Halloween For Life Chapter 16 (Timeline 1) free porn video

Chapter 16: About a million thoughts were racing through Jordan's head as he sat in the car and looked up at Matt Coleman. Maybe two million. First and foremost was the thought: "I AM SO SCREWED!" Here he was, about to get out of the taxi cab at Bella's birthday party, wearing Angela's body hugging too-short white dress, with his curvy breast forms and high heels, looking practically like a hooker on the make, or if not that, looking exactly like someone who wants to make a good impression on a horny, young, extremely male National League Football player. If that wasn't bad enough, he knew Angela was angling to set him up with her brother. And what Angela wants, Angela usually gets. And then there was the fact that he had just learned from Jason that HE HAD BEEN ON SPORTSCENTER AS MATT COLEMAN'S NEW WOMAN!! Why couldn't Jason have told him this sooner? Bastard. It was enough to make his heart race. Thank god he had taken Angela's 'relaxation pills', or he'd be having a full-blown panic attack for sure. Even so, he sure could use a smoke. In that instant, Jordan quickly decided a number of things. First, he had to get out of there as quickly as possible. Somehow, he would need to find a way to get a taxi home. But how? He had no wallet, no credit cards, and no identification. And his apartment was locked, so even if he got a taxi home, there would be no way to get the money he needed. So that meant getting money from someone else or trying to convince Angela to leave the party. Looking over at Angela's smiling face told him that there was no way she was going to leave early. Think! He had to think of something! Jordan decided to try and work that out later. The second thing Jordan decided was that he had to make it perfectly clear to everyone, but especially Matt, that there was *no way* he would ever, ever, (EVER!) date Matt. Somehow, he would have to explain to Matt that he was just not his type, and that would have to be final. Third, he would have to avoid getting his picture taken at all costs! There was no way he was going to let anyone start posting pictures to twitter and have it get out there that he was Matt Coleman's newest flame and potential replacement for his dearly departed former wife! "Jordan?" Jordan looked up at Matt who had been patiently waiting all this time while Jordan sat in the taxi, trying to work things out. Matt looked bemused. "Thanks... uh... Matt," Jordan said finally, reaching up and taking Matt's proffered hand. 'Wow, his hand is big,' Jordan thought to himself. Jordan swiveled so his legs were out of the taxi and stepped out of the car with Matt's help, onto his pink, strappy, high-heeled sandals. Jordan reached back and pulled down his skirt which was already riding up. 'Damn it!' Jordan thought to himself, thinking about what Angela said about how pulling down your skirts was a flirting gesture. 'How am I going to prevent that from happening?' As Jordan stepped out of the car, Matt and RoseMarie both looked at him, surprised. Jordan in the short, tight white dress with his new ample bosom was dripping with womanly curves. 'It must be because she was just wearing a football jersey before,' both Matt and his mother, RoseMarie, simultaneously, came to the same conclusion. 'Wow,' Matt thought to himself. 'I had no idea that such a hot body was underneath that jersey!' Jordan was like a butterfly emerging from a chrysalis, now fully formed and on display. "Sorry, Matt," Jordan apologized for making him wait so long before he got out of the car. "I was just..." just what? Jordan thought frantically to himself, "... uh, thinking about... um... how you're going to manhandle the opposition this weekend! They'll be no match for you!" "*Man*handle the opposition?" Matt asked, grinning. "And are you the opposition?" "What??" Jordan's voice came out as a squeak. "No! I meant the Cowboys! You know, the team you're playing tomorrow!" "Are you sure that's what you meant?" Matt teased. "Yes, I'm absolutely sure!" Jordan tried to say it as a definitive statement, but his new voice betrayed him, and it came out as flustered and cute. "So, if I'm not supposed manhandle you, then I guess I'm supposed to be gentle with you," Matt reasoned. "Yes," Jordan said. "No, wait, that's not right either..." he stammered. 'Gee, she's so adorable when she blushes like that,' Matt thought to himself. 'What is going on?' Jordan said to himself, feeling panicky. 'Just two sentences in and already I've given Matt the wrong impression! It sounds like I want to be taken by him,' he realized, mortified. "Baby brother!" Angela said, giving her brother a big hug. "Hey Mom! Sorry we're late for the party. You know," Angela nodded towards Jordan, "it took *someone* a long time to make herself pretty." Jordan looked daggers at Angela for implying that he had spent extra time primping himself for the party. "Jordan, your voice has changed," RoseMarie came over and gave Jordan a hug. "That's her normal voice," Angela explained as Matt paid the cab driver. "Jordan had a cold last week. It was so bad she got laryngitis and couldn't speak for days." "See, I told you," RoseMarie said to Matt, elbowing him. "We thought you sounded a bit hoarse during dinner," Matt explained. "Mom guessed that you had a cold, and she was right." "I must say, now that we can hear the *real you*, that you have a very beautiful voice, Jordan," RoseMarie said. "Very lyrical, and... charming." "Thank you," Jordan flushed at RoseMarie's praise. This was the last thing he wanted, for Matt's mother to be pointing out how beautiful and feminine he was. "Hey Look! The whole Coleman family! Everyone together for a selfie!" Jordan looked up. Who was that? He saw a couple walk up to them. He recognized the football player as Emmitt James, so that must be his wife, he reasoned. "Now smile!" Chantel said, holding out her phone on a selfie stick. "No, wait...!" Jordan quickly tried to duck out of the picture. But it was too late. The picture had already been taken. Chantel looked at the photo. "Perfect!" she announced, showing it around. Jordan was caught in mid-breath, mouth open, eyes wide, making him look excessively excited and pleased, if a bit airheaded. "I'm posting this to twitter!" Chantel announced, punching buttons on her phone. "No! Please, no!" Jordan couldn't restrain himself. He reached out for Chantel's phone, but was blocked by Emmitt. "Back up there," Emmitt said, protecting his wife. "I'm sorry," Jordan pulled back. "I just... could you please not post it to twitter?" "Hey Emmitt! Hey Chantel!" Angela said, inserting herself. "Meet Jordan. She's my cool boss at work, and also my BFF." 