Halloween For Life Chapter 18 (Timeline 1) free porn video

Halloween for Life Chapter 18 : Any Given Sunday Jordan could feel his heart sink, and his breathing became deeper, and the whole world seemed to black out around him. Jordan looked up at the door to his apartment. Hoses of various sizes were snaking into the front door from the emergency equipment parked on the street. He tried to run up the stairs to the front door but was blocked by a policeman. "Sorry, miss," the policeman said, gently, but firmly. "No one is allowed inside." "But that's my apartment!" Jordan wailed, ignoring completely that the policeman had called him 'miss'. "What happened?" Angela asked, reaching out and grasping Jordan's hand to provide him some comfort. "Fire....it started in the bedroom." "Oh no..." Jordan moaned. "Fortunately," the policeman continued, "someone called the fire department and they were able to control it before it spread." A fireman walked out of the apartment carrying what looked like a melted lump on a wire. He was covered, head-to-toe in gear, but his helmet was off. "I think we found the problem," he said, talking to the policeman, holding up the lump. "What is it?" "Curling iron. The renter must have left it on. It cooked the hairspray which exploded into a fireball that engulfed the bedroom. We were lucky that it didn't do more damage." "The... the curling iron?" Jordan gasped. "The one... that I... ohhh..." "Help her!" Angela yelled, as Jordan slumped to the ground. The policeman and fireman jumped forward, preventing Jordan from injuring himself. "Who is that?" the fireman asked. "The renter," said the policeman. * * * Jordan cried out and woke abruptly, shaking his head. "Hey there, you're fine." Jordan looked up at a policewoman. She smiled at him and put away her smelling salts into a case. Jordan was in Angela's apartment, on her couch. "Quite a shock, I imagine, coming home to that," she nodded her head towards Jordan's apartment. "Was it really started by the curling iron?" Jordan asked, his eyes welling up. "Seems so," said the policewoman. "The initial investigation is over. They'll review it again tomorrow before coming up with the final report." "Then... it was all my fault," Jordan said, feeling horrible, tears overflowing and dripping down his cheeks. "Oh honey, it was an accident," the police lady gave him a hug. The front door opened and Angela walked in, followed by two firemen. They were carrying large plastic garbage bags. "Oh Jordan!" Angela dropped her bag and ran over, giving Jordan a hug. "I am so, so, so, so sorry." "Thanks, Angela," Jordan said, desperately holding on to her. "I can't believe," Jordan said, feeling as if he was cast adrift. "My apartment burned, and everything gone..." "Not everything!" Angela said, happily. "The living room was spared. Look! We saved your clothes!" "What?" "Remember the pile of clothes from when we were picking out dresses? We left them in the living room. Of course they smell of smoke, but the firemen said a dry cleaner can take care of it. Isn't that wonderful?" "But... the bedroom? Was anything recovered from the bedroom?" "I'm afraid not," Angela said, shaking her head sadly. "So.... the only things of mine left in the world are... the dresses from my shopping trip which Rebecca picked out for me?" Jordan asked. "All I have are dresses?" "That's right." "Well, that's just perfect," Jordan said, sourly. Despite the events of the last week, it was still a great comfort that Jordan possessed his entire male wardrobe...but now that was all gone! "Don't you worry, honey," Angela assured him, misinterpreting Jordan's statement. "We'll go to the mall tomorrow and make sure you're supplied with panties, bras, and pantyhose." Jordan hid is face in his hands. "Thank you, Angela," he said. * * * Anna's cell phone rang. She put aside the binder that she was studying to prepare for her training. "Anna?" The feminine voice on the other side sounded frightened. "Who is this?" Anna asked, not recognizing her. "Jordan." "Jordan who?" This was too much for Jordan, who burst into tears. "Jordan, your husband!" he sobbed. "Oh my god! Jordan?? Is that really you?" Anna couldn't believe her ears. This beautiful female voice on the other side of the line was her husband? "How... did your voice change?" "Yes," Jordan sobbed. "Angela thinks it's because of the laryngitis. But... But... Anna?" "Yes, Jordan?" "Our apartment. There was a fire..." Anna felt a cold chill run through her. "A fire? What do you mean, 'a fire', Jordan?" "The... It's... I... I accidentally left the curling iron on," Jordan explained, "while I went out to the party with Angela, and... it caused a fire. No one got hurt, but..." "But what, Jordan?" Anna's voice was unexpectedly hard. "Our bedroom was destroyed," Jordan said. "No... You mean... all of my clothes? My high-school photo albums? MY SHOES?" "I'm so sorry!" Jordan sobbed. "I'm so sorry..." There was silence on the line. "Anna?" Jordan asked, tentatively. "I'm sorry, Jordan," Anna said. "I... I can't talk to you right now." Jordan held the phone in his hands, staring at it in abject misery. "Jordan? What's the matter?" Angela asked. "She hung up on me," Jordan was stunned. "Oh, sweetie," Angela said, rushing over to give Jordan a hug. "I'm sure it's just because she's upset. She'll call back when she settles down." "It's all my fault," Jordan muttered. "It is NOT your fault!!" Angela said firmly, slapping the table in anger. "If anything, it's MY fault! I rushed you out the door this morning, remember? I'm as much to blame for this as you are!" The two held on to each other, feeling like boats in a storm. "It was an accident," Angela said softly. "These things happen. You will recover and I will be there to help you every step of the way." * * * "I need a drink." Anna was shocked and upset. "How could he have been so careless?" she kept saying to herself, over and over. Anna went down to the hotel bar where she found an empty stool and called out to the bartender. "What'll it be?" the bartender asked. "Something strong." "Scotch, neat?" "Perfect." The bartender put down a glass tumbler and filled it. Anna slugged it down in one gulp. It had a mild smoky flavor and soft burn, but went down smoothly. "Another," she demanded. Shrugging his shoulders, the bartender complied. "Anna?" "Mr. Santos!" It was her boss, the bank president! Anna sat up straighter and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "Please, call me 'Ray'. Mind if I join you?" "Of course not, uh, Ray." Santos, in his late 30s, was young for being a bank president. He had straight black hair, a sharp, angular jaw, piercing dark-brown eyes and a friendly, engaging smile. He was well over six feet tall, making him about six inches taller than Jordan. "A scotch drinker?" he observed. "I approve. I'll have one too." The motioned to the bartender. After a quick discussion, he opted for an 18-year, highland single-malt. "So what brings you down here to drink alone?" Santos asked. "I just found out that my..." Anna paused. She was still pissed as hell at Jordan. How could he have let this happen? All her clothes. All her childhood mementos, her high-school sports trophies... all gone. Anna looked down at her fingers. She had left her engagement ring and wedding ring in the hotel room. "My *sister*," Anna said, feeling spiteful, "left her curling iron on and started a fire. Everything in our bedroom got destroyed, apparently." "Oh, Anna, I'm so sorry," Santos said. He put a hand on her back and stroked it, trying to provide some comfort. "How could... she... have been so stupid?" Anna said, truly angry. "How could she have been so careless?" "Try not to be too hard on her," Santos advised. "I'm sure she didn't mean it." "But when I think about everything that I lost! All of my clothes. My shoes and purses! My..." Anna was just about to say 'wedding dress,' but stopped just in time. "My prom dress!" she wailed. Anna's emotions overflowed and she burst into tears. 