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Master, Mine The first time he saw Clint Warren, Warren was dominating the conversation. Eventually, he would dominate everything else. He was a handsome man, Hollywood handsome, devilishly handsome, as those in his path could attest. He had lively blue eyes that penetrated your soul when he talked. He had straight white teeth and an expressive brow. His blond hair was stylishly unkempt, every lock in its place while looking as if each was carefree. He had that half-smirk look to his features that suggested he was amused by all that surrounded him. He was a former backup quarterback at Colgate, but his 6-3 build was that of a strong safety's. He drove a convertible Mercedes. He carried himself like nobility. His voice was strong. You noticed him before you noticed anyone else. You heard him before you heard everyone else. His presence filled the room. "...so here's the point," he was saying, quietly enough so you had to lean forward to hear, forcefully enough so you heard every word. "You fall into a love affair. Quite accidentally, let's say. The question is, do you tell your spouse? You don't want to leave her. You like your marriage. So do you tell?" The party crowd around him began to murmur. Yes, some said, you owe it to her. No, some said. You try to make it work without her knowing. One guy wanted to know if she could join him and his girlfriend. Finally, Daniel Patterson spoke. He was a small man in the middle of the couch, and it took him several attempts to be heard. "You don't tell her," Patterson said, running his hand through his curly brown locks. "At least, not at first. You see your doctor to be sure you're clear of disease. If you are, then there is no benefit to her knowing but to clear your own conscience. She isn't better off for knowing. You'll just hurt her." Around the group, heads were nodding. "Well, score one for the gay guy," Warren said, grinning. "That makes great sense. You're very wise." "I'm not," Patterson. "I mean...I'm not gay." "You aren't?" Warren said, his eyebrows arching in surprise. "You sure? It's okay. We're all about the rainbow." Patterson sighed, the sigh of a man who had heard it before. He was a smaller guy, 5-7, eight inches shorter than Warren. He was slim. Some seemed to think he was a little girlish. "No, I'm married," Patterson said. "Four years now. To her." The heads swung across the room. There, Sophie Patterson was dancing with one of her friends, Diane. She was laughing, and it was as if someone had turned the lights on. She was a pretty woman, but there was a quality about her that shown through. She was freckled, with dimples. Her laugh carried across the room like wind chimes. And Clint Warren felt that familiar rush of unconquered territory once again. Ah, but to a manipulator, to a master, time was always on your side. So Clint turned back to his crowd. "That's a good point," Clint said. "But how about this? What if you were to fall in love with a gay co-worker?" He looked at Daniel for a long moment. "Does that change things?" "No way I'd tell," said Nancy Perkins. "There would be too much embarrassment. " "Oh, hush Nancy," Billy Andrews said. "You've come to work three times this week with vagina on your breath. We all know." There was a burst of laughter over that. And then Daniel was talking again. "I'd like to say there is no difference," he said. "But for guys, there is. There is such a risk factor with disease that you've got be honest. It isn't about the sex. It's about health." Again, there was general agreement. "I agree," Warren said. "This guy may not be gay, but he's thought about it, hasn't he? Tell me. Are you in the Gay Reserves? Daniel blushed. He should have known not to offer an opinion. It never turned out well for him. The world was too big for Daniel Patterson. Eventually, the crowd broke up, and people milled out, mingling, exchanging small talk. It was an office party for Sophie, and Daniel only knew a few people there. He went to the bar and ordered a sparkling water. Then he looked across the room, and there was Sophie, still dancing. With Clint. He moved easily, a former college athlete, a man who had probably spent thousands on dance lessons. He reached out and grabbed her hand, then spun her in a circle. She was laughing. He was talking. They danced close together. It was as if they had taken over the room. And Daniel felt his stomach turn upside down with a gnawing dread. * *. * Sophie Patterson collapsed onto the couch, and Clint said next to her. "My God, I can't dance like I used to," she said. "I used to go all night long." "Me, too," Clint said. "But are we