'BFF?' Jordan thought to himself, looking at Angela. 'When did I become Angela's BFF?' "Pleased to meetcha, Jordan," Chantel said, giving Jordan a hug and a kiss. "Why shouldn't I post it to twitter?" she asked, waving her phone. "Because... uh..." Jordan stumbled. 'Think! Jordan, Think!' Jordan told himself frantically. "I don't want people... you know... to see me..." Jordan looked around, desperate to come up with a good excuse. "I think what Jordan is trying to say," RoseMarie said, stepping in, "is that she's not yet ready to be in the public eye." "Yes!" Jordan said, relief washing over him. "Yes, that's it exactly, thank you!" "Are you sure?" asked Chantel, looking at her phone. "Look! It's already been retweeted a hundred times!" "Oh, no!" Jordan cried, covering his mouth with his hands, the hair on his arms standing on end. "Hey, no problem," Chantel said, realizing Jordan's distress. She pressed some buttons on the phone. "There, it's deleted. It'll also delete the retweets." "Thank you!" Jordan said. And then, because he was *so* relieved, he went and hugged her. RoseMarie watched this exchange and was pleased as punch. 'What a nice, humble girl,' she thought to herself. 'Not some fame-obsessed floozy just trying to get laid by my NFL quarterback.' 'Wow, she really *is* shy!' Chantel thought to herself, looking at Jordan. 'Vanessa at the clinic nailed it. Now how am I going to get her over this shyness? There's no way she's going to land Matt if she's as shy as this!' "Oh, Jordan, you're so adorable," Chantel said, out loud. "But if you're going to be dating an NFL player, some publicity is unavoidable." "I'm not dating anyone!" said Jordan, a little too loudly. "Not yet," said Angela, linking her arm with Jordan's and winking at him. "But we're working on it! Hey Matt, can you give Jordan here a tour of the mansion?" "My pleasure!" said Matt. * * * 'How do these things keep happening to me?' Jordan thought to himself with despair. It was as if the world was conspiring against him. He had decided on just three things: 1) get out quickly, 2) make it clear he was not dating Matt, and 3) not get his picture taken - and in the space of just 90 seconds #2 and #3 were shot to hell, and #1 wasn't looking too good either. "I love your dress, by the way," Chantel said to Jordan. "Thanks," Jordan replied, reaching back and tugging down the hem as they walked up the stairs to the front door. "It's Angela's, actually." 'Interesting,' thought RoseMarie to herself. 'So she didn't pick out the dress herself, Angela did it! That makes so much more sense. I never would have thought that Jordan would pick out such a sexy dress on her own.' "Doesn't it look amazing on her?" Angela enthused. "You don't think... that maybe... it's a bit too short?" Jordan asked. Matt opened the front door to the house and ushered everyone inside. But instead of opening up into a foyer, it opened to an interior courtyard. The grounds of the courtyard were made up of large travertine marble tiles with a wide grid of bright green grass. The courtyard was surrounded by covered walkways which led into bedrooms, game rooms, the kitchen, the dining room, and the living room. It was massive! The courtyard was all set up for Bella's party, with a large stage on one side made up to look like a fairytale castle, and a set of food tables, a barbeque grill, and an open bar on the other side. The place was mobbed with young children running around and grownups either eating, drinking, or trying to make sure their children didn't get into too much trouble. 'Oh my god,' Jordan thought to himself, 'there are a lot of football players here!' It looked like the entire Arizona Cardinal's starting offense plus miscellaneous coaches and assistants. Jordan stopped short, suddenly feeling very small, slight, and weak amongst all of these big muscular men and their confident, model-gorgeous wives. "It's definitely not too short," said Chantel, wanting to help Jordan feel more comfortable. "Why don't we ask everyone? Hey Everyone!" she yelled. "Do you think Jordan's dress is too short?" Everyone turned towards the front door where Jordan froze, eyes wide with terror, looking like a bunny rabbit caught in headlights. Several people held up their cell phones to take a picture. Of course, predictably, the men all looked at Jordan and thought the dress was just fine. Shouts of "looks awesome!" and "hell no!" rang out from them. Inside, every one of the football players was thinking 'Look at those tits! Look at that ass! It figures that the quarterback always finds the hottest chick in the city.' The football wives had been prepped by Chantel ahead of time, so even if they thought that, yes, maybe the dress was a bit too short for a girl's 4-year-old birthday party, they walked up, en-masse, to give hugs and kisses to Jordan and Angela. "The dress is fine!" one said. "Such a cute dress - it looks amazing on you!" another said. "Honey, there's no such thing as too short for this crowd!" At any other time, being surrounded by drop-dead beautiful, sexy woman in their party dresses and being kissed and hugged by them would have been a fair description of heaven for Jordan, but under the current circumstances, with everyone taking selfies and commenting on how Matt is 'so lucky to have a hottie like you!' Jordan just felt like any hope of remaining an anonymous, behind the scenes guest had now been completely, irrevocably, blown away. "Matt and I are *not* dating," Jordan protested, over and over. "He is *not* my boyfriend!" "That's the way to do it," Chantel said. "Play hard to get. I approve. Football players love a challenge." "That's... but I... I'm not trying to play hard-to-get!" But his protests fell on deaf ears. After all, what woman wouldn't want to date a hot, successful, rich, young NFL quarterback? Such a thing would be inconceivable to anyone at the party except Jordan. Jordan looked over at Matt who was grinning like an idiot. 