'My wedding dress,' she thought to herself. 'I lost my wedding dress!' She felt herself being pulled into a hug by Santos, and she let it happen. * * * "Hello?" Johanson picked up the phone. It was 8am Sunday morning. "Mr. Johanson? It's Angela Coleman. Sorry to call you so early." "Angela! No problem. I've been up for a while now. To what do I owe this pleasure?" "Well, I have two tickets to the game this afternoon, and I was wondering if you'd like them?" Angela asked. "You mean, Cardinals-Cowboys? Are you kidding? Yes! Absolutely! But why aren't you using them?" I wonder if Dr. Green would be interested in going with me to the game? Johanson thought to himself. "It's Jordan," Angela blurted out, not being one to hold anything back. "It's so awful. There was a fire in her apartment last night and all her things were destroyed except for some dresses - the dresses that your niece Rebecca helped to pick out. I'm going to take her to the mall today and get her restocked with underwear and other necessities." "Oh, that's horrible!" Johanson agreed, his mind racing. "How is she taking it?" "Well, she's sleeping now. I gave her some pills last night. But she was pretty broken up about it, as you can imagine! What's worse is that Jordan and his sister don't have renter's insurance. They had moved so recently that they didn't have time to set it up. So, basically, she's lost everything except for those dresses." "I wish there was something I could do to help..." Johanson said, thinking hard. Jordan would be too proud to accept an outright gift of money, he knew that instinctively. So how to help? "Maybe we could organize a fundraiser for Jordan?" Johanson asked, suddenly inspired. "Oh my god, what a great idea!" Angela enthused. "That would be perfect! She needs lots more new clothes, a new computer, a new cell phone... almost everything, really. Should we do a Kickstarter or a 'go-fund-me' or something?" "No, I think it's best if we keep this local," Johanson said, wanting to maintain control of it himself. "What if we just do it inside the company?" "That probably makes the most sense," Angela agreed. "And family." "Yes, and family. Do you think we can keep it secret from Jordan? Maybe we have a surprise party where we reveal what we raised?" "Oh, yeah, absolutely! Oh, Mr. Johanson, thank you so much for taking such an interest in helping poor Jordan. She really needs our help right now. You are amazing." "It's my duty as an owner of the company," Johanson said, feeling full of charitable goodwill (not only for the fundraiser, of course, but also for paying for Jordan's transition surgeries). Yes, Jordan was becoming quite the project for Mr. Johanson! "Should I come by around 11 to pick up the tickets? How much are they?" "Eleven is perfect. And the tickets are no charge. I get them free from my brother." After saying goodbye to Angela, Johanson immediately picked up the phone and called Dr. Green. "Ryan!" Johanson said, jovially. "I have tickets to the game. Care to join me? Section 109, Premier Sideline. We can be at the game as you lose the bet!" "Are you kidding me? Hell yeah, I'll be there!" * * * "Stuck," Jordan thought to himself. Jordan looked out of Angela's kitchen window to his apartment building. It looked perfectly fine, except for the yellow tape crisscrossing the door. "Extremely Hazardous, Do Not Cross by Order of the Fire Marshal". Yeah, it looked perfectly ordinary, except for that. Angela was out. Jordan didn't know where, but she was gone when he woke up this morning. "Stuck, with nowhere to go," Jordan thought, feeling miserable. Jordan was wearing his purple, Victoria's Secret night dress, which he'd now have to wear every night since he no longer owned any other pajamas. Jordan slipped his hand underneath the bra strap and massaged where the straps had dug into his shoulder. He was still wearing Angela's lace and satin bra. He had slept with it on. Jordan was going to be wearing bras for a while now, he realized. Bras and dresses and high heeled shoes and women's panties and the corset and pantyhose. He had no choice anymore. He had no place to stay except with Angela (bless her heart!) and he had no other clothes to wear other than what Rebecca had picked out for him during his first shopping trip and what he could borrow from Angela. Jordan thought for a while about what this meant. He'd have to get up every morning and dress as a woman. He had nothing but skirts and dresses. That meant going to work - every day - in skirts and dresses. It meant there was no more 'looking forward to changing into male clothes'. There were no more male clothes! And even if there were, he couldn't wear them anyway. He would have to maintain his female persona in front of Angela full time. After all, without Angela, he'd be lost. It meant using the woman's rest room... all the time. It meant wearing makeup... every day (except maybe lounging around the apartment?). It meant wearing nightgowns to bed. He was going to be Jordan, the female manufacturing engineer at Johanson and Johanson for the foreseeable future. "I need to get some more comfortable bras." Jordan leaned back in his chair and cupped his breasts with his hands, lifting them and easing the weight on his chest and the bra straps. "Stuck with breasts," he thought to himself. Such appropriate wording, since they were literally stuck to his chest with adhesive. And they weren't going anywhere! For the time being, since the solvent for removing them had been lost in the fire, Jordan would be wearing them full-time, every minute of every hour, every hour of every day. And he couldn't switch back to the smaller ones either, because those were now gone (he imagined them melted into a big, silicon mass on the floor of the bedroom). Jordan really had to get back to Dr. Green and the clinic as soon as possible so he could, at a minimum, get some solvent. Dr. Green had said "Call me for an appointment when you're ready." Well, he was definitely ready now! "Maybe I should ask Dr. Green for a pair of D's," he thought to himself, thinking that maybe one size smaller would be so much better. Or maybe not. Yesterday, his breasts had seemed impossibly too large. But now, after having worn them all day (and all night), he was starting to get used to the size. They didn't seem as enormous to him anymore. And Angela was right about one thing, they seemed about equal in size to most of the woman he saw around - especially at the party yesterday. Regardless, he was going to make the appointment first thing Monday morning, since Dr. Green's office wasn't open on Sunday. And he was going to ask for as early an appointment as possible. Jordan squeezed his breasts, running his hands over them, feeling their shape and how they tugged at his skin. It felt nice. Would he ever get used to them? He wondered what it would be like to actually be a woman and to have them permanently. What would it feel like to have real breasts? What would it feel like if they were his own skin, and when he pinched the nipples he actually felt it? What would they feel like in a bra? In the shower? With someone else squeezing them-- Stop that! Jordan shook his head to clear his mind. Those were dangerous thoughts. Regardless, the breast forms certainly made him feel more comfortable going out and about. He felt more like a real woman, more like a natural woman. And they certainly made his dresses look better. Anna was correct about that. Anna... Jordan felt like crying. She had been his rock. She had been the smart and fun and sensible one in the relationship. Oh, she could be crazy too (after all, look at him now!), but that was just on Halloween. The rest of the time Jordan depended on her to be a practical, steadying influence. But now she wasn't talking to