Welcome To Saturn Beta - Part 5 free porn video

Jackson sent word out over the Ringed Amusements employee tablets that there was now plenty of initial interest in booking girls for public events, as well as more intimate one-on-one sessions, and that anyone interested in making a ton of money over the next week should leave their schedules open and wait for further instructions. Amber and Tyler tapped around on their tablets, looking for details, but none surfaced. Tyler eventually looked over at the hostess station again, where Zoe was now talking with a man Tyler assumed was the manager of the sports bar. Zoe smiled at him, rubbed his shoulder, spoke inaudibly to him over the din of the football-watching patrons, and walked back over to the booth once business had been concluded. "That was easy enough," she said, reaching over Tyler to grab her purse off the cushioned booth bench. "What'd he want?" Amber asked, scooting herself off the bench. Taking his own purse and looping it over his shoulder, Tyler stood up and smoothed his skirt. He then placed his tablet in one of the purse's pockets and zipped it closed. "Nothing," Zoe said. "He still thinks he owes me from that time three months ago." She shrugged. "I'll take it. I feel a bit guilty for feeding three people on my previous good deeds, but, hey, he offered it, so I took it." "Exactly," Amber said, winking at Tyler. "Thanks for lunch, Zoe. Or dinner. Whatever that was." "Well, whatever it was, I don't need to eat again until next year. Ugh. Way too much, way too much..." Patting her stomach through her dress, Amber said, "Mmm, not me. That was just right. And now I'm gonna go lay down on my bed and think about all the money I'm gonna make next week." The three of them began walking out of the restaurant. "Is Jackson still working?" Zoe said. "Yeah," Tyler chimed in. "She says there's going to be a lot coming down the pipe soon. We all made a really good impression down on the 5th floor, apparently." "Damn right. We killed it down there. Absolutely killed it. They all loved us." She nudged Tyler in the ribs suggestively. "Then there was that one guy who sure seemed to like you quite a bit, Violet..." "Oh, stop," Amber said. "We can forget all about that guy. I'll bet you breakfast that Paul and his boys threw him into an airlock for that stunt." "If we're lucky," Tyler said, causing the other girls to laugh. He shivered a little as he walked, remembering the greasiness of the drunk man's hair, the smell of his breath, the feeling of his hands against Tyler's waist and stocking tops... what a disgusting experience, and it would have been equally disgusting for any of the other girls, too, not just the girls who had previously been men. Once down on the 48th floor again, Amber and Zoe showed Tyler to a back- door entrance to the dormitory. Tyler had only ever entered and exited the dorm through Jackson's office, previously, and he was glad that there was a way to get to his room that didn't involve going past those two beefy security guards. Amber, Zoe and Tyler climbed the stairs to the second floor of dorm rooms, where everyone hugged Zoe goodbye as she went up another flight to her own room on the third. Amber and Tyler returned to 2-D, and both of them collapsed onto their queen beds on opposite sides of the room, exhausted from the long day of work and the gigantic meal they'd just eaten. They stayed that way for several minutes until Tyler heard a buzz and a beep coming from his purse. He unzipped the outer pocket and took out his tablet. Reading over his new message, he turned to Amber, who was staring contentedly at the ceiling. "Jackson wants to see me later today." "Oooh, someone's in trouble," Amber said, singing the words. "I didn't do anything," Tyler said. "I mean, I don't think I did anything..." "Nah, you didn't. I'm just messin' around with you. With the new girls, Jackson usually talks about jobs before assigning 'em to you, just to make sure you know exactly what you're gettin' yourself into. Standard practice until you get used to the gig. I wouldn't worry about it. You got any other plans for the rest of the day?" "Hmm. Nope. None that I can think of." He turned his head and looked at the cabinets in his bed's headboard. His smartphone was there, and he remembered something he wanted to do. "Might message a couple people back home. See how they're doing. How about you?" "Oh, probably just lay here for a bit, try to digest all that horrible stuff I just ate," Amber said. "Then, y'know, see if there's any freelancin' to do." "Okay," Tyler said, as uninterestedly as he could, trying hard to sidebar his old way of thinking about prostitution. He reached into the headboard and grabbed his phone. Amber yawned. "Might be needin' a nap before that happens, though. Mind if I take down the lights a bit?" "Go for it," Tyler said. He pressed the screen on his phone, bringing it to life, and dug through his encrypted email accounts for Dennis' most recent communication to him. The lights in the dorm room dimmed and Amber rolled over on her side, still wearing her navy blue sundress. Tyler thought she'd be the type to hang up her clothes rather than sleep in them, no matter how tired she was. Tyler found Dennis' last message, a quick note that told Tyler that the two of them needed to talk. It was the last message Tyler had received before meeting Dennis at his makeshift office in Miami, the last formal communication he had had with anyone before boarding the rocket to Saturn Beta. Tyler tapped the Reply button and thought about how to begin... DENNIS - SAFE FOR NOW. THANKS AGAIN. ...Tyler paused, wondering how much more he should share. He sure as hell wasn't going to mention anything about his current disguise, or the establishment that gave it to him, or the people he worked with, or the means by which he was expected to pay off his debt. He did want to mention one idea he had, though... MIGHT BE ABLE TO DO SOME WORK WHILE I'M HERE. ...He remembered the revelation he had soon after Jackson's nanobots had transformed him: that information brokering might be easier in Violet Taylor's body than it ever was in Tyler Hillman's. And there was the promise of a convention starting soon, one that Jackson and Amber had promised would bring in scores of heavy hitters from all sectors of industry, keen on getting their hands on the resources that Saturn's moons had in abundance. A pretty young woman would have an easier time loosening their tongues than a mid-thirties pudgy man with awkward- looking ears would. The convention could end up being a gold mine, and this unexpected trip to Beta and the equally unexpected disguise provided to him could end up being the best thing that ever happened to his and Dennis' bank accounts... I'LL BE IN TOUCH. HOPE YOU'RE OKAY. ...That was enough for now. Tyler pushed the Send button on his phone and returned it to the headboard. Then he stared at the ceiling for a minute or two, in the dimmed light of the dormitory, and eventually closed his eyes. He was startled to attention by a beep and a buzz from the other side of the room. Amber rolled over in her bed and patted around blindly for her purse. Finding it, she took her tablet out and tapped on it a couple times. Tyler rolled toward the noise, propping his head up on his elbow and watching Amber as she furrowed her brow at the notification she had received. "Duty calls?" Tyler said in a friendly, drowsy tone. He wondered how long he'd been asleep. "You got it," Amber said. She tapped on the tablet a few times. "Oh, well, look who it is! Well, he's in a hurry, isn't he?" She tapped again. "Special clothing request... stockings... garter belt... Well, back down to the wardrobe for me, I guess." She stood and pulled a hand through her hair. "Speakin' of which, Violet, you really should get yourself down to the wardrobe sometime and grab yourself a few things. You