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Type Cast II by mtoom Gauzy white drapes weakly filtered the morning light warming Michael's face. He turned away, hoping to drift back into his dream, but half-opened eyes revealed something that gave him the vague feeling that doing so might not be such a good idea. That dresser ... new. He moved his eyes. The mirror. The wall color and even the wall, for that matter. Confusion. His mind rummaged through his memories. Conference ... airport ... flight ... woman ... //Arnele//. Memories of last night poured into his consciousness. Michael suddenly found himself very much awake. He raised up onto his elbows and saw his open suitcase atop a bench at the foot of his now not surprisingly unfamiliar bed. Michael snapped off the thick blanket covering him and crawled to his carryall. Something fresh, he thought, deciding on unworn sweat pants and a polo shirt. He stood and dressed quickly. Then he paused, aware for the first time of music coming faintly from the other side of the bedroom door. He stepped towards the sound. Michael hesitated before turning the door knob, anticipating what may lay beyond. What possibilities. A house built on the side of a mountain, owned by an enigmatic, beautiful young woman. Woman? the questioning part of his mind whispered with a smirk. Woman, he answered. At least that's how he needed to see her. You're just rationalizing, the snide part offered, not bothering to keep its voice down. Everyone shut up, he thought. //You're making me crazy//. A night's sleep had given him no greater understanding as to why he felt as he did, but his undeniable attraction to Arnele made it easier to continue thinking of her as a her. Not brilliant logic, he admitted, but it'll do. The snide part snickered. //Crazy//. He pulled open the door and found himself at one end of the home's long hallway. Finally, he sighed. Something I recognize. The music came from the far end, so in that direction he stepped. When one side of the hallway opened onto the living room, Michael paused. Natural light filled the wide space, revealing details hidden within last night's subdued firelight. Michael's eyes gravitated to the room's floor-to-ceiling windows. The storm had swept the air clean, making the mountains to the east crisp and the buildings of downtown close. Scudding clouds came between Arnele's house and the city ... Oh, my word, Michael gulped. She had built her house off a //cliff//! An escarpment lined the western edge of the city and with profound unease Michael came to the conclusion that it was off this that Arnele's house clung. He shook his head and looked down at his feet, wondering how thick the flooring had to be to keep him from falling God knows how far. After a time, and unhappily, he resigned his well-being to whatever imaginative engineering and brute construction kept the building from tumbling down onto the trees and rock outcroppings below. Michael continued across the length of the living room, coming to a compact, open kitchen to the left and dining area to the right. The latter featured the same enormous windows found in the living room, each wordlessly taking full measure of the view. He smelled coffee. Michael's eyes found a carafe on the counter just inside the kitchen, accompanied by containers of cream, sugar, and honey. A neatly printed note tilted against a large white mug read //Help yourself!// The handwriting looked unbothered and feminine. The music re-focused him. Its source lay further down the hallway. Say good morning first, he figured. Only good manners. The music tumbled from the next door to the right. It sounded like one of the bands his daughter liked. He stepped toward the opening and peered in. A square-shaped exercise room accommodated fitness equipment and various sized dumbbells, along with a small area covered with a thick mat. For stretching, Michael guessed. Arnele, dressed in close-fitting light pink sweat pants and a white, waist-length tank top, rode atop a stationary bicycle, facing a single pane of the same over-sized windows that apparently stretched along the length of the home's valley side. Pulled back into a thick ponytail, her auburn curls swayed back and forth as she pedaled. Michael watched the rolling movements of her hips and buttocks, taken by her lithe, muscular movements. She, all the various members of his mind agreed, was as far from a man as any guy could possibly be. Clearing his throat, which he found embarrassingly dry, Michael said. "Good morning." Arnele turned her head and smiled. "And good morning to you!" Michael felt his heart skip. Oh, brother. "I hope you saw the coffee," Arnele said, re-positioning herself on the bicycle's seat. "Another ten minutes here followed by a shower and I'm treating myself to a second cup." Michael stepped through the door. "I wanted to say hi