him. Jordan had already tried calling her several times, but no luck. Clearly, she was still mad at him. So where did that leave Jordan? "Stuck," he repeated, feeling trapped in the world as a woman with no way out. The keys in the bedroom were melted into a lump, so he couldn't get into the car or start it up. How was he going to get replacements? He couldn't rent a car because he no longer had a driver's license or any credit cards! They had all been lost in the fire. And he couldn't get a driver's license without his social security card and birth certificate which was, yes, also lost in the fire. And he couldn't get a credit card without some sort of identification. Just rebuilding his identity was going to take forever, he realized. And what would be the point, anyway? Even if he drove to Utah to see Anna, she wasn't talking to him. Jordan imagined showing up at her hotel room in Utah and her just slamming the door in his face. Jordan popped open the top of the pill bottle from Dr. Green and took the white pill with a swig of orange juice. He then placed the pink pill under his tongue and waited until it had fully dissolved. "I guess I need to make do," Jordan thought. "At least until Anna has cooled down." Jordan reached between his legs. "And first thing's first," he said, "I've *got* to find a better solution for hiding my equipment!" Jordan was still wearing the thong from the party over his taped penis (the thong wasn't as uncomfortable once you got used to it, he discovered). He had un-taped himself to go to the bathroom, but then had taped himself back up again, afraid of exposing of any accidental bulges to Angela during the night. But now things were getting raw and painful. He absolutely *had* to find a better option. Jordan spied Angela's laptop on a stack of catalogs. It was on the same countertop as the binoculars which Angela had used to spy on Anna and Jordan that first day. "Why not," he muttered, fetching the laptop and flipping it open. No password! Excellent! He opened up a web browser. "What do transgender women use to hide their equipment?" he Googled. After a little research he determined he needed something called a 'gaff', and found a local store, 'Fascinations', which sold them. "Perfect," thought Jordan. The store was right across the street from the mall, so all he would need to do was slip away from Angela at some point and quickly make his purchase. But how to do that? Jordan thought for a minute, considering options. "Jason!" he snapped his fingers. "He owes me one!" Jordan picked up the phone and called his friend. "Hello?" "Hey Jason, it's Jordan." "Jordan who?" "Jordan, your best friend from high school," Jordan snarled, gritting his teeth. "No... Jordan?" Jason was aghast. "Is that really you? I couldn't hear you on the cell phone yesterday - the reception was so bad. Is that really your voice now?" The voice was so high and feminine! Jordan sounded like a cute, young woman now. Jason couldn't believe it. "Yes," Jordan sighed. "Yes, this is my voice. It changed after the laryngitis. Does it... does it sound too feminine?" "No!" Jason said, quickly. "I think it sounds fine, really." 'So he doesn't know about the throat surgery,' Jason thought quickly to himself. 'Oh my god, he doesn't know this is permanent!' There was a pause where Jason considered what to do. 'Should I tell Jordan about the throat surgery?' he wondered. The guilt of his role in making it happen weighed heavily on Jason. But just as he was about to speak up... "Listen, Jason, I need some help," Jordan said. "There was a fire in my apartment last night..." "Oh my god. A fire?? Are you okay? What happened?" Jordan sighed, and took some time to explain about the fire and the curling iron. "Anyway," Jordan said, "I'm going to the mall to shop for some essentials with Angela, and I need you to come with us." "Of course... uh... buddy," Jason had a hard time saying 'buddy' to such a feminine sounding voice. "Why?" "I need to get something called a 'gaff', you know, to hide my... uh... male parts, so I don't need to keep taping them all the time." "You TAPE YOUR JUNK?" Jason asked, wincing and crossing his legs. "Are you kidding me??" "Yeah, it sucks. I mean, it *really* sucks. Okay? So this is critical, I need you to distract Angela so I can sneak across the street from the mall and buy this thing which will hold my stuff between my legs so people can't see it. Can you do that for me?" "Of course, Jordan." "Thanks, Jason, I knew I could count on you. I think you're my only real friend left." Jason's shoulders sagged, feeling even more guilty, knowing how he had betrayed Jordan already. 'Now is not the right time to tell him about the surgery,' Jason reasoned to himself. 'No need to burden him with all that. Instead, Jordan needs something positive.' And, fortunately, Jason just the thing. "Hey, Jordan," Jason said. "I have some good news. I found a job for you." "No! Seriously? Oh thank god!" Relief flooded through Jordan's body. A new job! It would fix everything! He could go back to being ordinary Jordan, and finally get out of this predicament. "It, ah, doesn't pay as well as your current job." "I don't care. I just want to get out of here!" "But the best news is that it's close to Anna's bank job." "So we can move away from here. Oh, Jason, that's perfect! You are a life saver! When do I start?" "Hold on," Jason cautioned. "You need to do an interview first." "Oh, okay. That's cool. When's the interview?" "Unfortunately, the manager is on vacation this week. But he agreed to meet you a week from Tuesday." "I can't wait that long," Jordan complained, but still excited to finally see a path out of this craziness. "But I guess I'll have to! Oh, Jason, I can't tell you how much this means to me! Finally, I have something to look forward to. I just need a new job and then I can go back to being my old self and get all of this behind me. You know, I'm not going to tell Anna until I get the job. I want to surprise her with it." "Good idea," said Jason. "And hey, Jordan, I really wanted to... you know... apologize. For, taking so long to find you something." "Hey, if I can get a new job and get my life back to normal - all will be forgiven!" * * * "Ohhhhhhh....," Anna moaned. Her headache was massive! She put her hands to her head. Clearly she had drunk *way* too much the night before and was now suffering from a piercing hangover. "Anna?" "Shit!" Anna, hearing the voice, sat up like a shot. Too fast! Her head! It felt like it was going to explode. "Ray???" She asked. "Shhh, it's okay," he said. Anna peaked out from between her hands and saw Ray in the bed with her. "It's okay??" she said, horrified. "This is so *not* okay! I am in bed with... oh god, no! My boss?? Oh no, no, no, no..." Anna muttered, covering her face again. "This is so not right!" "Hey, hey, it's okay," Ray Santos said, chuckling. "Don't worry, nothing happened." "What do you mean, nothing happened??" Anna groaned, putting her hands down. "I'm in bed... with my boss! This is not nothing! Oh, god, did we...?" Ray laughed some more. "And will you stop laughing??" Anna said, incensed. "You really don't remember what happened last night?" "No. Last I remember, we were having drinks at the bar." "Well, I asked if you wanted to continue with a night-cap in my room, but then, before I could even fix you another drink, I found you asleep on the sofa." "So... how did I end up in bed?" "I carried you. I thought you might be more comfortable in bed rather than slumped on the sofa." "And... did you also remove clothes? And my... bra??" Anna asked, with a hushed voice. Suddenly, Anna became hyper aware that she was naked from the waist up. She quickly grasped the covers and held them up to her chest. "Yes, that was me too. Honestly, I just wanted to ensure that you had a good night's sleep. I apologize if I was too forward. It was, uh, a judgment call." Ray smiled at Anna. 