My Uncle Fifi free porn video

This is a funny little spinoff of my other story, "Mockumentary." But it's totally okay if you haven't read that one, since the tie-in is pretty simple: this is the pilot episode for the sitcom that Tristan ends up starring in. Just to be clear, I wrote this story to be complete and have a nice, satisfying ending...but, since it's meant to suggest the pilot of a TV show, it does end on kind of a "and so, the adventure begins" kind of note. However, I've gone to lengths to ensure that the story can be enjoyed on its own as a standalone "episode." But basically, this is a playful little romp with a guy stuffing his big boobs into a French maid's costume. :) Enjoy! MY UNCLE FIFI by Jenny North "Girls! C'mon! You're gonna be late!" Bonnie called up the winding staircase. Her husband Dave walked into the foyer sipping a cup of coffee and checked his watch. "I thought the bus doesn't get here for another ten minutes?" he asked. "If you're not early, you're late," Bonnie said simply. "Besides, we're on teenager time." The younger girl, Madison, was the first to emerge, and came trotting down the stairs wearing her school uniform and carrying her backpack. "Where's Claire?" Bonnie asked. Madison shrugged dismissively. "What am I, my sister's keeper?" Dave gave a knowing glance to his wife. "Teenage sass coming out of a ten-year-old. And you thought private school wouldn't be worth the money." "CLAIRE!" she yelled. "MOVE IT!" "I don't know why we bothered to install an intercom," Madison said. "It made sense at the time," Dave offered. "The house is over ten thousand square feet. I didn't want your Mom getting laryngitis." Bonnie shot him a look that told him he'd be paying for that remark later. Just then, the front door opened. Rumpled and disheveled as was his custom, Dave's brother Terry walked in, still wearing his favorite clubbing outfit. He removed his sunglasses and took in the familial scene. "Whoa. Family meeting? I usually miss these." "You're usually asleep," Dave said. "You're up early," he observed. "Technically, I'm up very late," Terry said with a smile. "What's going on?" Bonnie looked at him, annoyed. "It's nothing you'd be familiar with, it's called a morning routine. You should try it sometime." "Ugh. Sounds grueling." She turned and yelled up the stairs again. "CLAIRE!" Terry winced in pain, his hangover amplifying her shrill voice. "I thought we had an intercom?" "I know, right?" Madison interjected. "Here, I've got this," Terry said. He stepped next to the front door and pressed the intercom button on the wall. "All hands, this...is the captain. We're...encountering a rift...in the space-time continuum. Brace...for impact." "Oh, God, please stop!" Claire's voice came from upstairs. She rounded the corner and trudged down the stairs, wearing her school uniform. "I hate it when you do that voice!" "Everyone's a critic." As she reached the bottom, she paused to look at him. "And Uncle Terry? Seriously, the ponytail is way played out. The 90s look isn't retro, it's just sad." "Ow!" he replied. "That was unprovoked. And I'll have you know that in the 90s I was rocking the curtained hair look." Claire shuddered. Bonnie shook her head and handed lunch bags to the two girls, saying, "And remember to come straight home after school. I need you to help make party favors for the dance tomorrow." Claire slumped her shoulders in the overdramatic posture often favored by put-upon teenagers. "Mo-om, you're just chaperoning! You don't have to bring stuff. You're killing me." Dave stepped in. "Don't worry, honey, we'll be totally invisible." Bonnie gave him an annoyed look and he added, "Except for the party favors, which will be totally visible and absolutely amazing." The two girls stoically accepted kisses from their parents before hurrying out the front door. "Invisible, huh?" Bonnie asked. Dave shrugged. "Honey, she's sixteen. She's mortified by everything we do, anyway. There's no need to put extra effort into it," he said as he kissed her on the cheek. "Well, I'm off to bed!" Terry declared. His sister-in-law gave him a dirty look. "Any chance you might look for work today?" "Anything can happen. We live in a quantum universe of infinite possibilities." "So that's a 'no.'" He mimed shaking a Magic 8-ball and looking at it. "Outlook not so good." Bonnie grit her teeth. "You could at least clean the place up a little, seeing as how you've got so much time on your hands." "Wait, wait, whoa," Terry said. He looked to his brother. "I thought we agreed we were getting another maid? I remember discussing this. You guys would interview, and I'd have veto rights. You know, 'no dogs allowed.'" Bonnie glared at him in disbelief. "Okay, first, 'we' does not include you. And second, it's your fault that Maria quit, constantly harassing her with all of those puerile come-ons--" "Wow. 'Puerile.' Someone woke up on the wrong side of the thesaurus today." Dave interposed himself. "Okay, okay, let's not start this again. Terry will promise to look for work, right? I'm sure he doesn't want to be here any longer than he has to. He's still getting his feet beneath him." "If his feet were any more beneath him he'd be buried up to his neck," Bonnie grumbled. "Maybe next to a hill of hungry fire ants..." "And WE have to get moving ourselves," Dave interrupted. "We don't want to be late for that investors' meeting." Bonnie angrily stalked off, muttering to herself. Dave looked to his brother. "Terry..." "Look, I'm sorry, man," Terry said. "It's just...it hasn't been easy. Money is tight, y'know?" "I get it," Dave said. "And it's been great having you around the last several months. But this can't go on, bro." Terry nodded solemnly and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Okay, first, don't ever use the word 'bro' again. Seriously, I'm telling you this as a friend, you just can't pull it off. And second, you're kicking me out?" he complained. He then paused to consider what he said, then amended, "Wait, check that. Reverse those." "Look, Terry..." Terry raised his hand. "No, I changed my mind. I was right the first time. 'Bro' coming out of you is just wrong. That should be number one." Dave sighed. "I...look, I didn't say I was kicking you out. I'm just saying it can't go on indefinitely." Terry nodded. "Yeah, 'all good things,' right?" He stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Look, Dave, I hate to ask, but...I'm having some trouble covering costs. Anything you can toss my way, maybe a couple grand--" "Jesus, Terry, again? We talked about this. No. Absolutely not. I'm done with that. You can stay here, but I'm done paying for your gambling." "It's not that!" Terry objected. Then, seeing his brother's dubious look, he added, "Okay, it IS that. But I'm done with it now! It's behind me, these are just...old debts. And you and Bonnie are so flush--" Dave gave a rueful laugh. "You are unbelievable, you know that? But I couldn't even help you if I wanted. We're all tied up in this merger and Bonnie is watching the books like a hawk. If I stop for a latte she sees the receipt." Terry threw up his hands. "No, no...I get it. It's cool. No worries, I'll work it out. That's what I do, right?" he said with a confident smile. Dave just nodded and headed out the door. Terry stood there for a moment before pulling out his cell phone and dialing a number. "Ray? Hey, it's me. Yeah, I am totally screwed." Terry sat on the couch in the game room, playing a video game while his friend Ray paced back and forth. "How can you goof off at a time like this?" Ray asked. "Years of practice," Terry replied, tapping away at the controller. "I'm talking to a dead man, you DO know that, don't you? There's no way you're going to be able to come up with that kind of mon--Jesus, get the power-up! The power-up!" he exclaimed, pointing emphatically at the screen. "It's not as