Ever the gentleman, Ben Rosenthal agreed to meet Tyler at the lobby of
Pyramid Suites. Tyler wasn't interested in having other men on the
elevator checking him out so brazenly, and he assumed that having Ben on
his arm would discourage anyone from staring for too long. He wanted to
give off the impression that he was Ben's woman... his date, for lack of
a better term. Of course, that wasn't the case... but, well, it would
make things less uncomfortable for Tyler, which his what he needed after
the constant discomfort that had been inflicted on him since stepping
into the electronics store on the 73rd floor yesterday. Besides, having
Ben "pick him up" would make Ben believe that this was a real date,
traditional gender roles and all. Which is exactly what Tyler wanted him
to believe.
Tyler held his burgundy leather purse, patting it to make sure
everything was still in there, as he watched Ben approach from the 20th
floor foyer. They both smiled at each other as the distance between them
shortened and closed. Then they were in front of each other, less than a
foot apart, and Tyler braced himself for what was obviously coming next.
Ben moved in, wrapped his arms lightly around Tyler's waist, and gave
Tyler a brief but warm kiss on the lips. Tyler let it happen, feeling a
little sleazy... the last time his lips had been engaged with a man,
they'd been wrapped around Ozzie's dick. Tyler shuddered at the memory
of it and tried to focus on the current moment. This kiss with Ben was
much more enjoyable. Maybe it was the comfort he felt in Ben's presence,
or maybe it was the female hormones coursing through Tyler's body, but
Tyler felt entirely at home in Ben's embrace.
"Wow," Ben said, stepping away from the kiss and looking Tyler up and
down. "You look fantastic."
"Thank you," Tyler said, smiling genuinely at the compliment, patting
the front of his little black dress. "It sure beats booth-babe outfits
and saloon-girl dresses, doesn't it?"
"I wouldn't go that far," Ben said. Tyler wasn't sure if he was joking
or serious, but he giggled anyway. Ben held out his elbow and said,
"Shall we?"
"We shall."
Tyler hooked his arm into Ben's and followed him through the foyer, to
the bank of elevators, pressing the Up button with his pink-painted
thumb.
"So," Ben said, "where are we headed?"
"You'll see," Tyler replied.
"Ah. A surprise. How suspenseful."
"I like keeping you on your toes."
"I've noticed."
The elevator eventually rang and opened. Tyler and Ben walked on, and
Tyler hit the button for the 39th floor. The other people on the
elevator - mostly men - had to strain themselves not to turn towards
Tyler to check out his legs, or get a look at his D-cup breasts as they
jutted outward against the tight fabric of his little black dress. They
didn't dare make their interest obvious when Violet Taylor was
obviously, clearly, in the possession of another man. A wave a relief
went through Tyler's body as the elevator rose.
A minute later the doors opened and Tyler and Ben stepped off, still arm
in arm. Tyler brought Ben toward a bar... the same bar that Paul had
taken Tyler to three days earlier, when Paul had offered the story of
his life since arriving on Saturn Beta. What a weird discussion that had
been. Bulky white guy Paul Mayfield, who Jackson had turned into a
slight Korean girl named May Young, in order to serve her own business
purposes and get her point across. It was that discussion with Paul that
had convinced Tyler to get his navel pierced before the symphony. Things
had only gotten weirder since.
A waitress guided Tyler and Ben to a low booth near the back of the bar.
Ben ordered his usual gin and tonic while Tyler ordered a glass of red
wine. They made small talk for a while, which was enjoyable for Tyler,
as Ben was an adept conversationalist and always had something
interesting to say or witty remark on hand. After Ben was halfway
through his drink, however, he suddenly clammed up.
Tyler put down his wineglass. "Is everything okay?" he asked.
"Yeah," Ben said, tracing a finger along the rim of his glass. "I mean,
I guess. It's just that the convention is ending soon. I'm headed back
to Earth after it's all over. Gotta get back to work."
"Work. Babysitting investors, you mean."
"Actually, no. I've got something better that I'll be doing once I get
back. I have this idea for... well, anyway, that's a long discussion.
But I'll be leaving soon. And... I won't be seeing you again."
"Oh," Tyler said, pretending to act surprised. "Huh. I guess the
convention is ending in a couple days. I hadn't really thought about
that."
"Yeah. So, this is it, probably. I doubt we'll run into eachother again
before I head back to Earth. I'm going to be pretty damn busy between
now and then. Lots of meetings." He stared wistfully into his highball
glass. "Lots and lots and lots of meetings."
Tyler leaned forward across the table. "Jesus... you really hate your
job, huh?"
"I don't hate it... I just don't like it very much."
"You could quit," Tyler suggested. "There's lots of other jobs out
there."
Ben shook his head. "Nah. I don't want to leave the family business. I
just want to start doing something different." He traced a finger around
the rim of the glass. "Which is why I'm glad to be leaving for Miami.
I'm hoping to make an internal move once I'm back."
"What kind of internal move?"
"The interesting kind," Ben said, smiling conspiratorially. "I don't
want to talk about it too much, though. It'll just get me riled up. And
I have to be as placid as humanly possible if I'm going to get through
the next few days without going insane."
"Well, then," Tyler said, raising his glass to toast. "To not going
insane."
Ben lifted his gin & tonic and clinked glasses with Tyler. "I'll drink
to that. We've gotten off-topic, though. You've clearly missed half of
what I've said."
"What do you mean?"
"I won't be seeing you again. This is it, Violet. The last hurrah."
Tyler sighed. "Oh. Right. That's a shame," he said, while sorting out
the plan in his head. Pulling Ben's data from his phone was an immediate
need, a now-or-never situation. Tyler had planned on making his move
tonight, the next time Ben left his phone unattended, but now the
urgency was greater than it was before. Tyler squirmed in his seat a
bit, newly nervous.
"I'm not too happy about it, honestly. You're... look, I'm not usually
this forthcoming about things like this. But you're quite literally the
most attractive girl I've ever met."
Tyler looked back at Ben, doe-eyed. "Whoa. Really? That's quite the
compliment."
"I mean it. You're fun to talk to, and you're obviously insanely good-
looking... and you're smart, and you're kind of weird, which is always a
good thing. I'm guessing there aren't too many women who work at a
whorehouse but don't actually engage in... well, whoring, for lack of a
better term."
Tyler couldn't help but smile and shake his head. God, it was strange to
hear someone talk about him like that. He felt his stomach and heart
tingle.
"So," Ben continued, "I'm a bit put out that I won't see you again after
tonight. That's all I wanted to say."
"Oh, Ben," Tyler said. He reached a hand across the table and laid it on
top of Ben's. "It's really nice of you to say that. Really. Thank you."
Ben turned his palm over and grasped Tyler's dainty hand in his own. "I
meant every word."
"Me too," Tyler said, unsure if he was lying or not.
They looked into eachother's eyes for a moment. Tyler could see the
abject frustration on Ben's face, mixed with sadness and longing. Soon
he was back to his old self again, though, chatting away about his
family and his life back in Miami. After their glasses were empty, Ben
paid for the drinks and helped Tyler out of his seat. The two of them
walked back to the bank of elevators and stood there for a moment,
dumbly, as Tyler stared at the Up and Down buttons on the panel next to
the doors.