'My god, he's loving this!' Anna realized, blushing. "I... I have to go," Anna said, quickly, but carefully sliding out of bed, her head pounding. "Please, Anna, don't go," Ray said. But in his voice was a mirthful amusement. She found her clothes neatly folded on the chair in the corner of the room. Quickly she put on her slacks and blouse. Ray got out of bed and walked over to Anna, as she finished buttoning herself up. "Anna, really, nothing happened," he reiterated. "Not even a kiss." He reached out and stroked her arm. "I know, Ray," Anna said, turning to him. Oh god, she thought to herself. There was her boss, standing before her, in nothing but a pair of boxers, and OH GOD he looked amazing. She looked up at him. Unlike Jordan, he was taller than Anna by about four inches. He was muscled and etched, with a strong-looking, firm body. He must work out, she realized. She looked down. Oh... was that his...?? "I have to go!" Anna said, quickly running out the door. * * * "Hey bestie," Angela said, coming into the kitchen. "Hey Angela," Jordan said. "I took your dresses to the cleaners," she said. "Normally, they're not open on Sunday, but I called the owner and explained it was an emergency, and she agreed to take them." "Are you kidding me?" Jordan asked, amazed. "Seriously? You called the owner?" "Oh sure! I see her at least twice a week. We're good friends." "Oh, Angela, you are amazing," Jordan said, in awe. He thought back to what RoseMarie said: 'What Angela wants, Angela usually gets.' "Thank you so much." "Well, at least you'll have some clean clothes for tomorrow. When would you like to head to the mall?" "About that, I've been thinking. You don't have to join me at the Mall. I called Jason and he's gonna come by and give me a ride. And besides, don't you have the game today?" Jordan crossed his fingers. If only he could convince Angela not to come with him to the mall, then he could shop for the gaff without fear of discovery. Furthermore, the last thing he wanted was for Angela to be hovering over him and helping him pick out more feminine and revealing things! Yes, the fewer people the better! "No, I already gave the tickets to Mr. Johanson. He'll be by any minute to pick them up. And besides, I'm not leaving you the day after you had a fire in your apartment! What kind of friend would I be if I did that?" Of course, Jordan thought. Of course she has to be there. "Are you sure, Angela?" Jordan persisted. "I don't want you to miss Matt's game. After all, their next two games are on the road." "Nonsense. I already texted Matt and explained the situation, and of course he understood. He says 'hi' by the way, and said to say 'thank you' for coming to the party and putting Bella to bed." Well, I guess that's it, Jordan realized. There would be no way to do this trip without Angela being there. But since she was being such a good friend, albeit in Angela's typical over-friendly fashion, Jordan just had to grin and bear it. * * * Anna lay on the bed in her hotel room and buried her face in the pillow. Her cellphone buzzed, but she ignored it. She knew who it was, and Jordan was the last person she wanted to talk to. 'Oh god, I woke up in my boss's bed,' she groaned to herself. Her face flushed with shame. She pulled the covers over her head, wanting to hide from the world. Snatches of the previous night eventually came back to her. She remembered drinking scotch, then being joined by Ray Santos, the bank president. They had chatted. Then the bar closed down and Ray had invited her to his room. And why had she done it? Anna racked her brain for details. Was it because she wanted to teach Jordan a lesson? Was she lonely? Was she just drunk and wanted to drink some more? Try as she might, she just couldn't reconstruct that critical moment when she said 'yes.' Thank god nothing had happened! Anna thought back to her conversation with Ray. 'God he is good looking.' She thought to herself. "Stop that!" Anna scolded herself. But once the image of Ray's naked chest got into her brain, she couldn't seem to not think about it. Unlike most bank presidents, Ray was fit. He most certainly worked out. He was muscled and he had this adorable curly chest hair. Anna slipped a hand down into her panties. Oh god, that felt nice. It had been so long since she had been with Jordan. First, there were all of those early mornings, and then he was in the clinic. It had been a long, long time and she was horny. She was only human, after all! A girl needed some relief now and then. Especially Anna. Sure, she liked to tease Jordan and withhold sex from him, but that's only because when they did finally get together, it would that much more amazing. The image of Ray standing before her in his boxers flashed through her head. And oh... that bulge in his boxers. Anna imagined reaching out and holding it in her hands, stroking it, the bulge growing... "Oh. OH!!!" Anna cried out, clenching up. Anna blanked out for a few seconds as the orgasm flowed through her body. "Fuck," she said, finally coming back to her senses. She hid her face in the pillow again and covered her head with her arms. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. I just masturbated while fantasizing about my boss. Oh God, I am in so much trouble." * * * Jordan was on Angela's balcony, smoking. Angela didn't want them smoking in the apartment (in case her mother came over, Angela didn't want the place to smell of smoke), and so he smoked on the balcony. Jordan was wearing his white, lace floral sundress, the same one he had worn to the clinic. It came down to just above his knees. It had a scoop neckline and a scoop back. Jordan had just washed it and the blue Sundress in one of the apartment washing machines. He had no other choice! There were the only three, daytime, pieces of clothing he could wear in this world. The white sundress (lace and floral) which he had worn to the clinic, the blue sundress (lace and floral) which he had worn home from the clinic, and the white body-con dress which he had worn to the party yesterday. The white floral sundress was a nice dress, but it was now a little too tight with his new breasts. The scoop neckline came down a bit too low and he had to carefully tighten and adjust the bra (Angela loaned him a second, clean bra) so that only his natural cleavage was showing and there was no line from the breast forms. He double checked it again, making a small adjustment. Jordan was not wearing a corset today. Angela had told him not to, since he would be trying on bras and panties at the mall. Jordan smoothed off the dress, running his free hand down the skirts to smooth out the wrinkles. 'I'm wearing a dress,' he thought to himself as he did it, marveling at the feel of the fabric and how it floated over and around his legs. He could feel his bare legs under the skirts and the cool autumn morning air on them. 'Better get used to skirts,' he thought glumly to himself. 'I'll be wearing nothing but skirts for the foreseeable future.' Looking down, Jordan saw his French-tip, manicured nails and his delicate hands holding the cigarette. He took another drag and flicked the ashes off the balcony. He held up the cigarette, noticing the pink lipstick print on it. Something about the lipstick print made him feel funny on the inside - it was an image which he had always felt was so feminine, hot and sexy, a cigarette and a pair of lipstick-painted lips. He took another drag. If RoseMarie was successful at curing his smoking addiction, he might not be doing this much longer. Well, he had only re-started smoking a week ago anyway. Jordan had smoked in college, but then Anna had gotten him to stop after they were married. "I always seem to be quitting smoking for my lover," Jordan muttered to himself, first thinking of Anna, and then... Matt? Shit, did he really just call Matt his lover? Now that was fucked up. Jason had been watching Jordan smoking on the balcony for a few minutes, amazed at the hot babe he saw. Even the way she held the cigarette and put it to her lips was so sexy. And then she would hold the smoke in her lungs and then slowly blow it out through those same, painted, lips. 