easy as it looks! And I'm well aware of Delgado's 'payment schedule,' thank you very much. What I'm looking for is--no, no, NO, NO, NO!!" He frantically mashed at the controller before throwing it down in disgust. "See? A dead man." Terry gave him an annoyed glance. "The great Nostradamus," he declared. "And how was I to know that Delgado was such a vicious thug? In his legitimate business, he's a pizza baron!" "Yeah, well, maybe it should have occurred to you not to go to a loan shark who made his money on a business model based on 'thirty minutes or less,'" Ray countered. "I didn't know it was 'thirty minutes OR ELSE.'" Terry sighed heavily. "Dude, what am I gonna DO?" Ray sat down on the couch and picked up the newspaper. "Your problem, my friend, is simple mathematics. You need money, and lots of it, and fast." "So, what? I should rob a bank?" Ray shook his head. "Nah, it's all in computers, these days." Terry considered that. "I should rob an Apple store?" "Lucius Delgado doesn't really strike me as a Mac guy," Ray said. "Maybe you could donate blood, or a kidney, or something?" "If I give that much blood, Delgado won't HAVE to finish me off," Terry moaned. Ray looked at the newspaper. "How 'bout this?" he said, noting an advertisement. "Volunteering for medical testing?" Terry looked at it skeptically. "That doesn't pay nearly enough money to get Delgado off my back." "Yeah, I was thinkin' more like a plane ticket to South America." * * * * * Late that afternoon in the kitchen, Bonnie was overseeing the preparations for the dance like she was prepping an army for invasion. She busily pulled some cookies out of the oven and watched as Dave stirred the large bowl of punch and supervised Claire and her friend Jasper tying ribbons on little sachets. "You should put more potpourri in there, Claire." Claire unceremoniously tossed the little bag on the big pile in front of her. "Mom, it doesn't matter," she moaned. "Of course it matters! You need to get the right amount in there. See what a good job Jasper is doing?" she responded. Jasper tied a neat little bow on the sachet he was holding and put it on the pile with the others. "Thanks, Mrs. Riley...I'm just glad to help." "Well, it's much appreciated, Jasper," Bonnie told him. "We're just lucky you were available on such short notice." She poked Dave, who had been listlessly stirring the punch. "The antioxidants need to aerate," she admonished him. "Oh, I'm always happy to come over," Jasper said, sneaking a glance at Claire, who was disgustedly throwing another little sachet on the pile. "You sure you didn't have any plans?" Dave asked. "A good looking young fella like you should have plans on a Friday night." Jasper just shrugged, but Claire muttered, "Wow, a teenager with plans on a Friday night...there's a concept." "You can see Danny at the dance tomorrow," Bonnie chided her. "And he was more than welcome to come over here tonight and help." "Yeah, he'll be sorry he missed out on this," she sighed, picking up one of the sachets. "Mom, nobody is going to want these." "Well, not the boys," Bonnie countered. "But that's who the cookies are for." Terry came breezing into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge and made a face at the pungent smell of potpourri. "People! C'mon, we cook food in here!" he teased, sneaking a cookie off the plate. He took a bite and looked at it in dismay. "Somewhere, a Keebler Elf is crying." "They're gluten free," Bonnie said defensively. "More's the pity," Terry said. "I don't even know what gluten is and now I miss it. Gluten, we hardly knew ye." "Out!" Bonnie said, throwing a sachet of potpourri at him as he retreated from the kitchen. Terry headed into the large family room and tossed himself on the couch next to Madison, who was sitting there reading a book. He grabbed the remote and started surfing through channels, but soon started shifting around uncomfortably. "Ants in your pants?" Madison asked. "Volunteer work," he responded absently. Madison put her book down and stared at him. "What?" "It's just...I know what both of those words mean, but I didn't think YOU did. And definitely not both of them together like that." "Ha, ha," he retorted dryly. "I spent the day getting poked and prodded by doctors." "Why, are you sick?" "Hopefully not so sick that I can't fly," Terry muttered. "I don't get it." Terry broke into a grin and shifted into a silly cartoon voice. "Hoo- wee, pardner! Y'all ain't needin' ta be worryin' 'bout that, y'heah?" Madison furrowed her brow. "Is that supposed to be funny?" "C'mon, you used to think that was hysterical." "Sure, when I was eight." "You're TEN," he told her. "So, what? You're telling me that your comedic sensibilities changed in two years?" She shrugged. "Girls mature faster than boys." Just then, the doorbell rang. Bonnie's voice yelled from the kitchen, "WOULD SOMEONE GET THAT, PLEASE?" Terry and Madison, sitting within sight of the door, made eye contact with each other. "You're closer," she said. "And I'm also older," he contended. "So..." He gestured at the door. "Ugh," Madison groaned, trudging to the door and opening it. "Well, hello there," a woman's voice came, soft and musical. "Is your mom or dad home?" Terry turned from the couch to see that the woman speaking was in her mid-20s and drop dead gorgeous. She was fashionably dressed in a tailored suit that flattered her stunning physique. He leapt from the couch and after two large bounds was standing breathlessly at the door. "Yes, I'm...Mister Riley," he said smoothly, giving Madison a little shove out of the way. Madison rolled her eyes and went back to the couch. "I'm sorry, I'm looking for David?" the woman said. "I'm his brother, Terry. But I'm sure I can help you find what you're looking for. Concert tickets, maybe? You like dancing? Jazz? Barn raising? Seriously, I have an in with some Amish guys." "That's funny," she smiled. "Actually, it's a small world. I've been working with your brother on my art exhibition, and here we are, just moving in right next door!" "You don't SAY," Terry enthused. "Well, neighbor, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other, then! But I'm so sorry, I didn't catch your name." "I'm Krystal," she said. "Krystal Delgado." Terry's smile vanished. He cleared his throat nervously. "So...that'd be 'Delgado' of the Valencia Delgados, then?" "Oh, no," she said. "My father is Lucius Delgado. The pizza baron." "Uh HUH!" Terry remarked, edging his way to the window. He roughly yanked the blinds closed. "Sorry," he explained. "There was a...glare. Off a bird." "Krystal!" Dave's voice called as he walked into the foyer. "How are you guys settling in?" She shrugged. "My dad is over there now, yelling at the movers. Everything is always life-or-death with him." "HA HA HA!" Terry laughed, awkwardly and nervously. Dave looked at him strangely. "Krystal, this is my brother, T--" "Tim! I go my Tim," Terry interrupted. Krystal looked puzzled. "I thought you said your name was Terry?" "Yep, that's right, but Tim to my friends. And we're friends, right? Why wouldn't we be friends?" He gestured to a painting on the wall. "Wow, would you LOOK at the time. Busy, busy, must dash, but let's do this again. Maybe at your place? Not here. Call first! We're often not home." He hurried upstairs. Dave and Krystal stood there for a moment, bewildered. "He certainly has a lot of energy," Krystal observed. "You don't look so good," Claire said, standing by Terry's bedroom door and watching as he frantically hurried around the room. Terry paused, wiping the sweat from his brow. He was short of breath and feeling a little dizzy, but he found the energy to toss a large suitcase on the bed. "Nope, right as rain," he told her as he sat down. "Although I'd appreciate if you'd stop spinning like that." "Oookay," Claire said uncertainly. Jasper came up behind her, asking, "Hey, did he