Halloween For Life Chapter 20 (Timeline 1) free porn video

Chapter 20 - Halloween For Life (A Fan Fiction Continuation) ANOTHER DAY IN THE LIFE OF JORDAN Tuesday morning. Jordan woke up before the alarm this time, turned it off and lay in bed thinking. Yesterday had been a long, busy day, and today would be too. Jordan thought again about what had happened in Mr. Johanson's office the night before. It was so confusing in so many ways and he was having a hard time understanding it all. It felt full of deep meaning - but what sorts of meaning? He'd have to ask Angela to help him figure it out. Angela. He would have his first session with RoseMarie in the afternoon. How was he going to explain his absence to Angela? Jordan tried to think of a plausible excuse. Shopping? A visit to the fire station? A visit to some government agency? Nothing felt plausible. He'd have to think of something... and soon. Jordan rolled over and saw the vibrator on the nightstand. He had used it last night before falling asleep. Of course, as he was using it, he had thought about Matt, but then very firmly pushed that thought out of his head. And then... oh god... *Johanson's* face floated into his head. They were sitting on the sofa together, holding hands and... But Jordan had pushed *that* thought out of his head as well. He was *definitely* going to talk to Angela about Johanson! And the sooner the better! After a bit of mental effort, Jordan was finally able to enjoy the vibrations and the erotic feeling of the plastic wand without fantasizing about anyone or anything at all. Just pressing it between his legs was a new way to enjoy himself. Even now he thought about doing it again this morning, and his fingers reached out and gently stroked the smooth plastic rod on his nightstand. But he did worry about why he was unable to get hard. Maybe the pills from Dr. Green were affecting his virility? He hadn't heard that antibiotics or antihistamines would do that, but who knows? Everyone is affected differently. Hopefully, once he was done with Dr. Green's course of treatment then he would return to his normal potency. He certainly hoped that was the case. Until then, at least he had found a way to enjoy himself. But why had he thought about Matt at all? At first he thought it was just one of those random things that happens during passion. Like when you are having sex with your wife and then an image of your mother-in- law flashes through your head, and since she's kinda-hot, you think 'oh what the hell' and just go with it. But now he's wondering if it was something more. Of course, it was the day right after the party and the kiss... Jordan still thought of it as "The Kiss" - like it was a Title-Case Event. He could almost feel Matt's lips on his as the Prince kissed Sleeping Beauty. It had fused so perfectly with his dream, that it had taken many seconds before he realized it was Matt... and that kissing a man was not what he was supposed to do, or enjoy (!). The kiss had done something to him, he had to admit. It had changed him, in some deep, undefinable way. It had awoken something in him. He had been Sleeping Beauty before, and now the Prince's kiss had wakened... what? What was now awake? He didn't know what. But it was scary. "Jordan Nicole..." The words came out of his mouth unbidden, as if they had bubbled up straight from his subconscious. "Jordan Nicole... Jordan Nicole..." He ran the name over his head. He certainly was much more a 'Jordan Nicole' than a 'Jordan Nicholas' these days, that was for sure! He hadn't realized that Angela asking for his middle name (why had she done that, anyway? -- Jordan supposed it was a typical best girlfriend's question) would have such an impact. But now he had a decidedly feminine version of his name. Jordan Nicole Ross... 'Oh Anna,' Jordan thought, as he pivoted out of bed. 'I wish you were here!!' Jordan knew she couldn't come home, they needed her new job now more than ever, what with the fire and him hopefully getting a new, lower-paying job and everything. But things were changing, and Jordan worried he wouldn't be the same person when she got back. Jordan fetched a white and a pink pill from the bottles on his dresser and walked out to the kitchen. "Hey, how about we get dressed quick and stop at the coffee shop for a chocolate croissant on the way to work?" Angela suggested. "Excellent!" Jordan said, delighted. 'Finally, I can get a real breakfast!' he thought to himself. * * * "So then what happened?" Angela asked, flicking her ashes into the ash tray on the table. Jordan and Angela were relaxing in an outdoor patio at the coffee shop on the way to work, having a chocolate croissant and a smoke. It was a brisk Phoenix autumn morning, comfortable and just a little bit cool. Perfect weather for a light pink sweater, which Jordan was now wearing. Jordan looked down at the half of a chocolate croissant which he held in his fingers. He hadn't realized that when Angela said 'We'll get a chocolate croissant' that she literally meant *a* chocolate croissant - as in a single pastry which they would share. Jordan nibbled on his half, slowly, trying to make it last as long as possible. Jordan was filling in Angela about the fight with Jason and his meeting with Johanson. Angela was naturally horrified that Jason had been so upset, and profusely apologized to Jordan for her role in it. "Well, Mr. Johanson took me back to his office..." > > > (FLASHBACK....) "Jordan, first I wanted to make sure you were okay," Johanson said, motioning for Jordan to sit on the supple leather sofa in his executive office suite. Once Jordan was seated, Johanson sat right next to him. It made Jordan nervous, sitting so close to his boss. Their legs brushed up against each other. "I'm fine, sir," Jordan said. "And I wanted--" "You