can't go runnin' around the station wearin' the same thing every day. Makes you look... I dunno... trashy." Tyler put a hand up to his breast in mock offense. "Me? Trashy?" Amber put a hand on her hip and scowled. "No, I mean, you're not trashy. That's what I'm sayin'. You're really pretty, and I think you know that, but it don't matter how pretty a girl is if every time you see her, she's wearin' the same thing she had on yesterday. Why don't I take you down there right now? I gotta get ready for this freelancin' gig, anyway. It'd be nice to have some company." Tyler looked down at the floor. He had never much enjoyed clothes shopping back in Miami, and Amber's proposal meant exactly that - clothes shopping. Granted, he'd get everything for free, but he'd be shopping for the types of clothing he'd never shopped for in the past. Male clothes were easy to pick out, but Tyler knew Amber would never let him leave the wardrobe with a bunch of T-shirts, pants, and boxer shorts. He wasn't quite confident enough in his own fashion sense, or his new body, to do a proper job of dressing himself just yet. "I'd rather just relax," he said. "It's been a long day." Folding her arms, Amber said, "Hmm. Well, suit yourself. Maybe I'll just pick somethin' out for you to wear tomorrow on my way back from the job. How's that? You trust me?" "Yeah," Tyler said, nodding. "That'd be great, actually." "Will do," Amber said. She packed her tablet into her purse and shouldered it, then went to the door. "Have a good evenin'. I'll see you before bed, probably." "Okay," Tyler said. Then, as Amber was closing the door, he added, "Be safe." "Aww. You're worryin' about me. That's sweet. You don't have to," said Amber, smiling. She tapped the pocket on her purse where the tablet was stored. "This guy's nothin' to worry about." The door closed and Tyler was left to his own devices. He looked up at the clock - there was still plenty of time left before he'd be tired enough to go to bed. He wasn't hungry, he wasn't busy, he didn't have any of his old things to keep him entertained... so he sat on the edge of his bed for a minute or two, rapping his fingers along his bare, smooth knees, thinking of how to pass the time. He looked around the dorm room and didn't find anything that interested him - there wasn't much more here than the kitchenette, a flatscreen monitor mounted to the wall, a couple of old books in Amber's headboard, along with her vibrator... "Maybe later," Tyler said to himself, still in disbelief that Amber would leave something like that in plain sight. Then again, she had such a relaxed view toward sex in general, and refused to be made to feel ashamed about her freelance work. He cocked his head and stared at the vibrator some more, remembering how concerned he had been last night after he'd used it, worried that Amber, because of her line of work, had left some freaky sexually-transmitted disease swarming around on the bulb. No chance of that, he now knew. He thought back to earlier today, when he and the other girls had stood in the front of the lounge room, wearing their fetishy costumes and listening to Jackson's presentation. Jackson had said that all the girls of Ringed Amusements were completely clean, devoid of communicable disease thanks to the vigilance of the nanobots coursing through their veins. Unable to get sick, or fat, or pregnant. Able to change hair color in a few hours, change an entire body in a little more than half a day; able to create facial piercings in a matter of minutes, to keep one's legs from feeling the strain of wearing high heeled shoes. Amazing machines, Tyler had to admit. Even more amazing when he thought of Zoe, who claimed to be forty-six years old and didn't look a day over twenty-one. By design. He wondered who else was taking full advantage of the age-suppressing effects of the nanobots and their programming. How old was Amber, really? Lola? Renee and Tanya? Jackson herself, maybe... clearly a successful businesswoman, with her portfolio going well beyond that of a mere space station whorehouse. Tyler found it hard to believe that she was only as old as she looked - mid-thirties, same as himself, had he been in his old body. He considered deeply the thought that Jackson was much, much older than that, much older than even Zoe. Zoe had mentioned that she met Jackson here on the station, twelve years ago, and that she had started working for Jackson almost right away after that... Tyler's tablet buzzed and beeped again. He brought it up to his face and read the notification on the screen. Jackson was ready to see him. ***** She sat behind her hardwood desk, wearing her charcoal suit and tapping away on her tablet, as Tyler entered the office. She wordlessly directed him to sit in one of the stuffed chairs facing the desk, which Tyler did, holding the back of his skirt as he sat and crossed his legs. "Mr. Hillman," Jackson said, taking off her glasses and folding them before sliding them into a jacket pocket. "You, sir, are in high demand." Frowning, Tyler tightened his knees together. "What do you mean?" "Usually, when I hold these pre-convention scouting events," Jackson said, "we'll have some immediate interest in our services after the event is over. Not too many of our expanded services - a couple bookings here and there, usually. The freelancing ladies tend to acquire more work for themselves. Tanya had a private appointment scheduled by the time she left the dressing room on the 5th floor, for instance. Amber had one come up about fifteen minutes ago." "Yeah," Tyler said. "She just left before I came to see you. And you can forget it, if that's what you brought me in here to talk about. I already told you, I'm not doing any... freelancing." "Which is why the business cards I gave you before the event were blanks, Mr. Hillman. All the other girls' cards had their pictures and names on them. Custom-printed. When the other girls hand out their business cards, they're hoping to drum up interest in themselves. Your cards were only for drumming up interest in the company. Yours just had the company name, the contact information, the scannable codes, the web site address. No name, no picture. We have an agreement, and I'm sticking to it." "Oh," Tyler said, glad for the clarification. He remembered receiving his stack of business cards from Jackson during the event, and how they differed from the one Lola had given him after he'd first arrived on the 48th floor. Her cards had her picture on them; Tyler's cards didn't. Jackson folded her hands on her desk and continued. "However, you've still made a bit of a name for yourself, despite our mutual efforts otherwise. I've had three messages come over in the last few hours asking about you, specifically." She tapped on her tablet a couple times, then began reading from it. "How do I book that French maid? How come Violet's profile isn't anywhere on your app or your web site? Both of these messages have come from men who attended the scouting event today." Tyler folded his arms under his breasts. "Well," he said, with abject disgust boiling up in his stomach, "you can just tell them I'm not available." "Another message here," Jackson said, ignoring Tyler's protest and scanning her tablet's display, "is requesting your services as a sort of welcoming committee. They want to have a few girls available to greet a shuttle full of VIP guests as they disembark and enter the docking spindle. Smiling, handshaking, handing out packets, answering questions. Just bland convention stuff, nothing intimate. This client has already booked two girls for this via the application, but then they messaged directly and asked for my professional opinion on whether they should book a third. And at the end of the message, almost as an afterthought, they wondered if my French maid was available." "Huh. Okay." "Which you are, Mr. Hillman. Available. I'm going