have the--wow, you don't look so good." "Hey, Jasper," Terry said, glancing up at the two of them. "So, you two dating yet, or what?" Jasper was flustered at the question. "Oh, um, we-- We're not-- That is, I mean, we--" "No," Claire said flatly. "As if. Jasper is like the brother I never had." "Or wanted," Madison added, shoving past her older sister as she entered the room. "Whoa, you look like junk," she said to Terry, who was bent over slightly, catching his breath. Terry gave a weak smile and straightened up to continue packing. "Hey, now. Let's not make this all about me." "Wow, you really MUST be sick," Claire said, walking over to him and putting her hand on his forehead. "Yikes, you're burning up! You should probably lie down." Terry grabbed an armful of shirts from the closet and tossed them unceremoniously in the suitcase. "I'll sleep on the plane." "You going somewhere?" "What? Who said I was going anywhere?" he assserted defensively, tossing some underwear into his suitcase while they watched. He looked at them, and then down at the suitcase. "Oh. This. Right, I... Look, I'll level with you guys, I need to go away for a while. You know, see the world, sew my wild oats..." Madison looked at him suspiciously. "This has something to do with that lady next door, doesn't it?" "No!" he exclaimed. "Yes. Not necessarily. Sorry, what was the question, again?" he wiped the sweat from his brow and blinked in confusion as he tried to steady himself. "You turned into a total spaz when she said her name. Delgado, right?" Jasper's face lit up. "Wow, like the pizza baron?" "Who?" Claire asked. "You know," Jasper said, singing the theme song, "Del, Del... Delgado... Pizza to die for!" "Is that the one with the shark for the mascot?" "Yeah! Sharky, the remorseless, cold-blooded killing--" "OKAY!" Terry interrupted. "Yes, that's the one. Her father and I have done some...business...together." "You mean you owe him money," Madison claimed. Terry looked at her in surprise, and she said, "What? I'm ten, I'm not stupid." Claire peered at the suitcase apprehensively. "How much money?" Jasper picked up the printed ticket on the dresser and read the destination. "Bolivia?" "That's a lot of money," Claire whispered. Terry gathered up the girls in his arms and hugged them reassuringly. "Hey, don't worry about me. Uncle Terry's got this under control. Everything is going to be just fine." He guided them to the door. Claire looked at him uncertainly. "Are you sure?" she asked. "Don't give it a second thought. I always land on my feet," he said with a smile, closing the door behind them. He turned around, reached for his suitcase and passed out and fell forward, missing the bed and landing face-down on the floor, unconscious. * * * * * "AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!" Claire was up like a shot, responding to the scream. It was early the next morning and she ran bleary-eyed next door to Terry's room and threw the door open. "Uncle Terry, are you... you... you..." Terry was standing up and staring in the mirror in wide-eyed horror, clad in his briefs and a tight white undershirt. He had the undershirt pulled up and was looking at his bare chest, which now sported a truly spectacular pair of breasts. Tearing his eyes from the mirror to face Claire's stunned gaze, he pulled the shirt down in embarrassment but it was so snug it did nothing to hide his prominent bosom. "You...you..." she repeated, pointing at his chest. "How...?" He started to pull her into his room when Madison showed up, rubbing her eyes. "Hey, what's all the yelling ab--" She gave Terry a once-over. "Wow, this is totally going in my blog." Terry grabbed both girls and pulled them into the bedroom, his eyes darting both ways down the corridor before closing and locking the door. Claire stared at him blankly. "You have..." she said, pointing at his chest. "I know!" "But you're a...?" "That's right!" She tried to process that, and then gestured at his crotch uncertainly. "Do you still...?" "YES!" Madison walked around behind him, eyeing his slender feminine waist and his significantly expanded hips and butt, which were now packed tightly into his briefs. She reached out with her finger and gave his big round butt a poke. "Hey!" "That's awesome," she giggled. Claire shook her head. "HOW?" He sat on the edge of the bed. "I volunteered for some medical experiments. I needed the money! I never thought...this!" He gave his soft bosom a little nudge. "Is it temporary?" "I don't know," he said. Madison eyed his chest in wonder. "Wow, you're even bigger than Mom," she said. Claire let out a disgusted little grumble. "What?" Terry asked. "It's just..." she began, gesturing at his full-figured bosom before crossing her arms over her own still-maturing chest. "...it's not FAIR, y'know?" "Do we call you Aunt Terry now?" Madison wondered. "No! And don't tell your parents, either." "Are you going to Bolivia like that?" Terry made a face as he thought about that. "I, uh, I don't know. But I have to get out of here." "That's gonna be tough with all those people outside," Madison said, pointing at the window with her thumb. Terry rushed to see for himself and saw a large number of people milling about. It looked like the Delgado house next door was setting up for a wedding reception and it was spilling over into their own lawn. Dave and Bonnie were out front talking to a heavyset gray-haired man Terry instantly recognized as Lucius Delgado. The couple was smiling and nodding as they pointed up to Terry's window. Delgado scowled and looked right at the window, just as Terry ducked out of sight. Terry whispered, "Nostradamus was right. I'm a dead man." Shortly, after the girls went to change into their casual clothes for the day, Claire returned and knocked gently on his bedroom door. "How's it look out there?" he asked, letting her in. "It's no good," she replied. "The back yard is even worse than the front. It's crawling with people." "Well, is it just like wedding caterers and stuff?" he asked. "Them, I could sneak past." She shook her head. "There's also a bunch of very serious-looking guys wandering around with earpieces and prominent lumps in their jackets," Claire told him. "Unless they're all hard of hearing and carrying bibles, I'm thinking that's not a good sign." "Outstanding." "And you should have seen them all tense up when our back door opened! I almost screamed and dropped to the ground." "Yep, that is just outstanding," he repeated, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Look, I appreciate you girls trying to help, but maybe it's better if you just go downstairs and wait it out. I'll figure something out." Claire held his hand. "No, Uncle Terry. If you're in trouble, we're going to help." "Yeah," Madison agreed. "We don't want to see your bullet-riddled corpse laying on the front lawn." They both gaped at her. Terry found his voice first. "Okay, I swear that's it, no more procedural cop shows for you." He turned back to Claire. "Did you bring it?" She handed him a wide elastic ACE bandage that she'd retrieved and he sat on the bed and began wrapping it over his undershirt, binding down his oversized breasts. "Damn it, why'd they have to be so big?" he said to himself. "Oh, right, THAT'S fair," Claire muttered. "Hey, who are they?" Madison said, peering out the window through the curtains. Claire took a look. "I don't know, maybe they're here for the wedding?" "I can't believe my luck," Terry said, wincing in discomfort. "Who the hell has a wedding on a Tuesday?" "Today's Saturday," Madison informed him. He paused and blinked. "Wow. I really DO need to get a job. I've got no sense of time anymore." He stood up. "How's this look?" His bosom, while flattened somewhat by the bandages, was just as obvious as ever. And the neck of the shirt had gotten pulled down while he was binding his chest, so now his boobs