don't have to call me 'sir'," Johanson interrupted. "Please, call me Edward." "Oh, okay. Edward." Calling his boss by his first name made Jordan feel funny inside for some reason. "Anyway, I wanted to say thank you... that is, thank you for entering when you did. I think you came at exactly the right time." "Were you frightened?" Johanson asked, reaching out and holding Jordan's hands between his own. Ack! Jordan looked down at his hands. They disappeared inside of Johanson's much larger ones. Suddenly he felt flushed. "A little," Jordan said, remembering the look on Jason's face. Of course Jordan could perfectly understand Jason's emotions. There had been a lot of screwed up things happening these last two weeks! In fact, it was a wonder there wasn't a lot more shouting and yelling, all things considered. "Anyway, thank you, sir." Jordan tried to think of what a woman might say, being in his position. "You are my knight in shining armor," he said, forcing a smile. Johanson beamed back at him. < < < (....BACK TO PRESENT) "Oh, maybe you shouldn't have said that," Angela said, putting the cigarette to her lips. "Why not?" Angela blew out a stream of smoke to the side. The cool morning breeze whisked it away. "Well it's just a rather, well, intimate thing to say. The sort of thing a girl might say to someone she was flirting with. Someone she was interested in getting to know better." "Really?" It seemed perfectly innocuous to Jordan. "Yeah, really." Angela rolled her eyes at how clueless Jordan was. "So then what happened?" > > > Jordan had made a promise to Johanson's niece, Rebecca at the mall. He figured this was as good a time as any to dispose of it. "I also wanted to thank you for... for... for paying for my shopping trip at the mall," Jordan stammered. Just saying the words made Jordan remember that he was wearing a bra, panties and stockings (and shoes!) which this man, the man sitting right next to him... his boss (!!)... had paid for. Somehow, the fact that his underwear had been purchased by his boss made Jordan feel... just a bit... owned. And dependent. Like he was Johanson's girl... somehow. Like he was wearing Johanson's panties and Johanson's bra... cupping his most intimate places. The thought made Jordan squirm. "Oh, it was my pleasure," Johanson said smoothly, gently caressing Jordan's knuckles with his fingertips. Jordan felt goosebumps travel up his arm at this. "What did you buy?" Did he have to ask that question? Jordan groaned, inwardly. "Ah... um... some things from... uh... Victoria's Secret..." Jordan blushed, looking away, "and, uh, some other items from the department store, you know, uh... some... uh... Spanx," he said that word in a hoarse whisper, "and stockings, and then some... some shoes." "It's too bad I wasn't there to help you try them on, like last time." Johanson smiled. Inside, Johanson was rejoicing at how well his plan had worked. He had thought it up on the spur of the moment yesterday morning, and now here was Jordan, thanking him for buying her underwear from Victoria's Secret! 'Oh Jordan, if only you knew!' Johanson thought to himself. 'It really *is* my pleasure! I would have done it even without the fire as an excuse!' But Johanson was careful to maintain a calm and even outward demeanor. He knew that Jordan was skittish like a bunny rabbit, and that any false move would cause her to hop away. "Anyway, that's wonderful," Johanson added, "I am so glad." "Oh! And the nail spa. Thank you for that. We all went. I hope that was okay," Jordan said, remembering his promise to Johanson's niece, Rebecca. "Of course!" Johanson turned Jordan's hands and looked at her nails. They were exquisite French nails, so delicate. "They are beautiful," he complimented Jordan. "Oh, ah... thanks, Mr. Johanson," Jordan said, trying to get things back to a professional level. "Edward," Johanson corrected. "Right... Edward," Jordan said. "So... *Edward*, I just wanted to say, 'thank you' so much for helping me in such a time of need. I am so grateful. How will I ever be able to repay you? I have all of the receipts and I intend to pay you back, every penny, as soon as I am able." "Well, actually," Johanson said, casually lifting Jordan's fingertips to his lips and giving them a kiss before standing up and walking to his desk. It happened so quickly and seemed like such a natural thing that Jordan didn't realize what had happened until it was over. 'He kissed my fingers??' Jordan looked down at his hands, astonished, feeling the lingering dampness of his lips on his hands. 'My *BOSS*, the CEO of my company - kissed my hand? Is this what happens to women? Do men do this??' < < < "*No*," said Angela definitely. "Men do *not* do that!" She stubbed the cigarette into the ash tray, angrily tamping it down, before reaching into her purse for another one. "Are you sure?" Jordan asked. "I mean, aren't men always kissing women on their hands when they meet?" "You mean, like, royalty from Monaco, maybe?" Angela scoffed, cupping her hands against the light breeze and lighting the cigarette with her lighter. "Oh Jordan, Jordan, Jordan... Your Edward Johanson was hitting on you!" "WHAT??" Jordan asked, astonished. "Really? I mean, no... he couldn't be. He's my boss!" "What, were you born in a monastery? How could you not know he was hitting on you? You are so beautiful! Men must have been hitting on you all your life!" "Uh..." Jordan struggled for an answer. "No," he said, "they haven't". Jordan thought frantically for a good excuse. "Anna... well... she protected me," Jordan improvised. "Ohhhhhhh," Angela said, as if seeing a new understanding for the first time. "Well, that explains so much! Like how much you miss her, and how you seem so clueless about shopping and going out. Now it all makes sense! Oh, you poor