"Hmm," he said, desperate to stretch this out as long as he could. "I'm
trying to think of somewhere else we can go. I've only been here for
about a week myself, you know. I haven't had the chance to do much fun
stuff."
"I have an idea," Ben said. He guided his hand around Tyler's waist
until his fingers firmly enclosed Tyler's side. "If you're up for it."
Tyler shuddered as he felt Ben's hand on his side. Oh, God, Ben wasn't
very subtle... and Tyler wasn't keen on the idea that Ben had in his
head. Tyler wanted to stay in character, and wanted to keep stringing
Ben along, though. And whatever Ben had in mind couldn't have been as
bad as what Tyler had experienced in Ozzie's electronics store
yesterday...
Tyler resigned himself to what was coming next. He, looped his arm
around Ben's back and squeezed, then looked up at his date with a
sheepish but agreeable expression. "Sure, Ben," Tyler cooed. "I'm up for
whatever you have in mind."
"Great. Hopefully you'll dig it."
Ben leaned forward and pushed the Up button on the elevator bank. One
set of doors opened and Tyler and Ben walked on, still holding onto
eachother for dear life. Ben mashed the button for the 109th floor. The
ride up was silent and awkward, as they usually are when two people are
eagerly (or reluctantly) anticipating the carnal conclusion to a date.
Tyler leaned his head against Ben's jacketed shoulder and closed his
eyes, mentally psyching himself up for what he was about to do. Anything
to get the goods from a profitable mark, though. Anything at all...
And, oddly, the more he thought about it, the less he feared it.
Surrendering himself to Ben wouldn't be so bad. If he didn't think about
it too much, it might even be enjoyable. Ben was a nice enough guy,
unlike Ozzie, and Tyler doubted sex with Ben would be nearly as
uncomfortable or humiliating. Hell, if he could close his eyes and shut
out the world, maybe picture Connie penetrating him, or pretend that
Ben's dick was a sex toy... it could end up being a pretty good time.
Tyler actually felt himself warming to the idea, and he felt his
feminine nethers warming as well. He looked up at Ben and offered a weak
smile. Ben squeezed Tyler closer to him, rubbing his hips through the
fabric of the little black dress. Tyler didn't shudder or flinch at all.
The elevator doors opened on the 109th floor, and Tyler and Ben ended
their embrace as they walked out into the foyer. Ben loosely grabbed
Tyler's hand and escorted him along the floor. Tyler looked around at
the spindles and storefronts in his field of view, searching for
something that looked like a hotel, or a vacation rental... anyplace
that could hold a bed and a bathroom, really. He didn't find anything
that fit the bill. There was no lodging on the 109th.
And now Tyler had no idea where the hell Ben was taking him. His pulse
rose in a mixture of fear and curiosity.
"I was up here yesterday," Ben explained, "doing my babysitting. Saw
this place I wanted to check out. Hopefully it's not a total dive."
Tyler followed Ben through the foyer. "Okay..."
Ben pointed forward at a glittering marquee that read CHICAGO 1926.
Beneath the marquee was a wide set of glass doors, which Ben opened for
his date... and inside was a red-tinted room, filled with low chairs and
low tables, at about half capacity with people nursing drinks and
staring at the stage up front. The band played a slow but catchy tune to
the enjoyment of the patrons, and to the confusion of Tyler, who had
never heard this kind of music before. The stage was loaded with horns
and a piano and a big standing bass, things Tyler had seen on historical
websites before but never laid eyes on in real life. It took the air out
of him.
"Neat, huh?" Ben said, putting his hands on his sides and taking in the
room. "Okay, so, the story is, a couple hundred years ago there was this
thing called the Jazz Age. You can look it up. But the epicenter of that
Jazz Age was a place called Chicago. It's up north in the United States.
On Earth."
"Ah," Tyler said, playing dumb. He'd been to Chicago plenty of times.
For business, of course.
"They're trying to recreate the feel of that with this jazz club," Ben
continued, pointing around at the stage, the bar, the tables, and
finally the waitresses. "Now we just need some girls in bob haircuts and
flapper costumes, and we'll really be in business."
Tyler giggled. "I'm sure my boss could rustle some up for us."
"No thanks," Ben said, turning to Tyler and running a finger through his
long, wavy auburn locks. "We don't need you cutting your hair that
short. It's perfect the way it is."
Tyler blushed. Ben approached the hostess stand and soon he and Tyler
were being taken to a table near the stage. Tyler felt a sense of relief
as he walked through the club, glad that Ben didn't have any ulterior
motives for the evening... and, somewhere in the deep recesses of his
mind, Tyler also felt a slight twinge of disappointment. He tried to
ignore it.
*****
The drinks at Chicago 1926 were nothing special, nor were the paltry
offerings they had in the way of food, but the music was outstanding.
Tyler wondered how he had gone his entire life without ever hearing jazz
before. Perhaps it had just fallen out of style over the two-hundred-
plus years since its inception, or perhaps Tyler just wasn't as worldly
as he believe himself to be. Nevertheless, Tyler sat there in his little
black dress, smooth legs crossed tightly under the skirt, tapping the
beat against the tabletop with his long, pink fingernails. All the
thoughts in his head drifted away as the band went from one song to the
next. He was much more enthralled by the proceedings than Ben was. Ben
seemed... distracted, in a way. Distant.
After the first half-hour in the club, Tyler's curiosity got the better
of him. He leaned over to Ben between songs and said, "Is everything all
right?"
Ben took a sip from his lackluster gin and tonic. "Yeah. I'm fine."
"You don't look fine."
"I'll live."
Tyler shrugged a bit and returned his attention to the band. A slow
snare and melancholy note from the trumpet indicated the start of a slow
song, one which hypnotized Tyler in a matter of seconds. Soon after, Ben
emptied his drink with a single gulp and latched onto Tyler's right
hand.
"You wanna dance?" he asked, his hazel eyes piercing through Tyler's
defenses.
"Oh, uh," Tyler stammered. His heart leapt at the thought. "I don't
know. I've never done a whole lot of dancing. Back on Mars, we really
weren't..."
"To hell with Mars," Ben interrupted. "Come on. It's easy."
Ben rose from the table and offered his other hand, waiting for Tyler to
take him up on the suggestion. Tyler sighed, placed his purse under his
chair, and allowed Ben to lift him out and up.
"Don't look too excited," joked Ben.
"I have no idea what I'm doing," Tyler said, as Ben lead him by the hand
to the small dance floor in front of the stage, where only one other
couple was dancing. "Really. This could get ugly."
"If you're involved, Violet, it's impossible for something to get ugly."
They stood in front of each other, and Tyler swallowed nervously. Ben
wrapped his left arm around Tyler's waist, then took Tyler's right hand
up in his left. Tyler, on the feminine side of a formal dance
partnership for the first time in his life, tentatively placed his left
hand on Ben's shoulder. After that, all they did was sway to the music,
looking into eachother's eyes as they slowly, slowly rotated, with a
mere inch of space between their chests. The band played on as Ben moved
closer to Tyler, centimeter by centimeter, until Tyler's large tits
rested against Ben's hard chest. Tyler might have been put off by the
proximity of another man's body if he wasn't enjoying the music so
much... if he wasn't enjoying the company, the attention, the
compliments, the warmth...