were popping out the top, displaying a very impressive cleavage. "So, SO not fair," Claire muttered again. Terry removed the bandage in exasperation and peered out the window. There were a few women outside the front of their house in housekeeper's uniforms. "Why that cheeky little monkey," he marveled. "I knew they were hiring a maid!" Claire gazed at the women outside and then back at Terry. "Huh." Madison studied her sister's expression. "What are you thinking?" she asked suspiciously. Terry was still peering out the window. "I'm thinking the blonde MAYBE, but I'd have to see her up close. The others...ehh," he said, waggling his hand back and forth. He turned to look at his nieces, who were both staring at him critically. "It could work," Claire said. "Sure, right up until the part with the bullet-riddled corpse on our lawn." "Would you stop SAYING that?" Terry snapped. "And what are we talking about, again?" Claire told her sister, "Check in the basement, I think Mom has some maternity bras down there. One of those should fit. I'll get my makeup kit." Terry glanced at them nervously. "Hey, now, let's not be too quick to throw out the bullet-riddled corpse idea. We're still brainstorming. No bad ideas." Later that morning, the doorbell rang. "WOULD SOMEB--!" Bonnie yelled. "I got it!" Claire cried, racing down the stairs. Her mother called out again from the next room, where she was interviewing one of the maids. "Honey, if it's one of the housekeepers, just ask her to wait--" Claire cut her off. "Yep! Will do, Mom!" She opened the door and Jasper was standing there, looking bewildered. He motioned over his shoulder. "Are you guys having a block party, or someth--" "Do you have it?" she asked impatiently. He held up a tote bag. "I'm still not sure why you wanted me to--" "Come on," she said, dragging him upstairs. They entered Terry's bedroom, where Madison was sitting on the bed typing away on a laptop as she talked to her uncle through the open door of the adjoining bathroom. "I am NOT going back down there!" she told him emphatically. "Going through Mom's maternity stuff, EWW! I'm not even supposed to know about all that stuff yet! You're robbing me of my childhood innocence!" "Yes, I appreciate that..." "I saw things!" she protested. "Things that can't be unseen!" Terry walked out of the bathroom in a snug-fitting bra and panties, tugging at his bra strap as he adjusted his breasts in the cups. "Look, I'm just asking if you saw anything bigger...oh, hey, guys," he said, looking at Claire and Jasper. Unlike his previous male clothing, his feminine undergarments left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and his transformed body could stop traffic. His big round breasts formed an impressive cleavage, and he had a slender feminine waist that flared out to a broad set of hips and a significantly expanded ass. Claire had done a capable if over- exaggerated job on his makeup, and his shoulder-length chestnut hair was worn loose of his usual male ponytail and hung softly about his face and shoulders. Standing there in the bedroom, he looked like he could be modeling lingerie for Fredericks of Hollywood. "There is no God," Claire grumbled. Jasper stared at Terry, his eyes as big as saucers. "H-how--?" he croaked. Terry rested a hand on one of his jutting hips. "You know how your parents are always telling you how you shouldn't do drugs?" he said. "LISTEN TO THEM." Jasper nodded vigorously. "Is that it?" Terry asked, pointing at the tote bag. But when Jasper didn't reply--still frozen like a deer captivated by Terry's impressive 'headlights'--Claire snatched the bag from him and handed it over. "Okay! I'll just--" Terry stopped as he dumped the contents of the bag out onto the bed. It was a black satin French maid costume with all the trimmings...ruffled panties, petticoats, fishnet stockings, a white apron and a lacy cap. There was even a feather duster and matching satchel. "What is this?" Terry exclaimed, gawking at the frilly costume. He picked up a lacy elastic band. "I think that's a garter," Madison offered helpfully. Claire smacked Jasper on the arm. "You dummy! I told you to bring over one of your housekeeper's uniforms!" Jasper looked bewildered. "What's the difference?" "That's a French maid costume!" "You lost me." Claire looked at him incredulously. "Why the heck did you think I wanted a French maid costume?" He shrugged. "I thought maybe you wanted to dress up?" "Why would you think that?" "Please, please don't answer that," Madison interjected. Terry tossed the outfit on the bed. "Okay, this isn't going to work," he said. "And my own clothes would only draw suspicion, and I can't fit into Claire's clothes--" Claire threw up her hands. "YES! Fine! We get it! Because your boobs are huge, and I'm so flat!" she exclaimed. Terry hesitantly continued, "--since I'm like six inches taller than you..." "Wow, touched a nerve there," Madison declared. "What about your mom?" Jasper asked. "Could you borrow one of her dresses?" Claire shook her head. "She might have something that would work, but she locked their bedroom. I guess because of all the people in the house and next door." Jasper looked puzzled. "How do you know it's locked?" "I wanted to borrow some jewelry for the dance tonight," she replied. "So why didn't you just ask?" "That's not really how we do things around here," Terry offered. "We're more of a 'ask forgiveness rather than permission' kind of outfit." "And that's only if we get caught," Madison interjected. Terry sighed deeply as he looked at the costume. "Well, I guess there's nothing else for it, then. On the plus side, all I have to do is sneak downstairs and get past those goons outside. At least they'll never be expecting to see me like this." "NOBODY is going to be expecting this," Jasper said, gawking at Terry's rounded backside as he leaned over to gather up the outfit. After Terry got dressed up in the costume, Madison fussed at the details, brushing Terry's hair and putting the maid's cap in place. "I love your hair, it's so soft." "I use an organic leave-in conditioner," he told her, putting his wallet and passport in the little black satchel. "It has peppermint oil." Madison nodded appreciatively. Claire ducked back into the bedroom from the hallway and closed the door behind her. "I found them in the basement," she said, opening the shoebox she was carrying. Inside were a pair of very sexy black patent Italian pumps. "Mom told me she bought these when she was pregnant since her feet were swollen and she couldn't fit into her regular shoes, so they may be big enough to fit you." Terry took the pumps and regarded the five-inch heels skeptically. "She wore these when she was PREGNANT?" "No, she BOUGHT them when she was pregnant," Claire corrected. "They're Salvatore Ferragamos." Terry slipped them on his feet. They were a little snug, but he'd manage. He stood up on them, trying to get his balance. "So if they were too big, why'd she keep them?" Claire looked at him like it was a ridiculous question. "They're Salvatore Ferragamos," she repeated. He turned to face them. "So, how do I look?" he asked, striking a little pose. The dress was low-cut in front and the white lace around the neckline framed his abundant cleavage invitingly. The white apron was tied into a big bow in back that highlighted his narrow waist, and the froth of petticoats swayed sexily around his pretty stockinged legs which were perched on the shiny high heels. The three just stared at him. Terry shifted self-consciously. "Okay, starting to feel just a little bit awkward here..." "You look...incredible," Claire complimented him with a smile. Madison looked him over. "I can't believe you're a guy. If I end up with body image and self-esteem issues, you are SO gonna be paying for my therapy." Terry blushed a little and smiled, looking to Jasper. Jasper hadn't moved, and was