Princess! And now that Anna is gone to Utah, you're on your own! Well, no problem! You just let your bestie friend Angela take her place!" "Thank you, Angela," Jordan said. Jordan felt himself slipping even deeper into Angela's control. The last thing on the planet he wanted was for Angela to take Anna's place! Damn it, why did everything he do seem to make him slip further and further into Angela's clutches? "So what happened next?" Angela probed. > > > "Well actually," Johanson said, "there *is* something you could help me with, if it's not too much trouble." "What's that?" Jordan asked. Johanson paused. Should he go through with it? He hesitated for only an instant before quickly decided to go for it. His heart (and desires) overcame his reason. He fished out a card from the stack of correspondence on his desk. It was actually a card inviting Johanson to a local celebrity golfing event. Johanson flashed the card to Jordan who was sitting far enough away that it just looked like a generic invitation. "I have to go to this luncheon on Sunday. It's from a major stockholder, a Mrs. Guertin. Rebecca Guertin--" Johanson explained, pretending to read the invitation card. "Like your niece? Rebecca?" "Yes, like my niece," Johanson laughed, "but these two 'Rebeccas' are about as different as you can imagine! Mrs. Guertin is the Heiress of the Best Western fortune and a big deal in Phoenix society. Anyway, she asked me to bring a 'rising young star' from the company, and of course I thought of you. Would you join me?" Jordan looked into Johanson's eyes. It was a luncheon with a society lady. An heiress. A major stockholder in Johanson & Johanson... < < < "So what did you do?" Angela asked, eyes wide, hanging on Jordan's every word. "I said 'yes'." "You WHAT??" Angela said. "You're going on a DATE with Mr. Johanson??" No, no, no! Angela thought to herself, feeling desperate. You are supposed to date Matt!! Not Mr. Johanson! "Angela! It's not a date! It's just a luncheon! With a stockholder." "HA!" Angela said, with derision. "Oh my god, I had *no idea* that Johanson was such a devious wolf. 'Just a luncheon'," she mocked, "'with a stockholder.' That is such bullshit. It is a *date* pure and simple. Why, I bet that Johanson and... who is this lady?" "Guertin..." "Right, Guertin, I bet they agreed on this together! I bet Johanson *asked* her to ask him to the luncheon. Oh, Jordan! Princess! You are headed into the lion's den now!" "No! Do you really think so?" "Without a doubt," Angela shook her head. Jordan was so smart at manufacturing, but so naive around men! How anyone could be like that in this day and age was just beyond Angela's comprehension. 'She really needs me,' Angela realized, with a start. 'Jordan is such an innocent! She needs her best friend Angela to take care of her and keep her out of trouble! Oh, I am going to need to keep a *much* closer eye on Jordan to help her through this!' "So, anyway, there's not much more to report," Jordan said. "It turns out, he really did have some papers for me to sign, from Tiffani, to get a copy of my birth certificate and a new social security card. Once I have those, I can get a new driver's license. That will be a relief." > > > What Jordan hadn't told Angela, because he himself hadn't noticed, was what those papers said. As Johanson pulled out the papers to sign, Tiffani had conveniently attached a series of [sign-here]=> Post-it arrows, making it easy for Jordan to simply go to the signature line and sign his name, "Jordan N. Ross." Unfortunately for Jordan, his mind was completely occupied with other thoughts like the fact that his boss (the CEO!!) was standing right next to him, so uncomfortably close, their bodies touching, his hand around his waist, pointing out where to sign (he was so close that Jordan could smell the shaving cream he used that morning), and second because he was having serious second thoughts about whether he should have accepted the invitation to the luncheon. And so, Jordan just signed where indicated and completely missed the fact that one of the papers said 'Application to Correct a Vital Record in Maine.' * * * Jason popped his head into Jordan's office. "Hey," he said. "Hey," Jordan responded, leaning back. "I... ah... just wanted to apologize for last night," Jason said. "That was... uncalled for." "Well, I'm sorry that Angela got the wrong impression. I... I should have closed the door when talking to Anna." They both looked at the door, which was wide open. Jason quickly closed it, and they both laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. "Are you going to be okay?" Jordan asked. "Pretending you're going to propose to Anna?" "I'll figure something out. It'll be okay. Listen, I wanted to talk about the interview coming up." "Yes!" Jordan sat up straighter. "I was hoping to talk about that!" "It's with AGD Medical Manufacturing Group, and it's a line supervisor job." "Oh," Jordan sighed. That was lower on the scale than he was hoping. It would definitely be a step backwards, career-wise. "What will I say about why I want to leave my current job? And this is a demotion even when compared to my job in Bangor. What should I say about that?" "Well, I think the obvious explanation for both of those questions is that you want to get a job close to where your wife works." "Oh! Okay, that makes sense." "Anyway, the interviewer will be the head manufacturing manager, and his name is Gordon Santos." "Gordon Santos," Jordan repeated. "Thanks, Jason, I'll study up on the company and Mr. Santos so I'll be ready. And thanks again for finding this job! I can't tell you how much I appreciate it." 'Well,' Jordan thought to himself after Jason had left. 