'He actually wants to date me,' Jordan realized, shocked. The thought made Jordan feel weird and jumpy inside, like an invisible fist had grabbed his heart muscle and was manipulating it. "Matt, weren't you going to give Jordan a tour of the house?" RoseMarie stepped in, sensing that Jordan was flustered and trying her best to help separate Jordan from the gaggle of women fawning over him. "Be sure to show her the master bedroom!" Chantel said, in a loud voice, to a general cry of "Ooooh!" from the crowd. "And take as much time as you need!" someone else shouted, to general laughter. Matt just looked at his football friends and rolled his eyes. Matt put his hand at Jordan's back and gently guided him down the covered walkway to the front door. "But we're not dating..." Jordan said, plaintively, feeling caught up in a whirlwind that had spun completely out of control. * * * "Sorry about that," Matt said, as they entered the quiet of the living room. "They're good people, but they can be a bit, uh, wild at times." "We're not dating," Jordan tried to set the record straight. Of course, every time Jordan said 'We're not dating,' over and over, what everyone was thinking is 'she's protesting too much! The more she says it, the clearer it is that she wants it!' "Of course not," Angela said. "Matt hasn't even asked you out yet." "Exactly!" Jordan agreed. "See, Matt? She's waiting for you to ask her out," Angela said, misinterpreting Jordan yet again. "She's an old fashioned girl and she wants the man to do the asking." Her voice was teasing, but you could tell Angela actually meant it. "It's not just because I'm old fashioned," said Jordan, frustrated, trying to explain himself. "I like old fashioned girls," Matt said. "I'm glad you're old fashioned." "But I'm not old fashioned!" "So, you're a 'modern girl'?" Angela asked. "Matt likes those too!" "Please, stop!" Jordan said. "That's not what I meant either! Please stop trying to set me up with Matt! We're not dating! Please... I can't... I mean..." Suddenly, Jordan just burst into tears. "Oh, Jordan," Matt said, melting, like all men in the face of a crying woman. "I'm so sorry." 'Dammit, stop crying!' Jordan told himself furiously. But he couldn't. It was all just too much, the pills from Angela made him so emotional, and missing Anna, and the last-second call from Jason, and all of the teasing from the crowd, and now this. Jordan just held his face in his hands and let it all go, sobbing, as days of frustration and worry just bubbled over. In the middle of his meltdown, Jordan felt someone pull him into a hug. He assumed it was Angela and so he just let it happen. But then, when he felt his head laying against a muscular chest, he knew he had just made another huge mistake. It was Matt who was hugging him, and here he was, wrapped up in his arms. Matt was a good six inches taller than Jordan, and so Jordan's tears dripped onto Matt's Cardinals Team T-shirt as his head lay on Matt's chest. Jordan was amazed at how bulging and rock-hard Matt's chest and arms were. 'Holy cow, this man is ripped,' Jordan thought, understanding the true meaning of the word 'ripped' for the first time in his life. And his throwing arm was *huge*, like a tree trunk. Jordan felt so weak and dependent at that moment, in the arms of something so powerful, which could crush his body like an aluminum can if he wanted. But the hug was warm and caring, and, despite himself, Jordan felt comforted and safe in Matt's arms. "There, there," said Angela, rubbing Jordan's back while her brother hugged her friend. "I'm so sorry! Matt and I have been teasing each other as brother and sister our whole lives. Sometimes we forget to turn it off when others are around. I bet you teased Anna, growing up." 'Oh right,' Jordan remembered. 'Anna and I are supposed to be sisters.' "A little," Jordan sniffed. "Although she teased me more." "I think that what Jordan was trying to say before is that she's not ready for a relationship right now," RoseMarie said. "After all, she's just moved to the area and is getting herself settled in, isn't that right, Jordan?" "Yes," Jordan said, relieved, "that's it, thank you". It seemed that at least RoseMarie was in his corner. Jordan finally disengaged from Matt, and reached into his purse to find a tissue which he used to dab at his eyes. 'I bet my makeup is a mess,' he realized. Jordan pulled out a compact mirror and flipped it open, fixing some of the major damage and making him look less like a raccoon. Jordan looked up and saw Matt looking at him, fascinated by how Jordan was fixing his makeup. 'Oh god,' was that another flirting gesture? Jordan realized, too late. "But as soon as she's settled, in a few weeks," RoseMarie continued, "*then* I'm sure she'd be open to any proposal!" Normally, Jordan would be distressed at anyone saying that he'd be dating a man in three weeks' time, but since he was expecting to go home, change into men's clothing and drive to Utah that night, he decided to let it slide. "Three whole weeks?" asked Matt, gently teasing, as if it was an enormous amount of time. "Oh, I don't think I can wait *that* long." "Sorry, Matt," Jordan said, feeling like a little of the pressure was off. "Isn't there anyway that I can get you to change your mind? I mean, *IF* I were to ask you out?" "No. Mrs. Coleman--" "Please, Jordan, call me RoseMarie." "Oh, okay. As I was saying, *RoseMarie* is correct. I need some time before I'll even consider dating *anyone*." "Really? There is absolutely *nothing* that would change your mind?" asked Angela. Angela was worried that if her brother had to wait, then he might lose interest. After all, once word got out that the starting quarterback of the Cardinals, Matt Coleman, was ready to move on from grieving for his dead wife, there'd be a lot of attention thrown his way. "Nothing," Jordan confirmed. "What about if there was a sign from God?" Matt asked, grinning. "A sign from God?" Jordan scoffed. "Like what? You throw eight touchdown passes in a game?" "Okay, done," Matt said. "Done? What do you mean? Done?" "I throw eight touchdown passes in a game, and you go on a date with me." Jordan couldn't help but laugh. "Matt, no offense, but that's impossible. *Nobody* has ever thrown eight touchdown passes in a game. Not Brady, not Manning, not Brees, not Namath, not anyone." "I got a feeling," Matt shrugged. "My god, you're cocky," Jordan said, then squeaked and put his hand over his mouth. He hadn't meant to say the work 'cocky' out loud. Matt's grin was a mile wide. "I could be... for you," he said. "Stop it!" Jordan whacked Matt on the arm, then realized, horrified, what a feminine gesture that was. 