nights out would result in quite a bit of attention from the women around, especially the younger ones, although he was occasionally concerned by the word 'pretty' used as a compliment; and he wasn't entirely sure that the older ones didn't just want to mother him. Ready to go he put his shoes on at the door. Unbeknownst to his colleagues in work he had lifts. Chunky soles and heels cleverly hid the extra two inches under his feet. He felt that eight inches over five feet, almost the male norm, lent him the status he imagined he lacked. He was able to look eye to eye with his colleagues since he'd started wearing them to work some months before. He thought it gained him respect but what he didn't realise was that it made him look skinny and long legged; a combination that had confused one or two people when seeing him from behind. He brushed his hair and tied it back with a leather thong. One thing that everyone who knew him did love was his bass playing in a local metal band. They had a contract with a small record company, hoping to get bigger. There was no way that any of the band were going to compromise their images for the jobs they presently had to hold whilst they were on the way to making it big. His own boss, Jennifer, was a fan, and when he'd turned up for interview, strangely at night, she'd recognised him immediately and offered him the job on the spot in return for regular concert tickets. So perhaps he wasn't the best qualified property agent in the office, but no one seemed to hold it against him. He rarely saw Jennifer anyway, at least during the daytime, but the other agents claimed she was a bit of a night-bird. He whistled a melody he was working on as he stepped out of the small apartment building and down the path to the gate. Something hanging on the gate caught his attention. He looked closely as he approached it, noting that it looked like a necklace with a pendant on it. The pendant itself was quite dirty or rusty or something, so he had to look closely to see an odd image on it, looking something like an angel, but he couldn't be sure. He guessed the gardener had picked it up and left it for the owner. It wasn't his so he left it hanging where it was and avoided contact, careful not to risk getting any of the dirt on his clothing. As he stepped out into the road for the walk to the bus stop he noted that the pavements were particularly empty. What he couldn't have noted was the sleek shape about two hundred and fifty feet above him, mostly because it was silent and completely camouflaged against the blue skies. "Subject A14CC9 categorisation in process," whirred the onboard intelligent system. Of course, it was in a completely unidentifiable language, and the categorisation took fewer femtoseconds to perform than the normal time it took for a photon to travel a couple of metres. "Subject exhibits 84% compatibility with requirements." "What is the cost of processing?" the solo pilot queried the system. "One eight four Quantots." "Ach," complained the pilot, "that'd price him out of the slave markets. Adjust parameters, Izzie, make sure the subject from now on is already female and we'll put up with the nagging on the journey home." The strange ship disappeared from the patch of sky in which no one had noticed it. He got into work slightly early, and just before his secretary, Allison. Allison wasn't really his secretary, more the office assistant, but she had a thing about coming into his office and made any excuse to spend time with him, which he didn't mind at all. She was a lovely, young woman, perhaps slightly out of his league even if he'd had any attraction to her, which strangely he didn't. Perhaps it was her slightly gothic leanings which she displayed often on nights out, but rarely in the office, even going so far as to wear pink lipstick today and having a desk drawer full of her 'products'. Allison put her bag down next to her chair, fluffed out her raven hair, and strolled into Chris' office through the open door. She greeted him and walked around behind his desk, on the excuse of seeing what accounts he was looking at, just in case she could help him with anything. He happily began to talk her through the properties on the list for today, and the clients he had coming in with appointments. She faded out slightly as she stood there nodding. He was looking up at her with those baby blue eyes, so large and innocent under those big lashes. She thought about how she could darken the lashes with a deep mascara, and shadow the eyes in lilac, with a matching lipstick. She felt herself getting a little horny as she imagined splaying him over his desk and yanking off his boxers and slowly sliding up a pair of pink panties as he begged her not to. She breathed slightly heavily as she fantasised about sliding black stockings up legs that he would keep shaved for her, and tried to step out of her fantasy as he looked up at her quizzically. "No, go on," she managed to say without coughing as her voice threatened to squeak. He continued, and she imagined he was her secretary, going