'I guess that Mr. Gordon Santos is my ticket to going back to being male. I hope he likes me!' * * * "Hey Tiffani!" "Angela!" Tiffani said, giving her a hug. Tiffani, was on her way to Jordan Ross' office to ask him a question so she could finish his paperwork. "How are you this morning?" "Wonderful! I'm helping Jordan on a secret mission," Angela said, grinning. She was now checking the manufacturing machines' calibrated settings against the original manuals shipped with the equipment, trying to track down why the batch failure rates were so high. "Oooh, exciting!" Tiffani grinned. "Hey, I've almost got Jordan's paperwork complete, but I'm wondering... what's her middle name?" "Oh, I know this!" Angela said, delighted. "It's Nicole! She told me so herself yesterday morning as we got dressed." "Perfect!" Tiffani said. "That's all I need!" "How long before she gets her papers?" "It usually takes about a week. So I'm hoping next Monday or Tuesday." "Perfect! I'll let her know." * * * "Mr. Johanson?" Jordan peaked into his boss's office. "Jordan! Please come in. And call me Edward." "Okay... Edward. I... I was hoping that you could help me out with a problem." "Anything, Jordan." Johanson smiled. Another opportunity to be useful to Jordan! "Well, I have an appointment this afternoon with a hypnotherapist to help me stop smoking." "Oh, I'm impressed." Jordan being a smoker was the only thing about her that Johanson didn't like about her. Johanson was glad she was doing something about it. "How can I help?" Johanson asked. "Well, it's complicated. The hypnotherapist is actually Angela's mother, RoseMarie. Now, her mother knows that Angela is a smoker, but Angela doesn't know that her mother knows, and her mother doesn't want Angela to know that she knows." "Are you kidding me?" Johanson laughed out loud. "Seriously?" "Yes, I'm afraid so," Jordan laughed along with his boss. It *was* rather ridiculous, the whole thing. "Anyway, I need a good excuse to go to my session without Angela getting suspicious. And I was wondering if it would be okay if I told her that I had training with our major equipment manufacturer. I checked and their office is just a couple blocks away from RoseMarie's hypnotherapy office." Jordan had gotten the idea from Anna, actually, and her training in Utah. If Anna could go for training, then why not Jordan? "And so... you want me to vouch for you that you're taking these training sessions?" "Yes, would that be okay? I'm thinking this afternoon and Thursday afternoon." "Of course! Happy to do it," Johanson grinned. "My pleasure," he added. "Thank you so much... uh... Edward. I'm in your debt." Jordan winced, saying that last sentence. Damn it, he scolding himself, wishing he hadn't phrased it like that. "Jordan, what happens when you stop smoking? You'll have to tell Angela at some point, won't you?" 'By then I'll have a new job,' Jordan thought to himself. "I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," is what Jordan said out loud. * * * Later that day, Angela and Johanson were reviewing the progress of the fundraiser. So far, everything was going great. The amount of money was more than enough for Jordan with some left over for Anna as well, and they had worked out (with some of the other groups) what sorts of gifts and gift certificates Jordan would receive so that no one would overlap. "There's just one more thing," Angela said. "What's that?" Johanson asked. "Well," Angela started. "I need to do some shopping and preparations for Jordan's fundraiser, so I need some time away from Jordan. Could you... find some way to keep her late from work or something?" Johanson thought about this for a second. "What if I sent Jordan away from training sessions being given by our major equipment manufacturer?" he suggested. "I think they're being held on Tuesday and Thursdays, late afternoon. Would that work?" "Perfect!" Angela said. "Thank you so much, Mr. Johanson!" "My pleasure, Angela." 'Well that worked out well,' Johanson thought to himself, grinning with delight. * * * Jordan sat on the park bench, having one last smoke. It was late Tuesday afternoon, and he wondered if this would be the last cigarette he would ever enjoy. He looked across the street at RoseMarie Coleman's professional offices. The bus had dropped him off a few minutes early, so he took the opportunity to have this one last smoke. Jordan held the cigarette to his lips and drew the smoke into his lungs. Ahhh... bliss. On the whole, it had been a strangely uneventful work day. Now that Jordan was committed to doing the job he had been hired to do, he took full control, gathering the data he needed and making the decisions he needed to make. It was refreshing, actually, to be doing a job and doing it well, rather than hiding in the filing room all the time. Of course, number one was to figure out the batch failure rate problem. Angela had gone back to past test reports and discovered that the problem had been going on for over eighteen months! Jordan shook his head in disbelief. That would have never happened on his watch! But still they had no idea what was wrong. Why was the failure rate so high? All of the machines appeared to be correctly calibrated to their original specifications. The raw materials passed the tests. There were no major updates to the line eighteen months ago. So what was the cause? Jordan took another drag on the cigarette and then looked at the pink lipstick print on the filter. It matched his shoes. Today, Angela had made him wear a short (mid-thigh) skirt with bold, horizontal black and white stripes and a scoop neckline which she paired with some bright-pink heels. They were four inches high this time! And the bright pink color just shouted 'look at me!' [see https://www.pinterest.com/pin/91690542392859666/ ] "I can't wear this!" Jordan complained at the time. "The heels are too high, and the skirt is too short!" "Of