The Heels In The Trunk free porn video

The Heels in the Trunk Woman in a volatile relationship finds her boyfriend's secret high heels. She assumes he's cheating on her but dislikes the truth even more. David whistled as he walked back to his apartment on 40th Street. He loved living in the city. The city opened a new streetcar line one block over, which gave him transportation just about everywhere, including to his old neighborhood. But he often didn't need that, as dozens of restaurants, shops and entertainment venues were within walking distance. The local market two blocks over had the best organic produce and meats he had ever tasted. Even his new gym was a five minute walk to his apartment. In fact, if it weren't for his old job back in suburbia, David would dump his car and live his entire life within walking distance of where he was now. David had just completed a two mile swim in the lap pool at his new gym. It was unusual for a gym to have a pool these days, especially one in the city. David loved swimming. It was great exercise and it allowed him to maintain the smooth swimmer's body without raising any snide remarks or overly inquisitive questions. Swimming also gave him time to himself, time he used to work off his frustrations and anger with Christine, his girlfriend of the last 10 months. As David made his way back to home his mind raced through the last 24 hours, to the latest argument with Christine last night. Her over-the- top reaction to him staying late at work. So what if he couldn't pick her up from happy hour with the girls? She had a ride home anyway. More and more, it seemed that there was nothing he could do to satisfy Christine. But his Mom for some reason seemed to like her. That knowledge made him doubt his own feelings; maybe he was missing something. Maybe he would try a little harder and give it a little while longer. It didn't help that David had found a new swim partner these last couple of weeks. His partner was a great swimmer, of course. Ryan also was intelligent, funny and loved sports almost as much as he did. Since meeting Ryan when they had to share a lane a couple of weeks ago, David and Ryan would hang out after swimming, and even grabbed a beer last Wednesday. Ryan, his new swim partner, was perfect, except for one thing. This Ryan was female. David had never met a woman named Ryan before. He found that intriguing, different, and even a little enticing. But it made it all the harder on David, because he knew he couldn't speak a word of his new partner to Christine. Not after that thing with Stacy six months ago. It was a mistake to have slept with Stacy; it was even worse that he briefly deflected suspicion by claiming Stacy was a guy (like Stacey Keach). After that, he couldn't even hint of a friendship with a woman that Christine didn't know. David was engrossed in these thoughts when he entered his apartment to find an angry Christine. "Who is she?" Christine demanded. "Who is who?" David replied. "Cut the bullshit, David. Who the fuck is she?" "I don't know who you are talking about." "The GIRL, David. The fucking whore. The fucking whore who left THESE in your car!" With that, Christine hurled a pair of high heels at David, narrowly missing his head. "Did you fuck her in your backseat, David? Is that why she left these fuck-me shoes in the back of the car? Couldn't she even have the decency to get dressed again after screwing you?" David picked up the shoes she had thrown at him. They were a pair of black open-toed sandals, with a heel of about four inches. The sandals had a leather mesh pattern on top, like a pair of gladiators, a few rhinestones and an ankle strap. David recognized the shoes. "Don't give me any bullshit, David. These aren't mine, and they certainly aren't a gift for me. I looked at them; they're not my size, there's no box, and they've been worn many times. So, who is she?" "It's not what you think, Christine," David started, "There isn't another woman." "Right. You're just driving around and someone secretly slipped high heels in your backseat and you don't know how they got there. That's what you want me to believe?" "No, I didn't say that. Just let me explain." David took a deep breath. Christine snarled at him. "There isn't another woman, Christine. Those don't belong to someone else." He let out another breath. "They're mine." "HA! Sure they are. And Stacy was just one of your guy friends from school! How stupid do you think I am? I fell for your lies once. You can't fool me again." "I'm serious," David pleaded. "The shoes don't belong to anyone else. They're mine." Christine laughed. "Bullshit." "Honestly. There isn't someone else. I -- I -- I -- I mean, they're mine." "Oh yeah? Prove it. Put on your slippers, Cinderella. And they better fit or you're a dead man!" Christine watched as David slowly passed her and headed toward their sofa. She thought of him, the guy that she met at the grocery story, which hardly is a pickup place. David is nothing