still talking about dancing?" Sophie laughed and slapped Clint on the arm. The arm felt nice, she thought to herself. Daniel's arms were smaller than hers. She chased the thought away. "Hey, you want to get out of here?" Clint said. "There is a jogging path by the lake. We can walk down there and to the beach." Sophie looked him. "Clint, you do know I'm married, right? I wouldn't do anything to hurt Daniel." Clint held up his hands as if to surrender. "Just a walk, I swear," he said. "A little conversation. I'll be a Boy Scout." The two slid out the back door -- Daniel saw them leave, and it confused him and it crushed him -- and walk into the night. They walked slowly, talking about college, about Trump, about the Walking Dead, about Springsteen on Broadway, about working out, about her upbringing with her brother, about Daniel's upbringing with his two sisters, about the fish at Ronnie's, about work, about marriage. At one point, when they walked down the beach, they came to a piece of driftwood. Clint grabbed her hand and help her step over it in her heels. A 100 yards down the beach, and there was another . Again, Clint took her hand and helped her get over it. Another few yards, and there was third piece. Clint took her hand again, and he helped her step over it. This time, he held onto her hand. Sophie didn't object, and the two strolled through the night air, loosely holding hands, enjoying each other's company. "So how did you end up with Daniel?" Clint asked her. "Daniel is great," she said. "I know he's short, and he's not as masculine as ex-football players. But he's nice. I like guys who aren't afraid of their feminine sides." Sophie said it. But did she mean it? When they got back to the apartment, Daniel was in a rush to leave. Sophie was having a good time, however, and calmed him down. She introduced him to Clint -- they had meet, Daniel said -- and they chatted cordially. About music. About the new Freddie Mercury movie. About the upcoming Gay Pride parade. About Laura Jane Grace. When it was time to go, finally, the three of them walked out together. But Daniel looked down and saw he had a flat tire on his Honda. No sweat, Clint said. He was happy to drive them home, and they could have their car looked after tomorrow. And so the happy threesome left. Daniel sat across the car in the back rumble seat. Sophie sat in the passenger's seat and talked in hushed tones to Clint all of the way back. With the rear speakers blaring, Daniel felt left out of the conversation. When they got to their apartment, Sophie reached out and hugged Clint to thank him for the lift. Without checking with Daniel, she asked him to come over for dinner the next night. "We owe you," he said. "You don't owe me a thing," Clint said. "But I'd be happy to spend the evening with a beautiful woman. What are we having, so I can bring the wine?" Sophie looked at Daniel. "What are you going to cook us, Danny?" "Oh, I don't know. Crab puffs, maybe...?" Clint smiled. "Are you the cook in the household, Danny? Do you take in ironing, too?" Daniel flushed. "I do my share of the cleaning," he said. "It's only fair. Sophie works hard." "He does more than his share, Clint," Sophie said. "He looks after the house like a good little wife. He lets me worry about the job. He's so sweet." "Yes," Clint said. "I imagine that he's very sweet." He flipped his wrist and laughed. *. * * When Clint left, Sophie followed Daniel to the bedroom and attacked him. Normally, she was a sweet lover, giving and soft. But tonight, she was a Hun and he was a villager. She pushed him onto the bed and crawled upward, holding his hands down. She bit his chest. She pulled his hair. She almost called him Clint before catching herself. She imagined Daniel's fingers to be Clint's. She imagined his lips to be Clint's. She imagined his cock to be Clint's. She took his hands and put them on her breasts. She squeezed hard on his hands, which in turn squeezed hard on her breasts. Clint had gotten to her. Sophia had never fooled around on Daniel, but didn't mean her mind didn't wander. But never like this. She was wet from the moment of their first dance, and now,, she was riding her husband. God, she wished he was bigger .... down there. Sophie had always been one of those women who said size didn't matter, that most of the nerve endings were around the outer lips of her vagina. But now she didn't believe it. She grinned Daniel as if he was the woman. She closed her eyes, and Clint's face was there. She could feel his hand on hers. She could hear his voice. She imagined Daniel's fingers were Clint's. And his lips. And his cock. She climbed up Daniel's chest and straddled