course you can," Angela said. "And you will!" "But... it's not appropriate office attire," Jordan complained. "And the shoes," he said, changing tack, "they don't go with this outfit at all." "And that's why I brought you this," Angela said, holding out a tube of bright-pink lipstick. Jordan first outlined his lips with a lip liner and then applied the lipstick. The tip was worn from repeated use into the perfect shape of Angela's own lips and using it felt weirdly personal and intimate to Jordan - as if his lips were touching hers, somehow. Did all women share lipstick like this? Wasn't it unsanitary? Jordan guessed that close girlfriends probably did share lipstick. Probably all the time. "Now, add this purse," Angela gave Jordan a bright-pink clutch, "and step back." Jordan was shocked. "I... I look like a fashion model," Jordan said. "I know," Angela said, grinning. "You are so beautiful, you make me want to kill myself." "Angela!" But Angela just laughed. All day long Jordan had been self-conscious about the length of the skirt. Surely it was much too short for work! But no one seemed to treat him any differently than the day before. Oh sure, there were some men who glanced down at his legs (which now looked amazing and long, what with the heels and the short skirt), but nothing more than that. The only real issue happened right before lunch, when the skirt, dancing across his thighs, had been so distracting that he wasn't watching where he was going. And just then, of course, he turned the corner and ran smack into someone! "Sorry!" Jordan yelped. "Woah there!" a strange man said, grasping Jordan firmly by the arms as Jordan stumbled in his high heels and nearly pitched over. Jordan reached out, frantically grasping the poor man's arm, wildly trying to stop from falling. The man held Jordan close, providing support, until Jordan was finally able to get his heels underneath his body and stand up properly. Oh... he smelled nice, Jordan thought to himself. Jordan looked up. "David!" Jordan gasped, disengaging himself. It was the mechanic from the day before. "Hey there, Miss Ross," David said, grinning from ear to ear. "You... you saved me a second time. First the bathroom, and now this." "And this time, did you notice? I didn't say... well, you know, anything I shouldn't have said." "Yes, I noticed, and I appreciate it." "We seem to keep running into each other," David observed, shrewdly. "Yeah. Literally." "You know, once is just an accident. Twice is suspicious. Three times..." David let the implication hang in the air. "Well, it's only been twice," Jordan said. "And I thank you for helping me avoid a nasty fall." "You're welcome, Miss Ross!" David called out after Jordan, as Jordan quickly walked away, blushing furiously. Jordan vowed to pay more attention to where he was going after that! Sheesh, it was like he was some ditzy blonde airhead, bumping into people, walking into the wrong door, dropping her papers on the floor (which he did once, stumbling in his heels as he crossed a threshold) and then having to carefully squat down to gather them. "Knees together, like a lady," he muttered to himself. After all, he had to be careful or his dress would ride up and reveal the pink lace panties underneath. But other than that, a rather uneventful day. Jordan dropped the cigarette and ground it out in the sidewalk with his bright pink high heels. "Might as well get this over with," he muttered, crossing the street. The building was an elegant two-story commercial building in a southwestern mission style with adobe colored walls, terracotta tile roofs, and round wooden beams sticking out from the exterior walls. Jordan entered the ground-floor and walked past a series of small, up- scale designer boutiques. 'Destiny's Bride,' Jordan read. 'Custom designer couture wedding gowns.' The store had a number of mannequins dressed in sumptuous, flowing gowns in the shop window, dripping with lace and jewels. Jordan peeked inside and was just able to see a bride stepping out of the dressing room to the enthusiastic reception of her bridal party. A thought entered his head. Something Anna had said... "Maybe I can replace Anna's wedding dress?" Jordan said, out loud. Anna had told him that it was her wedding dress that she had missed the most in the fire. Maybe he could replace it for her as a present? It could help smooth things over with Anna, who Jordan still felt guilty about hurting. Jordan stopped for a second and considered it. He could get pictures of it from Anna's Facebook page. He knew Anna's measurements. Perhaps they could replicate her original wedding dress? "Hmmm...." he considered, as he continued on down the hall and took the stairs to the second floor where he entered the offices of 'RoseMarie Coleman, Licensed Hypnotherapist'. * * * "Jordan!" RoseMarie came out of her office and greeted Jordan with a warm hug. She was dressed in an elegant tweed suit. Wearing glasses and with her hair up, she looked every bit the state's leading hypnotherapist. "Chloe?" RoseMarie spoke to the office secretary. "Yes, Dr. Coleman?" Chloe, was a no-nonsense sort of woman, mid- thirties, with dark hair and a narrow, serious face. She was just the right sort of secretary for a hypnotherapist - careful and level-headed. "Jordan is my last patient for the day. You can leave and I'll lock up." "Are you sure, Dr. Coleman? I'm happy to stay." "No, that's quite alright." "Very well, then. I'll see you tomorrow morning." Chloe gave Jordan a stern look as she got up from her desk as if to say: 'now you be good for my doctor!' "Does Angela know you're here?" RoseMarie asked as she ushered Jordan into her office and closed the door. Jordan felt uncomfortable being all alone with RoseMarie like this. She was Angela's and Matt's mother, after all. It