'Why does everything I say and do have a double meaning?' he thought, furiously to himself. 'Why is it that everything I do just seems like I'm flirting more with him? Is there something subconsciously going inside me that I'm not realizing?' Angela looked between them and thought this was fantastic! She knew her younger brother. When someone gave him a challenge, he was relentless. She was absolutely certain, in her bones, that Jordan had no chance. Jordan looked between Angela and Matt and saw what they were both thinking. As much as he assured himself that it was an impossible task, the thought that Matt might actually do it made him hyperventilate. Jordan needed a break. He needed to just get away from all this, just to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. "Can we do the rest of the house tour later?" Jordan asked. "I, uh, I need to go to the 'little girl's room'." "Of course," Angela said. "The powder room is down that hall. Unless you'd like to use the master bath?" "No!" Jordan said, a little too fast and a little too loudly. "The powder room will be fine." * * * Jordan closed the heavy oak door to the powder room behind him with an expensive-sounding "snick". "OMG, it's as large as my bedroom," muttered Jordan, looking around. It was richly decorated with plush carpeting, a chaise longue, a dressing table and a wide vanity with an ornate mirror. 'Did I really just say OMG?' Jordan thought to himself. 'What is wrong with me?' Jordan didn't actually need to go to the bathroom, he just wanted a break. And to properly fix his makeup. Fortunately, the vanity was well stocked with cotton balls and makeup remover. It was clearly created with a woman's touch. Elsa? Probably. Jordan removed the splotches and smudges from his tearful breakdown and then began the process of carefully setting everything right. As he worked on his face, carefully making sure that everything was nice, neat, and blended, his mind went back to what had just happened. 'I burst into tears in front of Matt Coleman,' he thought to himself, as he worked on his eye shadow. There were two different colors, a darker rose pink at the edges and a lighter pink in the center. The two together gave his eyes more depth and expressiveness. 'And he hugged me.' Jordan replayed the scene in his head, as he switched to the eyeliner pencil, outlining his eyes. Jordan could see himself, as if from above, bursting into tears, and then Matt reaching out and pulling him in, Matt's massive arms enveloping and enclosing Jordan as Jordan continued to cry, his head on Matt's chest. Jordan could vividly remember what Matt's muscled chest felt like, how hard it was, and how it rippled as he moved. The eyeliner pencil had been the hardest to get used to (a pencil point so close to your eye!), but now he felt pleased that he pretty much had the hang of it. His eyes looked sharp and well defined. They looked amazing, actually. 'And he smells good too.' The thought wandered into Jordan's head before he could stop it. Matt's smell was clean but definitely masculine. 'I wonder what underarm deodorant he wears.' But of course it wasn't all just deodorant. There was the smell of Matt as well, a musky, manly smell, but not overpowering. What it Jordan's imagination? Could he still smell it? Next, Jordan worked on his mascara, applying a few light strokes to his lashes, making them stand out some more. The lady at the salon (Deena) had gone on and on about how amazing and thick his lashes were. Jordan batted his eyes, coquettishly, in the mirror. Yeah, he had to agree the lashes were pretty great. The whole experience with Matt had been so heightened, so *intense*, that it seemed seared into his brain. Jordan couldn't stop running the scene through his head, over and over. "I'll probably remember it when I'm 90," he joked to himself. "That day I got hugged by football legend, Matt Coleman." After a few quick touchups to his cheeks and brows, Jordan was ready for the lipstick. He first outlined his lips with a rose-colored pencil. Something about twisting the bottom of the lipstick and seeing the pink column of color rotate out of its gold cylinder always felt meaningful to Jordan. Was there anything more feminine than applying lipstick? Jordan ran the soft tip across his lips, refreshing and filling in the color that was there. It caressed his lips, leaving them soft and silky. Lip gloss? Jordan had never worn it before, but Deana had used it when he was at the salon, and he had some from Anna in his purse. Jordan lightly blotted his lips with a piece of paper and pulled out the gloss. "There's a first time for everything," he muttered, uncapping it. The applicator was a small, delicate sponge which felt so light on his lips it was like being kissed by a feather. But the effect was... WOW. Was it too much? Jordan carefully washed and dried his hands, did some last-minute touch-ups on his hair, and stepped back and looked at himself in the mirror from head to toe. "Oh... *shit*," he said, astonished. He almost couldn't believe it was him. He barely even recognized himself. He ran his hands over his body, starting with his smooth, hairless neck (with such a graceful curve to it - Dr. Green had done his work to perfection, Jordan didn't even realize he was missing his Adams Apple because his neck looked so natural), over the extra-ample breasts (his hands feeling their shape and weight), down over his thin waist (nipped in by the corset), and over his generous backside. It was definitely him. This feminine creature before him in the mirror... *she* was Jordan. Jordan was *her*. But more than just 'feminine'. Much more. Jordan was *hot*. "Oh shit, I'm a hottie," Jordan realized. The makeup job had been too perfect. All along he had been thinking he was applying much less than what was needed, but in the end it was perfect. And the lip gloss, it made his lips shiny and oh-so-kissable. And he did *not* look like a slut. Nor did he look like a floozy or a cast-away from 'The Real Wives of New Jersey' or some trophy doll at all. Not at all. Instead, he looked adorable. Cute. All-American. Caring. Vulnerable. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jordan realized, as the full impact of his transformation hit him full-force for the very first time. "I have fucking *got* to get out of here!" * * * Jordan poked his head out of the powder room. The coast was clear. His plan was to sneak out the back door and hitchhike back home. Then he would use a rock to break into a window at the apartment, change, fetch his keys, and drive to Utah. "Desperate times call for desperate measures," he whispered to himself. Seeing his entire self in the mirror in the hot, body-hugging white dress, his breast forms and with full makeup and lip gloss had made him realize, *finally* what a fucked up thing he was doing. Time to put an end to this once and for all. Jordan stepped out into the hallway and started walking towards what he thought was the back of the house. Damn the heels! Every click echoed off the walls as if announcing 'Woman trying to sneak away! Everyone! Can you hear this? Woman trying to sneak away! Click, click, click!' Holy cow the house was big! Jordan opened up a door, but it just went out to a shower by the pool. He closed it and went the other way, crossing back past the powder room. Looking left he saw what appeared to be a family room with comfortable leather seating and a massive flat screen TV. On the far side was a pair of glass-door sliders out to a small deck. Success! He could see outside, past the deck, and there was the back yard and then a gate... with a door to a path into the hills. That would be perfect. Jordan walked to the door and fumbled with the latch until it finally clicked open. "Jordan?" "EEP!" Jordan jumped up about a foot and turned to see Angela looking at him. 'Busted!' he thought to himself. "What are you doing?" Angela asked. She looked disappointed... and hurt. "I... just... I mean, I was just heading... you know... outside, for some air?" Jordan said, wincing as the last syllable turned up at the end, seemingly all on its own. "Really?" Angela asked, shaking her head. Jordan could tell she didn't believe him. "Yes?" Jordan said again. 'Damn it!' he thought. 'I used to be able to lie convincingly. What has happened to me?' "Yes," he said, this time more definitively. "Jordan, you can't do this," Angela said, walking past him and locking the door. "I know what you're about to do. Please don't. For me?" "Angela..." Jordan said, feeling helpless. "I know you need a smoke, and so do I... desperately! But we have to stay strong. Especially here, at Matt's place. Here," Angela dug into her purse and extracted a bottle of pills. "Take these. They'll help, they really will." Angela held out two white pills for Jordan. 'More pills?' thought Jordan. 'Well, at least she doesn't think I was about to leave the party,' Jordan felt relieved. 'She just thought I was going out to smoke a cigarette.' Jordan accepted the pills. "Let's go back into the kitchen and get you a glass of water," Angela grasped Jordan's hand and led him through the house. 'Two more pills,' Jordan thought to himself, feeling them in his hand. Jordan looked around for someplace to get rid of them. Where is a potted plant when you really need it? Angela fetched a glass from the cabinets, filled it with water from the tap and handed it to him. Jordan hesitated, trying to find a way to surreptitiously throw the pills down the drain, but Angela just looked at him, waiting, until it was obvious that there was nothing Jordan could do but put the pills into his mouth and swallow them down with some water. "Thank you Jordan," Angela said, pulling him into a warm hug. 'Oh well,' thought Jordan. 'I'll just have to be real careful to not have any more alcohol, then I should be fine.' "There you are!" Both Jordan and Angela turned to see RoseMarie standing at the other side of the kitchen island, holding two glasses of wine. How long had she been there? Had she seen Jordan taking the pills? "Hey Mom," Angela said. "Enjoying the party?" "Angela? Why don't you go out and join the rest of the guests," RoseMarie said. "Jordan and I have a few things to talk about." 'A few things to talk about????' just the words caused bolts of terror to shoot through Jordan. Suddenly Jordan was glad for the pills. He was going to need them! "Sure Mom," Angela said. She gave Jordan a quick kiss on the cheek. "Please," she whispered to him, before parting. * * * RoseMarie led Jordan into a sitting room with a domed, vaulted ceiling and comfortable brown leather chairs. An expensive-looking Chinese rug covered the floor. "Jordan, please sit and let's chat for a while, girl to girl." "Okay..." Jordan said, hesitantly. 'Uh-oh...' Jordan thought to himself, sitting on the sofa. 'Now what?' RoseMarie sat next to him and patted his leg. "Jordan!" RoseMarie laughed. "I won't bite. Here, I brought you a glass of wine." Jordan accepted the glass and took a sip. It was a light, crisp, pinot grigio. 'Girly wine', he would have called it just a year ago. 'I'm just going to have a sip to be polite,' Jordan counseled himself. 'No alcohol, especially on top of those pills I just took!' "Now, did I hear Angela say that she picked out that dress for you?" RoseMarie asked. "Oh, lord," Jordan rolled his eyes, causing RoseMarie to laugh. "Tell me about it!" RoseMarie encouraged. And so, Jordan launched into the entire story about 'the dress' and how he had first rejected the white dress and then they had tried on just about every dress in his closet, finally settling on an adorable, sage- green A-line dress with a pink belt. And then how he had stumbled on the curb and ruined it in the oil from some car (actually, now that he thought about it, Jordan wondered if maybe it was Jason's car that left the oil, was that possible?) and how Angela had then fetched the white dress she wanted all along. "Somehow," RoseMarie shook her head. "Angela always gets what Angela wants, doesn't she?" "You are so right!" Jordan agreed, thinking of the dozens of times Angela had maneuvered him recently into situations where, magically it seemed, everything ended up exactly as Angela had desired. "So, what happened to the green dress?" "Oh no!" Jordan covered his mouth in shock, and then burst out laughing with the ridiculousness of it all. "I think we left it at the toy store! In the bathroom!" "You changed in the bathroom of the toy store?" RoseMarie asked, laughing along with Jordan. "It was either that or in the taxicab! And the way that cab driver was eyeing me, there was *no way* I was going to give him a strip show! We would have crashed for sure!" The two laughed together, sipping their wine, as Jordan filled in the rest of the details on the story. Finally, he was finished and there was a pause in the conversation, which both Jordan and RoseMarie simultaneously filled by taking another sip of wine. 