is face. Daniel was overwhelmed, but he tried to keep up, lapping as if he were a thirsty man at a well. She reached down and stroked his penis. Then she reached behind him and played with his anus. She leaned down and took his penis into her mouth. She bobbed her head quickly, as if she needed his sperm. And it came. Creeks. Rivers. Oceans. She leaned down and kissed him, then shotgunned the sperm into his mouth. "Bitch..." she whispered at him as he lay quivering. * * * At 7 p.m. the next night, Clint rang the doorbell. He had brought a nice white and a respectable red. "I know it's seafood, but I couldn't resist the red," Clint said. "Maybe we can try it after dinner." Daniel was in a panic, the way cooks are as they orchestrate a meal.He had made bisque, and snapper, and of course the crab puffs. He had on a white apron, but underneath he had a red shirt and jeans. "Nice apron, Danny," Clint said. "The frills bring out your eyes." "Oh, come on..." Danny started to say. Sophie, however, was chuckling as she poured the wine. "Hey, I don't mean anything, Danny," he said. "I was just kidding. We'll all friends here, right?" "Yeah," Daniel said. "I'm sorry. I really do appreciate the lift last night. You know, the mechanic said our tire was perfect. Someone just let the air out. "Vandalism," Clint said. "It happens everywhere. My car was scratched last week. The little bastards are everywhere." The meal was over now, and Sophie brought out a cheesecake -- "I bought it myself," she said, laughing. They had a little more wine, and Daniel had a coffee. "Danny, can you get the dishes?," Sophie suddenly said. "Clint likes to walk, and I figured we could stroll down to Bender's and back." "Uh...okay," Daniel said, picking up his apron. "I can do that." Then they were gone, and he was alone, wondering about the bond the two seemed to be quickly building. He looked out the window and saw Clint take her hand as they walked. She didn't seem to have a problem with it.. He shook his head. He trusted Sophie. She loved him. He shook his head started to scrape the dishes. Clint and Sophie ambled along, talking about the stars, and the flowers they passed. Clint was quiet. Then he spoke. "Sophie, are we close enough that I can ask you a personal question?" Here it goes, Sophie said. She had been around, and men had made passes at her before. She prepared to let Clint down easy. Instead, he asked her this: "Sophie, is Daniel a cross-dresser?" What? WHAT? She laughed out loud. "Why would you ask that? she said. "Daniel is a straight arrow if there ever was one. There's no Caitlyn to him." Clint was quiet again. "I have a ... sister," he said gently. "Kelly. She used to be my brother, okay? She struggled growing up until she found herself. She's very nice. Well, she dances at this bar called "Pandora's Box." I went to see her today. I swore one of the girls' photos on the wall was DanieI, okay? I could be wrong. But Daniel and Kelly have a lot in common, the way they carry themselves, the way they do household chores, the way they talk about LGBT issues like Pride and Freddie Mercury." "No, that's not Daniel," she said firmly. "It's not." "One more thing. Last night, we were playing a question-and-answer game. I asked if anyone in the crowd had ever worn the clothing of the opposite sex. Daniel mentioned that he had sisters and, well, you know. Boys will be girls." Sophie shook her head. "If Daniel did that, I 'm sure it was goof. No big deal." But was it? She wondered. He did cook and clean." "Okay, forgive me for bringing it up. But if you had a friend who was married to a transgender, what would you do?" "It's okay, Clint. I know that isn't Daniel." "How can anyone be sure anymore?" he said. They walked for a while farther. "I have an idea," he said. "Why don't you get him into panties and see if it takes? I mean, see how he likes women's underwear. Let him wear makeup. That's what my mother finally did to Kelly when she suspected him. Her. And Kelly never took it off. Just give him a push." "That's silly," Sophie said. But in her mind, she had an image of Daniel in women's underwear. It was a little silly. And it was a little kinky. They walked along, and Clint smiled to himself. Hell, there was no photo of a girl who looks like Daniel. Daniel's sisters had never come up in conversation. His mother hadn't had to feminize Kelly. She was in skirts from the time she was five. This was the game, Clint knew. He wanted Sophie, pure and simple. He wanted to manipulate Daniel. There was a risk here if they talked to each other, but he could live with the gamble to get what he wanted. It had worked before. It would work again. He