Ben eventually placed his mouth and nose atop Tyler's head, where he
breathed deep the odor of Tyler's shampoo and conditioner. He emitted a
tiny, satisfied moan. Tyler smiled, knowing exactly what that was like.
What man didn't like smelling the top of his woman's head? There was
just something about it. He couldn't fault Ben for wanting to experience
it, even though he never wanted Ben to get the impression that they were
romantically involved. This was just a harmless date. The kiss in
Connie's suite yesterday morning was just a friendly way of saying thank
you. And this dance was just that... a simple dance. Tyler rested his
head under the crook beneath Ben's chin, closing his eyes, letting the
music overtake him, feeling Ben's breath course through his wavy hair,
enjoying the moment as much as he could. We like what we like, Tyler
knew... and he really liked this, whatever it was.
Several minutes into the song, Ben suddenly spoke up.
"Come back with me," he said into Tyler's hair. "To Earth."
Startled, Tyler lifted his head from Ben's chest and took a tiny step
back on his heels. "What?"
"I can put you up somewhere. I have a condo, fifty floors up, right on
the beach. I've told you about Miami, right? It has beaches that go for
miles and miles. Do you know what a beach is?"
"Um," Tyler said, gathering himself and remembering to play dumb. "I've
seen pictures of them. They look... nice."
"You can sit there on the balcony, drinking coffee, watching the sun
rise over the Atlantic, listening to the waves hit the shore. You can
watch the surfers."
Tyler stopped swaying, and took his hand off Ben's shoulder. "Ben, I...
I mean, we barely know eachother."
"I don't care. I like you enough to take the risk."
Tyler was gobsmacked. He hadn't expected this, not at all. He expected
Ben to proposition him for sex, which, somehow, was a more agreeable
idea than what Ben actually had in mind. No way could Tyler return to
Miami on the arm of some man he just met a few days ago. The thought of
it became more ridiculous the more he thought about it, and that was
before he even fully remembered that he was not Violet Taylor. He was
Tyler Hillman, goddammit! Why was he even here, on a date with another
male, wearing a little black dress and three-inch heels, letting his
hair get smelled by the son of the man who had tried to ruin his life?
What the fuck was he thinking?
He'd had enough of this charade. Mustering up all his professional and
social acumen, Tyler let go of Ben's let hand. "Can we go sit down?" he
asked.
Ben looked defeated, but he tried to keep a collected manner about him.
"Yeah. Yeah, sure. I could go for another drink."
Tyler returned to his seat, suddenly and completely unable to enjoy the
jazz music emanating from the stage. He thought about his next move...
he needed that phone. If only to prove to himself that he was still very
much here for business and not for pleasure, he needed to get his hands
on Ben Rosenthal's phone.
He waited a few minutes for his and Ben's emotions to simmer down, then
wrapped his arms around his waist, hugging himself tightly. He stayed
like this for a few minutes more before turning to Ben and adding a
somber tone to his voice.
"Ben?" he said.
Ben turned to him. "Hey."
"Can I borrow your jacket? It's kind of cold in here."
"Oh, yeah, sure," Ben said. He leaned forward in his chair and shrugged
out of his jacket, then stood up and went around behind Tyler's chair,
where he gently laid the garment over Tyler's shoulders. Tyler grabbed
the lapels with his hands and pulled the jacket tightly around himself.
"Thanks," he said, looking over his shoulder at Ben and smiling weakly.
Ben smiled back, rubbed Tyler's shoulder, and retook his seat at the
table. The waitress came through the club a minute later and Ben flagged
her down, ordering himself another gin and tonic. Tyler surreptitiously
worked his fingers through the interior of the jacket, feeling for the
presence of hard plastic and metal that was Ben's GammaNow QX7
smartphone. There it was, inside a lower pocket. He ran his nails along
its casing.
Not wanting to be too obvious, Tyler waited a long while to make his
next move. Ben tore through one gin and tonic and ordered another, while
Tyler remained disciplined by slowly working through a single glass of
red wine. Two long jazz melodies later, when Ben was most of the way
through another drink, Tyler scooted his chair back an inch and reached
down for his purse.
"I'll be back," he said, looking into the disappointed eyes of Ben
Rosenthal. He bent at the waist and gave Ben an apologetic kiss on the
cheek. Ben had earned that much.
Tyler made for the ladies room and went into the stall furthest from the
door. He sat on a closed-lid toilet seat and fished Ben's phone out of
the jacket pocket, then laid his purse on his lap and took out the
puller. The tiny, sleek black object rested lightly in his hand with a
stubby cable hanging out of it like a mouse's tail. Tyler found an
adapter that fit the interface slot on Ben's phone, attached the adapter
to the puller, and took a deep breath. Then he paused for a moment,
listening intently to the noises of the ladies room. There weren't any.
Tyler was alone in here, which is exactly what he wanted.
"Okay," Tyler said, holding the adapted puller in one hand and Ben's
phone in the other. "This had better fucking work."
He plugged the puller into the phone. There was a brief flicker of light
on the phone's screen, then a blinking of one of the indicator lights
along the top rim, and then nothing. Tyler tried to remember what Ozzie
had told him about the operation of the puller... plug it in, wait
thirty seconds, pull it out again. There were no buttons to press on the
puller's exterior case, and no digital readouts indicating progress,
which made Tyler feel nervous and less in-control than he usually would
when using one of these things.
But he trusted the machine in his hand, and he vaguely trusted Ozzie,
even though Ozzie was a scuzzball of the highest order. Though, granted,
the scuzzballs were the ones you wanted to trust when it came to shady,
illegal instrumentation like a puller. This business was not the realm
of the law-abiding and well-behaved.
Tyler counted backwards from thirty, mouthing the numbers as he went.
When the thirty seconds were over and the phone's screen flickered once
more, he removed the puller from the phone, disassembled the adapter at
the end of the cable, returned all the objects in his hands to their
former spots in his purse and Ben's jacket, and rose from the toilet
seat. He flushed it, just to ratchet up the authenticity of his visit to
the ladies room. Then he stepped out of the stall, checked himself in
the mirror (hair still looked good, makeup still looked good), washed
his hands, and gathered himself.
He stood in front of the door leading back into the jazz club and
paused, fully appreciating what had just happened. He'd done it. He'd
finally fucking done it. He'd conned Ben into trusting him, taken the
disgusting but necessary steps to extract his target's information, and
pulled the trigger on the end of the operation. Tyler finally, at last,
had what he wanted. Four days after marking Ben for a scam... and four
days was a pretty short timeframe for someone in Tyler's line of work.
The whole procedure had gone by relatively quickly, even if the details
of that procedure weren't what Tyler would have chosen if it had been up
to him. He'd done it, though! He had successfully used his talents -
with the help of his ravishing new body - to do his familiar old job.
Normally he would have felt proud of himself. Something, however, wasn't
allowing him to experience the rush of a successful scam and a job well
done. The honeypot had worked... but it had worked too well, too fast,
and now Ben was much, much more interested in the person of Violet
Taylor than Tyler ever would have expected. Tyler almost felt bad for
the poor guy.