over his day's work with her. Completely submissive to her as she had him dressed up in skirt and heels, with a wig and makeup concealing his true identity to the rest of the office but with him in mental bondage to her in case she revealed it. All it would take would be about a year in the gym, and some illegal supplements, and she might be strong enough to overpower him. She shrugged to herself. Well, anyone could have their fantasies, couldn't they? Chris's first appointment came in at half past nine. Allison showed in Mrs. Herrkutter, and he stood up to greet her. She was tall in her high heels, her hair tied up in a bun and slim glasses giving her a severe look. Her lips were a little thin, but her sharp suit did little to hide a large pair of pushed up breasts and a superbly curvaceous body. Chris admired her absently as she shook his hand firmly, and took a seat in front of his desk. The conversation went rapidly as Edwina, though she preferred Mrs. Herrkutter, or Mistress, as her students called her, was very decided and firm about her requirements for a location and building style for her new academy. She ran an institute in another town not too far away, which somehow combined running as a reform school for wayward boys and a finishing school for girls. Two lines of business which Chris couldn't see fitting together in one building. Within half an hour Chris knew exactly what he would be looking for, and could even be precise enough to estimate the price should he find something suitable. For her part, Mrs. Herrkutter admired the young man's eagerness, as much as she admired his desire to please. Physically he could pass for a few years younger and enter her institution ready to move into the finishing stream, and his eagerness and desire to please could be directed towards the right, wealthy suitor. But Mrs. Herrkutter had a strict rule of never mixing Business with Business. She needed Chris to do his job, which would facilitate her own. Standing, she shook his hand again, more appreciatively this time. He was a good boy, and good boys did not need to be reformed. Chris's next couple of jobs were on site, and he grabbed his jacket to go meet the taxi he'd ordered. He didn't drive only because he didn't have a car. The office paid expenses, so the taxi was affordable. The driver, like so many, was an immigrant, but as gossipy as a beautician on a break. It was funny to listen to his broken English and his take on daytime television. Chris decided to keep him for the day, so fixed a price and went to his first stop. The house was a large, but modern affair, situated within large grounds on a quiet, leafy street. Chris noted the buyer's car parked in the open garage and saw him waiting up on the porch. It seemed strange that garage was unlocked and open. "I left space for you on the drive," Gary Morgan explained. "I told the taxi I'd be a half hour, so he's headed off somewhere," Chris explained as he shook the large man's hand. Gary was an ex-sportsman, gone to fat, with much of his six four frame trying to escape over his belt. They walked around the two floors, Chris explaining the layout and offering helpful ideas on the possibilities for refurbishment. "Yeah," noted Gary, "needs a bit of work here and there. Some old biddy live here?" "No," said Chris, consulting his notes. "Some guy who used to work in engineering. Though the neighbours reckon there was a woman living here for the last year or two, and never saw the guy. Probably left it to the wife in a divorce." "Hey, what's through here?" Gary asked, pointing to a door under the stairs. "Basement?" "That's right. It's listed here as open space. Quite big though, if you wanted to put in a gym or something. It's all plumbed and cabled, and something about an automated control system that the guy built, probably to keep it aired." "You wanna head down and show me?" Chris checked his watch. "Give me a couple of minutes and I'll get the driver to hang on." He walked back out to the front and down to the cab where he warned his driver he'd be another five minutes. He headed back up the path to the door. He suddenly noted Gary's car wasn't visible. The garage was shut. So was the front door. Surely he couldn't have gone without me seeing him, he thought. Unlocking the front door he called Gary's name. He saw the door to the basement had been left open. Looking in he saw a light was still on showing another door at the bottom of the stairs. Chris went down and tried it. Locked. Gary must have found that out and decided enough was enough. He turned back up the stairs. Hopefully he would hear from him soon about his decision. He didn't hear his name being yelled. "Chris! Chris! This psychotic house won't let me out!" Gary turned around and yelled at the machine approaching him. "I am not putting on that sodding corset!" The next stop was an old manse out of town. "Haunted!" His driver exclaimed as they approached. "You not going there?" "It's my job," Chris replied. "I just sell them. Ghosts are a plus for some buyers, marketed in the