'You should be a woman,' the thought flickered through Jason's brain, before he could tamp it down. "Hey... Jordan," Jason called out. "Come on up. Door's open," Jordan called down, grateful to see his friend. Seconds later, Jason joined Jordan on the balcony. "Were's Angela?" he asked. "In the shower. Hey, I need to borrow some money." "Sure, how much?" "How much do you have?" "Uh," Jason looked into his wallet. "Sixty?" "Thanks," Jordan said. "I'll need it to buy the gaff." "The gaff?" "Right, the thing I need to keep my stuff tucked up so I don't need to tape it anymore. Remember?" "Oh, right," Jason winced and squeezed his legs together. "So, here," he handed over the money. "Keep it." They stood like that, for a few moments. Jordan took another drag on the cigarette, and then turned his head, blowing the smoke away from Jason. "So, how're you holding up?" Jason indicated Jordan's the apartment across the street. "Oh, okay, I guess," Jordan shrugged. "Anna won't answer my calls. She must be pissed at me. I don't wonder, after all, it was my fault." "Oh, honey, it was just an accident," Jason said, placing a comforting hand at the small of Jordan's back. "Don't be too hard on yourself." "*Please*, don't do that." "Do what?" "Call me 'honey'. Come on, Jason, we've pissed in the woods together. And now you're calling me 'honey'?" "Did I?" Jason thought back to his conversation. "I don't remember. It fits, though. You're a total honey." Jordan thought back to when he and Jason used to go cruising for women and used to call them 'honeys'. Oh, the cruel irony. Jordan finished off his cigarette, tamped it out on the floor, and then kicked the butt into the bushes. "I know," Jordan admitted. "But just for another week, isn't that right? Then I'll get a new job and I'll get a new apartment closer to Anna's bank. Then we'll set everything back to normal, right?" Jason heard the pleading tone in his friend's voice, and just felt horrible inside. The voice itself was so high feminine, that Jason felt awful for his role in it, and how he had told Johanson that Jordan was transgender and wanted to transition. Of course he had never expected that Johanson would go as far as he had, but still... It was time to come clean, Jason decided. Time to come clean and apologize and take my medicine. "Listen, Jordan," Jason started to say. "I need to tell you something-- " "There's my favorite two employees!" It was Ed Johanson. Jordan looked over at Jason and rolled his eyes. "Hey there, Mr. Johanson," Jordan called out. "Jordan? Is that you?" Johanson asked, speaking from the street. "Your voice... it's beautiful!" 'Great, my boss like my voice. Wonderful. That's the last thing I need right now,' Jordan thought to himself. "Do you like it?" Johanson asked. "Oh, yes! I love my voice!" Jordan said, and then froze. Where the fuck did that come from? Johanson had asked if he liked his voice, and Jordan had just blurted out: 'yes, I love it!' like he was on automatic pilot or something. 'I mean, okay, sure, this voice is okay,' he thought to himself. 'Well, okay, maybe I do kind-of like this voice... but wait... isn't this a woman's voice? What is wrong with me that I like this woman's voice? Should I be liking it? Would Anna like this voice?' But, for some reason, the thought 'Yes! Anna would love your voice,' bubbled up from his unconsciousness. 'Something weird is going on inside my head,' Jordan suddenly realized. Was this the work of Dr. Vanessa Crosby? Is this what happened during my session with her? Jordan began to wonder if his sessions with Dr. Crosby were a good idea, and vowed that he wouldn't continue them, no matter how nice and relaxed they made him feel afterwards. "I'm so glad!" Johanson said, looking up meaningfully at Jason, who was staring, astonished, at his friend. 'Maybe I don't need to tell Jordan about the surgery,' Jason wondered. 'I mean, if he... I mean, *she* likes it so much, maybe... it really is okay that... she got the surgery? Maybe Johanson was right about Jordan? Maybe she really wants to be a she? Is that possible??' "Hey girlfriend!" "Rebecca?" Jordan looked down and saw Mr. Johanson's niece getting out of the car. "Uncle Ed called me and told me you were going to the mall, and I was, like, kewl! I hope you don't mind if I tag along? I had such fun last time!" "Sure... Of course, Rebecca!" Jordan's heart sank. Now he was going out with two women who would be fussing over his clothes. And he already knew what types of clothes Rebecca was going to buy him! And he suspected Angela was going to be worse. Probably much worse. Great. "Now I have to somehow keep *both* Angela and Rebecca busy while you do your side trip?" Jason whispered to Jordan. "Sorry! I couldn't think of anything to say to put her off. Please, Jason, I'm counting on you. This is critical." "Okay, okay. I'll do my best." * * * Johanson got the tickets for the game and then drove off. But before he left, he gave Jordan a hug which Jordan thought was a bit too long and bit too affectionate. 'Thank god he's not going with us,' Jordan thought to himself, remembering, vividly, last time, as Johanson held his foot while shoe shopping. Once Angela finished getting ready, everyone piled into Jason's car and he drove them all to the mall. Jordan felt that familiar sense of panic entering the mall as a man dressed as a woman. People milled about, shopping and chatting with each other. Being in crowds still made him nervous. How did he look? Could others tell that he was really a man underneath? But of course, the salon and the clinic had done such a good job that no one would see in Jordan anything except an adorable, expressive, all-American girl. "So, what are we getting?" asked Rebecca as they walked down the main aisle. "Well, we were able to save all of the dresses--" Angela started. "You mean," Rebecca looked at Jordan, "the ones we bought on the last shopping trip?" "Right," answered Angela, for Jordan. "So, we're looking for, mostly, underwear, stockings, and shoes." "And some casual clothes," Jordan was finally able to butt in. "Ooh, look! Camis on sale at Victoria's Secret!" Rebecca dragged Jordan into the store. "You, uh, girls go ahead," said Jason, ignoring the fact that Jordan was looking daggers at him. "I'll be over there." Jordan watch Jason walk across the mall to the electronics store, which was showing some pre-game activities on an array of flat-screen TVs. "Look, Jordan, thongs!" Angela said. "You definitely needs some of these." Jordon rolled his eyes as Angela and Rebecca picked out 'Dream Angels Lace-up Thong Panties', 'Very Sexy Lace V-front Thongs', 'Very Sexy V- String Panties', and all sorts of incredibly small bits of fabric which, for some reason, cost 10-20$ each (or 5 for $25) and had the words Lace, Strappy, Sexy, Perfect, Wrap, V-String, or Bridal (!!) in the name. "Please, girls!" Jordan pleaded. "Is any of this practical?? Can't I just buy something, you know, more comfortable?" "These *are* comfortable," said Rebecca. "I wear them all the time! I'm wearing them now! Would you like something more like these Thong Sport Panties?" Jordan looked at them. They were small, but he did think that they might help control his equipment better than the lacy styles. "Better..." he said. "I think she wants some briefs too," Angela said. "Granny panties?" Rebecca asked, horrified. "Not granny panties," Jordan protested. "Just something, you know, with a bit more coverage." "I got your back, sweetie," Angela said, leading him over to the boy shorts and shorties section. "Ooh, look! These are so