was a little like being alone with your mother-in-law. "No, ah. I told her that I was taking a manufacturing training class. My boss, Mr. Johanson--" "Mr. Johanson is your boss? The CEO of Johanson and Johanson? Edward Johanson?" "Yes, why?" "Oh," RoseMarie glanced briefly over towards her filing cabinets. "No reason," she said, finally. "Please, continue." "Anyway, I told Mr. Johanson what I was doing so he could vouch for me. I'll make up the time by working late tomorrow." "Excellent. Then this will be our special time together, free from interruptions," RoseMarie sat down in an elegant, French country dining room chair, and indicated a soft, comfy armchair for Jordan, who sank down into the cushions. "So, let's start by filling out your patient record, okay? Now, what's your full name?" Jordan hesitated before answering. "Jordan Nicole Ross," he said, finally. "Very good." RoseMarie proceeded to ask for other information such as Jordan's social security number, birth place, age, etc. 'Only twenty-four and so accomplished!' RoseMarie marveled to herself. Most twenty-four year olds that she knew were baristas at coffee shops or still struggling in entry-level jobs. And here was Jordan, a college graduate, manufacturing engineer (of all things!) and supervising others. Amazing. RoseMarie dared to let herself imagine what sorts of children Jordan and Matt might have once they got married. Smart, athletic, good looking... "Now, before we get started, I'd like for you to take these. These are the same of same pills that Angela has, only somewhat stronger and more fast acting. Alright?" RoseMarie handed Jordan two white pills and a glass of water. "Oh... okay." Jordan hesitated for a second before accepted the pills from RoseMarie and swallowing them down. "Do hypnotherapists generally use pills?" Jordan asked, handing back the glass. "No, not generally, but there's been a lot of research recently on using benzodiazepines to help induce a hypnotic trance. But it's almost never done, because very few hypnotherapists are also licensed psychiatrists, like I am." "Oh..." Jordan looked at the diploma on the wall. 'The American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology' it said. 'Rose Marie Coleman, M. D.'. "Now, let's talk about what we'd like to achieve." "Well," Jordan shuffled, "I need to stop smoking, of course." RoseMarie quizzed Jordan on his smoking habits. When he had started. Had he quit before and how long ago that was. "And why did you start smoking again just recently?" she asked. Jordan hesitated. What should he say? Obviously he couldn't say: 'Because my wife took me to a beauty salon to get a makeover for a Halloween costume and they went too far in changing me from a man into a woman.' "Well, it was at a beauty salon..." Jordan said, trying to stall for time as he tried to think up a plausible excuse. "I... uh... had just had some work done." "Didn't they do a good job?" "No! They did a very good job. Uh... too good, actually." 'So,' RoseMarie thought to herself. 'Jordan is uncomfortable looking like a beautiful woman.' She had sensed this from Jordan during her previous encounters - first at the restaurant and then at Matt's house. She had never seen such a beautiful woman so ill at ease just in her own skin before. She wondered what Jordan was like before moving to Phoenix. Probably covered up in lots of heavy coats and bulky ski pants in the Maine winters, she figured, and not used to having warm 'short-sleeve- shirt' weather all year round like they have in Phoenix. Finally, Jordan thought up a good excuse. "The stress of the move!" he said, relieved. "I think, RoseMarie, that it's the stress of the move which caused me to start smoking again. Of course that's it." Perfect, Jordan thought. 'Yeah, likely story, Miss Ross,' RoseMarie thought to herself smugly. She was a trained psychotherapist, so she could see straight through Jordan's transparent lie. Jordan had already admitted the truth, as far as she was concerned. 'Whew, I'm glad I thought of that,' Jordan thought. He began to relax and feel comfortable. The drugs were having a more pronounced effect. "Now, Jordan Nicole," RoseMarie continued, "suggestions offered to your subconscious mind during a hypnotic trance can remove psychological obstacles and strengthen the ego, as well as encourage changes in body image, behavior, and discourage addictive desires like smoking." "That sounds good," Jordan said, his voice tranquil. "Excellent. Now hypnotherapy is about trust. I need for you to completely trust me so that you can open your subconscious mind to me. Do you think you can do that, Jordan?" "I'll try..." RoseMarie smiled to herself. She could sense that Jordan was really only doing this at her insistence, and that usually meant for a poor hypnotherapy session. And so she had doubled the dosage that she normally gave to patients, just to be absolutely sure that Jordan would be unable to resist. After all, the future happiness of her son and granddaughter rested on her ability to cure Jordan of smoking, once and for all, and RoseMarie was going to leverage all of her considerable skill to do so, in as short a time as possible. This included creating an aversion to the habit, replacing it with other, beneficial habits, and helping Jordan with the root cause of his desire - something she had seen in all too many women his age - a discomfort with his body image as a healthy young woman. "Very good," RoseMarie said. "Now I'm going to take you down through a series of levels. You can think of them like descending stairs... stepping down... down... down... each step taking you deeper... and deeper... and deeper... to very deep levels of your subconscious. At each level you will open yourself up more and more to me. Open yourself... open yourself... Give