still staring at Terry in awe. Claire jabbed him with her elbow. "Good!" he blurted out. "You look...good." Madison retrieved a sheet of paper from the dresser and handed it to him. "What's this?" he asked, scanning over the dense text. "It's your cover identity," she told him. "Your name is Camille Delacroix. You're a French-Canadian political science student who's taking a year off to visit the United States to get away from your controlling ex-fiance, Jacques. You broke it off with him when you suspected that he was secretly seeing your sister--" Terry held up his hands. "Stop, stop," he told her. "Madison, all I have to do is walk down a flight of stairs, go outside, and then walk three blocks to the coffee shop and wait for Jasper to sneak me my suitcase so I can change and go to the airport. I don't think I'll need to know that"--he looked down at the sheet--"that I have a Yorkie named Robespierre." "Sure, you say that NOW," she countered, "but if you get caught, you're going to need to know this! My story is the only thing between you and a gun to your head!" "I should never have let you watch _Argo_," Terry sighed. Claire furrowed her brow. "Is that the best voice you can do?" "How's this?" he said, affecting a higher-pitched voice. Claire scrunched her nose. "Can you do it more like that girl's cartoon voice you sometimes do?" "Ooh!" Jasper cut in. "Do it like Princess Ravenstar from the Lunar Base Yamamoto anime!" Terry shot him a disbelieving look. "Ignore him," Claire said, rolling her eyes. "Just put a little Jessica Rabbit in it." "Mmm...who knew all those years watching cartoons would finally pay off?" he purred seductively. Claire's eyes widened. "Wow. Okay, that actually was really good." "Can you do it with a French accent?" Madison interjected. "Camille is from Quebec." He gave her an exasperated look and sighed. "'Ah-lo! My name eez Camille!" he said, trying out a French accent. "Wow, that was...unbelievably terrible," Claire said. "Do you even speak French?" Terry considered that. "Oui!" he exclaimed brightly. "You don't even know how to say 'no' in French, do you?" He hesitated. "Oui, oui!" he repeated. Madison groaned and snatched the paper out of his hand. "Forget it. You're from Newark," she declared, marking the sheet up with a pen. Terry shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, and speaking of 'wee wee,' I need to make an adjustment down south, or you're never going to have any cousins. These French-cut ruffled panties are invading my Normandy," he said, wiggling into the bathroom. "Why would the French invade Normandy?" Jasper wondered. After he fretted at his reflection one last time, Terry walked out to face the three of them. He and the girls looked at each other apprehensively. "Well, I guess it's show time," he said as confidently as he could manage. "Thanks for everything you guys have done for me, I don't know what to say." The two girls gave him nervous smiles as they shifted uncertainly. He stepped close to Claire and touched her arm gently. "I don't know when I'm going to have a chance to see you again. You're so full of life and promise. You're funny, beautiful, talented, witty, a good friend, fashionable, good with animals--" "Don't oversell it," Madison broke in. "Actually, it's okay if you want to keep going," Claire smiled, a tear in her eye. "I'd say you're gonna be amazing, but you're already there," Terry said, giving her a warm hug. He turned to Madison. She eyed him warily. "I swear to God, if you tell me not to grow up too fast, I'm gonna punch you right in the boob." He laughed and pulled her close. "Don't ever change," he said, kissing the top of her head. They broke the embrace and she sniffled. Terry turned to Jasper and held out his hand. "Jasper, my man, I--" Jasper ran up to Terry and threw his arms around him desperately, burying his face in Terry's chest. "Oh! Um, okay. I guess that's good. Y'know, just...just hug it out, man," he said, patting his hand on the teen's back awkwardly. Another moment passed. Jasper didn't let go. "So, yeah, got a flight to catch..." Terry said. He started to become acutely aware that the teen's face was pressed into his bosom and grabbed Jasper's arms, trying to disengage the amorous adolescent. Finally, with Claire's assistance, they managed to pry him loose. Terry nodded to the girls and started to open the door. "Uncle Terry?" Claire said. "Look, sweetie, let's not drag this out any longer than--" "No, it's not that," she said. "Your petticoats are stuck inside your panties," she said, pointing at his backside. "Huh? Oh, thanks," he said, pulling them out and giving them a little fluff. "Well, wish me luck." "Bonne chance," Madison said. When Terry just looked at her in confusion, she buried her face in the palm of her hand and shook her head. He stepped out into the corridor and closed the door behind him. "Do you think we'll ever see him again?" Claire asked. Madison looked at her incredulously. "Are you kidding? There's no way I'm going to miss this!" she said, following him out the door. * * * * * Downstairs, Bonnie was interviewing one of the housekeepers. "Well, Mrs. Osborn, I have to say I'm very impressed with your credentials. And that's so interesting, you're the second applicant today to have a Master's degree in Anthropology," she observed. "Now, I--" She paused, noting that Mrs. Osborn seemed distracted by something that was going on behind her. Bonnie turned around and saw a woman in a French maid's uniform come sneaking down the stairs and across the foyer. She was up like a shot. "Excuse me? Excuse me, miss, who are you?" Bonnie challenged. Terry froze. "I...I, um..." he stammered in his female voice. His mind went completely blank. The sheer absurdity of standing in front of his sister-in-law while pretending to be a woman in this ridiculous outfit put him into total brain lock. "I have a Yorkie named Robespierre," he volunteered. Bonnie shook her head. "What? I don't-- Who ARE you?" "M-my name is--" at this point he was so flustered couldn't even remember his REAL name. His mind flashed to a stripper he knew. "Angelique," he said. Crap, he didn't know her last name. "Angelique is... uh... boy?... b-beau!" he stammered. "Well, Ms. Isabeaux, what exactly were you doing upstairs just now?" "I was...cleaning," Terry said. "Because I am a maid. And I was cleaning. Upstairs. Cleaning. As a maid." The housekeeper being interviewed got up and joined the conversation. "Oh, has the position been filled already?" "Yes," Terry said. "No," Bonnie retorted. "Yes," Terry repeated. "Mr. Riley hired me." "He did," Bonnie said skeptically, glowering at Terry's ridiculously sexy outfit. "REALLY." Then, she rolled her eyes. "Wait. This 'Mr. Riley' that hired you...would he be the unkempt and disheveled one with the ponytail?" Terry blinked. "I saw him more as a free-spirited Bohemian with boyish good looks," he said. Then quickly added, "But, no! It was the other Mr. Riley that hired me. Dave? David, I think it was?" Bonnie stared at Terry incredulously, trying to reconcile this information in her head. "Just a moment, please," she said pleasantly. She walked to the front door and opened it. "DAVE!!!" she screamed. Both Terry and Mrs. Osborn jumped. A few moments later, Dave appeared at the door with Krystal, whom he'd been talking to outside. "Honey? What is it?" he said. "Is everything o- -" He hesitated as he saw the sexy stranger standing there dressed as a French maid. "--oookaaay?" Mrs. Osborn stepped forward to get Bonnie's attention. "You all seem to be busy, so I'll just let you sort this out..." she offered. She and Bonnie fell into a quick little side conversation as Bonnie assured her it would all be worked out and that she'd be in touch. Terry, seeing an opening, grabbed Dave. "Dave, it's me, Terry," he whispered in his male voice. "Just go along with whatever I say, I'll