to book you for that one, since you so generously offered to let me sign you up for whatever jobs I want." She lowered her face. "Assuming you're still interested in maintaining the terms of the deal we made this morning." "No problem," said Tyler. "And I'm also promising your services for any potential follow-up events they might have. They made mention of possibly needing some booth babes at the convention, cocktail waitresses for some receptions they have planned in a presidential suite on the 131st floor, things like that. This client has the potential to be a small whale for us. You stand to make a very decent amount of money." Tyler nodded his head. "Yeah, I can do all that. I mean, if you think I can. I feel pretty good about my ability to stand around and smile like an idiot." "Honestly, Mr. Hillman," Jackson said, leaning back in her chair, "your work today was some of the best I've ever seen from a rookie. I overheard you at your tables. You were confident, approachable, had a good rapport with your customers... and you let the bullshit slide off your back without letting it get to you. Your buddy Dennis said you had an adaptable personality, which is, to put it lightly, a required skillset for this kind of work. I wasn't sure I believed him until today." Tyler laughed a little. Sure, he'd always been an adapter. Info brokering didn't lend itself to people who couldn't handle constant changes, dealing with all kinds of people while assuming a personality that best fit the situation, and not allowing yourself to get flustered when things weren't going well. All part of the job. "Thanks," he said to Jackson, feeling a tiny flash of pride. "I tried. I mean, it was weird being out there, wearing that costume and dealing with... having my tits stared at. But you work with what you're given. That's all it was." "Well said. Right, so I'll put you down for the welcoming committee event and any tangential events afterward. Details forthcoming on that one, regarding when they need you and where you need to be. And I wanted to float one more potential job your way, just to gauge your interest in it. I don't suppose you remember someone specific that was sitting at one of the tables in the lounge. Same table as our friend Paul, as it happens." Shifting in his seat, Tyler shrugged. "I remember Paul, obviously. Hard to forget that whole episode." "I invited Paul and some of his direct reports to the event, specifically to sit at that table with that person. She was worried that the other guests would get the wrong impression about her, and she didn't want anyone..." "She?" Tyler said. "Oh, yeah, I remember her. She ordered a cosmopolitan." "Three cosmopolitans, in truth. One from Renee, one from Amber, and one from you. And that first cosmopolitan you delivered to her clearly made some kind of impression. She's one of the people who was frustrated to find that your profile was nowhere to be found on the Ringed Amusements web site." "Er... okay. So... what, then? She's a lesbian?" "She's Connie Giordano. I don't expect you to recognize the name, because I certainly didn't before I started doing research on her. She's a semi-influential figure in the women's fashion scene, back on Earth, spending equal amounts of her apparently unlimited supply of time in New York and Milan. The nicest way I know how to put it is that she's a rich girl from old money who has grandiose ideas about fashion, attitude, femininity... wanting to help women reach their full potential. And it all sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me, if we're being honest with each other." Tyler shrugged again. "Okay." "She contacted the company last month, curious about what we do out here. I met with her a few days ago, here in the office, and I let her talk on and on about her ideas. It's nothing original, nothing groundbreaking or particularly interesting. Like I said, too much money and too much free time. Still, she seemed like a nice enough woman, genuine about her intentions, and harmless. The 'harmless' part is why I agreed to let her come to the event today. She mentioned she was working on some sort of project that requires her to observe women in various walks of life, so that's what she was up to today in the lounge. Observing." Sighing, Tyler uncrossed his arms. "What's this have to do with me?" "She noticed you, more than she noticed the others. Connie might be blowing smoke most of the time, but she was right about this..." Jackson put her glasses on again and began reading from her tablet. "She says... let's see... ah, here we go: Violet carried herself differently than your other girls did... there is a mystery about her that I'm sure nobody noticed but myself, as I have trained myself to notice these sorts of things... there is an aspect to her femininity that transcends who she is and what the world expects of her... there is a mystique that I very much wish to experience myself, without the distraction of a lounge full of lecherous men ogling her breasts and pawing at her legs..." "Jesus," Tyler said. "You're right. She really is talking out of her ass." "Maybe. But she still asked for you, and you specifically." Jackson and Tyler sat in silence for a moment. Tyler placed his hands on his bare knees, waiting for Jackson to say something. He tried to remember the details of his brief encounter with Connie Giordano earlier today. There was the moment when Tyler arrived at the table and didn't notice her at first... then, seconds later, when Tyler insisted that the lady order before the gentlemen, which caused a round of light laughter at the table... then Tyler returning to the table after a few minutes at the bar, tray loaded with drinks, placing the cosmopolitan in front of Connie before giving Paul and the other men their beers... Tyler remembered what she looked like - plain, short hair, wearing a lilac suit with a swishy skirt. He definitely remembered her smile. She seemed nice enough. "If you ask me," Jackson said, "she singled you out because you weren't wearing any makeup or jewelry. That's what you get for taking up so much time with getting dressed." Snapping back to the present, Tyler looked over the desk at Jackson. "So, what does she want with me? An interview? A three-page essay on what it means to be a woman in the 22nd century? I'm sure one of the other girls would be more qualified for that." "No, Mr. Hillman. She asked for you specifically. She wants a day with you. An afternoon and evening, she said, something in the neighborhood of eight hours. Just a typical girls' day out, based on what she said in her message to me. A salon appointment in the late morning, high tea around noon, clothes shopping in mid-afternoon, dinner out, then tickets to a show. She wants you to experience the finer side of being a woman, and she wants to be there with you while you experience it, to observe. Those are her own words." Tyler was more confused than ever. A salon appointment? High tea? What a weird proposition. He leaned back in his chair. "Is she... like... taking pity on me or something? Because she thinks I'm a hooker who's down on her luck?" "No," Jackson said, shaking her head. "Like I mentioned, I believe she's a genuine person. I think she meant exactly what she said. I think she's interested in you as a subject matter, and a human being, in a way that has nothing to do with your employment here at Ringed Amusements." "You think she knows about... me? Who I actually am?" "No. Definitely not. She's aware of Violet Taylor, not Tyler Hillman. If she starts asking you any questions about yourself, feel free to make up any story you want." "Assuming I accept the job in the first place." "You've already taken the job. You have to, remember? That's part of our deal. There's no sex involved here." She looked down at her tablet again. "Not unless you want there to be..." Tyler leaned forward. "Hmm?" "To