me your trust... your complete trust... your trust and love... and you will come to realize that this trust is earned since I only have your best interests at heart. Are you ready, Jordan?" "Yes..." Jordan sighed. He felt himself to be on the very edge of consciousness, hearing RoseMarie's voice as if it were from a great distance, although still very clear. "Now, the first level. Feel your body relax. Feel all of the stress of the day gradually slip away. Slowly and gradually... your cares and stresses drift away. You feel like you're in a warm, soothing river.... The water washes over you, gently.... gently... gently.... washing your cares away. You find yourself feeling open and trusting. Trust is a magical thing, Jordan. You open yourself to me.... you trust me... you allow yourself to trust me because I only want to help. I only want to help. Now feel yourself becoming more and more open... more trusting... more relaxed..." RoseMarie saw Jordan's breathing become deeper and slower. Jordan's face and posture both relaxed as Jordan sank deeper into the soft cushions of the armchair. "Very good. Now let's descend to the second level..." * * * "Oh!" Jordan woke with a start. "We're all done, Jordan," RoseMarie said. Jordan looked over. RoseMarie was behind her desk finishing up some notes. How did she get over there? "I want to say, you were the perfect patient," she said. "I think that we made excellent progress. So good, that it may not require three whole weeks to complete your therapy." "R-really?" Jordan stammered. Jordan felt refreshed and invigorated, just like he had after Vanessa's therapy session. But he couldn't shake the feeling that nothing had happened. He had just fallen asleep and now he was awake, feeling like he just had a restful nap. Hypnosis felt like a hoax. Nothing really happened during those sessions, did it? "Yes, very good progress," RoseMarie confirmed, smiling as she finished her notes and put Jordan's folder aside. She had never seen a patient so easy to induce and so open to suggestion! She had confirmed that body image was Jordan's primary reason for resuming his smoking habit, and she had taken steps to help build his confidence in that area. Only time would tell if her suggestions worked, and how well. She was anxious to see Jordan on Thursday! "Well, thank you," Jordan said, honestly grateful. After all, he really did want to stop smoking. His only real fear now was that it didn't work and he'd have to continue to hide his habit from RoseMarie. Jordan was helped to his feet and the two left the office. "Miss Jordan!!" A little girl shouted, hopping up from the sofa and running over to give Jordan a ferocious hug. "Bella??" Jordan asked, astonished. "But if you're here, that means--" "Hey Jordan." Jordan looked up and his breath was literally taken away. It was Matt. Practically the *last* person in the world Jordan had expected to meet that day. "Hi... Matt..." Jordan said, shyly. He looked over at RoseMarie who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. 'Why you crafty old lady,' Jordan thought to himself. Suddenly he realized exactly where Angela got her personality from. "Wha-what are you doing here?" Jordan asked. "Oh, Bella and I go out to dinner with Mom every Tuesday," Matt said, matter of factly. "We go for pisghetti!" Bella said, with a toothy grin. "And what are you doing here?" Matt asked, looking intently at Jordan. "Jordan is taking training classes just around the corner," RoseMarie lied smoothly. "We ran into each other after lunch and I invited her to join us. I hope you don't mind, Matthew?" "Hell, no, I don't mind!" Matt grinned from ear to ear. "Yay! Miss Jordan is joining us for dinner!" Bella said, twirling around, her cute little skirt flaring out as she did so. Jordan looked at RoseMarie, feeling trapped. He had been thinking about what he could say to get out of there, but now RoseMarie's lie had made it impossible. Impossible, that is, unless he wanted to admit to Matt that he was actually seeing RoseMarie for therapy! Which Jordan would never do, because he was sure that it would get back to Angela. "Let's go!" Bella said, grasping Jordan by the hand and pulling him out into the hallway, to general laughter by the others. "I'm sorry about the game," Jordan said, as they waited for the elevator. "Thanks," Matt said, "but it's an important part of football. 'You can't get better without losing,' my old coach used to say. I should thank the Cowboys, actually. They exposed some weaknesses in my approach which we're working on." "Oh, wow," Jordan said, impressed. "That's a very, uh, mature and professional way to look at it." "That's me, 'Mature and Professional,' " Matt said, grinning down at Jordan as the elevator door opened and they all crowded inside. But Jordan, being a man (or at least formerly and soon to be again a man) saw an entirely different message in Matt's grin, which said 'Someday you'll see just how immature and unprofessional I can be'. Jordan shivered, wondering what Matt might be thinking about. "After all, I have eight touchdown passes to throw!" Matt added as he pushed the button, "before we can go out on our date." Jordan jerked in surprise as he felt Matt put an arm around his waist. 'Does he have to be so touchy-feely?' Jordan wondered. "Yeah, good luck with that," Jordan said, giving Matt a smirk. * * * Arriving home after dinner with the Coleman's, Jordan saw a note from Angela. 