began to whistle "Lola" by the Kinks. It was a good night. *. *. * Two days later, Clint dropped by Hanover Computer Services to see Daniel, who was working in the back. "Can we talk, Danny?" "Um, sure," Danny said, stepping out from the corner. "There's a Starbucks just down the street." And so they went and ordered. Daniel had a frappe. Clint asked for black coffee. "Um, Danny, I probably should have stopped by sooner, but I've been confused," he said. "Is Sophie ... okay?" "She's perfect. Why?" "Well, when we were at the party the other night, she said something strange. She talked about putting you in dresses. I think the term is 'feminizing' you, because you like being the maid so much. Does that right?" "Feminizing me? No, that doesn't sound right." But Daniel remembered how she had raveged him in bed. She had called him a bitch. She had spat his sperm into his mouth. Was he the girl in that tryst? Cllint continued: "Well, I didn't think anything about it until you cooked dinner the other night. And then you cleaned. And you wore an apron." "Oh, Clint. It's just because it works for us. I don't have nearly as pressurized a job as she does. So I do the laundry and I cook a few times a week. It's not a big deal." "Well, I'm sure you're right. But if she tries, maybe you should go along with her. To get it out of her system, you know. Heck, you're not a huge man. I bet you'd look cute." "Of course I would," Daniel joked. "...in a certain light." But Daneil wondered what was going on in his wife's head. And, now, in his. * * Later that night, Sophie was aggressive again. She mounted him, and she forced her vagina onto his chin. She pinched his nipples. She fondled his ass. He felt violated, to tell you the truth. After a while, she spun him over onto his stomach. He glanced back over his shoulder, and she was wearing a strap-on panty. Oh, my God. She ravaged him. Time and again,, she fucked him, through the pain, through the pleasure, through the passion. He had never been pegged before, and as far as he knew, she had never pegged anyone. But there she was, grinding into his backside like a dock worker. She stroked his chest, toying with his nippes. "Be my girl, Danny," she said. "Take it deep." * * * Clint came over again on Thursday, again because Sophie had invited him. RuPaul's Drag Race was on, and Sophie thought he might want to watch it because of Kelly. Daniel didn't say anything. He could watch a TV show. Right? No big deal. But Clint had something different in mind. He told Sophie of his family's game. When Kelly was a kid, he said, the entire family dressed up for RuPaul. The father wore a dress. Clint said that he did, too. And, minus the shame, Kelly blossomed into a beautiful young woman. Please, he said. Everyone dress for me. And so Sophie took Daniel upstairs. She told him what they were going to do. She ran her razor up his legs. She toyed with his hair. And she dressed him. Panties and hose and a bra and a dress. Makeup and jewelry and perfume. She put him in heels. She handed him a pair of breast forms. "Clint brought them," she said. "They're Kelly's," She laughed. "She has her own boobs now." His hair wasn't quite long enough, so She put a wig over his head. Then she had him step into a small black dress. She zipped it up. She stepped back and looked at him. "My God, Danny," she said. "You were made for this shit. You should never take a dress off again. I'm amazed." Daniel looked into the mirror, and the transformation was unbelievable. He reached up and felt his breasts. He ran his hands down his sides. He felt the hem of his dress. And he felt hard enough to dent steel. The hair from his wig was blond and gorgeous. His eyes were inviting. His lips were kissable. Sophie told him he should have been a girl, and he remembered Clint saying she was going to feminize him. He spun in front of the mirror, and Sophie remembered. Lint saying he might be a cross dresser. "Sophie, I can't wear this in front of Clint," he finally whispered. "Yes, you can. Either that, or I call every neighbor in the building." Daniel felt like crying. But what would that say about him? "How does it feel," Sophie said. "Be honest. Talk to me." "It feels strange," Daniel said. "Like a big Halloween costume. I feel like a freak." "Close your eyes, moon-pie," she said. "Now, tell me what you feel." "Well...the hose feel nice against my legs," he said. "And the panties are nice and cool. Slick. But the bra is a little stiff. The makeup is....weird. The heels hurt like hell. The dress feels tight." "You baby," Sophie said. "Just wait until you put on your cock cage. And. your corset. That kills us girls." "What do