like the men she usually dates. He's under six feet, for starters. He's definitely not the macho aggressive asshole that her last boyfriend was. But at the same time, the soft, sensitive qualities that attracted her that day in the grocery store now drive her crazy most days. He was so different from her, so much more willing to go with the flow, so reluctant to show his true feelings. And, whereas she was driven and always cognizant of the socially acceptable appearance, David's apparent lack of ambition frustrated her. Oh, why do opposites attract sometimes? she wondered. As Christine watched David sit down, she wondered how far he would go with this charade. It was bad enough that the jerk was cheating on her (again!), did he really intend to try on heels just to fool her a little longer? Is he stupid enough (ballsy enough?) to think she would believe him? She watched him put on the first heel. Odd, she thought, he slid his foot in them so naturally, without any hesitation. And, seemingly for the first time, she looked at his bare legs -- swimmer's leg's he told her. Christ, maybe he's some kind of a freak. David wordlessly finished putting on the heels and stood up. Christine tried to hold her shock at the fact that the shoes fit. "Wow, so your girlfriend wears the same size as you. Big deal. Is she your dress size too?" "Christine, it's not what you think. I don't ---" "Quiet," Christine cut him off. "I don't want to hear you talk. You can talk your way out of anything." Christine stared at David standing in four inch heels. He's not wobbling, but that doesn't prove anything. So he has good balance. He's a cheat and a liar with good balance. So what. As David continued to stand there, Christine began to wonder about his story. What if it wasn't a story? Is he gay? Maybe he didn't pursue me like the others did because he really goes for guys instead? No, that doesn't work, she thought. Stacy was a girl after all. And, if he's sneaking around with some guy, then what's with the heels? Unless ... unless he's the girl in the relationship. Oh, god! Is she dating Caitlyn Jenner? No, that's not it, she thought. He must be lying. But if this shoe parade is part of the gamble, two can play this game. "Very cute, Cindy," she said to him. "But if you want me to believe they're yours, I want to see proof. Walk around some, Cindy. Let's see your prance." David paused, and sheepishly lowered his head. He wasn't so sure now about telling her the truth, but he's already commited, he thought. So, head down, David walked a few steps across their apartment, pivoted, and walked back. "Nice job, Cindy. But let's see how you last. If my boyfriend is going to wear heels, he should keep them on all day. We'll see how long you can keep this little charade going." David whispered agreement, still not looking her in the eye. But that wasn't enough. "Great," she said, "but those gym shorts look horrible with heels. Go put on a decent pair of jeans to go with your shoes." "Unless you'd prefer to put on one of your dresses," she added. "I don't have a dress," David started, but Christine cut him off again. "Well, you can't borrow one of mine. I'm taller than you, and they won't fit you up top." She laughed a little as she taunted David. But her demeanor changed back to anger quickly. "I'm not falling for your con this time. You will go change into something appropriate for heels and stay in that outfit the rest of the morning. And I better not see you sitting down all morning. If those are truly yours, you can stand a few hours in heels. And if they're not, I'll find out soon enough." David slowly turned toward the bedroom and walked down the hall. The sound of his heels clicking on the floor barely penetrated his brain. What am I going to do? Christine wouldn't understand the truth. He had started experimenting with feminine things when he was eight, shortly after his father died. All alone with his mom, he somehow needed to feel closer to her. The first time, he had put on her lipstick, like many little boys might do. His mom's reaction surprised him. "You're not old enough for makeup," she said. Not, "Boys don't wear that!" Just that he's not old enough. She made him promise not to sneak into her makeup ever again. Funny, it was only now, while walking back to his bedroom wearing four inch heels, that David realized she never said he couldn't wear makeup; only that he shouldn't sneak into her makeup without her knowledge. Mom wasn't always accommodating, however. When she caught him wearing one of her nightgowns and fuzzy bedroom slippers, she got pretty mad. She called him a thief and a fool, and made him wear it to bed for a week. She even called her sister over on Saturday morning, before he woke up. The surprise of seeing Aunt Betty while he was wearing a nightgown was David's first experience with femdom humiliation. His mom told Aunt Betty that she was worried about David's "tendencies" and that she wanted her help to break him of