first." "Well, mi casa and all that. Didn't you see the note?" She adjusted a knob on a panel in front of her. The music, coming from sources Michael could not identify, softened. She slowed her pace. "Choose something and get sweaty. I'd rather not shower alone." ?Wait, what? Michael's mind recoiled. Shower? My God, she's blunt. Then, again, he reminded himself, isn't that how last night became last night? Michael slipped off his sandals and stepped onto the gripped footpads of the elliptical trainer next to Arnele's bike. Within a couple of revolutions he had the machine up to speed, its programming coming to life on a screen in front of him. ?"I've been thinking about you," Arnele said, looking down on the city below. "Oh?" Michael replied. ? "Yep." Arnele continued. "I've a favor or three to ask." Now what? Michael thought. More surprises. He feigned concentration on his elliptical's digital display. "I can see how interested you are," Arnele commented wryly. Michael looked at her. "I'm listening," he responded defensively. "Uh-huh. Well, then, here's the deal. I need to make some charitable donations and thought it might be better if someone other than myself dropped off the checks." "Why don't you send them electronically? The Internet and all that, right?" Arnele scrunched her nose. "Riiight. Let's just say I'm not in a trusting mood at the moment. Hand delivery is best." She spun a dial on her bicycle and began pedaling harder. Michael exhaled purposefully. "This is going to be another one of those I-won't-know-what's-going-on-for-awhile kind of things, isn't it?" Arnele looked at him and laughed, her eyes loudest. "Oh, no! For all the risk I'm asking, it's best you know everything." A moment of silence past between them, save the music as counterpoint to the squeaks and rubs of the exercise machines. Michael, that moment spent suppressing a chill that insisted on crawling up his spine, managed in an impressively calm way, "Risk?" "Risk," Arnele confirmed. "But not now and //certainly// not before we've cleaned up and ate something. Let's see what local news we missed while we were away." A TV panel came to life in front of them. Michael hadn't noticed it before. How could he have, embedded as it was in a previously transparent portion of the window pane? Arnele pushed a button and the voice of one of the news personalities came on, the music gradually fading away. "Why do local morning news anchors have to be so goddamn perky?" Arnele sneered. "I want my news straight." Michael thought of a response, but decided to keep the answer to himself. It hadn't seemed a question. They listened wordlessly before coverage turned to the city's longtime effort at revitalizing its riverfront. Arnele slowed her pedaling and turned up the sound. "... with final approval expected late this week. Mayor Leschner spoke at the meeting, reminding the audience of the project's value. 'Businesses and companies will no longer move away from our city. Instead, they'll choose to //stay// and contribute to our economic present and future for many years to come.'" The accompanying images showed the mayor, surrounded by community and business leaders, next to a scale model of the massive project. The newscasters returned to the screen. "Only a few legal hurdles remain before construction begins, which backers say could be as soon as this spring. Now let's check on your morning commute ..." Michael looked over at Arnele. She appeared focused on something out the window, far beyond the television. He remained quiet, honoring her privacy. They pedaled in silence as the TV droned on, its volume reduced by Arnele after she returned from wherever it was she had gone. She allowed her exercise bike to spin itself to a stop. Swinging a leg over, she unmounted and reached over to feel Michael's now-glistening neck. "Yeah, that'll do. Come on. Just a quick rinse. I'll try to be good." She turned and left the room, going opposite the way Michael had come. Part of him didn't want to follow. The husband part, he figured. But the rest of him felt different. In fact, the rest of him really liked everything about following her. It wasn't a physical thing, though Arnele's undeniably gorgeous. There was more to it than that. She's different. And Michael had been craving different from his increasingly routine life. That it came in the form of someone like Arnele made it all the better. Smart choice or not, he followed. Michael entered what was obviously Arnele's bedroom. It smelled like her. Sunlight poured through windows that formed the far corner. The furnishings addressed their obvious function with just enough style to treat the eye. From a connecting room he heard a shower start. He approached the open doorway, paused, then stepped in. Arnele was already half undressed. Michael found himself turning away ... bashfully? He wondered. Not completely