sexy! Just wait'll Matt see's you in these!" She held out a pair of white, 'Crochet Lacy Sexy Shorties'. Jordan could see how they would ride up in back exposing the curve of his buns and framing it with delicate, figure-hugging lace. The thought of what Matt would do if he ever saw Jordan wearing them took his breath away. "These are better, right?" Angela prompted. "Yeah, I guess," Jordan gave in. "But maybe I could get a pair of these 'Lounge Shorts' as well?" "Sure, as long as you promise to never wear them out of the house," Rebecca said. "I promise," Jordan said, humbly. "Jordan! It was a joke!" Rebecca gave Jordan a hug. "Honestly, I never saw any other woman so ill-at-ease while shopping. Here, let's get some of these, these, and these," Rebecca picked out a sampling of the boy shorts and shorties - always seeming to go for the sexiest styles. And then she walked over to the 'cheeky' and 'cheekini' section and Jordan just about died with embarrassment. Tini bits of lace designed to ride up in back and hug and outline his backside. "And now let's go look at bras, okay?" Angela suggested. So Jordan got dragged over to the sales lady who pulled out her measuring tape, and after several measurements, declared Jordan to be a "perfectly average 34 DD". "Hey!" Rebecca said. "That's bigger than last time. Way bigger!" Angela laughed, then whispered something into Rebecca's ear. "Ohhhh..." she said, looking at Jordan, eyes wide. "Are you really going to get implants, Jordan?" "No!" said Jordan, a little too quickly. "I'm not getting implants." "But wait a minute," Angela said. "Why else would you be wearing breast forms from a plastic surgeon, if not in preparation for getting breast implants?" What was he supposed to say? Jordan struggled to come up with a good response. The true answer was that he was a man dressed as a woman and he wanted breast forms so that he could pass easier. But there was no way he was going to say that! Jordan felt trapped. He had to say something. "Okay, you're right. I am thinking of getting breast implants," he lied. "But I haven't made a final decision. And I don't know what size, yet. I think these are too big. I'm thinking I should go down to a 'D'." "Oh, definitely not!" said the Victoria's Secret saleslady who was listening in. "Look at me! I just got my own implants. They're DD, it's what my boyfriend encouraged me to get, and now that I have them - they're just perfect!" She showed off her chest, swiveling from side to side. "Would you like to feel them?" she asked Jordan. "No! Ah... thanks, but no." "And be sure to get Dr. Green at The Clinic to do them. He's AMAZING. His work is so good. My recovery time was so fast and you can't see the scars at all. And they're just perfect for my body." "Dr. Green is Jordan's doctor too!" Angela exclaimed, delighted. "Oh, that's wonderful!" the saleslady reached out and placed a comforting hand on Jordan's forearm. "Honey," she said, "you just do whatever he tells you to do. He's an artist, and you'll look just fabulous when he's through with you." "Thanks," Jordan said, a quaver in his voice. This is just great, he thought to himself. Thank goodness Anna explained to the doctor that I only wanted breast forms, not implants! Otherwise I might be in real trouble! "Now, let's go get you some super sexy bras to wear!" The three ladies dragged Jordan through the bra section, loading him up with all sorts of bras. Including 'Perfect Coverage' and 'Perfect Shape' bras, 'Sexy Tee' bras, bras with lace, 'plunge' and 'demi' bras, lacy cropped bustier, razorback bras, balconette bras, some neon- colored, dimpled sport bras, and even some Bombshell 'push up' bras. "But why would I need 'push-up' bras?" Jordan asked, feeling like things were veering wildly out of control. "Mine are already so large!" "Large, yes, but not 'bombshell large'!" Rebecca giggled. And so Jordan took his armfuls of clothes to the changing room where he tried everything on (over his regular underwear, of course) to see what to take. And, of course Rebecca and Angela insisted he come out of the changing room to show off each and every item. Since everyone now knew he was wearing breast forms (and since the forms were still glued on), Jordan felt safe modeling the bras to them, and the sales lady as well. If only they kept their hands to themselves! For each item Jordan modeled, the ladies would ooh and ahh and tug and adjust and smooth. They would squeeze and manipulate his breasts until everything was sitting 'just right' and then they would debate about which one the supposed men in his life would like more. "Maybe we should get Jason and ask his opinion?" Angela suggested. "No!" Jordan shouted, terrified, causing them all to break into giggles. "And please, does everything I wear have to be so lacy and sexy?" Jordan complained, as Angela put another push-up lacy bra into the 'keep' pile. "Can't I please have *some* comfortable, practical bras to wear? Please?" "Okay, fine," Rebecca said, with a good-natured rolling of her eyes. She made a couple of minor adjustments, moving one or two bras between the piles. "There!" Finally, they were done, and Jordan took his purchases to the counter. 'Oh my god,' he realized, 'these bras are expensive!' Each bra was anywhere from 40 to 60 dollars each. And the panties were $10-15 and someone had even slipped in a couple of baby-doll nightgowns and another neon-pink nightshirt which said "Angel" across the chest. The total was over $700. Jordan nearly fainted. Seven Hundred Dollars for underwear??? The last time he had bought men's underwear it was $25 for six briefs. "I'm sorry, but this is just too expensive," Jordan said. "We... we need to go someplace cheaper. I don't have any money, remember?" Jordan thought about the 60 dollars he had in his purse. But he had to save that for the gaff! He couldn't spend it all on panties and bras from Victoria's Secret, not matter how much he might want to. "No credit cards or checks or anything. Please, can't we just go to... I don't know... the drug store and get some emergency underwear until I can afford to buy my own things?" "The drug store??" The ladies said in unison, horrified. "Jordan, it's okay!" Rebecca assured him. She opened her purse and whipped out a credit card. She handed it to the sales lady who swiped it before Jordan could object. "Rebecca!" Jordan said, trying to stop the transaction. "You can't possibly have this amount of money! Please, no." "It's not my money, silly. It's Uncle Ed's credit card. He gave it to me and told me that this was an emergency, and that I should buy anything for you that you wanted. Up to two thousand dollars." 'Two thousand dollars?' the sales lady thought to herself, impressed. She surreptitiously rang up a long nightgown and one of the bra's that had been put aside and added them to the bag. "Here you go!" The saleslady gave the bill to Rebecca who signed it with a flair. "I'm an authorized user," Rebecca explained. "Uncle Ed called it in just this morning and explained that it was an emergency." "Uncle Ed. You mean... Ed Johanson. Mr. Johanson, my boss??" Jordan said, finally putting two and two together. "Are you kidding me?" "Of course, silly! He's the only uncle that I have." "That's just wonderful!" Angela said. "I love how the Johanson family rallies to support their employees in need. Don't you agree, Jordan?" But all Jordan could think was, 'My boss just paid for my underwear.' Jordan accepted the bags from the sales lady and they left the store. 'I will be wearing sexy panties and bras which Ed Johanson bought for me,' Jordan realized. 