it. Aunt Betty had two daughters, David's cousins. They were a year older and a year younger than David. David's experimentation, mom said, was just a phase, and she was determined to end it quickly. So, that's how David ended up spending a weekend with his cousins in girls clothing. David was the "pretty princess" all weekend long, dressing as Cinderella at the ball, getting his hair curled and serving as the makeup model for his two cousins and their friends. The extreme taunting did not break David of his habit. To the contrary, David learned that he enjoyed the girly experience, even mildly tolerating the humiliation aspect of it. David learned that he could outlast most anyone's inventiveness. If he could handle having his short hair curled by one cousin while the other painted his fingernails pink, he can wear jeans and heels for a few hours to satisfy Christine. She'll tire of the game, he figured, and all will be forgiven. He only would need to play along for a little while longer. So, David selected his new blue jeans, the ones that stylishly were tailored in the legs. The ones Christine teased were almost "skinny jeans" when she first saw them (before she realized how fashion forward he was being). He selected a tight fitting black T-shirt to complete the outfit. David couldn't help but recall the one time he had worn that shirt over a bra he bought (before he purged his stash of feminine clothing in order to move into this place). The bra straps showed through the tight fitting shirt and the cups gave his chest a noticeable shape. "Cute, Cindy. Very cute," Christine pronounced upon his return. "If you can keep in those heels through lunch, I might believe that they're yours. But if you're lying, and just doing this to protect that slut of a girlfriend of yours, you will be sorry. Believe me." Christine watched David carefully for the next hour. As she requested, he kept on his feet the whole time, even agreeing to perform her Saturday housecleaning chores for her. Christine's fears that maybe the heels really were Cindy's grew as the morning went on. After an hour, Christine decided to draw him out and put an end to this lie. As she picked up her telephone, Christine announced, "Cindy, I have to leave in a little bit for my weekly manicure. I'm not sure I should leave you alone in our house." She dialed her phone: "Debbie? It's Christine. ... Yes, I'm doing fine. ... Yes, I'll be there for my 1 pm. But I'm calling you for a favor. You see, my dear friend, Cindy, surprised me today. ... No, you don't know Cindy, I think. Well, you may have met her once or twice before, but she looks very different than when you might have met her. You'd be surprised. ... Anyway, Cindy is here and she has some time on her hands. Could Dana fit her in while I'm there? ... Yes, a manicure. And also a pedicure. She's wearing the cutest open toed heels I've seen. ... Right, and no woman should wear open toed shoes without color on her toes. I agree." David fidgeted while listening to Christine talk. There's no way he's going out, much less to get his nails painted. He reached for Christine's phone, but Christine swayed out of his grasp. "You can? Oh, that's so great! I'll tell Cindy; she will be so excited." "No way!," David blurted. "I'm not going out with you to get your nails done." "It's not just MY nails, my dear Cindy," Christine taunted. "You're going to get yours done too. A man who buys such pretty heels for himself can't be walking around with naked toes, now can he? That wouldn't be right, don't you agree?" David started to object. "But, nothing!" Christine cut him off. "How many women do you see in open toes without nail polish? None." "Unless ..." she continued, "the heels aren't yours. If you admit they're your bitch girlfriend's shoes, you don't have to get your pretty toes done." "I can't do that," David started to explain, "Yes, the heels are mine, but that doesn't mean I want to be a woman. I only bought the heels, and just out of curiosity. I'm not going out to get my nails done!" "You bought the heels? Or SHE did?" Christine pressed. "There is no 'she'," David protested, "Really, they are my shoes." Christine was silent for a moment. "Please," he pleaded, a slight tear swelling in his eyes. "Don't make me go to the salon. I don't want to be embarrassed." "You're embarrassed?!" she retorted, "I don't know what to believe -- or what is worse. My boyfriend is fucking some whore who is the same shoe size as him, or my boyfriend is a fairy that likes to wear sexy high heels." "Well, which is it?" "It's neither. I just --" David could see the growing anger in her face. He had to offer some compromise. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry for concealing this from you. It's not what you're thinking. I'm still your boyfriend. I'm not changing into a woman or anything. ... But, I understand your anger. If you want, I'll let you point my toenails. I'll keep it, and the heels on all day if you want. Until my feet ache." Christine pondered this offer a moment. There was some appeal to making him go to the salon to get his nails done. That will draw him out once and for all on this little con. He'll definitely crack. He would be completely mortified sitting there having Dana paint his nails some girly color. But, so would she -- everyone would know that her boyfriend, the one she talked so much about only a few months ago, is really some freak. How would she explain that? Especially if that bitch, Becky, was there. She hated Becky, since way back in seventh grade when Becky stole her first boyfriend. Becky would tease David mercilessly, but she would not spare Christine any. And since Becky just joined her law firm, everyone there would know that Christine's boyfriend was a fairy -- sorry, was LGBT. That wouldn't go over very well in the staid law firm society, despite what they write in their diversity policy. Christine's chances of getting that big case surely would suffer. No, something else had to be done. Her dare might draw him out, but if it didn't, she would face consequences too. So, she would find another way to expose this lie. "Well, I might agree you don't have to come to the salon with me, but you're crazy if you think I'm going to polish your nails. No way will I bow down for even one second to those heels! (Especially if they belong to some whore, she thought). If the heels are yours as you say, then you probably know how to paint your own nails. So, here's the deal. You will wear nail polish on those toes. If you don't want Dana to do them at the salon, then you'll have to do them yourself. Right here, in front of me. It will be so cute to see my sissy boyfriend curled up painting his own toenails!" David looked puzzled. He was formulating a response when Christine added, "You do know how to paint your nails, don't you?! You're full of surprises today. Any guy that buys slutty open toed heels for himself probably paints his nails too. Right? Well? David reluctantly muttered that he would do it. "If that will make you accept that there isn't some other woman, I'll do it." Truth was that he had spent many vacations at Aunt Betty's after that first weekend, doing girl things with his mother and his cousins. Those vacations were somewhere between voluntary and forced for David. He didn't really want to do them at first, but he didn't protest that much, and there was something unavoidable about them. It was like David was entering a secret society, one that he and the girls who participated with him never dared to discuss. Christine selected her brightest red nail polish and gave him a base coat and top coat. Christine always wore red nail polish -- it was like her signature -- so she only had reds in the apartment. "Red is so seductive," she told him, "and with those heels, it will look downright slutty. But you won't mind, will you? The guys will love it, and I bet you will like their attention." "But you better do it right, or we'll have Dana fix them for you." So, David sat down and began to paint his own toenails. He worked carefully and as quickly as he could, lest Christine's anger lead to some other humiliation too. When he finished and they dried a little, Christine had him put his heels back on. She took a couple of pictures on her phone and also took a short video of him walking around the kitchen in the heels with red toenails showing. When Christine left for the nail salon, David finally got some respite. He promised to keep his heels on while she was gone, but he wouldn't have to bear her disdain for an hour or so. By the time Christine returned, his legs were hurting. He had worn the heels a few times, but never for this long. David was pleased when Christine pronounced that he could take off the shoes. ("And put something normal on!") David quickly and without comment accepted. He had survived, he thought. It wasn't quite over, but there was a detente of sorts. As David scurried back to the bedroom, he couldn't help but notice that Christine DIDN'T have red on her fingers today. That seemed like a first in the nearly a year that he knew her. David didn't dare ask, however, for fear of angering her. At least the ordeal was over. Or so he thought. And, at the time, so did she. Friends Night Tonight was the night that Christine and David would get together with their friends from the old neighborhood. To be precise, they would be getting together with Christine's friends from the old neighborhood. Christine had been friends with this group, especially Britt and Bree, since they were in middle school. Christine, Britt and Bree did almost everything together. They were on the high school pom squad together, they played field hockey in the spring, and they all dated football players together. Britt and Bree were like sisters to Christine. David, on the other hand, didn't know this group before meeting Christine. And it's unlikely that he would know them but for Christine. They were everything that David was