right way." He headed towards the old house to wait for the couple who were coming to view it. They were older, mid-fifties, a well-established couple looking for a place to renovate before they retired to live there. Ed and Mary appeared right on time and joined Chris at the front door. He ushered them in, and started showing them around the oddly furbished rooms that made the house feel like a cross between an Old West saloon and Baz Luhrman's vision of the Moulin Rouge. There were upright pianos in two of the reception rooms, and four poster beds abounded upstairs. Everything was covered in dust sheets, giving the place a stale feel, and there was a slight chill in the air. Chris tried to open a window or two, but they were all locked. As they traipsed back down the grand staircase Mary suddenly stopped. "Ooh," she said, "I've just had the strangest deja vu. I'm sure I've never been down these stairs but it feels so much like I have!" "Are you alright, darling?" Ed asked with concern. "I, er, yes, it's just all so familiar?" Chris smiled. "Perhaps you'd like a few more minutes, maybe take another look around?" "You know, I think I'd like to stop over here for the night. And you, Ed, you should stay too. You have to stay to look after us, Chris." She looked at him expectantly. He hesitated. "Er, I'm not sure about that." "It'll be fine! Better than fine. We can have so much fun here!" Chris came to a spontaneous decision based on Mary's enthusiasm. "Okay, look, you can stay the night if you wish. I'll make sure it's okay with the boss and drop back later." He nodded to confirm it with himself, nodded at Ed who shrugged, and then turned down the stairs. Stopping at the bottom he turned back to them again. "Won't you need to get anything? Food? Clothes?" "Yes!" Ed said suddenly. "We'll have to go get some things." Mary looked at him. "It's okay, Ed, we don't need anything. I saw loads of clothes here from the last owners." Ed looked torn. Chris shrugged and turned to go. "Chris?" Called Mary. "You should stay, you really should. To look after us. You know, it wouldn't be proper to leave two prospective buyers here alone." "It'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow." He waved. 'Nutters', he thought, as he headed back to the taxi. The door had been a little stuck, but that would help them stay secure. Just two mildly sad oldies looking for some new fun. They'd probably order in pizza. He hoped he wouldn't get it in the neck from Jennifer. "I take you to my Granny. She from old country and take ghost off you," gestured the taxi driver as he drove at insane speeds around the town. "It's okay, really. Just take me back to the office." "No charge! I take you. Sit! Anyway, we here." He stopped the cab next to a rundown hut in an area where Chris really didn't want to get out of the cab. "Out, out!" the cab driver gestured again. "You go in. Rosa deal with you now." Faced with little choice Chris got out of the cab and through a decrepit gate that revealed the hut in all its gory. A skeleton sat in a rocking chair on the porch. A real skeleton, like one usually found in a hospital closet. Chris went through the hanging beads that served as a door and into a dimly lit room. There was a motion to his right and he turned to see an old woman looking at him. "Ah," she grinned, revealing yellowed and missing teeth, "you not the dentist. My little boy bring you. Good boy. You been touched by bad spirits." She looked down at a crystal ball on the table in front of her and appeared to stare into its depths. "You have different future to your present and past. I need to help you change. You take this." She sniffed slightly as she reached down into a pocket of her threadbare cardigan and threw a slip of pink lace at Chris. "Wear! Go now. Now!" Chris grabbed the lace and turned, almost running out of the room without even thinking about which way he went. Behind him he heard the old woman snort up her nose and it sounded like a monster maw opening. He tumbled out of the back door of the hut. The woman reached into her pocket and blew her nose into the cloth in her hands. With a sudden doubletake she looked at it and opened it up, green snot stretching out over it, to reveal a pair of panties. "Why do I mix up the washing!" she exclaimed in fluent not-English. Chris looked at the handkerchief in his hand and wondered how he was to wear it. He folded it up and put it into his jacket breast pocket. Strange old woman. Exiting through the back gate meant he had to head down an alley to get back to the cab. Two hooded youths appeared to be heading towards him. Head down, he suddenly caught a glint on the floor. He bent down and picked up a ring, with what looked like a decent sized stone under the caked on dirt. "That's mine," came a growling voice from within the first hood. He looked up and saw the youth towering over him, the second youth a step back and yet towering even higher. "It was on the floor here," he exclaimed without thinking. "I lost it." "Okay, well no problem, here, you can have it back." The