convinced he chose correctly, Michael slowly took off his shirt, then, hesitantly, his sweat pants. Maybe this //was// unwise. Arnele interrupted his self-analysis with a hug from behind. He could feel her nakedness against him. She pressed her face between his shoulders, withdrawing with a kiss. "Well, I tried being good. See you inside," she purred. Michael heard the wink in her voice. He folded his clothes and laid them neatly on the sink top. There's no rush to get into the shower, muchacho, Michael told himself. He could hear Arnele humming, a siren. After stalling perhaps too long, he stepped up to the shower curtain and pulled it aside. Arnele stood under a warm stream of water, her auburn curls flat and clinging to her shoulders. "Let me turn on the other jet." She rotated a handle and warm water sprayed down from the opposite end of the stall. Michael tested the water, then entered the stone-lined enclosure. "Wash my back?" Arnele asked. In front of her she held a bar of soap atop an upturned palm. She turned away as Michael took it, though not completely certain he should have. He mechanically soaped up his hands, set the soap down on a shelf crowded with hair products, and began lathering Arnele's shoulders. "Mmmm," she sighed. "Just like the massage last night." Michael shifted uncomfortably. Small circular efforts brought Michael's hands down to her lower back. He gripped her hips and with his thumbs kneaded the muscles in the small of her back. "You've a second calling, you know." Arnele's voice sounded rich with contentment. She then turned quickly around. Michael, his focus on her hips, now found himself staring at Arnele's erect penis. He pulled his hands away, with surprise as much as with embarrassment, realizing she could now see //his// erection, as well. Michael lifted his eyes, pausing at Arnele's breasts, nipples erect, heaving with each slow, deep breath. He continued to her face. She beamed brightly. "Penny for your thoughts?" Michael blushed instantly. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the bar of soap and handed it to Arnele. "My turn?" he asked meekly, turning away from her with some relief. Arnele took the soap and rubbed it onto Michael's shoulders. She moved between his shoulder blades where her kiss still lingered and continued slowly down to his lower back, pressing the bar firmly as she went. She then rotated the soap cake vertically and began moving it up and down between his buttocks. "Okay, that's beyond my comfort zone. I can manage there," Michael announced. Arnele stepped against him, the soap lubricating their contact. "Sorry," she whispered, pushing her breasts into his back, "I figured ..." She ran her hand down the slippery crack of Michael's butt. When her fingertips passed over his anal sphincter, Michael involuntarily gasped. A wave of warmth passed through him. "... I just know how it makes //me// feel." Arnele withdrew her hand and backed into the flow of her shower head. Michael turned and watched as she let the water rinse the suds from her body. Reaching up with both hands, she worked her fingers through her hair. Eyes closed, she smiled. Michael thought her stunning, even with a penis protruding from where it should not have been. "I'm done," Arnele stated in a voice filled with both finality and what Michael might have taken for regret. She turned off her water's flow. "I'll get us towels." She stepped passed Michael, her hand grazing his thigh as she passed. Michael shook his head disbelievingly after she closed the drape behind her. "Damn," he said softly. Selecting the most normal sounding shampoo he could find amongst the several bottles available, Michael washed his hair. After rinsing and turning off the water, he found a towel extended into the shower by an unseen Arnele. "Thanks," he said, taking it while opening the curtain. Arnele stood just beyond, running a brush through her curls. No longer heavy with water, they recoiled tighter and tighter with each stroke. "Hair is a big pain in the butt," she grumbled. "The price of perfection, though." A light colored towel clung tight around her. Thank you for that, Michael breathed silently. He bunched his in front of himself, mostly to cover his returning erection. "I think I'll give you some time alone with that little guy," Arnele smirked. "Go change and I'll meet you in the kitchen." Michael wrapped the towel around his waist and excused himself, slipping around Arnele without bothering to dry his hair. The sooner he left, Michael reasoned. He walked the length of the house back to his room. After applying fresh antiperspirant, he dried his hair and combed it straight back in the hopes that it would find its natural part and dry nonchalantly. He looked in the mirror opposite the foot of the bed, studying the results. Trying to impress? he asked himself. He decided the answer