not. Britt and Bree tolerated David, though he suspected that they didn't really like him. More than once, Britt would make sly comments about how "soft" he was. Once, she marveled at how slender his wrist and hands were. She swore that he had girls' hands; with longer nails, she mocked, his fingers would look just like Katie Perry's. The guys were not much more accepting. All of the other guys in the group were big, strong ex-athletes. They towered over David, and had 50 to 100 pounds on him as well. And, they always were engaged in some athletic competition when they got together: basketball, touch football or a little soccer. Not only couldn't David play these sports, but he had little interest in them. David was ashamed to tell Christine, but the guys gave him the nickname Wee Wee, because he was like the little piggy in the group. So, David reluctantly went with Christine to Britt's house. Once they got there, the boys and girls separated almost immediately. The guys organized a pickup game of basketball. But since David had worn loafers rather than sneakers, he spent most of the time just watching the game. Not that the others cared that much; Wee Wee always was the last pick in these games anyway. So, after a little while, David made his way inside, where the girls were. As he approached the group, he could hear the girls giggling loudly. "Oh my!" Britt exclaimed, "I can hardly believe it!" David scanned the table. There was Britt, short black hair, curled in a slight bob. She had dark makeup on, giving her smoky sexy eyes. A lot like Penelope Cruz with that look. Britt always exuded sex in David's eyes. Sitting near Britt was, of course, Bree. As dark as Britt was, Bree was blonde and light. Bree wore long blonde wavy hair, much like Reese Witherspoon. She accented it with bold red lipstick and light eyeshadow. Bree wore a halter top that showed her ample bosoms, accentuated with ornate gold jewelry. Bree's red nails matched her lipstick, and her hands were adorned with several colorful rings and dangling gold bracelets. Bree was the hot girlfriend that appeared in every action movie you ever saw. The other girls, Tanya and Toni, their backs to David, were laughing so much that they looked like they might fall out of their chairs. Christine was standing near the table, as if she had just moved from her seat. She looked annoyed. David's arrival put an end to whatever the conversation was. He was greeted with several penetrating stares, tinged with slight smiles. Bree giggled and averted her eyes slightly when she saw David. Christine looked briefly at David, but then continued toward the bottle of wine to renew her drink. Britt broke the pregnant pause. "Oh, Hi, David!" she giggled, "tired of hanging with the men?" She motioned for him to take the seat between her and Bree, which apparently had been Christine's a moment ago. "I'm sorry," David responded, "I think I intruded on something. I can head back out there." "No, no, no," Britt said, "Come on, join us. We won't mind you sitting with the girls for a while." He looked at Christine. "Sure," she said, "you looked bored hanging with the guys out there anyway." So David sat between Britt and Bree. All of the girls seemed to be staring at him. Bree started first. "Maybe you can help us," Bree said, "We were just comparing our nails." She held out her hands, showing the red nail polish. "This morning, I was doing my nails. I thought of Christine, who always wears a red polish. I'm sure you know what I mean; it's almost her calling card. Anyway, I was thinking of Christine, and I decided to match her today. So I picked this sexy red color. It's called, "Footloose," which is also one of my favorite movies." "Do you like it?" she asked me. David nodded and muttered that it was beautiful. "Do you think it's sexy, David?" she continued, "Men have fantasies about women with red nails, don't they?" Before David even had a chance to answer, Britt jumped in. "I told Bree how much I loved her nails. Bree said that she picked it to match Christine." "But," she continued, smiling, "That's when we noticed that Christine wore a pastel blue today. That's pretty unusual, don't you think, David?" The others chimed in, also. "Yes, we thought it was strange," Toni said. "And so we asked Christine about it," Tonya added. "Do you know what she said, David?" Bree was running her red nails along David's forearm. She looked toward him, but David averted his eyes. He shifted in his chair a little, suddenly noticing that he was penned in, with his back to the kitchen wall. He looked toward Christine, but she took another drink of wine, staring toward nothing in particular. "Well, David," Bree pressed, "do you know what Christine said?" After David muttered, "no," Bree continued. "She said that we should ask you, that you would know why she didn't feel like wearing her customary red today." David stared at Christine, pleading for an out. But no help was coming. Like a man floating down a