'Hey!' Jordan thought, looking at the glass. It was empty. He had drunk the whole thing. "Jordan," RoseMarie said, gently. "There is something I wanted talk with you about." "What is it, RoseMarie?" Jordan asked, feeling relaxed and friendly. These pills seemed to be working faster than the previous ones. RoseMarie took Jordan's hands in hers, holding them gently. "I know your secret," she said. "Y-you do??" Jordan twitched with fear. "Yes, I do," RoseMarie said, simply. "I've known it ever since we had dinner together at the stadium. Matt is a wonderful boy, but he doesn't notice things the way I do." "I didn't mean to deceive anyone," Jordan said, hurriedly. "Really I didn't! Things just got out of control, and..." "Hush, dear, it's okay. No harm done. After all, it's not like Angela doesn't have the same problem." "Angela?" Jordan was now completely confused. "Yes, Angela. Oh, I know about her too. She thinks I don't, but I do. I know why she's always taking those white pills. Where do you think she gets them? I am a licensed psychiatrist and hypnotherapist, after all." "The pills come from you?" Jordan gasped. "She says it's because she gets panic attacks," RoseMarie continued, "but we both know better, don't we? It's because she smokes cigarettes, and so do you." Jordan just looked at RoseMarie, eyes wide, trying his best not to betray his emotions. But inside, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. 'It's just my smoking habit!' he said to himself. 'That's the secret she was referring to! Oh thank god.' His other secret, the big one, was still safe. "Yes," admitted Jordan, "I do. It's a terrible habit, I know." "Yes it is, but I can help. Helping people cure their smoking habit is one of my particular specialties, and my success rate is over 98%. Now I've already cleared space on my calendar for sessions every Tuesday and Thursday. It will only take a few weeks and we'll be able to rid you of this nasty addiction." "Oh, RoseMarie, I couldn't--" Jordan tried to protest. "Now dear, don't worry about the expense, I am happy to do this for free. After all, this is an investment in my son and granddaughter's future!" "But really--" "Now dear, I insist," RoseMarie's voice was firm. "Why do you think I told Matt he had to wait three weeks before dating you? It was so that we could have time to cure you of smoking before you two start getting serious. Of course, if he throws eight touchdown passes--" "There's *no way* he's going to break the touchdown passing record," Jordan snorted, confident. "I wouldn't be so sure," RoseMarie said. "Once Matt gets it into his head that he wants something, there's nothing that will stand in his way. Take it from his mother." * * * "Miss Jordan! Miss Jordan!" Jordan turned to see Bella racing down the hallway. After their chat, RoseMarie had taken Jordan on a tour of the house. Jordan had seen the entire house, even the garage and the unfinished basement, with the sole exception of the master bedroom. "I'll let Matt give you a private tour of that room," RoseMarie had said, slyly. "When the time is right." Jordan and RoseMarie were returning back to the party when Bella announced herself. "There's the birthday girl!" Jordan called out, holding his arms out to welcome Isabella. Bella ran full tilt into Jordan, hugging him ferociously around his thighs. The top of her head was about as high as his waist. "As soon as she saw me, she had to come find you," said Angela, smiling. She had two drinks in her hands. "Here, Jordan." "Thanks," said Jordan, taking a big gulp from the drink. "Wow! That's strong!" Jordan said. It was fruit punch, but heavily spiked. "Yeah, it's Chantel's sorority recipe," Angela said, with a wicked grin. "It's awesome, isn't it?" 'And here I am, drinking alcohol,' Jordan sighed, 'again! Well, just that one sip won't harm me. But, I swear, no more!' "Miss Jordan!" Bella was jumping up and down with excitement. "Miss Jordan!" "Yes, miss Bella?" Jordan handed the drink back to Angela and knelt down on the carpet so he could talk to Bella eye-to-eye. That turned out to be a mistake in a number different dimensions. First, it was unexpectedly hard to do with high heel sandals on, causing Jordan landed more heavily on his knees than he had expected. Second, it caused the tape on his genitals to pull painfully. Jordan did his best to cover his wince with a smile. Third, the thong which Angela had insisted he wore rode up further between his cheeks, making him suck in his breath at its intimate touch. Finally, his dress rode up and stubbornly resisted every attempt he made to pull it down. This meant that his bare buns peaked out from below the hem behind. 'Shit, now what do I do?' Jordan wondered. He tried again to pull down the dress, but he couldn't pull it over his butt, the way he was kneeling. Fortunately, both Angela and Rose Marie were in front of Jordan, so they didn't see how his buns were peeking out of the wayward dress in back. All they noticed was how wonderful it was that Jordan was giving Bella such focused attention, taking the time to kneel down to her level and treat her like a little person. "Oh!" Jordan said, as Bella hugged him again, this time with her chin on his shoulder. Jordan hugged the little girl back. "Miss Jordan, Miss Jordan!" Bella said, barely able to contain her excitement. "Miss Jordan?" Jordan mimicked the girl. "Bella, you just called me 'Jordan' before. Why am I 'Miss Jordan' now?" "Because! Uh... Nanna and Miss Jenni say that's what I'm suppos'd t'call you," she explained. "Jennifer is her nanny," RoseMarie supplied, smiling warmly at the exchange. "Well then, Miss Bella," Jordan said. "I agree, and thank you. Now what did you want to ask me?" "Would you... would you... you... you..." she hugged Jordan again and hid her face for a second. "Go ahead, Bella," Angela gently encouraged. "It is your birthday, after all!" "I'm gonna be a princess!" Bella said. "In a play!" "A play?" Jordan asked, looking up at Angela and RoseMarie before looking back at Bella. "What a wonderful idea!" "On the castle in the courtyard," Bella explained. "And *I'm* going to be the princess!" "Matt hired a company which does a 'princess party'," RoseMarie explained. They set up the castle in the courtyard and they involve the guests in a play on stage." "You'll make a beautiful princess, Miss Bella!" Jordan said. The young girl's enthusiasm was so infectious that Jordan almost forgot that his bare butt was hanging out of his dress. "Will you be in my play? Miss Jordan?" "Well, I don't know, Miss Bella," Jordan replied, suddenly worried. He had done some high school theater, so stage fright was not the problem. No, the problem was exposure. The *last* thing he wanted to do was to get up on stage in front of all the guests. "You have to 'ca... 