explain later." He stepped back and smiled prettily while Dave stared at him in utter shock and disbelief. As Mrs. Osborn left, Bonnie turned to Dave. "Honey, Ms. Isabeaux here claims that you hired her to be our housekeeper?" When the slack-jawed Dave didn't answer, Terry jumped in. "Oh, yes," he simpered. "We had quite a lovely conversation the other day, didn't we, Mr. Riley? He said that he knew that today would be very busy for you and wanted to save you the trouble of hiring someone yourself, but I guess it must have slipped his mind, isn't that right, sir?" Dave hadn't moved or said a word, and was still staring wide-eyed at his feminized brother. He looked down at Terry's breasts and blinked slowly in disbelief. "Uh huh," he agreed absently. "You hired her without telling me?" "Um. Uh huh," he repeated. "And I suppose this--ahem--'uniform' was also your idea?" she said accusingly. "Oh, no," Terry replied quickly, not wanting to get Dave in any more trouble than he already was. "I'm afraid I insisted. You see, my...abusive ex-fiance Jacques...he used to make me dress this way, so I wear it proudly to...reclaim it...and never feel like a victim again." Up the staircase on the landing, Madison nudged her big sister. "See why that cover identity stuff is so important?" Krystal had taken a great interest in this conversation and looked admiringly at Terry. "That is the most amazing thing I've ever heard. You are so inspirational!" "It's a lot of something, all right," Bonnie muttered. "I just hope that you have good qualif--" She stopped short. She'd glanced down for a moment, and was now staring at Terry intently with confusion and fascination running across her face. Terry wasn't sure what was going on until he glanced down at himself, past his cleavage, past the frilly apron, past his skirts and petticoats... Down to Bonnie's Salvatore Ferragamo shoes that he was wearing. He looked back up at her and as they made eye contact, Bonnie gave him a knowing little smirk. "Well, Angelique," she said, putting emphasis on the feminine name, "on the other hand, I'm sure if you went through all of this with Dave, that's good enough for me. Right, honey?" "Uh huh," Dave said, not having any idea what was going on. "You know, I really, really hate to ask this," Krystal said, "but we are dying for some help next door since we just moved in and the wedding stuff is out of control. Would it be okay if we borrowed Angelique to help out? We'll pay for her time, whatever you need." Terry looked at her in alarm. "Oh, I don't think--" "Certainly!" Bonnie had a huge smile on her face as she leered at her feminized brother-in-law disguised in his sexy and frilly costume. She took him by the arm and guided him over to Krystal, telling her, "You feel free to take Angelique here for as long as you need, and don't you dare give it a second thought." "Oh, you guys are so generous," Krystal gushed. Then, to Terry, she said, "You go ahead and check in with the wedding coordinator next door. I'm two steps behind you!" Terry looked at them helplessly and headed out the door nervously. Bonnie was grinning ear to ear and gave him a little wave. Once he was gone, Krystal said, "Okay, I admit that at first I wasn't too sure about her in that outfit, but that whole story about being abused by her fiance was just heartbreaking, don't you think?" she said, holding a hand over her heart. "And I just have to say, she has the most amazing taste in shoes!" "I thought so, too," Bonnie admitted. Terry was practically trembling in fear as he walked outside and over to Delgado's house next door. The whole area was a buzz of activity as people finished the move-in and prepared for the wedding. In addition to the caterers and people setting up, there was also a small army of landscapers, trimming the grass and planting shrubs and flowers. Most of them were male, and all of them paused in their work to check out the leggy and buxom French maid who was crossing the driveway up to the house. Terry swallowed hard and plastered a smile on his face as each of the guys gave him a lascivious once-over. He felt like a pork chop surrounded by wolves. He was having a little trouble in his high heels and he moved slowly up the steps to the front door when a gust of wind blew up around his legs, causing his petticoats to rise up and giving a flash of his ruffled panties. "Ooh la la!" a guy called, causing Terry to blush furiously as he held down his skirts. Hurrying up the stairs, Terry saw that the front door was open, presumably since people were busily carrying things in and out of the house. Tentatively he moved inside, hearing the bustle of people further within as he nervously listened to the clacking of his high heels on the marble floor. His heart was beating so hard he thought it was going to leap out of his chest, and as he brought his hand to his heart, he was startled to encounter the unexpected softness of his jutting bosom. He took a deep breath and turned around slowly. Bringing him face-to-face with Lucius Delgado. "AAAAAHHHHHH!!!" Any other time, affecting such a high-pitched girly scream would have embarrassed Terry. However, given the current circumstances, his rapidly diminishing male pride was the least of his worries. "Hey, hey, there, little lady!" Delgado said soothingly, grabbing Terry's trembling hands in his own. "Didn't mean to startle you, there." Terry stared at the man wide-eyed, a nervous smile stuck stupidly on his face. "Y--you didn't," he stammered. Delgado raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" Terry was suddenly aware that Delgado was still holding his hands firmly. He wanted to yank them back, but didn't want to risk antagonizing the older man, who was now looking him in the face intently. Nervously, Terry looked down at the floor and then turned to look away, his long hair blocking his face. "It's just...you have such an--imposing--um, foyer," Terry explained. "It's so overwhelming and, uh, substantial," he said tremulously, suddenly realizing how heavily muscled Delgado was. "Really." "Mmm hmm!" Terry nodded vigorously. "I see a foyer like this and I just want to hear the acoustics! You know, like, 'aaaaahhh!'" he squeaked. "Huh," Delgado said, his hands still firmly holding Terry's. "You mean more like...'RAAAAHHHH!!!'" Terry almost jumped out of his skin at the shout, embarrassed that Delgado's pull on his hands had brought him even closer, leaving him mere inches away from the beefy man. "Yep," he whimpered. Delgado was looking Terry right in the face, but he'd cocked his ear to listen to the echo. "Well, I never noticed that before." He looked at Terry closely. "You know, I have an excellent memory for faces, and I swear we've met before." "I'm sure I'd remember," Terry smiled, his hands sweating in Delgado's grip. "But where are my manners? I'm Lucius Delgado. And who are you, my dear?" Terry's eyes went as wide as saucers. Sheer terror had pushed him into brain lock again. "I...uh...I'm..." "Daddy!" Krystal's voice called as she entered the house. "Oh, good, I see you've met Angelique." "I'm Angelique!" Terry blurted out. Delgado released his grip as Krystal came up to them. "Daddy, this is Angelique Isabeaux. She--" "I'm Angelique Isabeaux!" Terry repeated. "Yes. She's working as a housekeeper for the Rileys next door and they said we could borrow her for the day. I figured we were so short-handed with the wedding and all, we could use the extra pair of hands." Delgado nodded. "That's my girl, always thinking!" He then wrapped an arm around Terry's waist possessively, adding, "And any help as lovely as this is always welcome in my home." Terry cleared his throat nervously. "I'm a helper," he croaked. Hours later, Terry was watching the clock, trying to do the math to figure out how long it would take to get to the airport. He was starting to doubt that he'd even have time to