answer your original question, Mr. Hillman: yes. Yes indeed. Connie Giordano is a lesbian." ***** Tyler and Jackson soon wrapped up the details for his appointment with Connie Giordano. That's what Jackson called it: an appointment. The subject of compensation arose eventually and Jackson leaned her tablet forward on her desk so Tyler could take a look at a set of numbers. This is what you made in wages and tips at the lounge event, she said, pointing to the left side of her tablet at an acceptable but unimpressive figure. Then she pointed at the right side, saying that this number was what Connie Giordano offered for her proposed "girls day out" with Tyler. Any misgivings Tyler had about the prospect vanished - Connie's figure was five times what he'd acquired while trussed up in that French maid outfit earlier today. That much money, just for following a semi-deluded fashion maven around the station for a day, experiencing high society's version of what it means to be... feminine. "Unreal," Tyler muttered to himself, walking back to his and Amber's room on the second floor of the dormitory. "Some people have more money than sense, I guess." He entered the room and immediately flopped down on his bed again, staring at the ceiling with his legs splayed out in a very unladylike fashion. Then he reached into his headboard for his smartphone and began flipping through articles, news stories, sleazy paparazzi sites, and anything else he could find on the subject of Connie Giordano. The connection speed on his phone was awful, what with being hundreds of millions of miles away from Earth's internet infrastructure and requiring an incredible amount of time between tapping a link and seeing the resulting page, so Tyler took his time reading whenever an article loaded successfully. There wasn't much to find. Connie had deep pockets from old money, definitely, according to what Tyler could find about her family, but she seemed to stay away from the public eye as much as possible. Showing up at fashion shows and industry conferences without making a spectacle of herself seemed to be her number one hobby. She was in her mid-thirties, similar to how old Tyler was in his old life. Tyler was able to find a few pictures which refreshed his memory of what she looked like: plain but pretty, brown hair with blonde highlights, always presenting herself in immaculately-crafted makeup and tasteful yet expensive jewelry - definitely a stylish woman that Tyler would have been attracted to, had he seen her walking along the posh promenades back in Miami Beach. She had a couple social media accounts which she occasionally updated, no personal web site... she may as well have been a regular person, apart from living an extravagant life while working a job that she designed for herself. Jackson was right - Connie Giordano was relatively harmless. "Okay then," Tyler said, finishing his research and going back to staring at the ceiling. The details Jackson had laid out for him kept playing over and over in his head - salon, high tea, a show, dinner, shopping. Girls day out. And then Jackson had hinted that it might lead to something else, should Tyler find himself in the mood for it... And he hadn't completely dismissed the idea of sex with Connie, if it came to that, if it was what Connie wanted to culminate her little science experiment. When Tyler had first realized the reality of what Ringed Amusements was, he had imagined the worst for himself when it came to "freelancing." Spreading his legs for another man, feeling an unfamiliar pair of hands roughly gripping his D-cup breasts, trying not to cringe as his customer's tongue slobbered over every inch of his nubile body, and eventually taking a complete stranger's penis between the folds of his new labia, being roughly pounded with no concern for Tyler's own enjoyment of the act, accepting the load of semen into his vaginal depths... and then having to act like he enjoyed it. The thought of it made Tyler's skin crawl. The idea of doing some "freelancing" with a woman, though... with Connie Giordano... well, that was much less horrifying of an idea. Tyler had always had sexual fantasies about lesbians before and had watched his fair share of lesbian porn during his younger years. Hell, he had even masturbated last night to a lesbian fantasy! He recalled the sensation of Amber's vibrator against his clit, as he thought about her naked body pressed against Lola as they made out with each other. And then Lola had descended to Amber's nethers, where she began her oral ministrations in earnest... Now, in the present, Tyler found his left hand massaging his large breast, and his right hand drifting below his waist, past the hem of his skirt. His fingers navigated underneath the black fabric there and found the soft flesh of his upper thigh. He stroked his skin, moving his fingers upward, further under the skirt, toward the edging of his lacy black thong. He slid his index finger beneath the fabric and encountered his new genitals again, brushing lightly over his labia while images flashed through his head: naked Amber, naked Lola, naked Jackson, naked Zoe... naked Connie Giordano. He wished desperately that he still had a penis, that he could take any one of them back to his oceanview condo back in Miami and make love to them over the sound of crashing waves, the smell of salty air... ***** The door to the hallway flung open, and Tyler shot up in his bed in shock. It was Amber, wearing her navy blue sundress and stepping lightly into the dorm room, clearly pleased about something. She turned her head to look at Tyler, who still had his hand under his skirt and buried in his feminine crotch. "Enjoyin' yourself?" Amber said, fluttering her eyebrows and smiling broadly. Following Amber's eyes, Tyler said, "Huh?" He looked down at his skirt, recognized what Amber had caught him doing, and rapidly withdrew his hands from his pussy and breast. "Sorry, I just... it kinda drifted down there on its own..." "Oh, please, sugar," Amber said, placing her purse on the round table near the kitchenette and grabbing a bottle of water out of the fridge. "If you think you need to apologize to me over somethin' as harmless as givin' yourself a lil rubdown..." "Well, yeah, but..." "And doubly-especially since you're not doin' any freelancin' work. And I think it's safe to say you aren't gettin' anythin' on the side since you got here." Amber placed a hand on her hip. "Or are you? Y'already got a boyfriend since yesterday?" "No!" Tyler shouted. "Jesus... no. No way." Sighing contentedly, Amber took a seat at the table. "Well, darlin', you just might want to consider gettin' yourself one, because holy moly..." Her eyes bulged as she unscrewed the cap on her water and took a long, noisy chug from the contents. Eventually she stopped drinking and emitted a dramatic "ahh," like it was her first taste of water after a week wandering the deserts of Arizona. Tyler could feel a story coming on, and he scooted to the edge of his bed, smoothed his short skirt underneath him, and placed his hands on his knees. "I'll tell ya," Amber began, staring spacily through the bay windows at the stars beyond, "we do get some scumbags out here on Saturn Beta, but every once in a while you'll run into a real gentleman. Someone who... caters to your needs, if you get what I'm sayin'." "I take it the job went well." Amber's eyes bulged again and she took another swig of water. "Oh, yeah. Yes ma'am. The job went very, very well." She turned and faced Amber. "Repeat client of mine. Travelin' out here for business every once in a while, five or six times a year. Every time he comes out here, I get myself a little buzz on my tablet. Jackson doesn't even bother offerin' the job to anyone else at the company. Plus, he always requests me. Plus, I'd kill Jackson if she ever gave him to anyone else." "Wow," Tyler said. "Sounds... nice." "Yeah, yeah, you're still not into the idea. I get it. 