'Ed Johanson... my boss. Oh god, no.' Somehow, even though he wasn't in the mall with them, Mr. Johanson was still there in spirit. * * * By this time the game was well underway. "Score?" Angela asked. "14-3, Cardinals," Jason grinned. "Matt's thrown two touchdowns and it's still the first quarter. Can you believe it! They could have run the second one in, but went for the pass instead. He's just on fire today!" "Oh God No!!!" Jordan yelled inside his head, trying to force his will through the television screen. How about some running plays instead? Does he always have to throw the ball? "Sweet!" Angela said, grinning at Jordan. "He's on pace to throw, what? *Eight* touchdowns for the game?" "I know!" Jason said, completely missing Angela's meaningful comment. "Crazy, isn't it? That would break the NFL record! Of course, he's got a long ways to go, so, you know..." "But as they say, on any given Sunday..." Angela said with a smile, knowing that "anything" was possible. Next, Jordan insisted they go to the department store where he purchased a few simpler (and cheaper!) bras and panties. Rebecca and Angela both sighed and complained, but eventually they joined in to help out. Now at least, Jordan had some more basic items which would be more comfortable for work. He was even able to buy a soft, flannel nightgown. 'Maybe I can come back later and return the Victoria's Secret items,' Jordan thought to himself. Jordan looked over at the shapewear section. "I need some of these," he said out loud, without thinking. "Ooh, Spanx! Good idea!" Angela said. "They really help smooth things out." And so, after some discussion, Jordan ended up with a couple of pairs of 'firm control shorts' and 'Thinstincts Firm Control High-Waist Shaper' a 'racer tank' and a 'Boostie-Yay!' bodysuit. 'Wow, the Spanx was expensive.' Jordan hadn't realized that it would be that much. All told, it was another $450 at the department store. Rebecca paid again with Ed Johanson's credit card. Jordan now owed over a thousand dollars to his boss in women's lingerie. He couldn't believe it. He was sinking deeper and deeper. How was he going to pay for all of this? And how long would it take? * * * "Are we done now?" Jordan asked, plaintively. "No, we need shoes," Angela said. They gave most of their bags to Jason, who groaned. "I'm going to check out the game," Jason said. Jordan looked at him annoyed. How was he going to escape and get to the erotic store which sold the gaffs if Jason was always leaving to go watch the game? "No problem," Angela said. "We'll be at the shoe store, over there. We'll come join you when we're done." And so they went to the shoe store and got Jordan a few pairs of flats (for work) and heels (for party), plus some stockings and pantyhose. "Jordan, remember?" Rebecca said. "This is where Uncle Ed helped measure your feet for shoes the last time." Angela looked curiously at Jordan who just shrugged. 'So Ed Johanson has a thing for Jordan?' Angela realized. 'Okay, now that's interesting...' They spent some time debating the different styles and heel heights. Jordan was constantly trying for lower heels but kept getting overruled by Rebecca and Angela. He ended up with three pairs and nothing lower than 3 inches. He was able to get a pair of pink Nike's, however. Not appropriate for work, of course, but at least he could go out without having to have heels all the time. "I don't know why *anyone* would wear those," Rebecca said, pointing to the pantyhose as the shoe purchases were tallied (another 390 dollars!) and charged (yet again) to Ed Johanson's credit card. "It's cold in the office," Angela explained. "I wear them just because the air-conditioning is always set so high." "Well, okay, that makes sense," Rebecca agreed. The three of them left the store and went to find Jason. "Hey Jason," Angela called out. They found Jason at the bar of a mall restaurant. "What's the score?" "Oh my god, you won't believe it! Cowboys lost a cornerback, might be an ACL injury, and Coleman now has thrown five touchdowns in just the first half! It's absolutely insane! It's 35-10, Cardinals." Oh no, no no! Jordan looked up at the Matt Coleman highlights reel, horrified. This can't be happening! "My god, what happened to Cowboys defense?" Jordan gasped. "Aren't they number three in least yards allowed?" "Not anymore!" Jason laughed. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jordan thought, not believing his luck. No one had *ever* thrown eight touchdowns before, but now here he was, the amazing Matt Coleman, and he was already well over half way there! At this pace he'd be able to throw 10 touchdowns before the game was over! 'Am I going to have to date Matt Coleman?' Jordan thought to himself, feeling funny. Something about that possibility, a real possibility now, made him quiver inside. Goosebumps broke out on his arms and he had to take a couple of deep breaths to settle his nerves. "Rebecca?" A young woman came over. She had long-ish dirty blonde hair, tied up in a ponytail and was clearly a classmate of Rebecca's. "Janice!" The two hugged. "Come with us!" the young lady said, indicating a clutch of other girls hanging off to one side. "We're going to get our nails done at 'Polish me Pretty'." "Awesome!" Rebecca turned to Jordan and Angela. "Let's all go!" "You go ahead," said Angela. "I just had mine done the day before yesterday at the clinic. So I'm good for now." Jordan, thinking quickly, saw an opening. "I'll go," Jordan said, looked at his nails. "I was thinking I might like something more fun." Jordan looked at Jason, raised his eyebrows and looked meaningfully at Angela. "Oh!" Jason said, finally getting the hint. "Oh, hey, Angela, I was wondering... uh... if maybe you could help me... umm... pick something nice out for Anna?" Not that! Jordan looked daggers at Jason, but Jason just looked back and shrugged his shoulders as if to say, 'hey, it's the best I could come up with.' "Oh, Jason! You are such a sweetie. Of course I'll help you buy something for your honeypie! What were you thinking? Jewelry? Lingerie? Should we go back to Victoria's Secret?" she said, with a suggestive voice. Rebecca just rolled her eyes. "Jordan, let's go," she said. "Let the old people buy gifts for each other." "Hey!" said Jason, incensed. "We're not old!" But the girls just laughed and ran off to the nail salon, with Jordan trailing behind. * * * "Hey, uh, girls, I don't think I'll get my nails done after all," Jordan said. "Aww, Jordan!" Rebecca whined. "No, I, uh, realized that Angela was right. I just got my nails done," Jordan showed them his elegant French nails with the white tips, "and I think I'd like to keep them for a while. So, uh, I think I'll head back and find Angela and Jason." "Well, okay. Hey, do you mind if we use Uncle Ed's credit card to pay for it? You'd just need to tell him that you'd agreed to it. If you told him, I'm sure he'd be okay with it!" "Uh, sure. I'll tell him. You girls have fun!" Jordan quickly walked away as the giggling girls entered the salon. Fortunately, the nail salon was on the side of the mall with the store that sold the gaffs that Jordan was looking for. Jordan pushed through the mall doors and went to cross the street. There it was, "Fascinations: Intimate Gifts and Clothing". "I really, *really* hope no one I know sees me," Jordan muttered, as he trotted across the street to the store. * * * Angela was worried about Jordan. "Hey Jason," she said, "I'm sorry, but I think I'm going to, uh, go get my nails done too. Okay? You just go talk to Sally, at Victoria's Secret, and she'll set you up with something for Anna. She's awesome." "No! Angela," Jason tried to stall her. "I really, *really* need to get something for Anna. And I really need your help. Please?" "I'm sorry, Jason, but Jordan comes first. I'd like to keep her company while we get our nails done." And before Jason could object, Angela was off. She quickly walked through the mall, not wanting for Jordan to be alone for too long. After all, Rebecca might talk him into something weird and much too young. But just as Angela reached 'Polish Me Pretty,' she looked over and there was Jordan! Leaving