youth held out his hand and Chris threw the ring to him, sprinting off while the two youths juggled with their sudden earnings. At the corner of the alley he risked a look back. One youth was cleaning the stone on his sleeve, and suddenly a third person appeared with the two, as if from nowhere. The last thing Chris heard as he headed away from the reinforced gang was "Genie? I wish..." Chris finally made it back to the office. A successful but very strange set of visits. He hoped he'd hear back from Gary Morgan, and figured that he'd check up on Ed and Mary in the morning. He did know he wouldn't be ordering from Serge Akal's Cars again. Allison smiled up as he passed her desk. "Hey, Chris, Jennifer called. Said to remind you about the drinks this evening." "Oh. Anything else?" "We couldn't talk much because of the line. She sounded funny. Blamed it on her coughin', but she didn't sound like she had a cold." Chris took out his sandwiches, and on a whim decided to go for a lunch- time walk. He invited Allison out with him to the Mall, but she regretfully declined because of having an appointment. "Invite me tomorrow," she offered, "I need to get a couple of things in Victoria's Secret." She winked at him as he left. He finished his sandwiches on the walk to the Mall and, not having any particular destination in mind, decided to check out the competition. Tudor's Down was a vendor dealing in more upmarket properties, probably struggling in the present economic climate and Chris wondered what they had on their books. He took a left at the food court and headed down the little passage that held most of the non-chain retailers and outlets. Just where he expected to see Tudor's Down he saw another shop front in its place. Spells 'r' Us, with a little wooden door. Intrigued, he headed for it anyway, wondering if there might be anything weird in the window to interest Allison's gothic side. Seeing very little he put a hand on the door only to be faced with a small post-it note at his eye height. "Out to lunch, back in 5. Sorry, Chris." Shrugging, he turned and headed back to the office. Bit of a coincidence that the owner would have the same name as him, but it was a fairly common one. Back at the office, the rest of the day turned out to be mundane drop-ins from interested buyers but uncommonly not a single vendor called. So the office work dried up before the end of the day and Chris looked forward to getting out with his colleagues. Shortly before closing, Edward, another of the account managers in the office, breezed in to Chris's office. Chris wasn't sure about Edward, or Ed as he liked to be called. 'Big Ed' to his friends. Chris had never heard him called 'Big Ed' to his face, though he could see how the moniker fit. Ed was a salesman's salesman, with no concern for the customer beyond their wallet and of how much of it he could relieve them. For his part, Ed considered Chris to be a wimp, but for a junior account manager his portfolio of sales was very promising. That made Chris a possible competitor for a Sales Manager role, something for which Ed was vying the moment Jennifer turned her back on the office. Ed, as a collegiate athlete, didn't mind competition. He embraced it. But the point was to win, and to him that meant by any means necessary. Chris needed to be removed. "You out with the boys tonight, Chris?" He grinned in greeting. Chris looked up from the dating site he'd lazily surfed onto, and hid the form asking for him to detail his ideal woman. "Sure, Ed. I fancy a drink." "Glad to hear it." Ed sat down, and for a short while the two talked about sports, then women. Finally Ed stood up. "Great to shoot the breeze with you, Chris." "Aren't you coming out?" Chris asked. "Sure!" The big man grinned. "But I've got a feeling we'll both be getting lucky tonight. You might be a little tied up." He winked conspiratorially as he left the office and headed out of the building, leaving Chris to lock up. Chris decided to give it five more minutes to finish off his dating application. It did have some odd details that Chris wondered about but it did say it was supposed to be both a physical and a psychological profile. His ideal date would be slightly shorter than him, probably a redhead, trim and svelte but not a fitness or diet freak, with pleasant breasts that wouldn't need a push-up bra on nights out but wouldn't need a minimiser if they went out walking or running together. She'd be intelligent and conversational, but not extrovert, and probably have a job like his and plenty of potential for promotion without being driven or pushy. She'd love music, especially rock and metal, and play at least one instrument well. She'd like sex, of course, but nothing too kinky though she might experiment. She'd have normal drives, about the same as his, maybe slightly less so that she wouldn't be tempted away. No tattoos, no piercings except her ears, and a sensible dress sense for her job. She'd like to settle down one day, but not immediately, and looked forward to family in the future. He clicked on the profile and sent it off. Immediately a window popped up on his screen. 