He leaned against the door frame, with the warmth and scent of Ben
Rosenthal draped over his shoulders. Tyler didn't want to go all the way
through with this. Ben was, unlike most of the targets Tyler had scammed
in the past, a genuinely nice person. Fun to be around. Gentlemanly. Not
one to take extreme advantage of his family's fortune... nor one to take
advantage of horribly drunk, incredibly attractive women who didn't have
the wherewithal to resist. Whatever plan Tyler had for exploiting the
information he'd extracted from the smartphone, Ben didn't deserve it.
"Tough shit," Tyler whispered to himself, shoving his emotions down,
back where they belonged. He gathered himself, checking his face and
hair one last time in the mirror before returning to the club.
*****
The remainder of the date passed in silence, apart from the jazz band on
stage. Ben and Tyler didn't speak a word to eachother until what felt
like hours later, when Ben suggested they call it a night. Tyler agreed
and took Ben's offered hand, rising from the table and smoothing his
skirt of the little black dress he wore. They walked out of Chicago
1926, into the foyer of the 109th floor, and toward the elevator while
barely acknowledging eachother's presence.
"Where can I drop you off?" Ben asked as they stepped into the elevator
car. "Are you still staying in that suite on the 20th?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
Ben reached forward and pressed the button for the 20th floor. The doors
closed and the car hummed to life, descending.
"So," Ben said, breaking the silence after the first ten floors, "you
still haven't given me an answer."
Tyler pulled Ben's jacket tighter around himself and looked up at him.
"Sorry. I mean... You're a great guy. Really. And I don't say that about
too many people... at least, I don't mean it most of the time. But I
mean it with you."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Ben said, in a disgruntled voice.
"You should," Tyler said. He moved closer to Ben until they were only an
inch apart, then took Ben's hands in his own. He looked up at Ben with
pleading eyes and spoke in a flirtatious, honest, and ultimately
feminine voice. "I actually like you a lot. Maybe you don't believe me,
but it's true. I didn't think too much of you when we first met, but,
well... you've grown on me. You're interesting, and funny, and...
handsome. I'd be lying if I said you weren't handsome."
Ben seemed surprised to hear this. He let go of Tyler's hands and
wrapped his arms around Tyler's body, pulling him in for a tight warming
hug. Tyler hummed contentedly and rested his head against Ben's
shoulder. He was happy to be here, in this moment with Ben, even if
their relationship would cease to exist within the next hour.
Ben lovingly stroked Tyler's long, auburn hair. "I didn't think much of
you, either, Violet," he admitted. "I kind of thought you were just some
dumb bimbo model. Then, y'know... I thought you were a prostitute."
"I can't imagine what would've given you that impression," Tyler joked.
"Yeah, well..." Ben said. "I'm glad you're neither. I'm glad you're
actually just a regular, nice, funny, enchanting young lady. One that
happens to be insanely hot."
Tyler giggled. "And I'm glad you're not a scumbag. You're one of the
very, very few non-creepy, non-sleazy men I've run into since I got to
the station."
"Oh, come on. We're not all bad."
"Not all. Most. I've run into a hundred real dirtballs out here on Beta.
Maybe four or five nice guys."
The elevator halted its descent at the 64th floor. The doors slid open
and - speaking of nice guys - on walked that now-familiar Indian (or
Pakistani) man with the faint British accent. In his left hand was a
bag... and accompanying him on his right side was a young girl, no older
than ten years, holding onto his hand with a death grip.
"Oh," he said. He tilted his head, as if not expecting to see what was
in the back of the elevator car. Tyler and the man looked at eachother
with complete mutual recognition, and Tyler took his head off of Ben's
shoulder. He and Ben loosened their grips on eachother as the man turned
around and leaned forward to push the button for his floor. The young
girl accompanying him stared curiously at Ben and Tyler while the man's
finger hovered around the upper 40's for a split-second before he
pressed the button for the 44th, seemingly at random. He then tightened
his hold on his faded canvas bag and stared straight forward at the
closing doors.
Once the elevator had started its descent again, Ben cleared his throat.
"Hi," he said, to the little girl who hadn't stopped staring at the
strange people in the rear of the elevator car. She didn't respond.
The man looked down at her. "You can say hi," he encouraged. She stayed
silent. The man turned to face Ben and Tyler, flushed with unnecessary
embarrassment, as though apologizing for the fact that his companion was
the shy type. He stifled a yawn as the 44th floor arrived, then stepped
off with the little girl. The doors closed again.
"That was weird," Ben said.
"Huh," Tyler said, leaning into Ben's embrace again. "He has a kid."
"You know him?"
"That was one of the other nice guys," Tyler explained. "I've run into
him a couple times. One of the few men on this station who can be in the
same room with me for ten seconds without looking at my breasts twenty
times."
"Hmm. He sounds like a real gentleman."
"He is," Tyler said. He looked up at Ben again. "Just like you."
Ben laughed a bit, then leaned his face towards Tyler's, and the two
shared a long, sweet kiss, which eventually morphed into something more
passionate. Their mouths opened, and their tongues sought each other...
and Tyler felt no disgust, no regret, nothing but contentment with what
he was doing. He felt desired, valued... and feminine. He loved the
feeling, despite any inhibitions leftover from his old life and body.
Ben held Tyler firmly with both arms wrapped around his waist, while
Tyler lifted up a leg and hung it over Ben's backside. Tyler could feel
his own genitals tingling as he felt Ben's penis grow rigid and upright.
The last twenty floors of the elevator ride melted away as the two
temporary lovers made out like teenagers. Ben had a significant smudge
of lipstick on his mouth by the time the doors opened to let them off
into the 20th floor's foyer. He offered his arm to Tyler again, and
Tyler was more than happy to take it.
Ben escorted Tyler through the Pyramid Suites lobby silently, neither of
them wanting to ruin the moment with talk of what was to come next. Ben
was disappointed in Tyler's refusal to accompany him back to Earth, and
he radiated that disappointment with every step he took. Tyler stroked
Ben's upper arm encouragingly, but it clearly had no positive effect on
his date. Ben was simply crestfallen. Tyler felt awful for him, just as
Tyler had felt awful for himself in the past when girls had rejected him
for dates, or for goodnight kisses, or for sex...
As they approached Connie's suite, Tyler made a decision. Out of pity,
or hormones, or guilt, or stereotypical feminine obligation, or
curiosity, or genuine attraction, or misplaced passion in the heat of
the moment, or any number of things... but he made a decision
nonetheless. He mustered up his courage as he and Ben stopped in front
of the door to the suite.
"I had a good time with you this week," Ben said, unhooking his arm from
Tyler's. "It was nice to have you around. You were the only highlight of
the convention for me."
Tyler grinned toothily back at him. "Thanks. You too, Ben. I had way
more fun with you than I thought I would. I'm glad I was able to make
everything slightly less miserable for you."
"So am I," Ben said. He moved behind Tyler, took the jacket draped over
his date's shoulders, and hung it over his forearm. "Okay. Well, take
care of yourself."
He turned to leave. Tyler, surprised that Ben was making such a quick
getaway, reached out for him. Tyler's pink-polished fingers wrapped
around Ben's wrist.