might actually be yes. He chose a pair of slacks and a short-sleeve button up, thankful he still had something both clean and appropriate. Once dressed, he walked barefoot back to the kitchen. Arnele greeted him with a cup of coffee. He allowed his periphery to absorb her while trying to appear focused on the steaming mug. The muted colors of her blouse and shorts complemented her red curls, now tamed in a bouncy, loose pony tail. She understood fashion and used it well. "I could whip up something hot if you're in the mood," Arnele offered. Michael roused from his reverie and self-consciously looked about the neat kitchen before deciding to settle into one of the chairs accompanying a small rectangular table next to him. He felt like one of the students he'd catch daydreaming in class. "I don't want to be a bother, so toast and maybe some fruit would do," he responded, regaining his footing. "Wouldn't say no to jam." He hoped he sounded glib. "That's easy," Arnele smiled, twirling with a little hop towards the refrigerator. Her thick pony tail followed a half-second later. "Only week-old fruit," she announced, pulling wide the refrigerator door. She bent to study the contents. "Unless you want to go outside and get muddy harvesting some oranges." Michael's eyes dropped to Arnele's rounded bottom and the gap just below. He shook his head. No masculine bulge. No hint of //anything//. That's just not fair. She took out a loaf of bread and a jar. For a split second Michael flashed to an image of Arnele in a modest house dress covered by a frilled apron, preparing a batch of preserves. With a mental head shake he returned to see Arnele place two slices of bread into the toaster. She raised on her toes to reach for a plate. Doing so exaggerated her rump, allowing Michael a good second look. Where's her penis? he wondered. //Her// penis. How incongruent. It's been a strange couple of days. "When's the wifey come home?" The question caught Michael unprepared. "Um," he stumbled, "ah ... Saturday. My daughter might stay an extra day." To help recover his composure, Michael took a slow, deliberate draw from his coffee cup. "And you can call my wife Beth." "By Friday's plenty of time for my plan to unfold. My prey's predictable." She sipped from her cup as she leaned against the counter. "Okay," Michael began, "what's the story?" Arnele smiled knowingly. "That big ol' riverfront renewal project? //Everyone's// in on it. And that's where I get them. That's where I'll make them pay." Michael fingered the cup's handle. "And what's the riverfront project have to do with you?" Arnele harshly stared back. "What did I say now?" "Michael," she began, ""the riverfront isn't the hell scape that asshole in the news report wants us to believe. It's affordable housing for the working poor who can actually walk to their jobs. And it's home to a growing non-profit community. It's the last affordable property in town." Arnele lowered her voice, adding with steely finality, "And it's where I grew up." Michael took a moment to sip his coffee and think before responding. "So stop this project and you save the day? Someone else is just going to come along ..." "Not before I do. I know where to make the investments. The people who can best rebuild the riverfront are already there. They've begged the government for help. They've begged the business community. But there's no money in it, Michael. The people I want to stop don't see the potential of any idea that won't make them rich." "Stopping ambition like that can't be easy, Arnele." Michael looked down at his hands. "It isn't," he heard her respond coldly. The assuredness of Arnele's words could not be mistaken. Michael looked up. "I'm after big game, Michael. Three fat, unsuspecting trophies. And don't think they won't deserve it. The list of crimes committed to get them where they are today would sicken you." Arnele's eyes now seemed to blaze. "Unless someone stops them, they'll get their way." "And that someone is you." The fire faded. Her face softened. Arnele looked tiny. She dropped her eyelashes downward, then, taking a step towards Michael, fluttered them back up. "I hoped you'd say, 'And that someone is //us//.'" This was all getting weird again and Michael wanted to tell her so, but Arnele wasn't finished, taking another step towards him before retrieving her coffee cup. "In a life previous to this one, I saw it all. Well ...." She looked out the window into her front yard, "saw most of it, anyways." Arnele looked back at Michael. "Now I know everything." She moved a chair next to him and placed her coffee cup down. "A lot of gaps needed filling in, but that's criminal conspiracy for you. I knew how the money flowed, so it wasn't difficult figuring out the missing parts, and I can assure you, I did." She turned to Michael. "So I stole their money. Gobs of it. Like, really, a whole lot." Arnele smiled serenely. "//God//, how they want it back." Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What they don't know," Arnele sighed contently, "is that I'm not holed up in one of the less developed parts of Asia or buying obscurity in that one South American country who's name you can never remember. I'm sitting right here, high above them all in my own little house, watching and waiting for the right moment, which, as you might have guessed, has finally arrived." "Arnele," Michael said, shaking his head, "I don't think I'm your man for this." "You would be if you understood the true evil we could chase from the world, Michael." She scooted close and nuzzled his shoulder. Looking up into his eyes, she said in a husky voice, "I could use my feminine wiles to convince you." Her breath smelled like ... coffee-scented flowers. Damn it, how? She squeezed his arm while slowly batting her lashes. Michael didn't know where to run. "That's a joke, son," Arnele explained, her face melting into a smile. "Hardy har har," Michael winced. "You got to stop doing stuff like that." "But that's my plan, Michael. Use this." She presented herself to him, sitting up straight. "Use Arnele to trap them. I'm the bait." The toast popped up. Both stared intently at one another for a few seconds. Arnele rose, but Michael signaled her to relax and got up instead. He put the toast on the small plate and brought it back to the table with what he was happy to see was a quality jam. Arnele waited for him to sit before continuing. "The money we're talking about is crime boss kind of money. All supplied by the state's biggest crook, John Rodell." Arnele tittered. "What's happened to organized crime? In the screenplay we'll change the name to something Italian." Michael looked at her with mock scorn as he slathered jam onto the toast. "Now, Rodell's been meeting with a consultant specializing in big inner-city renewal projects. Or so he thinks. Regardless, she's been more than accommodating when it comes to his suggestions for contractors and the like. It helps that she's bright and doesn't hurt that she's beautiful. And suggestive in her own right." Arnele continued after another sip of coffee. "Nothing big happens in this state without attracting scavengers hungry for easy pickings. Congresswoman Kathy Duncan's one of them. She works the federal angle like no one's business, and, believe me, her career benefits when things go well." Another sip. "But a certain offshore bank account does even better." A big smile spread across Arnele's face, not directed at Michael, but past his shoulder. She drew out the silence before speaking again. "She likes girls. Not that there's anything wrong with that." She returned her attention to Michael and sighed. "I suppose the hard part about being a lesbian is telling the husband and kids." Arnele took a satisfied sip of her coffee. "Oh, she works hard resisting temptation." She gave Michael the once over. "Not like some people." Arnele took another sip of coffee while shaking her head reproachfully. "The Representative has recently gotten to know a big-time political donor with vulnerabilities. Our conservative, family values-spewing congresswoman can't resist the mix of easy money and potentially awesome sex." Arnele stretched long and full. Michael saw she was pleased with herself. "Finally, Our Boy Wonder, Mayor William Trane Leschner. To get to be mayor at such a young age really //is// remarkable. Almost like it was meant to be, huh? But when John Rodell backs you, that's how things always seem to happen." Arnele's eyes smiled first. "Leschner has a volunteer staffer, a sweet girl from a rural part of the county, who just thinks the Mayor hung the moon. And she's aways ever so willing to stay late," Arnele spoke soft and shyly, her breasts squeezing together between her arms as she turned toward him. "He must have a record-breaking case of blue balls by now." Arnele picked up her mug and drank primly. "I've been all three women for weeks now. I'm quite the actress, it turns out." "I'll film and photograph them with me in situations none of them dreamed. Well, dreamed of in //that// way. Each will enter an early retirement to spend more time with their families. Okay, not Rodell. He's going to die." Michael froze bringing his cup to his mouth. "//I'm// not killing him!" Arnele laughed, reaching out to Michael's hand. "And neither shall you. His business partners will, though. They have standards in crime families, you know. Just not LGBT-friendly ones." "I'm set up to film Leschner in a room at the Holiday Inn. Jolene's a practical girl, so to Mr. Mayor her splurge on a national chain will seem extravagant. When you own the place, though, the cameras go in easier and where you need them." Michael nodded, impressed. "The other two I'll invite here. These walls practically hum