the mall! "Jordan!" Angela called out, but Jordan was already through the doors and hadn't heard her. To Angela, Jordan looked like she was a woman on a mission. Angela followed Jason through the mall doors. As she stepped out onto the sidewalk, she looked around for Jordan. Where was Jordan? But then, Angela saw Jordan entering the store across the street. "Fascinations!" she exclaimed, grinning with delight. "Oh, Jordan, honey! Oh, you *so* need Angela's help with this!" Angela walked to the corner and pressed the button for the crosswalk. * * * "Excellent," Jordan said, under his breath. He found exactly what he needed almost right away. "Ultimate Hiding Gaff, Two Pack". He got two packs with two pairs each, on sale. Perfect. Jordan quickly paid for them with his cash from Jason, glancing left and right. The overly tattooed and pierced goth girl behind the counter efficiently rang him up and took his cash. Everything had gone so quickly that he was thinking he would be able to get back and maybe get his nails done with Rebecca after all. Jordan stuffed the gaff into his Victoria's Secret bag. "Ding!" The front door opened and Jordon looked over. It was Angela!! How the hell did she get here?? Jordan panicked and retreated back into the store, hoping that Angela would do a quick survey and then leave again. He stopped in front of a display by the back wall, and then turned his head to see where Angela had gotten to. "Jordan!" "Eeep!!" Jordan, startled, stumbled in fright, falling. The contents of the Victoria's Secret bag spilled out onto the floor. "Angela!" he said, frantically, scooping the contents back into the bag. Had she seen the gaffs? "Oh, Jordan, I'm sorry I scared you! But you don't need to be afraid of me." "I don't?" Jordan squeaked, shaking. "No! I know what you're here for. And I *perfectly* understand." "You know what I'm here for?" Jordan asked. Why was it, whenever he was caught red handed, all Jordan could think of to do was to stupidly repeat whatever the other person said? As if he didn't look guilty enough! "Of *course* I understand," Angela said, pulling Jordan into a hug. "And I'll let you in on a little secret. I use one too." "You do??" Jordan's eyes went wide. "Really?" "Of course! So here, let me help you choose!" Angela turned to the wall display. Jordan turned to follow her eyes and finally realized what she was talking about. They were standing in front of a wall full of dildos and vibrators. "This one is my favorite," Angela said, pointing to a pink rubber penis. "It's the 'Shower Super Stud'. Good clean fun! But I've also got, let's see, this one," she pointed to a large-ish hard plastic purple one, "and something like this," Angela pointed to a large, soft- rubber, realistic dildo. "Angela!" Jordan blushed, looking away. 'I cannot believe I am discussing vibrators with Angela in an adult toy store!' Could his life get any more embarrassing? "Sometimes, you just really need to be filled up, you know what I mean?" Angela said, holding Jordan around the waist and giving him a quick squeeze. "What's your favorite?" "I... uh..." Jordan looked around. 'Did I ever, in a million years, think that I would be choosing vibrators with another woman? Dressed as a woman??' he wondered to himself. 'In an erotic store?' "That one," he indicated. It was small and looked harmless enough. It was a "Classic Chic Mini Power Wand", in metallic pink. "Nice, and small enough to keep in your purse, in case you need a quick pick-me-up at work!" "I would never!" Jordan said, honestly shocked. "Of course not!" Angela said. "Neither would I... *boss*," she grinned, winking at Jordan, making it obvious that that was *exactly* what she had done. "Okay, so let's get that one, and then I think you need something, shall we say, bigger and, uh more realistic?" Angela picked out a realistic looking one with skin tones and actual testicles. "And look, it's got a remote control!" she said, excited. "Thanks, Angela," Jordan's face was bright, bright red. He felt the hair follicles on his scalp sweating. "And..." Angela hesitated. "Have you ever..." she pointed to a soft, thin, light pink, clear plastic dildo. At first Jordan couldn't understand what she was talking about. It was just another dildo, right? Just a bit thinner than the others. Then he read the text. *Crystal Jellies Anal Starter* "No," Jordan said, horrified. There was NO WAY he was going to get that! "No!" he repeated, in a firm, terse, hushed voice. "I know you'll like it!" Angela said, in her sing-song voice. "I'm getting it anyway. You don't have to use it if you don't want to. Oh, and we'll need some lube! And batteries!" "Can we please go now?" Jordan asked, staring at the ground, mortified. Why is there never an earthquake to swallow you up when you need one? he wondered. "Honey, please, it's nothing to be ashamed of," Angela said, pulling Jordan into a warm hug and giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Us girls, we all have our needs, don't we? I bet Anna has a little helper in her nightstand drawer too, doesn't she?" "Yes," Jordan admitted. Angela was perfectly correct. He had seen it in Anna's nightstand about a year ago. They had never talked about it, but Jordan had assumed that she used it when he was away on business. Maybe she had used it more than he thought? He wondered. Maybe all women used them more than he thought? "See?" Angela said. "So now, is there anything else you need? Some Ben Wah balls? A Kegel kit? A butterfly?" "No!! Please, Angela, this is more than enough." "Okay, bestie!" The goth girl smirked at them as Angela paid for the dildos and they both left the store. "Enjoy your purchases!" the goth girl said, her voice suggestive and teasing, as they left together. * * * "Well, they're the number 3 defense for a reason," Matt Coleman said. Angela and Jordan were finally back home, watching the end-game interviews on TV. They both were drinking beers. Jordan had changed into his brand-new, pink "I'm an Angel!" Victoria's Secret night shirt. Matt looked exhausted and beat, but defiant. The Cardinals had lost, 37-35, on a game-ending field goal by the Cowboys. Matt Coleman and the Cardinals offense had been shut down after the second half, not scoring at all. A special teams error and a fumble had led to 14 unearned points, and the Cowboys' quarterback and lead running back had done the rest. "Matt, you were on a pace to break the single game passing record after that first half. What were you thinking when you entered the field after half-time?" "Not about the record, I can tell you that," Matt said. "I mean, sure, it would have been nice to throw eight touch downs," Matt looked directly at the camera, "really nice," he said smiling through the TV camera. Jordan looked at Matt on the TV. 'It's like he's talking directly to me,' Jordan realized. "But, honestly, once the second half started, I just focus on making plays. That's all. All that other stuff, you don't think about that during the heat of battle. I give credit to the Cowboys, they made adjustments and we didn't. You can bet that won't happen again. Thank you." "Well," Angela said, philosophically, as she turned off the TV. "I know Matt was worried about this game. Actually, 35 points is about double what he had predicted, given the Cowboys defense. It's a shame that Emmitt got injured." "Emmitt? Injured?" Jordan looked at Angela, surprised. Emmitt was the nice offensive lineman that taught him about defensive lineups and gap defense at the party. Was that just yesterday? Man, it seemed like forever ago. "Yeah, it happened on the opening drive of the second half. But thankfully, it's just an ankle sprain. The MRI came up negative. He should be back next week." "Oh, thank goodness." Jordan didn't want Matt to throw eight touchdown passes, but he also didn't want Emmitt to be hurt. He liked Emmitt. And his wife Chantel wasn't so b