'Nice' doesn't quite begin to describe it, Violet. Nice is when the guy kisses you on the cheek goodnight." She shook her head. "This young man goes way, way beyond the realms of just bein' nice. I'm half surprised he hasn't asked me to marry him yet." Tyler giggled girlishly. "Well, glad you enjoyed yourself." "I most certainly did. You have your meetin' with Jackson yet?' "Yeah," Tyler said. "She had a few... jobs lined up for me." "You don't seem to thrilled about 'em. Everythin' okay?" "Oh, yeah. No big deal. The first one is just... hostessing, I guess. Welcoming people when they arrive on a rocket, handing out packets for the convention, stuff like that. Shouldn't be too hard. The pay's good." "Alright. Sounds like somethin' you can handle. What about the other jobs?" Tyler took a deep breath. "Only one other job. It's a bit... weird. I don't know how else to put it." "Okay, well," Amber said, standing up from the round table and joining Tyler on the edge of his bed. "Wanna tell me about it? I've done all kinds of crazy stuff since I started workin' here. We can figure it out if you wanna talk some." Tyler looked into Amber's comforting motherly eyes, took another deep breath, and told her everything he could remember about his upcoming "girls day out" with Connie Giordano. How she was a rich design and fashion entrepreneur with roots in the States and Italy, how she had taken an immediate interest in Tyler during the lounge event, how she was basically going to use Tyler as a science project throughout the day by subjecting him to feminine experiences all day long and gauging his resulting reactions. As Tyler spoke, Amber nodded along, eventually clapping her hands approvingly on her knees. "Well!" she said, grabbing Tyler's shoulder and shaking him gently. "That sounds like a whole bunch of fun! Doesn't it?" "I guess..." Tyler said. "Let me get this right: she's gonna take you to a salon, then take you to high tea, whatever that is. Then clothes shopping, then dinner, and then a show. And I'm safe assumin' that she's gonna pay for it all." "Probably." "Definitely. No way are you payin' for anythin', Violet. And then you get paid for it, too, right?" Tyler sighed. "Yup. I get paid. A ton of money, actually. Way more than I got for the lounge. And then Jackson gets her percentage." "Shoot. If you don't wanna take that job, I sure as hell will. Boy, fancy that. A full day of gettin' pampered and waited on... eatin'... goin' out to a show... I wonder what shows are playin' out here right now. Haven't even had time to check lately. Wonder if it's a play, or a concert, or an opera, or..." "There's something else, too," Tyler said, staring down at his cute little toes peeking out of his sandals. "Connie might... Connie probably wants to... um... consummate the arrangement. At the end of the night." Concern played across Amber's face. "Hmm. And we both know how you feel about that." "Yeah. Well, sort of..." "Sort of?" Clearing his throat, Tyler organized his thoughts, readying himself to talk about this with Amber, like it was the first time he'd ever talked about sex with his own mother. "Connie's attractive. I'm not opposed to it. Not completely." "Y'ever been with a girl before?" "Yeah. Yeah, definitely." "You a lesbian?" The words caught in Tyler's throat. He opened his mouth to explain things to Amber, but stopped himself before he gave away too much of his story - his real story, about Tyler Hillman, the info broker from Miami, who had been turned into a sexy young woman without prior knowledge of what was going to be done to him. Amber started talking again before he could say a single word. "It's fine, darlin'," Amber said, grabbing Tyler's knee and patting it kindly. "I kinda figured that's what was goin' on with you. First time I met you, back in Jackson's office, in the exam room. Remember? I saw that pile of clothes you came in with, and I thought, no way a cute thing like you would be wearin' awful junk like that unless you were hidin' somethin', or tryin' to keep the men from thinkin' you were good lookin'. Right?" Tyler looked at Amber's face. As motherly as ever, as comforting as she'd always been since Tyler had first encountered her. There was something about Amber that made Tyler feel like he'd known her for years, even though he just arrived on Saturn Beta this week. And now she was talking about Tyler - or who she thought Tyler was - as if she had known him for years, as well. She just had that way about her. "Then you talked about how you weren't used to girly stuff," Amber continued. "Like wearin' skirts and stuff like that. Now, not to say all lesbians wear men's clothes and are all butchy and everythin', but a lot of 'em are. So, y'know, that's what I thought. And then, later, when Lola showed up and you were all flustered after learnin' what we do here... actin' like havin' a man inside you was the nastiest thing in the world." It dawned on Tyler, in that moment, that Amber was making up his life story for him. He had planned on getting a life story together for his date with Connie, should she start asking him questions about himself and his past. But now, here was Amber, doing all the homework for him. She had taken everything Tyler had said and done since arriving at the station and used that information to peg him as a lesbian, not as a nano-transgendered man in hiding. It was a great story. Tyler was going to seize upon it and make it his. "And then when you were lookin' at me when we were gettin' ready for bed last night, tellin' me I'm beautiful..." "I'm sorry," Tyler said, finally able to speak. "I should've told you. I didn't mean to..." "Oh please, Violet," Amber said, waving Tyler's statement away with her hand. "First of all, it doesn't bug me in the slightest that you're into girls. Hell, I'm sometimes into girls myself, if the spirit moves me. At least the prettier ones." She nudged Tyler playfully. "I mean, I'd rather be with a man, but, well, that's neither here nor there. Second, I've seen some really weird stuff since I started workin' here. Lesbians ain't no big deal at all. A girl gettin' with another girl is practically vanilla, compared to some of the crazy things I've seen and done out here on Beta. So don't worry yourself none about what I think. Maybe tell Jackson about it, if she doesn't already know." "She knows," Tyler said. Amber nodded deeply. "Which is why she agreed to let you take on other jobs without ever takin' on the freelancin' stuff. Which is why she set you up on a date with another girl." "I guess so." "Well, Jackson's a fair and reasonable woman, I'll give her that. That was kind of her to let you come on board with the company, knowin' what she knew about you. And then she even hooked you up with a pretty lady for your first freelancin' job!" Amber paused. "She is pretty, right?" "Yeah. She is. Pretty enough." He looked Amber in the eyes again. "Not as pretty as some of the girls on the station." Amber laughed and leaned over for a hug. "Oh, you're shameless, Violet. Oh, by the way, I didn't forget about gettin' you some different clothes to wear. And if you're goin' out with some high-class fashionista lady, then you'll need to dress to impress. When's the date?" "Tomorrow." "Perfect. I scanned a few things in the wardrobe for you when I was down there gettin' dressed for my client. One of the robots from the printin' press should bring 'em all up for you before then. You gonna be around in the mornin'?" Tyler nodded. "Yeah. As far as I know. Unless Jackson books me for something at the last minute." "Wouldn't put it past her. Well, I don't know about you, but I'm ready to hop into bed and sleep for a million years after the day I've had. How about it?" ***** Tyler changed into Amber's yellow and black cami set once again and lay in bed for an hour or so before falling asleep. He was