'Feeling wiped, went to bed early. Anna called. Wants a callback, no matter how late.' Anna called? Jordan picked up Angela's cordless land-line phone (he still didn't have a cell phone of his own) and went to the guest bedroom so he could talk to Anna privately. Anna answered the phone with "Hey Sweetie, how are you doing?" "I'm doing fine. How about you? Is everything okay?" It took a few moments before Anna could respond. Jordan's voice was so shocking to her. it took some serious mental effort to remember that she was talking to her *husband* - a man. What made it even weirder is that Jordan didn't seem to notice or even be particularly concerned about how his voice sounded. Why was that? "Everything is fine," Anna said. "I..." Anna was going to say 'I just wanted to hear your voice', but Jordan's high, feminine voice made her think twice about that. "I just wanted to check in," she said, finally. "I'm glad you called," Jordan said. "I've missed you. Terribly." "What'd you do for dinner?" Anna asked. "Oh... uh... I, uh, had a late meal at an Italian restaurant." Jordan decided *not* tell Anna about hypnotherapy lessons or having dinner with Matt Coleman. Matt had been a perfect gentleman all evening - which was the problem. He had open doors for Jordan, he had held out a chair for her to sit down, he had ordered for her (after Jordan had expressed confusion about the menu), and then he had driven her home and had even given Jordan a kiss goodnight - but on the cheek this time - after escorting Jordan to front door of Angela's apartment. "That's nice," Anna said. Jordan's voice sounded strange to Anna. What was so hard about answering a question about dinner? she wondered. "Having any fun at training?" Jordan asked, desperate to change the subject. "Oh, it's good," Anna said. "I'm learning a lot about their systems and what will be expected of me. My boss is here too." "Oh. Isn't that unusual? To be taking training with your boss?" "Well, we're switching to a brand new set of financial systems, so everyone has to be re-trained." "What's your boss like?" Jordan asked. "Oh, he's fine. Smart and a bit arrogant, to be honest." Anna thought about her recent escapade with Ray Santos. All of the trainees had gone out for dinner and drinks and Ray had made a special point to sit next to Anna. As they talked, he had looked in her eyes several times with an acute intensity that took Anna's breath away. Several times he had placed his hand on her arm when making a point. Anna hadn't pulled her arm away. Should she tell Jordan what was going on and her fears about succumbing to temptation? "Aren't all presidents and CEOs like that?" Jordan observed. "I suppose," Anna said, chuckling. "You better be careful around *your* boss! From what Jason told me about Mr. Johanson, it sounds like he can be a pretty smooth operator. You haven't been a girl for very long, Jordan, and I wonder if you'll be able to resist when a man tries to seduce you!" Anna's words made Jordan remember his meeting with Johanson last night. He wondered if he should tell Anna that his boss had come on to him. But then there might be some awkward questions (like 'why didn't you tell him to get lost?') and he'd also have to tell her about accepting Johanson's offer to the luncheon on Sunday, which apparently was a date although Jordan still was hoping that it wasn't. No, it would be best no to tell Anna about any of these things, he decided. "Oh, no," Jordan said, after too long a pause, "I would never let that happen!" he assured her. Jordan winced at the slight quaver in his voice, and how the sentence turned up, just a little, at the end. "Well, see that you don't!" Anna joked. The two paused for a long time. "Well, I need to get an early start," Jordan said. "Me too." And so they said their goodbyes and hung up. "What isn't she telling me?" Anna wondered. Something about the phone call had been suspicious. Jordan was hiding something. There was too little information communicated. "What trouble is she getting herself into?" Anna was concentrating so hard that she didn't even notice that she was now referring to Jordan with feminine pronouns now. And then Anna thought about her boss, and how he had looked at her that evening. With a sigh, she slipped her fingers into her panties and let her imagination run free. The picture of Raymond Santos, getting out of bed, his shirt off... Oh. Anna realized she was wet. Very wet. 'It's only a fantasy,' she thought to herself, as her fingers expertly stroked her passions. 'It doesn't mean anything.' Her fingers pressed hard, rubbing urgently. "Oh, Raymond!" she moaned, panting, before relaxing and letting the warm tingles of her orgasm flow through her. 'It doesn't mean anything,' she told herself again, as she drifted off to sleep, her hand still between her legs. * * * "Hey, I got something on Matt Coleman." Harvey Levin, the founder and overlord of the gossip site TMZ was on his way out of the office when he got stopped by one of his reporters. "What?" "Check out this video." The reporter, Don, pressed a button on his tablet and showed it to him. "He's kissing this girl. It's some play he did for his four-year-old." "Adorable," Levin said, watching the video. Storylines were already spinning through his head. NFL quarterbacks were prime targets for TMZ. They the 'crown princes' of America, Harvey was fond of saying. "Where'd you get it?" he asked. "A caterer at the party sent it to us." "How much?" Harvey asked. "One-fifty," Don said. In the life of TMZ, a hundred and fifty dollars for a video was peanuts. "Okay, fine. But who is she? What do we know about her? Is she really Matt Coleman's girlfriend? Are they really an item?" "Uh... I don't know." "Don't know? Don't know? All you got is a video? You don't even have a name? She could be an actress. Or his sister's friend. Or just another football wife. Or the nanny! Even better if she's the nanny *and* she's Coleman's girlfriend *and* she's another football wife! That would be perfect. Be a reporter. Do some digging. Get something solid, then come back to me." "Got it!" Don smirked. This was gonna be fun. End of Chapter 20