"Wait," Tyler said. "Wait, Ben. Do you... do you want to come in for a
minute? For some coffee?"
Tyler shifted awkwardly atop his high heels as Ben turned around to face
him. Ben took in the stunning beauty before him - her auburn hair, her
gorgeous face, her large and perfect breasts, her thin and supple body,
her bare knees and calves, and the form-hugging dress she wore that left
little to the imagination. Tyler moved closer, wrapped his arms around
Ben's waist, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. They both knew
that Tyler wasn't just asking him in for coffee. There was something
else on Tyler's mind... and it was on Ben's mind, too. Tyler could see
it plastered all over his face. He could feel the warming and moistening
in his own feminine nethers under his little black dress, and he could
feel the shifting and hardening of Ben's own equipment as the two held
eachother close. Tyler ached to be filled.
Ben let out a long, drawn sigh. "I don't think that's a good idea,
Violet. It'll just make it hurt more when I have to leave."
"It doesn't have to hurt," Tyler pleaded. "It can just be a thing we do
before we say our goodbyes. It won't have to mean anything."
"Everything means something."
Tyler could feel his eyes watering. "Yeah, well... okay. Yes, it means
something. It means I'm sorry. It means I feel bad for you, Ben. I made
you sad, and now I want to make it up to you."
"By having sex with me?" Ben said. He sighed again. "I don't do pity,
Violet. You're an amazing girl, and I'd be a very lucky man, but I don't
do pity. Because then I'd only end up feeling worse than I already do."
"Ben..."
"Let's not ruin this. We had a good evening together. I got to have a
few drinks, and listen to music, and dance, and make out in an elevator,
with the hottest woman on Saturn Beta. That's enough."
Ben smiled, as confident in his decision to turn down sex as a warm-
blooded man could be, and gave Tyler one last kiss on the lips. He
turned away and walked down the hall as Tyler helplessly watched him go.
Tyler leaned against the door frame as Ben turned the corner and
disappeared.
And that was it. Ben Rosenthal was out of Tyler's life. Tyler walked
into the luxury suite, letting the door close behind him, then leaned
his back against the door and hugged himself tightly.
Conflict raged inside Tyler as he remembered himself... both sides of
himself. The relief he felt from not having to fuck Ben struggled
against the sadness he felt from being rejected. Logic fought against
emotion. Profit battled with guilt. Genuine human connection fought
against the cold reality of survival of the fittest. Old hormones
competed with new hormones. Saturn Beta clashed with Miami, Florida. And
Tyler Hillman fought valiantly, in what was becoming a battle he felt he
had to win, against Violet Taylor.
The internal war became too much for him, and he slid down the door at
his back, slumped forward on his knees, buried his face in his hands,
and wept.
*****
Tyler eventually collected himself enough to hang his little black dress
on the clothes rack and bury himself under the sheets of the oversized
bed, and before he knew it, he was fully rested and awake again. He
rolled off the bed wearing only his bra and panties and wandered into
the bathroom, where he sat on the toilet to relieve himself while
fiddling idly with his pretty pink navel piercing. It reminded him of
Connie, which made him feel better... but only slightly. Connie was
gone. Ben would be gone soon, too. And then Amber soon after that. Then
who next? Renee? Zoe? Paul? He'd be losing friends left and right...
Tyler finished going to the bathroom and gathered himself. No use
worrying about what might happen. No crying over spilled milk. What was
done was done, and now it was time to get serious and go back to work.
Miami work, not Saturn Beta work. He wrapped a clean terry bathrobe
around his immaculate female body and switched the bathroom light off.
Grabbing his purse from a coathook near the door, he set the suite's
coffee maker to brew up a fresh pot, and sat down at the desk. He dumped
the contents of his purse - his old phone, his new phone, his Ringed
Amusements employee tablet, and finally the puller and its adapters. He
slid the casing apart and examined the interior components closely. He
could disassemble this, which would be necessary if he was going to get
on with the next part of his plan. Customs would never allow a genuine,
fully-functional puller through, no matter how wild-west it was out here
in Saturn's orbit. So Tyler would have to improvise and send it
piecemeal, in separate packages, to separate addresses. Fortunately,
Dennis had plenty of aliases with a corresponding postal box for each.
He picked up the suite's bedside phone. Seconds later, the front desk
answered.
"Good morning, Miss Giordano," said the young man on the other end.
Tyler cleared his throat. "This is Violet Taylor, actually. I'm Miss
Giordano's guest."
"Ah, my apologies, ma'am. What can we do for you."
"Three things," Tyler said, arming himself with his best impression of
an eccentric cosmopolitan young lady. "Breakfast, first of all."
"Of course," the receptionist said. "For two?"
Tyler looked around, slightly saddened that Connie wasn't still nearby.
"No. Just for one, please."
"And what else can we help you with this morning?"
"This is our check-out day, correct?"
"Yes ma'am, it is."
"Okay," Tyler said, looking over at the various racks and boxes of
clothing and accessories that had been provided by Incantevole, the
wardrobe on the 5th floor, and elsewhere. "I need to get my things up to
my home here on the station. Can everything be... delivered? Is that
possible?"
"Not a problem. Where can we deliver them?"
"Care of Violet Taylor, 48th floor, spindle seven. Ringed Amusements
Company."
The receptionist paused for a second. "Ah," he said, eventually, making
it clear with his voice that he was familiar with Tyler's place of
employment. Apparently Tyler wasn't the first Ringed employee to spend a
night or two at Pyramid Suites. "And is there anything else we can do
for you, Miss Taylor?"
"Well, maybe," Tyler said. "It's a bit of a weird request..."
"We pride ourselves on our service, Miss Taylor."
Tyler chuckled girlishly into the phone. "Well, fine, I'm glad you're up
for the challenge. I need a screwdriver set. Flathead, hex, and
Phillips. Very small heads."
"All right," the young man on the other end said. Tyler could hear him
tapping away at a screen on the other end of the phone. "We'll see what
we can do."
"And some anti-static sleeves." Tyler took the uncased puller up in his
dainty hand and looked at it closely. "Five of them."
"Five anti-static sleeves," the receptionist said. "Great."
"And five padded envelopes. And enough postage to get each envelope to
Earth."
The receptionist stopped tapping away. "I'll be honest, Miss Taylor...
it could take us a while to gather all that up for you."
"We can wait."
"Excellent. Would you like breakfast first and the rest of it later?"
Tyler answered affirmatively and ended the call, satisfied with how he
had handled it. He figured he had enough time for a shower, so he shed
the terry bathrobe and his underthings and jumped in to wash himself. He
spent a long time in there, soaking himself, soaping up, rinsing, still
getting used to the long, heavy mop of auburn on his head. Getting it
wet made it feel like his head was being pulled downward by the weight.
It was an interesting sensation for someone who had rather close-cropped
hair for his entire life.
Eventually he exited the shower, re-wrapped himself in the bathrobe, and
went to his purse. He took out his old phone and looked through the
messages between him and Dennis. Dennis' last message appeared at the
bottom of the thread, just as Tyler remembered it: GO FOR IT. BE
CAREFUL.
"Done and done," Tyler said to the phone in his hand. He tapped out a
new message: SENDING SOMETHING YOUR WAY.