'ca... 'cause it's my birthday!" "Come on, Jordan," Angela encouraged. "How could you turn down a poor little girl on her birthday?" "We'll all be in the play," added RoseMarie. "You won't be alone." "Pleeeease? Miss Jordan? Pleeeease??" asked Bella, beseechingly. Jordan thought for a second. As long as some other adults were in the play... and it was only a play for four-year-olds anyway, right? What could be the harm? "Well, okay, Bella." Jordan smiled. "Since you asked so nicely, then *yes*, I will be in your play." "Yaaaaaaay!!" Bella danced and twirled. "See, Izzy," Angela said, grinning. "I *told* you that Miss Jordan would want to be in your play." "Thank you! Thank you!" Bella gave Jordan another huge hug. "I'm leaving now!" she announced, abruptly, and then she was off, running down the hall, with RoseMarie trailing after her. "Jordan! There you are!" It was Chantel, and she was coming up from behind! Jordan quickly tried to cover up his bare behind with his hands. "I wanted to introduce you properly to all of the other football wives!" Chantel said. Jordan scrambled, trying to get up off the floor, while simultaneously holding his hands behind him. He put one foot up which made his dress ride up further! But when he tried to put his second his second foot up, he stumbled in the high heels and pitched forward. By instinct, his hands reached out to stop his fall... ... leaving his bare ass sticking up in the air for all to see. Jordan was awkwardly perched, on high heels and hands, ass up, dress around his waist. There were scattered snorts, grunts, and giggles behind him, and one hastily stifled guffaw. "Girls!" Chantel admonished. "She needs our help!" Suddenly, Jordan was surrounded by football wives, lifting him up and placing him solidly back on his pink strappy high heels. Fingers with long, carefully manicured nails grasped at the hem of his skirt and pulled it back down over his bottom. Hands stroked down his body smoothing the dress down and brushing off any imagined dust. Jordan's face was bright red as a rose. "I need a drink," Jordan muttered, gratefully accepting the spiked punch back from Angela and downing it in two gulps, his prior commitment to not drink during the party now completely abandoned in the face of overwhelming need. "Thank you, Chantel," Jordan said, gratefully. "Oh, sweetie, we've all been there before, haven't we girls?" Chantel gave Jordan a hug and a kiss on the cheek. All of the football wives chimed in with agreement and various stories of how they embarrassed themselves in public. They told stories of boobs being exposed, swimsuits coming off in pools, dresses ripping, clothes being stolen, wardrobe malfunctions during cheerleading shows, and all sorts of public nudity and humiliation. And it helped. As each wife told a story, she was introduced to Jordan and the two hugged and kissed on the cheek. Jordan, swarmed as he was by all of this femininity, still feeling like a fish out of water, did his best to fit in. "I love your shoes," he said to Darla, wife of Jake the tight-end. "Cute necklace!" he said to Shaniah, wife of Jamaal, the left guard. "Awesome hairstyle," he said to Kirsten, wife of Breshad, the wide receiver. All of the football wives were drop-dead gorgeous, with curvy bodies, long well-kept hair, and strong, aggressively positive attitudes. All of the hugging and petting and kissing and pressing of bodies together was really starting to get to Jordan. Normally this would have caused the tape between his legs to bulge... painfully... but for some reason it wasn't bulging. Strange. "How 'bout we get something to eat?" Angela asked. "I'm starving!" * * * 'I so have to get out of here,' Jordan kept thinking to himself, as he picked up a few bites from the food tables. It was an amazing spread of bar-b-que, Mexicali salad, steak, tacos and Mexican rice with beans. The food smelled delicious, but with his corset so tight (thanks, Angela) he found he could only eat a few small bites. 'I just need to get home, get changed, and drive up to Utah to see Anna,' Jordan continued to plan. He picked up another drink of punch from the bar. 'Then she and I can figure this out together. I'm sure that, once I'm back to being just ordinary Jordan, we'll be able to find a way out of this.' Jordan gave up on sneaking out. Just seeing Angela's hurt look when she caught him opening the back door was enough to dissuade him. She may be pesky, annoying Angela... but somehow she had turned into his... friend? And besides, Jordan had promised to Bella that he would be in her play. And there was no conceivable circumstance in which Jordan would ever break a promise to a four-year-old girl. He was stuck at the party until after the play. Jordan sat down at a table with his food and was quickly joined by Angela, Chantel and several of the other football wives. Even though these women were responsible for most of his troubles today, they were also the only ones he felt he knew at the party, and so he was grateful for their company. Jordan nibbled while they chatted about children and shopping. The children were all around the same age as Isabella. They ran around the courtyard, chasing each other and ran to their mothers whenever anything went wrong. Jordan met Chantel's two boys, Terrance and Derrick. "Are they going to be football players like their daddy?" Jordan asked. "Oh *hell* no," Chantel said. "This one's gonna be a doctor, and this one's gonna be a lawyer, make no mistake." "Aw, Mo-om," the boys whined before running away again. Chantel motioned for the other wives to sit closer. "Okay," Chantel turned to Jordan. "Now that we're all BFFs, how are we going to get you and Matt together?" "We're not dating," Jordan protested. "And--" "She gave Matt a challenge," Angela broke in, grinning. "Matt has to throw eight touchdowns in a game before she'll date him." "I LOVE IT!" Chantel squealed. "Football men love challenges! What an AWESOME idea, Jordan! And even better when the challenge helps his career. You are one smart sister! But we need a backup plan in case it doesn't pan out. Ladies? What should our backup plan be?" "It can't happen too soon," Darla pointed out. "We have to give Matt a chance." "And it has to seem natural," Kristin added. "Not like it was planned, but like it just, magically happened." "Please, ladies," Jordan protested. "I don't need your help to date Matt." Jordan winced internally at the phrasing, since it (yet again) made it seem like Jordan really was trying to date Matt. 