you mean...wait? Sophie? Sophie?" She walked into the living room, and Danny followed her. Danny wobbled a bit on her heels. Clint stood and smiled. "That's my girl," he said, but Daniel didn't know if he was talking about her or Sophie. "You two are beautiful flowers. And what's your name, little girl?" Daniel couldn't speak. Finally, Sophie grinned. "She's Flower," Sophie said. "You know, pansies are flowers." Clint laughed. Supposedly, he was going to dress, too. But he simply had a red scarf around his left wrist. Daniel felt ridiculous. He was standing in his living room wearing a dress while his wife grinned at him, slowly nodding at the image. He folded his arms under his breast forms. He sat in the big chair in the living room. "Keep your knees together, Flower," Sophie said. He did. They watched the show and talked about the girls, and the dresses, and the judging. And Danny wondered: Is this how Laverne Cox started? Caitlyn Jenner? Jazz Jennings? There were so many people who started out as one gender and wound up as another. Is this what Sophie wanted? Did she want a husband who shared bras with her? Did she want to be the one on top in bed? My God, he thought. What is ahead for me? * * * After the television show, and the comparisons and the the discussion of the dresses and the contestants, Flower was in the kitchen, cleaning up. Clint reached over and, once again, took Sophie's hand. She looked at him and squeezed his hand. Clint leaned in and kissed her, softly, on her lips. She kissed him back for a minute, then pulled away. "I can't," she said. "I just can't." "Not even after what you discovered about Flower?" Clint whispered. "That was different. It was because you asked, because of Kelly," Sophie said. "I can't cheat on Danny." Clint reached out and placed his right hand on her left breast. She put her hand on his hand and squeezed. Then she stood and walked into the kitchen to see if Flower needed any help. This was slow going, Clint thought. He had turned other couples, and the woman was usually in bed by this point. But that's the wonderful thing about sex. The harder you worked for it, the better the reward. He watched her walk. It would happen, he thought. She would be his. She was amazing. They all were. *. *. * The weekdays were turned over to RuPaul. The three watched religiously every week, and in the days between, Daniel was dressed to get used to his heels And his corset. And the rest of his underwear. On the fourth week, Sophie wore an over-the-top drag outfit, a yellow dress with tall red hair. Flower wore a white dress with a red belt to match his high heels. And once again, Clint wore a scarf around his wrist. Everyone seemed at ease with dressing up now, except for Daniel. He kept looking for a way to escape the situation. After the show, Clint wanted to go out and get ice cream. But Flower was mortified at the thought. No, he thought. Please no. He won the argument, but Sophie seemed disappointed. She and Clint took another walk to calm down. The next week, there was no RuPaul show. But once again, Sophie insisted that he dressed. Flower argued that there was no point, but Sophie said that Clint had been sweet, and if this was a tribute to his sister, well, Flower could just play along. "Be a good girl," Sophie said. A half hour later, Clint showed up, and this time, he was wearing a blue sports jacket. His arms were filled with packages. He gave Sophie a small, gold-frapped package. She opened it, and it was a diamond tennis bracelet. Flower could just imagine the price tag that came with it. But Clint knew that nothing sealed the deal like jewelry. He then turned and gave a larger package to Flower. He was confused. For him? She tore the wrapping over. Then she put her fingers over her red-coated lips. It was a dress. A silver, spangly dress, like the old flappers wore. Even for a man wearing a dress, this was feminine. Put it on, Flower thought, and you would want to fuck Al Capone. "Put it on," Clint was saying. "I think we should go see Kelly at Pandora's. Just to say hi." Flower was shaking her head without realizing it. It is one thing to wear a dress in one's own living room. It is another to go downtown and walk into a club. True, it was a transgender bar, but you still had to walk down the sidewalk to get there. "Come on, Flower," Sophie was saying. "this is you. You know it is. You're a babe. Let's show the world. " Flower looked at her, and her eyes grew soft. Was this what Sophie wanted? Did she want him to be a girl? Did she want him to surrender his manhood so she could sleep with Clint? Did She say his manhood? Maybe it's her manhood. Tears began to leak