Tyler then rested in one of the chairs near the big bay window on the
far end of the room, crossing his legs tightly, hugging himself under
his terry robe. As if by instinct, one of his hands found its way under
the fabric and toward his left breast. As he stared out into space,
quite literally, his right hand began massaging his breast, rolling the
nipple between his fingers. He only caught himself doing this after
several minutes of zoning out. It reminded him of how, when he had been
male, his hand would sometimes drift into his pants and begin fondling
his cock and balls - not with intention, not for any particular sexual
purpose, but just because it happened sometimes. Did all women
occasionally, spontaneously reach under their blouses and start groping
themselves for no reason, he wondered? It was an odd thing to think
about.
Maybe it was a response borne of sexual frustration, though... of the
need for release. He'd certainly been frustrated by Ben last night...
"Shut up, Tyler," he said to himself with his feminine voice. "Get your
head right."
He tried to stop thinking about Ben, and about the conversations they'd
had last night. Crazy stuff. Ben inviting Tyler to come live with him on
Earth, then Tyler inviting Ben into the suite for a romp in the
sheets... ridiculous, all of it. Tyler encouraged himself never to take
pity on a target ever again. Especially so long as he was in this
supermodelesque body. Satisfied with his current mindset, Tyler
continued looking out the window at the massive planet in the distance.
And his right hand, true to form, once again drifted under the folds of
his robe and gripped the flesh of his breast, flicking his finger over
the nipple as he worked out his next moves.
There was a knock on the suite door. Tyler rapidly stopped fondling
himself, drew the robe tightly around his waist, and padded across the
room. That couldn't be breakfast already...
He looked through the peephole on the door. Outside was a short young
man wearing a suit and a nametag... one sporting the Pyramid Suites
logo. Tyler opened the door.
"Miss Taylor?" the man said. Tyler thought he recognized the voice.
"That's me," said Tyler.
"Sorry for interrupting. We spoke a little while ago. I was able to find
a screwdriver set for you." He produced a small plastic case from his
jacket pocket.
"Oh," Tyler said, taking the case from him. "Thanks. I didn't expect to
get it so quickly. How about the envelopes and anti-static sleeves?"
The receptionist looked down at the floor. "Can I be honest with you,
Miss Taylor? I didn't want to say this over the phone, but... it's in
your best interest not to trust the shipping companies here on the
station."
Leaning against the door, Tyler tapped the screwdriver set against his
robed thigh. "And why's that?"
"Things have a habit of going missing. It's the wild west out here,
after all. Based on your requests, I'm assuming you're shipping some
kind of electronic equipment. The fragile kind. Possibly the extremely
valuable kind."
"Possibly," sighed Tyler. God, what a pain in the ass this whole caper
was turning out to be...
The receptionist nodded, then looked down the hallway. "Well, like I
said, this is the wild west. We have our own version of 22nd-century
stagecoach robbery. At the shipping companies, electronics tend to get
flagged for closer inspection. That inspection is done by humans, rather
than robots. And some of those humans are... disreputable. That's the
nicest way I can put it." He shrugged and turned to face Tyler. "Welcome
to Saturn Beta."
Tyler closed his eyes and shook his head. "Well," he said, pulling a
hand through his damp auburn hair, "I appreciate the heads-up."
"Would you still like us to send up the envelopes and..."
"No," said Tyler. "No. That's fine."
"Very good. Your breakfast should be up shortly."
The receptionist gave a slight bow and turned down the hallway. Tyler
lightly banged his head against the door frame. "God dammit," he
whispered, trying to come up with a way for getting the puller - or at
least the data card - to Dennis back on Earth. He needed a Plan B.
And, before his breakfast even arrived, he admitted to himself that he'd
already been offered one.
*****
All of Tyler's clothing had been delivered from Pyramid Suites to his
dorm room by the time he arrived there. Amber, however, was among the
missing, and that gave Tyler time to unpack the disassembled puller from
his purse, then hide them in various places around his side of the room
- tucked into his bed, his headboard, the clothes Connie had bought for
him, and whatnot. Once satisfied that Amber wouldn't see anything
suspicious, he checked his appearance in the nearest mirror and began
walking toward Jackson's office. He knocked on the door and waited.
He heard the approaching sound of heels on hardwood, and then the door
creaked open an inch.
"Oh!" said Amber's voice from the other side of the door, which she
swung wide. "Hey, darlin'. Me 'n' Jackson were just talkin' about you!"
"Oh yeah?" Tyler said. He walked into the office. Jackson was sat behind
her massive desk, eyeing her two employees.
"Yes," she said. She yawned - why was she yawning so much lately? - and
adjusted her glasses atop the bridge of her nose. "Fortuitous timing as
always, Violet."
"I have a knack. What can I say."
"You might want to wait outside for another minute, though," Jackson
said. "Amber and I need to have a brief, embarrassing conversation."
"Oh, Jackson, stop tryin' to scare her off," Amber said. She grabbed
Tyler's arm and pointed to the chairs across the desk from Jackson. "I
really don't care. She can stick around for this. It ain't embarrassin'
at all."
"Embarrassing?" Tyler said, walking over to the offered chair.
"Embarrassing how?"
Jackson straightened in her seat. "It's a personal matter. Related to
the next chapter in Amber's life. And about company property she won't
be needing anymore. Such as her tablet, which she's already returned...
and certain other things, which she's still holding onto."
"Okay, okay," Amber said, plopping down into the chair next to where
Tyler sat. "Let's not be gettin' all dramatic. Just say what you gotta
say, Jackson."
Tyler watched the two beautiful women sizing eachother up. He remained
in his seat, hands folded over his skirt, confused.
Jackson looked seriously at Amber. "You'll get fat," she began. "If you
eat too much. And I know you're the type to eat too much. I've heard
stories about what you put away at the sports bar on the 73rd floor."
"Yeah, yeah," Amber said. "I'll watch what I eat. I get it."
"Your feet and ankles won't be so resilient. You'll have to be careful
when wearing heels."
"No problem. It's not like I'll be wearin' sexy outfits all the time
anymore. Don't need crazy heels if you're not wearin' crazy stuff to go
with 'em."
"You'll get sick. Constantly. At least a couple times a year on average.
More than that, if your immune system..."
"Isaac has some doctor friends. I'll be fine."
Tyler leaned forward in his chair. "Um," he said, "can I ask..."
"In a moment, Miss Taylor," Jackson said, without looking over at him.
"And you'll get old, Amber. You won't have this body forever. Gray hair,
wrinkles, crow's feet, veiny hands, sagging breasts. The list goes on
and on."
"Don't care. I like the idea of growin' old with Isaac. Like those cute
granny and grampa couples in old pictures, sittin' by the lake, holdin'
hands, feedin' the ducks. I'm on board with that. Everyone's gotta die
of somethin'. Might as well be old age."
A light went on over Tyler's head. He got it now. He knew what this
conversation was about - Jackson was preparing to get her nanobots back
from Amber's body, and Amber was being made aware of the consequences.
Tyler was stunned that Amber had no problem with him being in the room
for this discussion. She really was a marvel of transparency.
"You'll get periods again," Jackson said. "And all the fun stuff that
comes with them."
"Bring it on," Amber said.