change, and wondered if he'd have to wear the stupid French maid's outfit on the flight. His experiences all morning and afternoon had been a circle of hell that even Dante had never envisioned, and it had been presided over by a she- devil known only as Mrs. Bautista, a self-important dictator who had been hired as the wedding coordinator. She had taken it upon herself to ensure that "Angelique" was kept busy at all times, but--obviously at Mr. Delgado's request--was also kept on display in front of the assembled guests. For Terry it was bad enough having to dress in drag in front of all those people, but his skimpy and flirty little outfit had singled him out for all kinds of unwanted attention, especially from the men. As he walked around carrying a silver platter to serve drinks and appetizers to all the guests, he had enough ogling and leering to last him a lifetime, to say nothing of all the "accidental" gropes. After one particularly bold teenager got a little too familiar, Terry was about to tell the little twerp where to stuff it when he got a warning look from Mrs. Bautista. So instead, he plastered a pretty smile on his face, gave a little curtsey, and minced back to the kitchen to get more canapes. Later that afternoon he was helping one of the other waitresses move some cases of liquor, and soon found himself huffing and puffing in his tight dress and awkward heels. He looked in annoyance at the men standing by idly and not even offering to help when he realized that his exertions had left him flushed and his voluptuous bosom was heaving prettily in the confines of his dress. One of Delgado's lieutenants from the loansharking operation gave Terry a long look, and at first Terry was worried that he'd been recognized when he realized that the man was just leering at his jiggling boobs. "I guess they're good for that much," Terry muttered. "Sorry, what was that?" Krystal asked, walking up to him. She'd changed into a long slinky gown for the reception and it looked like she'd been poured into it. Terry suddenly realized that he'd been staring at her. "That's quite a dress," he complimented her. Krystal gave a little smirk. "It was a present," she said. "Seemed like a good time to break it out." "A present," Terry echoed. "From your...boyfriend?" he asked, handing her another glass of champagne from the bar. "Oh, I don't have a boyfriend," Krystal said, taking a sip from the glass. "Oh, good." "What's that?" "I mean, it's good, being on your own sometimes, isn't it? Not being tied to any one guy. You know, just getting comfortable with yourself." Krystal looked at Terry and shook her head. "God, Angelique, how do you do it?" "Hmm?" "It's just seems like you're so together, y'know? Like you know what you want. You're such a modern woman." Terry gave her a nervous smile and grabbed a glass of champagne off a tray as one of the other waitresses walked by, taking a quick gulp. "Oh, and I'm sorry about my father," she apologized. "I know he's been a bit grabby, but ever since my mom passed away he's been kind of a recluse. But you're probably used to all the attention, what with wearing that outfit all the time, huh?" "It's not easy," Terry admitted. "I've been hit on more times today than..." he paused, "...something that gets hit on a lot." He shook his head. "Ugh," Krystal groaned. "I am so sick of guys and their bullshit!" "Maybe you should switch teams?" Terry joked. "Tried it. Girls are worse. I dated this lingerie model back in college. The sex was hot--especially when her twin sister was in town--but God, the drama! You can't imagine." Terry had a faraway stare. "I--I'm REALLY trying to imagine," he whispered. Krystal sighed and looked across the crowd of people. "Kind of makes you wish there was a third option, doesn't it?" Terry raised his eyebrows and said, "You know it's funny you should say that..." Then he saw Mrs. Bautista standing nearby, staring daggers at him. "I should get back to work," he grumbled. "Mmm," Krystal agreed. "Back to mingling," she said, retreating back into the crowd. Terry watched as she turned and left, her shapely round bottom looking quite fetching in her clingy dress. Suddenly, a thought hit him. "A pinata!" he blurted out. He looked up brightly, but Krystal was long gone and nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him. Almost nobody. "What are you doing, standing around?" Mrs. Bautista challenged him. "Lazy girl! You are a terrible maid!" "Yeah, well, this place isn't exactly Downton Abbey, either," Terry deadpanned. Then, seeing her disapproving glare, he picked up another tray of drinks, sighed heavily, and wandered back into the crowd. When the meal was served that afternoon, Terry was called upon to wait on the main table, and found himself getting some dirty looks from the bride and a few of the bridesmaids every time he leaned over and flashed his abundant cleavage. Belatedly he realized that the bride--one of Delgado's nieces--was not nearly so well-endowed, and she seemed to take delight in ordering him about or making snide comments about the "help." Being unused to his new body and clothes also presented other challenges. As he leaned over to fetch Mr. Delgado's plate, Terry had trouble balancing on his heels and found himself snuggling closer to the man to reach the dish. As he grabbed it, he suddenly realized that his jutting breasts were pressed against Delgado's shoulder, and as he turned to face the man, he saw Delgado staring straight at his impressive decolletage, and then directly into Terry's flustered face. Terry flushed in embarrassment, and his face was burning so red that his blush went all the way to the tops of his breasts, elicting a little smirk from the man. After that, Terry noticed that Delgado's dishes always seemed to be a few inches farther away than everybody else's, causing a number of humiliating repeat performances. For better or for worse, Terry's little peep show with Delgado did not go unnoticed by many of the other guests, either. It made his bawdy display that much more embarrassing for him, but it had another unexpected side effect. By the time they were serving coffee after cutting the cake, almost nobody except the most oblivious of guests was still hitting on him anymore. At first Terry thought it strange how some of the jerks had stopped giving him a hard time until he turned and saw Delgado giving him an admiring--and possessive--stare. "Oookaay, time to go," Terry whispered nervously to himself. He checked the time and realized that if he hurried he could still make it to the airport and catch his flight. He wouldn't have time to change, but by this point he was more worried about escape. He grabbed his satchel that had his wallet, passport, and tickets, and headed briskly for the door, figuring that if he walked to the coffee shop a few blocks away he could call for a cab, and then-- "I hope you're not sneaking away," Delgado said from right behind him. Terry froze mid-step and grimaced, then slowly turned to face the man as he plastered a bright smile on his face. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said. "I just...have a quick errand I need to run. I'll come back and help clean up--" "Don't," Delgado said firmly. Terry swallowed hard. The last time he'd heard Delgado use that tone of voice with him was when he was in the man's office several weeks ago and Delgado had made painfully clear to Terry the dire consequences that would befall him if he were foolish enough to default on his loan. "I'm sorry?" he squeaked. "You think I don't know what's going on?" Delgado warned, moving close to Terry. "You think I'm a FOOL?" "I don't think that," Terry whispered. "You know who I am. You know what I can do to people." He grabbed Terry by the arm. "This is all a big misunderstanding--" "No! No more lies. No more games. You think I didn't see through you since the moment you stepped foot into this house?" Terry's mouth went dry, his eyes wide. "Mr. Delgado, I swear to you, I am absolutely--" "You think I can't tell how attracted you are to me?" "--absolutely...wild about you?" Terry added uncertainly. "I knew it," Delgado said, taking Terry by the hands. "All those coy little glances, the sly little touches. Your subtle feminine wiles are so obvious to me, Angelique." "I'm sure not getting anything past you!" Terry declared. "But now you're afraid of me," Delgado said earnestly. "You know who I am, what I'm capable of. You think I'd hurt you if I got to know the real you." "Ehh..." "Shh, my angel," he said, putting a finger on Terry's lips. "I know this all seems sudden, but I'm a man who knows what he wants. But I'm willing to take it slow. Have dinner with me, tonight. Just the two of us. After that, if you don't want it to go any further, I swear you'll never hear from me again." Terry stared up at Delgado. "'Kay." "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, giving Terry's hand a little squeeze. Terry nodded slowly. "I...have to go...change," he said deliberately, eyeing Delgado carefully. "I'll go...put on something pretty...and then I'll come back--later--and we will go have dinner. Together. Sound good?" "That sounds wonderful, my dear. I'll be counting the minutes!" "Fab." Terry backed away slowly, a smile frozen on his face as he fumbled behind him for the doorknob. As he opened the door and slipped outside, he called, "'Kay! Toodles!" before closing the door shut. He paused for a moment on the front steps trying to process what just happened when a warm breeze came along and fluttered his skirts and petticoats around his silky hairless thighs. He looked down at himself, his chestnut hair framing his vision as he stared down at the prodigious cleavage that had captivated so many men today, including the man who wanted him dead. Who he now had a date with. "And this is what it feels like to go insane," he whispered. Checking the time, Terry didn't even bother going into his house next door. He would barely make his flight as it was, and the inevitable explanations and recriminations with Dave and Bonnie would take precious time he couldn't spare. He would have liked to change into another outfit or at least grab his suitcase, but if Delgado spotted him hurrying away like that, it's a good bet that "Angelique" would have some serious explaining to do. Instead, Terry just briskly walked up the sidewalk towards the coffee shop, feeling ridiculous as his skirts and petticoats swished along and his breasts bounced in his brassiere. "I'm sure they have doctors in Bolivia," he muttered to himself. "I'll get there, I'll get situated, and they'll fix what's wrong with me, and I will look back on this as the single weirdest day in my entire li--" That was as far as he got before somebody jumped him from behind. * * * * * Strong hands held him in place as he struggled. His abductors had placed a fabric bag over his head and pulled him into a van, and a very short drive later, dragged him into a building and forced him to sit down in a chair. As they pulled the bag off his head, Terry could see that he was sitting at a table in what appeared to be a very sparsely-decorated kitchen. Standing in front of him were two people--a man and a woman-- both dressed in dark suits. "What the FUCK!" he cried. "Please, Mr. Riley, calm down," the woman said. "We're not going to hurt you. We're with a government agency--" "The FBI." The woman seemed thrown by that. "We're not at liberty to say." "We can say it's a three-letter acronym," the man volunteered. Terry tossed his hair out of his face. "Does it end with an I, start with an F, and have a B in the middle?" he snapped. "We can't confirm or deny--" "I saw the surveillance equipment in the van," Terry told her. "You're watching Delgado, right?" "Well...yes," the woman admitted. "You can refer to me as 'Agent A.' My partner here is 'Agent B.'" Terry glanced at the man and then back at the woman. "Wouldn't it make more sense for him to be 'Agent A' since his last name is Adams?" "How could you possibly--" "I saw the badge on his belt when I was in the van," Terry explained. "I could see everything through that bag. What was that, crocheted?" The woman gave her partner an exasperated look. "You wore your badge when you grabbed him?" "I took it off later!" he retorted. "And I told you it made more sense for me to be 'Agent A.'" "Well, this has been a treat to see my tax dollars at work, but unfortunately I have a flight to catch," Terry interjected. "So if you'll excuse me..." "You don't even know where you are!" Adams declared. "We were in the van like 90 seconds, tops," Terry countered. "This is that rental house down the street. We had a barbeque here a couple months ago with the last folks to stay in it. Gary and Courtney Friedman. They were visiting from Topeka. Lovely couple." The woman closed her eyes and shook her head. Terry grabbed his satchel purse off the table. "So, this has been fun, but...hasta la bye-bye and vaya con queso." "Where are you going, Mr. Riley?" the woman asked. "I'm not at liberty to say," he said with a smirk, turning towards the door. "Any chance you'll be needing these?" she wondered. Terry turned and saw that she was holding his plane tickets and passport. She motioned for him to sit back down. He growled and sat in the chair. "Fine. What do you want?" "Well, for starters, we would very much like it if you didn't go running off to--" she looked down at the tickets, "--Bolivia? Really?" "It's good for my sinuses." Adams leaned down over him. "Meaning you breathe easier when you're not pumped full of bullets?" "Something like that." The woman looked at him dubiously. "And you honestly think that plan is going to work?" "I like it better than the alternative," he asserted. "Says the man in the French maid's costume sporting the big double-Ds," she countered. "But I'll give you points for creativity. How's that plan working out for you so far?" Terry shrugged. "Oh, you know. 'Blink-blink, breathe-breathe.' I'm enjoying that part well enough." His eyes cut between them. "And WHY am I here, again?" Adams leaned forward. "Because what you did--getting that close to Delgado--that took a lot of balls." He got a puzzled look on his face, and motioned with his finger. "You DO still have--" "Yes!" Terry snapped. The two agents looked at each other. "It could still work," Adams said with a shrug. "For a while, anyway." Terry looked at them suspiciously. "What are you suggesting?" The woman sat at the table and looked Terry in the eyes. "Mr. Riley, we've been trying to get someone on the inside of Lucius Delgado's organization for years, without success. We've tried undercover agents, informants, surveillance equipment, but nothing's ever worked. That man is my white whale, Mr. Riley. I've been after him for years. But then, today, out of the clear blue, he starts fawning over YOU. I have no idea why, but you're our best chance to get close to him. You help us take him down and you get your life back." "Ooh, tempting? But I'm gonna have to go with--hmm. Hey, what's a more emphatic rejection than 'No fucking way'?" "Mr. Riley--" "Look, Ahab, my Melville is a little rusty, but as I recall it didn't end up so great for the people who went up against the whale." "I told you not to go with the whale metaphor," Adams interjected. "We can protect you," the woman said. "We can even put you in the witness protection program." "What, you mean like a new identity? Change my name, my job, wear a disguise? WAY ahead of you." "Our way, you don't have to wear ruffled panties," Adams said. "They're starting to grow on me. And I'd rather wear them than be buried in them." "So, you'd prefer to wear women's clothes the rest of your life?" Terry turned to face him. "If I get close to Delgado and he figures out