river, he could see the falls coming, but there was no tree branch in sight. "Well, David," Britt tag-teamed, "when we pressed, she said that you had already beaten her to the color. Now what could that mean?" But David didn't need to answer; they already knew. "That's when we heard all about your high heels, about your prancing in them, and how you begged to go to the salon with her." "I did not," David blurted. Britt smiled. "OK, maybe I made that last part up. I think she said that you did your toes yourself. I bet that must have been just so darling to see, our little David -- or should I say, Cindy? -- all curled up, pampering his pretty little toesies. Show me how well you did, David." "I -- I -- I," David protested, but he couldn't think of anything to say really. "You know, if she's making this up, you can just remove your shoes and prove her wrong," Bree offered. "HA!" Christine interjected. "We should just get his heels from the car. He'll show you how they look." Then she turned back to David and snarled, "Unless the heels really are for some slut girlfriend of yours. Which is it, David -- slut or sissy?" "Look," David pleaded, "This isn't really for here. Let's just drop this whole thing and talk later." "Later, David? Why? These girls are my friends. My best friends. They know everything about me, and they're going to know everything about you, too. Whether it comes from you directly, or I tell them later." That's when Toni tried to intercede. David didn't think that Toni liked him much, but he was desperate for any help, regardless. "Christine, I think you're overreacting," she said. "David is a cute guy. Small, but cute, nonetheless. He treats you much better than your last few boyfriends did; better than some of those bums outside did, back in high school. Yes, he's softer and different, but that may be better. Lots of guys are crossdressers. More than you might think. I've never told you this, but Billy was. And he was 100% straight. He was a jerk for other reasons, but I kind of enjoyed having a secret girlfriend there. You should give David a break." Christine protested. Finishing her wine, she practically spit out her words: "I can't get the image of Cindy prancing all around the apartment out of my mind. He looked so smug, almost proud to show that he could walk in heels. I thought I was dating a man -- a real man. But it's all a lie. Hell, he may still be lying, and those shoes may belong to some slut like Stacy, but he's too much of a wimp to admit it. But if he's not, what kind of a man do I have?" The room was silent for a moment, and then Christine laid down an ultimatum. "Toni, I don't know about what you said. I'm having trouble seeing David as a man in heels. But, you've given me something to think about." Pouring another glass of her wine, she continued: "I don't want to see a guy in drag. That's just gross. If David -- I mean Cindy -- can be convincing as a woman, maybe I could get used to a secret girlfriend. You know, sort of a two in one -- a man when I want to be doted upon, and a girlfriend when I want to go shopping or be wild on the town." Toni started to offer to help later that weekend, but Christine got bolder. "No, I'm a little drunk and maybe that's why I'm open to this crazy idea. Tomorrow, I'll probably just see a sissy again. If we're going to try this, I want to see Cindy right now. He has the heels in the car. Bree, you could do his nails. Toni, you're good with makeup. And, Britt, it's your house, maybe you have a dress that will go with his shoes." With that, Christine said she was going outside to shoot hoops with the guys for 15 minutes. "When I come back, you better be all pretty, Cindy. Or it's all over!" David Gets His Makeover David was stunned and confused by Christine's statement. Should he dress up? Right here, in front of everyone? He wasn't sure that was the right move. Maybe he should try to take Christine home and talk some sense into her tomorrow. But, on the other hand, the girls here (at least Toni) were somewhat supportive and maybe could have a positive influence on his girlfriend. David was pondering his dilemma when Bree interrupted, "Well, cutie-pie? Should we get started?" David looked at the girls. Britt and Bree looked like they had found a new toy. That made him apprehensive. But Toni's look said "it will be alright." Tonya spoke up for the first time, "Look, David. You have nothing to lose. Christine is pretty pissed off. Maybe doing what she says will appease her. And you should do it when we're around, if you want any hope that Toni or someone can keep her calm." When David agreed, the whole pack sprang into action. Bree took David's keys to retrieve the high heels. Britt, Toni and Tonya took David upstairs to Britt's bedroom. Britt found a bra, Spanxx and panties for David (now referred to only as "Cindy" by the group). She also pulled out a pair of C sized breast forms ("that my mom used, after her breast cancer," Britt explained). The girls delighted