'How am I going to get out of this??' Jordan thought desperately to himself. Sure, he loved being in the middle of this bevy of gorgeous females (who wouldn't?) but this was verging onto very dangerous territory. "Really, please don't do anything. Matt and I are not dating!" "Psh," said Chantel. "Please, Jordan. We realize you're not dating. *That's* the problem. What we want is to find a way for you to *start* dating. And fairly soon. Hey, how about something during the bye week? That's just three weeks away." "The ACS gala!" shouted Kirsten, before being hushed up by all of the rest of the wives. "ACS is Matt's charity," she continued, softer this time, "and they're having their black-tie / red carpet gala on Saturday of the bye." "What's ACS?" Jordan asked. "The American Cancer Society," Angela said. Her eyes had an intense look about them. "Oh, Angela!" Chantel immediately picked up on Angela's emotion. "Elsa was your best friend too, wasn't she?" "Yes, she was." All of the football wives reached out to Angela, grasping her hands in support and giving her sympathy and hugs. "I'll be going to the ACS gala. Jordan, you'll come too, won't you?" Jordan looked at Angela and saw the wetness in her eyes. All of the football wives looked at him and he felt trapped. If he didn't say yes, then he would be a horrible, evil person. 'This is not the time,' Jordan told himself. 'Remember, this is Bella's birthday party. You can tell Angela the truth later, once you've changed back to being a man, and, hopefully, are in a new job.' "Of course, Angela," Jordan said, reaching out to hug her. "I wouldn't miss it for the world." "Thanks, Jordan," Angela said, giving him a surprisingly hard hug. "I knew I could count on you. Best friends?" Jordan looked into her eyes and saw how desperately she needed it. "Best friends," Jordan agreed. It felt like he was slipping deeper into a trap. A trap from which he might never escape. "Forever?" Angela asked, a single tear leaking down her face. "Forever," Jordan replied, giving her another hug and kiss on the cheek. Witnessing the scene, all of the football wives went 'Awwwww' and clustered around them for a group hug. "It's settled, then," Chantel announced. "If Matt doesn't throw eight touchdowns in a game, then we'll find a way for him to ask you out to the ACS black tie gala. Perfect!" The women all nodded and agreed that this was a perfect plan. "What are all you ladies gossiping about?" Emmitt asked, breaking in. He and Matt were both holding beers and looking at the cluster of football wives with curious grins. "You mind your own business, Emmitt," said Chantel, winking at the rest of the wives (and Jordan and Angela). "This is none of your concern." "Ha, I bet," Emmitt said, snorting. "Come on, Matt," he motioned with his head. "Let's challenge the tight ends to a game of pool." * * * "Ryan, ready for the game tomorrow?" Johanson asked. He was at home, calling Dr. Green on his cell phone. "Can't wait," said Dr. Green. "Wish I could go, but I guess I'll just have to gloat over the defeat of your baby birds from the comfort of my couch." "Not gonna happen," Johanson replied. "Matt's our man! He's going to carve up your Cowboys like a steak platter." The two laughed. "What can I do you for?" Dr. Green asked. "I was hoping to accelerate Jordan's breast augmentation surgery," Johanson explained. "I think she's more than ready for it." "I'm sorry, Ed, but it's impossible. I'm booked up solid and the clinic is too for the next month. There's no way we could fit her in. I know how much you want to help, but maybe it's best if she takes some time? I find it's best not to rush into these things, sometimes." "But I can tell she's anxious for the surgery," Johanson said. "And I know that she'll feel better and more complete... you know, as a woman. Isn't there anything we can do?" "I'm afraid not." 'There must be a way,' Johanson thought to himself. "How about a wager?" Johanson asked. "A wager? Are you kidding me?" "Not kidding. If the Cardinals beat the Cowboys, you find a way to accelerate Jordan's surgery." Dr. Green laughed. "What would I get if you lose?" Dr. Green asked, not believing that they were talking like this. "Hmm... let me think." What would a plastic surgeon want? Johanson thought to himself. What could I get him that might tempt him to take this bet? "How about an invite to the American Cancer Society Gala Ball?" asked Johanson. "The ACS ball?" asked Dr. Green in hushed tones. "I've been trying to get into that event for years." Dr. Green thought about all of the potential clients and references he could meet at a gala ball like that. It was *the* gathering for the cr?me de la cr?me of Phoenix society - the absolute highlight of the social season. He could practically double his practice, he thought to himself, even hire a second doctor and another couple of nurses. "I know Rebecca Guertin pretty well. I'm sure I can get you an invite," Johanson said. "Guertin? As in the Best Western Heiress?" Dr. Green gasped. "The very same," Johanson smiled. He knew the good doctor was hooked now. "Okay, it's a deal," Dr. Green said. "Looks like I'll have something to root for tomorrow!" "Me too," Johanson said. "Ed," Dr. Green paused, thinking carefully before continuing. "If you don't mind my asking, what are your intentions towards Jordan?" "My intentions?" Johanson frowned. "I have no intentions towards her, Ryan. I just want to help her become the woman she was meant to be." "And is that all? You aren't secretly hoping for... you know... something more?" "No! Of course not!" Johanson said, hotly. "She's my employee!" "Oh, hey, hey, sorry, I just had to ask. After all, here we are, gambling with her future." "I keep telling you, it's something she already wants. We're just helping her to realize her dreams a little earlier." "All right then. Take care Ed, and I'll talk to you tomorrow!" * * * END CHAPTER 16