'Please check marked boxes and re-click on "confirm" once satisfied." He clicked OK, and saw that many of his selections had been highlighted and tool-tips appeared above them as he scrolled to them. Breasts: most men prefer DD or larger, are you sure? Drives: most men prefer a high sex drive, are you sure? Employment: most men prefer simpler occupations (suggested waitress or secretary), are you sure? The questions went on and on. He changed nothing and went down to the confirm button. Another window popped up. 'MakeADate contracts to supply one exact match to your requirements. To proceed, click "OK".' Seeing no other option, Chris was a little frustrated. He was just mucking around and didn't want to proceed with anything. Anyway, it was time to leave. He switched his computer off and watched it power down, closing down the errant window as it did so. He went around his office and the others, closing off all the power and lights, and then caught up with Allison at the door. He locked up behind them and they walked over to the bar together. Ed was at the bar already chatting up some woman that Chris had never seen before. It was fairly normal that Ed would be chatting up some woman that no-one in the office had seen before, as they rarely saw him with the same woman twice. Chris took drinks for him and Allison to a table and there they were joined by Doug, an older guy who had been out at property visits all day, and was head of rentals, and Sherry, another account manager who had been off for the day but always came out when the office was meeting up. Doug had a good sense of humour, and soon began to regale the table with tales of his clients. Sherry had a very pleasant laugh, and was soon attracting come-hither looks from men at the tables around. Chris wasn't shocked to see Ed chatting to another, different young girl. But he was shocked when the woman that Ed had originally been chatting to approached the table and asked if she could sit next to him. Both Sherry and Doug gave him looks that spoke volumes, and Chris shifted slightly to make room on the seat. The woman sat down and introduced herself to Chris. "Holly," she said, holding out her hand. He took it and responded. She smiled and started finding out all about Chris, his work, social life and family. In return he found out that she was a marketing assistant, presently unemployed but happily living off her savings whilst she tried to make it as a freelancer. She was very easy to talk to, and interesting. A little older than him, which was surprising as his looks tended to attract younger women, and though not quite his ideal she was more than attractive enough to spark his interest. Blonde, blue eyed, cutely featured rather than classically beautiful, and with a very enticing set of mounds under her blouse which she casually drew attention to with gestures and the occasional lean in. Doug, Allison and Sherry were talking amongst themselves in a way that suggested that they were an entirely separate group now. Chris got himself and Holly new drinks, twice, and marvelled as she matched him for pace. Finally, though anxious not to leave her alone in the bar, he had to excuse himself to use the toilets. Holly, though that wasn't really her name, breathed a sigh of relief. The guy was nice, but he was just an easy mark for which she was going to get a decent pay day. Not as much as usual as it was a local job, but the guy who wanted him out of commission was offering her an on-going choice of accommodation in the local area. Not as good as cash, but very useful as a benefit for someone who needed to move around. She took a small bottle out of her purse and, with the pipette, carefully and subtly dripped two drops of the liquid inside into his glass. The liquid, a powerful hypnotic, would take some minutes to get into his system during which time she had to stay close to him, and get him alone, somewhere where she could manipulate him to her desires. She was an expert, and both men and women had become her obedient slaves within hours without realising it. She never needed the full twelve hours that two drops would last. Every command was permanent, and she took great pleasure and satisfaction from converting her slaves into sissies and sex-toys, usually leaving them to their own devices once they were firmly embedded in brothels. Shifting in her seat she realised that thinking about the next year of posing as Chris's girlfriend in public while she emasculated him in private, getting him onto hormones and into a real life test, and surgical alterations finishing with a boob job and the chop, had got her horny, which raised her blood pressure and increased her desire to pee. She rushed after Chris, not wanting him to get back too soon before her, just in case. Chris got back to the empty seats, slightly wobbly, and moved back to his original seat so that Holly wouldn't have to climb past him when she got back from wherever she was. If she got back from wherever she was. He