the first one to wake up the next morning, and he took the task of starting the coffee for Amber and himself. He figured it would be good to start splitting the responsibilities around the household. He also figured he should get back into the swing of doing "normal" things, like making coffee and rinsing out dishes, as a means of further acclimating himself to his new body. He remembered the day before, at the lounge event, how the trays of drinks he carried seemed so much heavier than they should have been. The coffee pot in the kitchenette seemed heavier, too, as did the refrigerator door, the frying pan, the forks and knives... effects of the surgery, Tyler having been made shorter, tinier, and weaker. It was all a lot to get used to. And that was just one aspect of the new body that didn't feel quite normal yet. He couldn't help but notice the vacant space between his legs, the flat profile of his groin. The familiar bulge of his penis had been gone for about a day and a half now, and he still occasionally would reach down there to check on it, adjust it... and he'd always be somewhat surprised when his feminine hand encountered nothing but a mound and a slit. Nor could he ignore the constant reminder of his new chest. His D-cup breasts, while providing him with a new erogenous zone, carried with them several difficulties of their own that went well beyond being an attraction for ogling perverts on the station. His center of balance had shifted to compensate for the weighty flesh handing from the top of his chest, and he found himself constantly correcting his posture, arching his back slightly, which helped him stay upright but also made his boobs more pronounced, more noticeable. They drooped slightly now, since he wasn't wearing a bra, and since Amber's yellow cami had minimal support for the bustline. He held a coffee mug in his right hand, at waist level. He looked down at it, watching the steam rise up above the mug's rim, and he noticed how his right breast blocked his vision of his elbow crook and part of his forearm. Just another reminder of what sex Tyler now represented, what his body looked like, and how big his breasts were. He wondered if he could convince Jackson to maybe reduce his bust size, but he figured that was an argument he couldn't win. The alluring body Jackson had forced upon him had been meticulously designed, probably, emphasizing certain physical traits while minimizing others in an effort to create a naturally lovely woman, supermodel quality without flaw. Those were the kinds of girls Jackson needed to make a successful business. She had done the same thing to Amber, after all. Amber had said that she hardly looked similar at all to her "real" body, the one she had when living in Louisiana. Tyler looked over at Amber now and sipped his coffee, careful to not bump his breast as he brought the mug up to his lips. She had been helpful yesterday, counseling him on the jobs he was about to undertake, inventing a life story for him without him even asking her to. He really couldn't have wished for a better roommate. He heard a metallic shuffling coming from the door leading to the hallway. He put his coffee on the table and minced over to the door, which he opened in time to see a tiny, wheeled delivery robot whizzing down the hall in the opposite direction. At his feet, Tyler saw a taped- up box; to his left, he saw a collapsible garment rack, laden down with several clothes hangers wrapped in plastic bags. These must be the clothes Amber had picked out for him yesterday before her freelancing job with that repeat client of hers. Tyler brought everything into the dorm room and closed the door behind him. Amber shifted under her sheets at the sound of doors and boxes and rustling plastic. She opened her eyes wearily and took a deep breath through her nose. "Mornin', Violet." "Hey," Tyler said. "Coffee's done, if you're interested." "I always am. Robot drop your stuff off?" "Yup. Got a box and a bunch of hangers." "Sounds right. Well, first thing, let's get caffeinated." She pushed herself up on the bed and swung her long, shapely legs over the edge, where her bare toes dangled over the dorm room floor. "Then let's get you ready for your big date." The two of them sat at the round table in their overnight lingerie, sipping coffee and making light conversation - Amber raved about the big win that LSU pulled off yesterday, and Tyler just smiled, drank his coffee, and listened. He really loved that accent she had. And he loved how she would just talk and talk, given the opportunity, about whatever was on her mind. She was a stereotypical, chatty southern girl to the core. And he didn't speak much himself... not unless he was on a job and it required him to do a lot of talking in order to get his target to do a lot of talking themselves. But, boy, he was a good listener. He wouldn't have made a career for himself as an info broker if he wasn't. Off in the distance, under the constant chatter of Amber's recap of yesterday's football game, Tyler's phone beeped with an indication of a new message. He set down his coffee and walked over to his headboard, unlocked his phone, and started reading. HEY TYLER. GLAD YOU'RE OKAY. THINGS ARE CALMING DOWN. KEEP ACCOUNTS FROZEN BUT COME BACK ANY TIME. "Everythin' okay, darlin'?" Amber asked, hanging an arm over the back of her chair. She had on a different bedtime outfit this morning - a slinky, pale green satin nightgown that fell all the way down to her knees. "Yeah," Tyler said, continuing to read Dennis' message. "Yeah. I'm fine. Just someone from back home." SUBSTANTIATED RUMOR: OUR FRIEND IS LEAVING THE PLANET SOON. CONTACT AT BANK SAW A SPACEFLIGHT CHARGE APPLIED TO HIS INVESTMENT ACCOUNT. NOT SURE ABOUT THE WHERE/WHEN/WHY. Tyler blinked at the paragraph and read it again. Well, that was potentially very good news... assuming "our friend" meant who Tyler thought it meant. If Gordon Rosenthal was leaving Earth, even just temporarily, maybe it meant he had relaxed in the wake of finding out about Tyler Hillman's transgressions against his business. Not to say Rosenthal couldn't conduct his affairs while away from Earth, but he was an old-school businessman with old-school thinking, the kind of guy who showed up at the office at eight and didn't leave until six even in the age of extremely advanced telecommuting, the kind of guy who wanted to be in the conference room with you, face to face, and shake your hand after the deal was done. The kind of guy who wanted to look you in the eye when he exacted his revenge... MORE DETAILS AS THEY COME. HOPE YOU'RE GETTING PLENTY OF THAT WILD WEST PUSSY. Covering his mouth, Tyler laughed as quietly as he could, so as not to arouse suspicion in Amber. She furrowed her brow at him anyway. He looked over at her and shook his head, trying to convey that it was nothing, no big deal... but, Jesus, if Dennis could see Tyler now, in his satin, bumblebee-colored camisole and tap pants, breasts hanging low over his rib cage, bringing new meaning to the term "getting pussy"... "Well, somethin's clearly really funny," Amber said, visibly annoyed. "Wanna let the rest of us in on the joke?" Tossing his phone onto his bed, Tyler grinned back at Amber. "Long story." Amber raised her coffee mug in Tyler's direction. "I got time. This coffee ain't disappearin' in the next thirty seconds." "This guy back home," Tyler said, returning to the table. "He's... kind of a big-shot. Kind of a gangster, too. My friend and I don't like him very much. That was my friend, just now, on my phone. Something bad happened to the guy we don't like, and he was telling me about it." "He? Your friend is a man?" "Mmm-hmm," Tyler said, sipping his coffee. "Y'know he wants to bang you, right?" Tyler nearly choked on his coffee. "What? No! No way. What the hell, Amber?" "Oh, please. Those Martian mining boys are all the same. And look at