with recording gear, seeing and hearing everything." Michael coughed on a bite of toast. "No!" Arnele brought her hand to her lips while laughing. "Not last night!" She giggled. "The only technology I used last night was firelight and carnal desire." Michael swallowed, bringing moisture back into his mouth. "This is really heavy stuff, Arnele. I don't mind dropping off those checks, but I don't see how I fit into any of this besides that." "Even Sherlock Holmes needed John Watson, Michael. I've thought this through, but maybe I missed something. I want you to hear my plan in detail and maybe find something I overlooked. I want this ... it //has// to go perfectly." "Was that really the role of Watson?" Arnele gave Michael a withering look. Then she laughed. Michael, despite himself, was beginning to love the sound of it. Arnele said, "I'm taking that as your willingness to hear the nitty gritty." Twenty-five minutes later, Michael understood how the red-haired young woman in front of him ... damn, //the man who looked that way// ... would bring these people down. More importantly, he agreed with her reasons why. The plan was justified and flawless. It would work. "Well?" Michael rubbed his stubble. "Honestly, it's perfect. I mean, things can go wrong, but you can't control everything. It seems like you've covered all of your bases." "I think so, too. It's nice hearing it from someone else." Arnele leaned over and lightly kissed Michael's cheek. "Especially someone I respect." He felt himself blush. Again. A moment passed before Michael held up his index finger. "However ..." Arnele backed away and eyed Michael askance. "There's the not-so-small chance you're going to end up getting killed." Arnele's face dropped and darkened. Uh-oh, thought Michael. Arnele shifted menacingly in her chair. "Let me tell you something about dying." Arnele directed her gaze deep inside him. Michael wanted to run right then and there. "It's easier than living the rest of your cowardly life knowing you could have made the difference, but didn't. I could have stayed Arnold, but I made sacrifices." "I ... I know what you've given up ...," Michael feebly countered. "Oh, no you don't," Arnele interrupted. "Lose everything, Beth, your daughter, //everything//, then come back to me and talk." She now stabbed her stare deep into her coffee cup. Michael waited in silence, hopeful the uncomfortableness of the moment would pass. Arnele seemed more intent on melting her mug. After an agonizingly long time, Arnele's face brightened. Thank God. "Maybe this is what I wanted all along " she whispered, lifting her eyes to contemplate the fingers she outstretched before her. Michael watched Arnele slowly examine herself, as if for the first time. She reached up and felt her nose, her cheeks, her hair, all with a look of new-found wonder. "I can't believe you're buying this." "What? Wait, what?" Michael shook his head as if trying to fling away a fly. Arnele beamed. "You know, I think you're a little unhinged," he stated flatly. Arnele laughed that laugh. "Okay, bright boy. Tell you what. You want to know about my becoming a woman. Why a man would want such a thing, outside of transsexualism and the fetish aspects. Ask me anything. If you're my confidant, you deserve honest answers to all your questions, so fire away." She sat back and placed her hands on her lap. Adjusting himself upon his chair, Michael cleared his throat. "Okay, the obvious one: why the gender switch?" "Complete and utter unsuspiciousness." She rearranged her hair with the quick flick of her head before scrunching her nose. "Did I just make up a brand new word?" "But it's irreversible." Arnele looked away before returning to Michael. Her shoulders slumped. "No, it's not. I could go back to who I was. It's just chemicals and surgeries, after all. That's what I planned doing in the first place. I couldn't imagine myself without a penis, but now that Arnele's a person, I really enjoy being her. In a lot of ways I like her more than I like myself. So, when this is over ... I still don't know what I'm going to do. " Michael looked away. Arnele seem like she needed that. "Mine's one fine penis, after all." Michael looked back at a smirking Arnele. "Yours isn't //that// big," Michael smiled wanly. Point. Arnele paused before leaning back in her chair. She folded her arms. "Michael," she began after a moment, "before all the hormones," she brushed a strand of hair off her cheek, "my penis was huge." She reached out and returned with her coffee cup in hand. Slowly, she took a sip. "Cowboy huge." Another sip. "Sure didn't see its match last night or this morning." Michael's mouth opened slightly. Arnele scrunched her nose again and took another sip. "Enough, already," Arnele announced. "Time for Step One of my devious plan." She stood and walked her cup to the sink. Michael rose to help.