Jackson removed her glasses. "And, last but not least - and we both know
you aren't particularly despondent about this one..."
Amber nodded, then instantly began misting up. Tyler looked over at her,
concerned. Amber held her hand out for Tyler to grab, which he did. They
both squeezed tightly.
Jackson cleared her throat. "You'll be able to get pregnant."
Amber burst into tears and covered her mouth with her free hand. She
started nodding her head furiously. When she was able to speak again,
all she could say was "I know, I know, I know," as if it were the only
two words she knew.
"Amber?" Tyler said, beginning to feel moisture welling up in his own
eyes. "Hey. Amber?"
"I'm fine," she gurgled through her tears. "Just a little emotional, is
all. Yeah, Jackson, I get it. I'm good with all of it."
"I hope Isaac's good with it, too," Jackson said, smirking.
Amber laughed aloud, immediately lightening the mood in the room. She,
Jackson, and Tyler all exchanged friendly glances with eachother as
Amber stopped crying. "Oh, yeah," she said. "He's fine with it. He knows
he's been livin' in a fantasy world with me for the last few years. Time
for him to deal with the reality."
"Honestly, though," Jackson continued. "Easy on the fried foods. You
won't do yourself any favors by continuing to eat like a pig."
"Okay, okay, I get it, boss lady." Amber wiped the streaks below her
eyes. "I'll try to keep this body of yours in tip-top shape."
"Not mine anymore, Amber. It's all yours. You've earned it. Paul and I
are retiring the model."
Amber nodded and smiled weakly. "Thanks. I 'preciate it."
"Well then," Jackson said, reaching under her desk. She unzipped a
duffel bag, extracted something from within it, and zipped the bag
closed again. She straightened up and produced an item for Amber - a
short, beige cylinder.
Tyler had seen one of these before. He had delivered it to Jackson on
behalf of Connie, three days ago, the morning Connie left the station.
Jackson gave Tyler a flickering glance as she handed the cylinder to
Amber.
"Mmkay," Amber said, turning the cylinder over in her hands. "How's this
work?"
Leaning back in her chair, Jackson began tapping away on the tablet
laying on her desk. "Pretty simple. I tell the nanobots to swim to your
bladder, you evacuate them into that and close the lid tight. That's
it."
"Easy peezy," said Amber.
"Emphasis on 'peezy', of course," Jackson said.
Tyler sat in his chair awkwardly. Jesus. He thought Connie's beige
cylinder had been full of money, not urine and nanobots. That hadn't
even entered his head three days ago when he was carrying it in his own
hands. Usually he would have been disgusted by a revelation like this -
at the knowledge that he'd been carting someone else's pee through the
station - but somehow it didn't bother him. And he was glad, too. He
knew Jackson got off on seeing him squirm in discomfort. He wasn't about
to give her the satisfaction.
Amber stood up. "Well, that's it for me, then. I'll let you two get on
down to business. See ya in a bit, Violet."
"Yeah," Tyler said, snapping back to the present. "I'll be back in the
room in a minute."
Amber reached down for her purse and left Jackson's office wordlessly.
Tyler was left alone with his interim boss, at last. And now he
struggled to recall why he'd come in here in the first place.
"Oh, right," Tyler said, remembering at last. "So, uh, about that thing
we talked about earlier."
"We talked about a lot of things earlier, Mr. Hillman," Jackson replied.
Tyler glared at her. "Two days ago. About me, uh, accompanying Amber
back to Earth."
"Ah, yes," Jackson said. "You've made a decision, then."
"Yeah. I'd like to go."
Jackson looked surprised - shocked, even - for what might have been the
first time in her life. Tyler had never seen an expression like that on
Jackson's face before.
"You would?" she said.
"Well, yeah," replied Tyler. "Like you and Amber said, there's not a lot
happening out here once the convention is over. I won't be able to pay
down my debt until the next big thing comes around on the calendar.
Might as well kill time on Earth in the meantime."
Jackson leaned back in her chair. "Well. I didn't think you had it in
you."
"Had what in me?"
"Planning a wedding. For someone you just met a week ago, mind. You're
going to be awfully busy when you're in the States. Amber strikes me as
the needy type."
Tyler shook his head. "Oh, I don't mind. It'll be a nice break from...
this." He waved his hand around the office. "I've had about enough."
"Enough? Of what?"
"Just... all the bullshit. The staring. The groping. The comments. Most
of the men out here on the station don't know how to keep their hands
and their thoughts to themselves."
"And you assume men on Earth are any different," Jackson said. "Good
God, Mr. Hillman. You are genuinely clueless about the female
experience. All the 'bullshit', as you say, that you've been dealing
with for the past week? Try dealing with it for the better part of a
lifetime."
"Oh please, Jackson. Girls on Earth aren't required by their bosses to
wear French maid outfits and booth babe dresses and cheerleader uniforms
and... and corsets. I could deal with it if I wasn't so... exposed all
the time."
Jackson looked slyly across her desk. "Beauty is beauty, Mr. Hillman,
whether it's wearing a miniskirt or a trenchcoat. And you are one hell
of a beautiful young woman."
Tyler sighed and stood up. Jackson was trying to get his goat, yet
again, and he wasn't having it right now. "I'd like to go with Amber,"
he said with finality, straightening his skirt and making his way to the
door.
"Mr. Hillman," Jackson said behind him. He turned to look at her, and
she put her glasses back on. "I could... do something about that for
you. About your appearance."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning... I could talk to Paul. He and I could modify the programming
on the nanobots in your body. Restructure your face a bit. Shrink your
breasts. Make you less attractive, in other words. Out here, on the
station, when you're in the employ of Ringed Amusements... yes, I need
the hottest, sexiest, most beautiful women that modern science can
design. Back on Earth, though... well, let's just say that Amber doesn't
need a supermodel to help her plan her wedding."
"Hmm," Tyler said, folding his arms under his breasts.
"It's your decision. The men on Earth aren't much more polite than the
men out here. Trust someone who's lived in both places for a decade or
more." She slid open a desk drawer and took out a piece of paper with
text on one side. "And at some point over the next few days, go and talk
to Raj Williams on the 64th floor. He'll help you return to Earth."
"Raj... who?" Tyler said. "I don't need help. I was just going to take a
rocket to get there. I'm guessing that's what Amber's going to do, too."
"Getting there isn't the problem. Getting through security at the
spaceport is. You need documentation to match your new identity, Mr.
Hillman. That's not something you can pick up at a gift shop."
Tyler looked oddly at her. "This man of yours... he's a forger?"
"Raj is a forger. And an extremely adept one. I can forge documents
myself, and I've done it plenty of times for plenty of girls in the
past. But I'm simply too busy right now, so I have to pawn the work off
to someone else. There are very few people that I trust entirely out
here in the wild west. Raj is one of them."
"Okay," said Tyler, shrugging. "Well, thanks, I suppose. I should go
tell Amber my decision."
"Probably," Jackson said. And then she yawned again, big, her mouth so
wide that she wasn't able to cover it with her hand.
Tyler leaned away from the door. "Okay, Jackson, I'm finally going to
ask... why all the yawning lately? Are you not getting enough sleep?"
"Probably not," she said as the yawn finally ended.