you, Violet. Any man with a steady pulse would line up to get with you. Trust me on this one." "No, really, trust me. Dennis and I definitely..." "Dennis, huh? Sounds kinda sleazy if you ask me." Tyler shook his head and smirked. "Okay. Whatever you say, Miss Expert." "Nah, not me. Zoe's the expert - I just work here. Let's see about gettin' you dressed." The two of them downed their coffee while eyeing each other playfully but suspiciously, Amber convinced that her lesbian friend Violet Taylor had a gentleman-friend back on Mars who was interested in her, Tyler confident in the knowledge that Amber didn't have the first, slightest idea what she was talking about. They dropped their mugs in the sink and examined the delivery that the printing-press robot had made earlier. "Okay," Amber said, fingering through the various garments on the rack. "Gotta make sure we got the right thing for the occasion. Don't wanna show up for high tea wearin' jeans and a T-shirt. Ooh, here we go. This one's perfect!" Amber took an item off the rack and showed it to Tyler. Under the protective plastic sheet was a sea-foam green dress, wispy looking and composed of a translucent layer on top and an opaque one beneath. It looked nice, classy, and appropriate for the meeting Tyler was about to have with Connie Giordano. At least, more appropriate than the bumblebee nightwear he had on now, or the short top and miniskirt he'd been wearing around casually, or the French maid outfit he'd been forced into for the lounge event yesterday... "Now, I know you don't know much about dresses and purses and other girly stuff," Amber said, sliding the dress out of the plastic, "but I do. Benefits of a refined Southern upbringin'. So you'll forgive me if my tastes make their way into the outfits I picked out for you... but I mean it when I say this one's perfect. I only grabbed it 'cuz I thought it'd look good on you and go well with your hair 'n' eyes. Let's put it on and take a look." Mustering up his courage, Tyler slipped out of the cami and tap pants while Amber fished a panty and bra set out of the tape-sealed box. The underwear was a lacy, virginal white, and Tyler slid the panties up his smooth legs, noticing with a small measure of relief that it didn't ride up into his asscrack like the black thong did. He then did up his new bra without issue, hooking it together in front before spinning the closure to the back, then resting his large breasts into the satin-lined cups while hoisting the straps over his shoulders. Amber unzipped the back of the dress, then held it open and lowered her arms, ushering Tyler to step into it. "One of these days," Amber said, as Tyler lifted his left leg over the zipper and into the dress, "you're gonna have to learn how to dress yourself. I can't be followin' you around like a handmaiden for the rest of my life." "Excuse me," Tyler said in mock offense, "I believe I dressed myself just fine yesterday, down on the 5th floor. No help needed." "Well, okay, true enough. Beginner's luck." She smiled as Tyler stood inside the dress with both feet. Amber lifted the dress and Tyler fit his hands through the shoulder straps, which were about two inches wide and tastefully covered up his bra straps. Amber moved behind Tyler and began zipping the dress up behind him, an unfamiliar sensation that Tyler wasn't really prepared for as it happened. Amber went slowly, inching the dress closed so as not to catch any of the wispy upper layer of fabric in the zipper's teeth. As Amber worked her way up, Tyler felt the dress settle over his skin, hugging his waist and chest with little room to spare. Most men's clothing, from casual wear up to the very formal, was loose-fitting by design. This dress was flowy and flouncy around the skirt but much tighter on Tyler's upper body, fitting his form, accentuating his attractive peaks and valleys while still protecting his modesty. His breasts were completely covered by the bodice, which gave way a few inches below Tyler's long neck. He placed his hands on his waist, which - by some miracle of women's fashion design - looked even thinner now than it had in any of his other recent outfits. An optical illusion created by the long skirt and form-fitting bodice, perhaps. "Didn't I tell you?" Amber said, grabbing Tyler's elbow and gently pulling him toward the large mirror in the rear of the dorm room. "It's perfect! See?" Tyler nodded. "It's very nice," he said, examining his reflection. There stood Violet Taylor once more, though the thick line between Violet Taylor and Tyler Hillman was fading more and more every time Tyler saw himself. His reflection was wearing a dress that looked very flattering on him, with a skirt that hung politely between his knees and ankles. It was the most covered-up Tyler had been since his last visit to Jackson's exam room, but he thought this version of himself was the most attractive yet. Amber was right. It was perfect for him. "Best part is," Amber said, "the dress is TEA-length! Get it?" Tyler rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. Aren't you the clever one." "And don't you forget it. Okay. Now, I know I got you some shoes to go with that..." Amber rooted around in the box while Tyler looked at himself in the mirror, pivoting on the balls of his feet, half-twirling left and right, feeling the swish of the light skirt whispering around his knees. It felt strange and new... and amazing. Tyler caught himself smiling. He loved the look of the new dress, mostly because it covered him up in a way that nothing else he'd worn lately had. But in the deep reaches of Tyler's mind, where his new femininity had taken root since arriving on Saturn Beta, a hint of satisfaction had formed at the sight of himself looking so sophisticated, ladylike... "Y'don't need any nylons with that since the skirt's so long," Amber said as she dug through the contents of the box. "Probably would be a bit too formal for what you're doin' today, anyway. And dependin' on the kind of salon Connie's takin' you to..." "What do you mean?" Tyler asked, still distracted by the classy girl in the mirror. "Well, getting' waxed, obviously. Y'ever been waxed before? Or just LHR?" "Um..." "LHR. Laser hair removal. As in, the reason your legs are so smooth." Amber pointed at Tyler's calves peeking out from the bottom of his skirt. "Or do Mars girls do it different than the rest of us?" "Oh, right," Tyler said, turning away from the mirror at last. "Yeah. I've just been doing LHR. Do I need to, um... keep doing that? Don't Jackson's nanobots control that, or something?" "Pff. I wish, darlin'. Thing is, you got all those thousands and millions of hairs growin' on your head and everywhere else, right? If Jackson programmed the nanobots to keep 'em from growin', your scalp and legs and arms would feel funny all the time. You don't know this, because you haven't had any major work done..." Tyler nodded, trying not to blush from the guilt of lying to Amber. "...but when the nanobots are doin' their thing, it makes you feel all tingly and warm and stuff. So if they were constantly flyin' around your body, doin' your hair for you under the skin, you'd be walkin' around all the time with a weird feelin' all over. And the nanobots would probably burn themselves out from workin' so hard, truth be told." "Ah," Tyler said. "Okay. That makes sense, I guess." "So, yeah, keep on doin' your LHR like you always have, Violet. Don't wanna be walkin' around Beta lookin' like a sasquatch. But I don't know how old-school Connie is about how she likes to keep herself smooth, so... like I said, it depends on the kind of salon she's takin' you to. Maybe you'll be getting' waxed. Guess you'll have to just wait and see." Suddenly very conscious of his body hair, Tyler looked at his arms, which still looked relatively hairless. He ran a finger across the back of his forearm, unable to feel even a hint of