took a slug of his drink before suddenly realising that he was tasting lipstick! Yup, he checked the glass, and there was a mark on it. Ah, well, they were drinking the same lite beer and she probably wasn't coming back anyway, so he'd probably have to drink hers before heading home. He took another slug, and suddenly she appeared next to him. "Oh, lovely!" She smiled sweetly as she sat back in her original chair. "You've nearly finished. Just let me have a bit of mine and we can go get some air, if you want?" She took a couple of gulps to try to catch up with Chris, and wiped the fizz off her lips with the back of her hand. "Bottoms up! As they say somewhere." She challenged, and the two downed their last. She stood up. "Would you join me, Sir?" she asked. "Of course, My Lady." He replied and stepped out from the table. "We're just stepping out." He said to Doug, Sherry and Allison, but only Doug nodded absently. They stepped out into the early evening light. "Do you live near here?" She asked him. "Er, yes," he responded a little uncertainly. Was Holly being a little aggressive, he wondered. Then he thought back to last week's FHM. Be bold, be masculine, be commanding. Women like that. "Yes. Would you like to see my place?" "I would love to." This would be easy, she was thinking. Only a few moments had passed, so it wasn't time yet, but give it five minutes and she could start testing. "It's about a twenty minute walk. I usually get a bus." "I'm okay to walk." She smiled. "Just catch me if I trip in these heels." They walked side by side, talking about nothing much, hobbies and interests, a bit about where they lived and grew up. Suddenly Holly yawned. "Am I boring you?" "Of course not!" She giggled, hitting him squarely in the arm. "I guess that drink is hitting me a little more than usual." "Would you like to sit down?" He asked, noticing a bench just up ahead. "No, don't worry, I'll be fine." As they passed the bench Chris thought she spaced out slightly, and noticed a little wobble. "Stop a moment, Holly," he said to her. "Sit down here, just for a minute." "Oh, okay," she responded, immediately sitting. No, that was strange, she thought to herself. I wanted to get him home, not stop. She noticed him walking towards the road. Got to stay with him, she thought, but didn't want to move. "Chris," she called to him, "come here, sit with me." That should work. He turned back to her. "I'm just going over to the garage to get you some water. You wait right there until I get back." "Okay." She smiled. Then she wondered; she'd given him a direct order, why hadn't he obeyed it? Was the drug still not working? As he crossed the street Chris looked both ways. He was sure that he saw Ed behind them, just for a moment, but when he looked back again the man he'd seen had ducked behind a corner. The street was fairly empty as he crossed. He could see a car approaching from the next junction. That was when he was hit by the wave. For the longest of instants he felt himself hit hard, like a bomb had gone off, almost jerked out of his own body, then blanked for a second. When he opened his eyes it was to see the car swerving violently towards the sidewalk, mount it and then hit a mailbox. He registered the driver moving, opening his door to escape the airbag that had probably saved his face. What the hell was that? He wondered, checking himself to see if anything had hit him. He couldn't feel anything strange. His second thought was to run back to see if Holly was okay. She was lying on the ground, groaning slightly and trying to get up. He ran over and checked her over before helping her up. She seemed completely spaced, unsure on her feet, had she hit her head? He watched as she started staring at her hands, then looked down at herself, then gulped and looked right at Chris. "What the... how the... where... what the hell happened?" "There was some kind of explosion.," Chris explained. "Relax, you're not hurt, you're just not quite yourself." She audibly sighed as she relaxed, and then looked back at Chris. "That explains it, but if I'm not myself, which I'm obviously not, then who the hell am I?" Chris was taken aback. She must have hit her head. "You're Holly, Holly Berry." "Holly." She seemed to roll the name over her tongue. "Yes, I'm Holly. But who the hell is Holly?" "You are. You're Holly, twenty five, born a couple of counties away, living and working here as a freelance Marketer. Presently out of work. You like to take classes at the gym and ride horses when you get the chance. Your last car was a little Ford but you had to sell it so you don't have one." "I'm Holly, I'm twenty five, I'm a freelance Marketer, out of work." "Yes!" laughed Chris. "Can you remember now?" "But, I'm a woman?" "Of course you're a woman!" Chris felt a bit weirded out now. "Aren't you?" She reached down and pressed her hand flat into her crotch. "I... I have a vagina." Chris breathed out in relief. "Then you're a woman. You're wearing women's clothes and I hope you always do. You're pretty good with make- up. It makes you look beautiful." "Beautiful?" Holly seemed surprised. "Yes, you're a beautiful woman. I guess you're a naturally beautiful woman, but obviously you like to make an effort too." Chris felt a bit embarrassed at what he was saying. He didn't want to put too much pressure on Holly in her state, but he couldn't help himself reassuring her, and it all just came out. "Chris," she said, "I was following you!" Relieved that she recognised him and her memory was coming back, Chris laughed. "You're coming back to my place with me." "Yes," she agreed, slightly dreamily, "I am. Why am I coming back to your place?" Now she was just playing games with him, surely? But FHM said be bold. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You want to have sex with me." She gasped, audibly. "I do, but I'm Holly, I'm a woman, I can't do that!" "Obviously you're just feeling a little more playful tonight than most nights. Come on, now that you're alright we can carry on walking. I'd better check that driver up the road is okay." Out of the corner of his eye Chris was sure he saw Ed again, staring at him from round a corner. The stranger who might have been Ed raised a hand to his face and just stared at it. The walk home was odd. People on the street seemed almost fearful of them, and many were sitting staring at their hands and feet, or gazing into shop windows. Some couples were arguing, one ten or eleven year old boy was shoving an older man up against a wall, and the older man looked scared! There had been several crashes, and there were very few cars moving. Even a bus had stopped in the middle of the street and most of the passengers and driver were haranguing each other. Chris got Holly into his apartment where she still seemed a little spaced from the effects of the alcohol. He tested things by asking her name, job, where she lived, and she seemed pretty clear now. Then, as he handed her a coffee, he asked her what she wanted to do, whether she wanted to go home. "I do, but I want to have sex with you." That was very clear. Satisfied that he wasn't taking advantage of the situation Chris took Holly into his bedroom and proceeded to undress himself. She seemed very unsure of what she was doing, and struggled with her own bra when Chris asked her to undress. "You do want to do this?" Chris checked again. "Yes, but..." "But what, tell me." "I want to have sex with you, but I've never had sex with a man before." "You're a virgin?" Chris asked, astonished. "No, I've had sex with plenty of women," she protested. Chris tried to hide his shock. "You like men though," he confirmed. "Yes, I do like men though," Holly dreamily replied. "Then I'll be gentle." Chris led Holly through everything that night. He wasn't exactly an expert himself, so they learned together. Chris told Holly exactly what he liked and how he liked it and soon she was bringing him to heights of pleasure he'd never wet dreamed of. Her uncertainty faded as Chris instructed her, complimented her, and noted little quirks in her that he hoped she would relax and bring out more. Comments such as "You love this position, don't you?"; "All women love having their nipples sucked."; and "Just swallow. It tastes good, you'll love it." Finally he could take no more and Holly reluctantly climbed out of his bed and gathered her clothes. Seeing her hair in a mirror she grabbed a brush from Chris's side table and began brushing it into shape, murmuring, "I like to make an effort to be beautiful." Chris wasn't happy to see her getting dressed. "Where are you going?" "I should get home. I have work tomorrow." "You're unemployed at the moment," Chris mentioned in puzzlement. "Oh, yes, I'm unemployed," Holly seemed to recall. She shook her head. "I remember selling houses, but I'm a freelance marketer. No! I'm Holly, I work in the same office as you do, Chris." "That would be great!" Chris sat up. "Did Jennifer give you a job? Was that why you were with us last night?" "Yes, Jennifer gave me a job, of course!" "Then you should stay here! I'll take you into the office tomorrow and introduce you to everyone." "I should stay here," she said dreamily. Chris threw open his duvet. "Come back to bed." She came and lay down next to him, a little awkwardly. "Are we going to have sex again?" She asked him with what might have been a little concern in her voice. Chris guessed she was kidding him. "Okay," he sighed, feigning reluctance. "Wow, you must be addicted to my cum." Chris woke up the following morning not just like any other morning. 'Not just like' meaning that there was something special about it. He'd just been woken up with a blow job and Holly hadn't finished until she'd swallowed his load and cleaned him off with her mouth. How special would it be, he thought, to be a girl like Holly. Beautiful, able to have any man, with breasts to play with all day and men to stare at them, beautiful clothes to emphasise her stunning body, and multi- orgasmic. But Chris was a realist, and nothing like that could ever happen. Anyone could have their fantasies, though, couldn't they?