"You'll be able to relax once the convention is over, right?"
"I certainly hope so."
Tyler left Jackson's office and returned to his and Amber's dorm
hallway. Moments later, after Tyler delivered the good news, Amber
delightedly screamed loud enough for Jackson to hear it through her
office door. She looked out the grid of giant windows behind her desk,
trying her damnedest not to yawn again.
*****
The rest of the day was a blur. Tyler had another job on the convention
floor, with AG&M once again, standing around in knee-high boots and a
company-branded microdress while handing out information packets to
anyone who stopped and stared for too long. He armed himself with his
best, most positive attitude and smiled at everyone until his mouth
hurt. Renee called him out on it a few times, telling him to stop being
so fake. He tried to tone it down a bit after that.
He was happy, though. He'd figured out a way to get the puller, and all
the potentially valuable data within it, back to Earth... and back to
Dennis. It'd be a simple matter - pack the segments of the puller into
separate envelopes, ship them to Dennis' various addresses, and not
worry one iota about customs flagging the packages. It would all work
out just fine, once he got to Houston. He wasn't thrilled at the idea of
spending months on Earth, stuck in a female body, while planning a
wedding for someone he just met one week ago... but if that's what it
took to get back into the swing of his info brokering business, so be
it.
One more event that night sealed the deal for Tyler, convincing him
fully that he'd made the right decision: another important football
game, and another night serving drinks in the lounge on the 5th floor,
dressed up in the midriff-baring cheerleader outfit. He absolutely
didn't want to put up with this anymore... all the staring, lewd
comments, groping, whistling, awkward attempts at flirting, and the rest
of it. Football season wasn't ending any time soon.
And yes, he still had to pay off the rest of his debt to Jackson,
presumably by working infrequent jobs for her on Saturn Beta, but she'd
also mentioned that he might be able to do a few things for her while in
Houston. Besides that, he'd certainly have the opportunity to continue
info-brokering... maybe he'd be able to make a bunch of money doing
that, and then pay back Jackson with hard cash rather than with hard
labor. There were a lot of potential winning scenarios awaiting Tyler
back on Earth, despite the body he currently occupied, and none of them
required him to wear a goddamn cheerleader costume.
The final day of the convention arrived at last. Tyler went up to the
122nd floor as always, donned his AG&M logo dress and boots, and stood
around for another few hours while Noah and his juniors worked the
table. The crowd was much lighter today... stragglers who hadn't caught
an earlier rocket-flight home, Tyler figured. The convention center was
much quieter as a result, not to mention much easier to see around.
Losing six inches of height had prevented Tyler from seeing much of
anything during the convention, other than the people standing
immediately in front of him at any given time. Today's thin crowd
alleviated that problem. He craned his neck this way and that, seeing
the other booths, the other booth babes, and many eye-catching displays
of lunar extraction equipment.
What Tyler didn't see was Ben Rosenthal. He hadn't been around the
convention floor yesterday, nor had he been at the lounge for the
football game, nor was he at the convention again today. Maybe he'd seen
enough, or maybe the investors he'd been babysitting had needed to
return to Earth and report on their findings.
Or maybe Tyler had broken Ben's heart by rejecting his offer to live
with him in Miami.
Tyler tried not to think about it. Ben was a big boy, after all. He
could rebound from a pretty young woman saying no. Besides, his family
was valued among the richest in the entire southeastern United States.
Tyler was sure Ben would be able to find some gold-digging trophy to
wrap around his finger. Though the thought of Ben winding up with a
vapid bimbo bothered Tyler more than it should have...
The convention formally ended after a few hours, and Tyler and Renee
retreated to the ladies room to get back into their casual clothes.
Tyler stripped himself out of the microdress one last time, sighing in
relief as he put it back in the box that it came in. The boots followed.
"Nah, Violet, nah," Renee said, from the stall next to Tyler's, as she
heard the thump of boots against the cardboard box. "Don't give those
up. That's a good pair of boots. You'll find something to do with them.
Trust me."
"Uh, no thanks," Tyler said. "I can't imagine ever wearing those again.
They're really not my style."
"Doesn't matter what your style is, girl. What matters is how you look
in them. And shit, your legs are plenty fine, but those boots take 'em
up to another level. You're keeping them. End of story."
Tyler looked into the box and considered Renee's words. "Wouldn't that
be, like, stealing? Those belong to AG&M, don't they?"
"Technically, yes. Jackson's boys printed them on behalf of our client.
But I don't think Noah or his people would have any further use for
them, do you?"
"I guess not."
"Look, honey, I've been doing this line of work for a really, really
long time. And I've helped myself to the leftovers more than once.
Nobody's ever made a fuss over it."
"I thought you were all about being professional," Tyler said, smirking
at his cheekiness. He looked at the divider between his and Renee's
bathroom stalls, imagining Renee's annoyed face on the other side.
"There's a thin line between professionalism and practicality, Violet.
Take the boots. You'll thank me later."
Tyler sincerely doubted he'd be thanking anyone, but he took Renee's
advice and retrieved the boots out of the box. He slipped into the
outfit he'd worn this morning - the same floral sundress and wedge heels
he'd worn before the first day of the convention - and exited the
ladies' room with Renee at his side. His purse hung on his left
shoulder, while the knee-highs draped over his right forearm.
"All right," Renee said, carrying her own set of white boots. She looked
at her Ringed Amusements-issued tablet as they walked. "I've got a thing
to do on the 88th floor in half an hour."
They reached the elevator hub, which was crowded with businessmen and
women leaving the convention. "You've got a thing?" Tyler asked.
"Yes," Renee said. "A thing. Dicks are involved."
A few heads turned at Renee's blunt honesty. Tyler felt blood rushing to
his cheeks.
"Very professional," Tyler said, looking away from Renee and blushing
heavily.
"Always," Renee replied.
Soon the elevator doors opened and a rush of people crowded on. Tyler
and Renee were barely able to board, and Tyler found himself pressed
against the sliding doors as the car descended. A few stray hands
anonymously found their way to the fabric encasing Tyler's firm buttocks
as he rode the elevator in uncomfortable silence, gritting his teeth.
God, he couldn't wait to get the fuck off this station...
The car emptied a bit during the trip down, a few people at a time.
Renee disembarked on the 88th floor and waved at Tyler as she went about
her freelancing for the day. The elevator car was only about half-full
now, much to Tyler's relief.
The car stopped at the 82nd floor, then the 75th, picking up and
dropping off passengers. Then it stopped again at the 64th floor. Tyler
heard a rustling of footsteps behind him as someone moved toward the
sliding doors.
"This is our floor, Violet," a man said, in a diluted British accent.
Tyler felt a hand on his back. His heart pounded at the sound of his
assumed name and the touch of another stranger... but then he turned to
see who it was.
"Oh," Tyler said with a slight gasp. It was the half-Indian (or half-
Pakistani?) man once again, the one who had never pointed a lustful
glance in Tyler's direction. The one with the little girl. One of the
few truly nice, non-perverted guys on all of Saturn Beta.
"After you," the man said. The elevator car's other occupants waited
impatiently for the two at the front to leave.
Tyler looked back at the man, confused. How the fuck did he know Tyler's
name... Violet's name? They'd never