in undressing and dressing Cindy while Britt searched her closet for a suitable dress. Britt found a red and black mixed media dress. The top was red with lace capped sleeves. The bottom was a flared skirt with a black and white pattern. It reached just above David's knees. "Oooh, Cindy!" Bree mockingly cooed, "Christine will approve, but if she doesn't, don't worry, I'm sure all the boys will just love it." Britt joined in. "It's so nice that you're about my size. My guy would have no hope of fitting into one of my dresses. Nor could he look good in them like you do. This dress fits tighter on you, but that shows off your girly curves. ... And your sexy shaved legs! Cindy, you should have joined our side long ago." The girls continued this way as they finished getting David ready. Britt and Bree tag-teamed to tease David, while Toni was more supportive, if quieter. Soon, David was wearing the red and black dress, a 3 inch leather belt, his black heels, and Britt's jewelry. Toni and Tanya styled his longish hair, giving him soft, wavy curls in the process. Toni did his makeup, topping it off with the same red lipstick Bree was wearing. Britt put David's wallet, phone and the little cash he carried into a small black purse with gold chain. Finally, Bree gave David her nail polish. She refused to paint his nails herself, instead they watched as David carefully painted his own fingernails under the stern guidance of Bree. The Revelation When David's transformation was complete, everyone but Britt and David went downstairs to rustle the crowd. As David (now definitely Cindy) descended the stairs, he saw Christine waiting in the foyer. She now had a beer in one hand and was flanked by two of their friends on both sides. She appeared to be holding hands with Steve on one side, but it was hard to be sure. "Look, Christine," one of the guys said, "here comes your boyfriend now. My isn't he a dream." "He looks just like a princess!" another mocked. As David reached the bottom of the stairs, he was overcome with shame, trepidation and fear. He started crying softly. "Oh my God!" Christine exclaimed. "Not only does my boyfriend look more like a woman than he ever did a man, but now he's crying too. Be careful, sissy, you'll streak your makeup!" David tried to explain but Christine cut him off. "Shut up, sissy! I tried this little experiment because of Toni. She said maybe I'd feel better if you went all the way, but it's not working. Geez! Now I'm not sure I could ever see you as a man at all. You look so feminine, that's all I'm going to see. Look at you, red lips and red nails. Wearing a tight-fitting dress and descending stairs in heels better than I could. God. You're not like Steve here. You're not like any of my men. What's next, Cindy? Do you want to kiss Steve? Maybe you'd like to suck his toy. At least you'll see what a real man's penis looks like." Christine's diatribe stung David to the core. He couldn't help crying more as she was tormenting him. When she finished, he clutched the chain of his purse with one hand, dabbed his tears with the other. Somehow, he stiffened his lips and summoned an inner courage he suppressed so often in trying to appease Christine. With as much dignity as a man can have standing before his girlfriend wearing matching red lips and fingernails, he said, "Christine, I'm sick of you mocking me and putting me down! I am a man! I've tried to please you, tried to treat you right. I showed more patience than I should ever have had to show. I tried, I really tried. And all I've received from you is anger and selfishness. "Even this ..." he continued, "this, I did to please you. I admit that I hid the shoes from you. I admit that I didn't quite tell you the truth. But I was going to. It was just a matter of time. When you asked -- no told -- me to get fully dressed, I went along. And look at me now. I am scared and embarrassed to stand here in front of everyone, in front of my friends -- not, actually, they're mostly YOUR friends, not mine. Yet, here I stand, trembling and in need of some understanding. And who do I get it from? From Toni, not from my own girlfriend! I'm done, Christine. You can do what you want, I just don't care!" David pushed past Christine. Steve and the other guy backed away. He opened the front door, stepped out and slammed it shut behind him. He was gone. He was free. Momentarily, David felt great. But then the nature of his predicament hit him. He was dressed as a woman. He had his phone, his wallet and cards (in a purse!), but not his car keys. Bree must still have them. He couldn't drive home. He definitely couldn't go back inside. Not after what he had said. Not after how Christine treated him. Desperate, he took out his phone. He pulled up a contact. The only one he could possibly try at this point. Walking toward the new streetcar line, David hesitantly tapped a few strokes on his text message: Ryan, need ur help. ... Meet me at 40th Street. Don't judge. Will explain.