hair there. He lifted his right leg, looked at his bare foot and shin, and didn't notice any there, either... though that didn't necessarily mean that Connie wouldn't want him to have the full treatment, assuming she was taking him to the kind of salon that did that kind of thing. His skin shuddered at the prospect of having a wax treatment done on it. "Finally!" Amber said, fishing out a pair of shoes. "Only two inches of heel on these, so you shouldn't have much trouble walkin' around in 'em. One of these days, we gotta get you wearin' some proper high heels. You'll get more work that way, showin' off those amazin' legs you got there. Keep holdin' your foot up." Tyler obeyed as Amber knelt and slid his right foot into the first shoe. It was colored the same sea-foam green as his dress, and was the same pump style as the shoes he wore with the French maid's outfit yesterday. Tyler put his foot down again as Amber repeated the process on his other foot. He found it tricky to balance the back of his foot on a single stiletto, even with a relatively low heel. Once satisfied with the fit of the shoes, Amber directed Tyler to walk up and down the room on them for practice - heel, then toe; heel, then toe. Tyler did as ordered, getting used to the heels while the light fabric of his dress swished around his thighs, over his knees, across his shins. He couldn't get over the surprise of how good it felt to be wearing this dress, how it fit him like a second skin around his breasts and waist while fluttering sensually from his hips to his shins. He felt safe in it, secure... and he was definitely enjoying it, despite the utter femininity of the outfit. He told himself that the only reason he liked the feel of it so much was because it was so much more modest that his other outfits... but the smile on his face was definitely betraying the thoughts in his head. "Heel, then toe... small steps... take your time, Violet... okay, I think you've got it," Amber said, nodding along as Tyler walked back in her direction for the third time. "I mean, you need a bit of work if you're gonna wear higher heels at some point, but this'll do for now. How do the shoes feel?" "Great," Tyler said, snapping out of his fascination with the feeling of the dress, lifting his foot to look at the shoe. He twisted his dainty foot clockwise to get a better look at what he'd have to deal with while walking through the station today. The short heel didn't intimidate him much, and the shoes were snug without being too tight. He could handle them. "Well, glad to hear it, because they look great, too," Amber said. "Did I mention how jealous I am? Criminy, I can't believe you're gettin' paid to do all that fun stuff today. Wanna trade lives for a few hours?" Grinning, Tyler admired himself in the mirror again, now looking even more elegant with the addition of the tasteful pumps. "No thanks," he said. "I'll take my chances with Connie today." He posed with one toe pointed at the mirror and the other pointed to the side, viewing his shoes from the front and the side. "You don't think it's weird, though? What Connie wants to do with me?" "Weird, yes. Eccentric, yes. Typical of the richy-rich types we get out here at the station, yes. And not nearly as weird as some of the stuff the rest of us girls have done while workin' here. That's how it is out here in the wild west. Welcome to Saturn Beta." Amber came alongside Tyler and hugged his waist to hers while the two of them checked his reflection in the mirror. "You'll do fine, darlin'. Just have a good time and... oh, land sakes, your ears aren't pierced!" "Uh, no," Tyler said, rotating his head and looking at his ears in the mirror. "I guess they're not." "You've gone your whole life without earrings? How does that even... boy, I'm half-tempted to report that minin' colony of yours to the authorities. That's practically child abuse! Where's my tablet?" Amber didn't wait for an answer before she stepped away from the mirror and over to her headboard, where she picked up her tablet and began tapping away on the screen. "Just sendin' Jackson a note. She can hook you up, same way she gave me all those extra piercin's for the shindig yesterday. How many you want in each ear?" "Just, um... just one, I guess," Tyler said, flustered and surprised. The thought of earrings had never crossed his mind. "No, darlin'. Sorry, but no. This ain't Victorian England. Y'need at least two. Your date sounds like she wants to play dress-up on you anyway. See if you can convince her to buy you a few really expensive pairs. And see if you can convince her to spring for a pair for me, too. You're doin' the salon appointment first, right?" Gulping at the thought of multiple piercings in each ear, Tyler said, "I think so." "Okay. Then we won't bother with your hair or makeup today. A ponytail should do the trick for now. Plus it'll make you look young and naive, which I'm sure is exactly what Connie wants when she sees you for the first time. Where're you meetin' her?" "Good question," Tyler said. He went to his own bed and picked up his tablet. Scanning through his messages from Jackson, he found what he was looking for after a moment. "The lobby of her hotel. Pyramid Suites on the 20th floor." "Ooh. Fancy-pants. That's a nice place. 'Bout what I'd expect from someone like her. And when're you supposed to be there?" Tyler checked the details on his tablet again, then looked at the digital clock on the wall, then his tablet again. "Fifteen minutes." He looked at Amber with panic on his pretty face. "Oh, shoot. Well..." Amber said, fishing through her mystery box for a length of ribbon, slightly darker green than the rest of Tyler's outfit. She gripped his hair and pulled the lot of it into a single handful, then wrapped the ribbon around it while Tyler stared straight ahead, trusting his friend as she attacked his long auburn hair. Eventually she let go, and Tyler felt the ponytail fall below his shoulders. The loops and tails of the ribbon tickled the back of his neck. "I think you're just about all set, little missy," Amber said, kneeling down to fuss with Tyler's skirt. "How do you feel? Good?" "Good. Yeah," Tyler said, examining himself one last time. He brushed the bodice below his breasts, marveling in the fit and attractiveness of it. "Thanks for everything, Amber. I truly couldn't have gotten ready for this thing today without you." "I'm serious about those earrings, Violet. See if you can make that happen for me, and we'll call it even." She took Tyler by the elbow and escorted him over to the door. "Okay. Get you and your big boobies down to the 20th. And remember rule #1." "I will." "You want me to ride down with you?" "Um..." Tyler said, opening the door and looking down the hallway toward the staircase. He stepped out into the hall on his two-inch heels. "No. I mean, yeah, that'd be nice, but I think I can handle it myself. I'm sure you're busy today." "I am," Amber said, smiling at Tyler through the door frame. "My schedule's fillin' up like you wouldn't believe. Had a whole buncha notifications waitin' for me when I was sendin' that message to Jackson about your ears. Plus, y'know, much as I enjoy your company, you gotta start doin' stuff by yourself, Violet. I can't be babysittin' you for the rest of... purse!" Amber clapped her hands and turned, jogging back to Tyler's bed, her powder blue baby doll fluttering around her backside as she went. She picked up Tyler's purse and tablet, then returned to the door again, handing both items to him. "Can't forget that stuff," Amber said, in a half-scolding tone of voice. "Yeah. Sorry," Tyler said. "Okay, off you go," Amber said. Pocketing the tablet inside the purse, Tyler then swung the strap over his right shoulder and click-clicked over to the staircase on his two-inch heels, waving to Amber, who waved back in that motherly way of hers. "Remember rule #1, Violet!"