out, then came harder. She was disconsolate. "Oh, look Clint. Tears of happiness. Flower really is the wife in this family now, isn't she?" "She is," Clint said. "I guess you'll be taking applications for the family dick?" He laughed. Sophie laughed. Flower did not laugh. * * Kelly Warren was every inch a lady. She wasn't one of those over-the-top drag queens. She was soft, and pretty, and her voice was like honey. "Flower, you are gorgeous," she said. "Are your boobs real? No? Well, we can fix that. A few months on these pink pills, and you'll be a centerfold." They sat in the corner of Pandora's. Women surrounded them, but if you looked close, they weren't quite biological women. There weren't as many guys, but they checked out the girls, like hunters looking at prey. Kelly went on, talking fast, talking about his past and that of her brother, about the breakthrough of transgender icons, about shoes, about growing up boy and realizing she was a girl. Around her, men circled the four at the table. They had eyes for Kelly. They had eyes for Flower. They couldn't quite figure out Sophie, which Sophie thought was a hoot. Finally, Kelly had to work, but she told Flower to take her pills -- she could get more -- and told Flower that if she ever needed a job, she could get one at Pandora's. She left, and Clint reached out and took Sophie's hand. They walked toward the dance floor, and Flower was by herself. Then there was a shadow on the table. A tall black man was reaching out his hand. "Would the lovely lady like to dance?" "Uh, um, I can't," Flower stammered. "I'm ...." "Transgender? Most of the women in this place are. Now, come on. A girl needs her first dance. Call me Troy." And so they were in each other's arms, and they were swaying to an old song. He brushed her hair out of her face. He pulled her closer. As confused as Flower was, it felt nice. Troy had nice arms, and she felt safe. She felt his bulge against her stomach, and it was comforting. Maybe she didn't look bad, after all. Then he leaned down, and he kissed her gently on the lips. She closed her eyes. She was beaten. Any warmth at all was welcome. And then there was activity, and Sophie had her hand, and Clint was escorting them to the door. They were rushing Flower os if she was Lady GaGa. "Flower, you can't blow a guy the first time you meet him, okay?" Sophie was angry. Flower stammered. He wasn't going to blow anyone. He just wasn't. Was he? As Flower rode in the backseat, she wondered how she was going to convince Sophie that she was still her husband. She was tired of the heels and the lipstick and the bras. She wanted her life back. She wanted her wife back. But more and more, it looked as if she was a she. She wasn't a true transgender, but she was a sissy. Perhaps she always had been. * * This time, Sophie took her fury a little farther. She made Flower wear her pink nightgown, and she fucked her for all the silly girl was worth. Again, she mounted him and sat on his face. This time, there was a diffference. This time, when Sophie bought out her strap-on, she didn't slide up her panties. "You wear it," Sophie said to Flower. "You fuck me." And so Flower did. She had sex with her wife with a penis that was not her own. It felt weak and girlish, as if she were a lesbian, as if her own dick wasn't big enough, or good enough. Sophie came hard. "That's my sissy girl," she whimpered. "That's my girl." * * It was time for the breaking, Clint said. Flower had been with that other guy last night, and that wasn't his plan. His master plan, so to speak. It wasn't about being gay. It really wasn't. It was about control. It was about manipulation. And, yeah, it was about getting his dick wet. The next morning -- Sophie and Daniel had slept over, in a separate room -- Clint walked down stairs in just his robe. Flower was making breakfast for the three, and she glanced up. "Flower, will you bring me some orange juice into the den?" She nodded, then poured it and followed him into the other room. He sat in the big chair to the right of the room. He sat, and his robe flopped open. And there it was, in all of its glory. Clint wasn't a porn star, but he was impressive. Flower never knew how to measure it, the way some guys bragged at their cocks. But it was big enough to go to work, as they said. His flat stomach made it look even larger. She handed him his juice. "Kneel down and keep me company," he said. "Let's talk." She kneeled, and his penis was at eye level. She could not stop staring. "Flower, you're ripe," Clint said quietly. "Last night proved to me that it's time. So look at it. Touch it. Kiss it." Flower's head was spinning, and the air had grown thin. She could hear her own heartbeat. Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. Then his hands were on her head, and he was guiding her toward his crotch. It was beautiful, if you want to know the truth. Flower looked the discoloration of the head, the veins, even the balls beneath it. She tentatively kissed the head, then she ran her tongue along the shaft. She took the bulb into her mouth. Shame and lust enveloped her. She was a cocksucker. You didn't outgrow that. No one is ever a former cocksucker, like no one is ever a former alcoholic. She nested her nose into his pubic hair, kissing his scrotum. She licked his testacles. She tried to take him deep, but she lacked the technique. She bobbed her head, letting the cock fill mouth. It wasn't bad. It was nice, in fact. He liked its hardness, and it's softness, and it's sweetness. Clint's fingers were in her hair, but she wasn't going anywhere. This was who she was. She was a sissy pleasing her master. Her lips were his lips. She would never say no to him. When he came -- gallons, it seemed -- she gagged. She shook with her own satisfaction. She looked up, and Sophie stood in the doorway, watching. The shame was unbearable, but her lust continued. Even after he had gone limp, she kept sucking. Maybe he could come again. Please. * * * Flower woke up alone in the middle of the night that night. She and Sophie had not made love, not after the scene with Clint. But now Sophie was gone. Flower got up and slipped a robe on over her nightgown. She looked in the living room, then in the den. Finally, she walked out to the patio, and she saw a small orange glow in Sophie's hand. She was smoking. She never smoked. "Sophie...." Flower said. "You're smoking." "Goes good with the bourbon," Sophie had, and raised a half-empty bottle with her other hand. "I needed something tonight." In the glow of the porch light, Flower could see her eyes were red from crying. She sat down across from her wife and sat silently. "Oh, Flower," she said horsely. "My life is so fucked up." "What do you need Sophie?" Flower asked. "What do I need? I need a husband who doesn't suck dick. I need to edit my wedding vows. I need Clint, but I'm married so that's impossible." "Talk to me, Sophie. What are you thinking?" "I want him, Flower. I have for months now. I'm sorry if it makes me a horrible person. But God help me, I want him." Flower felt his world crash down. He was in a dress, and his wife wanted to take hers off for another guy. She wanted to spread her legs and let him penetrate her. Maybe if he had stood up for himself earlier. Maybe if he had taking a swing at Clint. Maybe if he had been a man. "Baby, you can't help it. You're a sissy. A fag. I had to look up what those two things were, but damned if you aren't. Which means no cock for mamma. I love Clint, but Clint loves you." I stared into the night. Clint didn't love her. But Clint was better than me. He was bigger, and smarter, and had more money. His dick was bigger, too. He didn't cook or clean. He was a man, damn it. Her man. Wasn't he? Flower looked at Sophie quietly. "I thought you two had already slept together," he said. "I don't break my vows, Flower," she said. "I have too much honor. I mean what I say. I wanted to fuck him but I didn't. He's sex on a stick, but I said no. Flower was crying now, too. It was time for him to surrender. "Sophie, it's okay," Flower said. "You can have sex with him. I release you from your vows. You can sleep with him. Please. You should. I want you to." Sophie looked at her. She almost said no. Then she said, softly, "are you sure?" Flower sniffed. "I am. I love you more than air, Sophie. And eventually, you two will screw anyway. Only you'll feel guilty about it, and it'll change us. This way there is no guilt. There can never been any guilt. Go, with my blessings. It's okay." Sophie nodded. She felt the tears build again. She kissed Flower on the forehead. Then on the lips. "I love you, too. This doesn't change that." And she slipped out into the night, toward an altered future. Toward Clint. * * Sophie was at his house in an hour. She had driven there in her nightgown. She rang the doorbell. And again. Finally, he answered it. And she jumped him. A thousand times, she kissed him. She pulled his hands over her breasts. She reached for his cock. They made love on the living room floor, and then on the couch, and then in the bed. She was unleashed, and she could not get enough. He was on her lips, her breasts, her body. She had never felt like this. She loved Daniel ...well, Flower ... but he didn't reach her the way Clint did. They talked in whispers throughout the night. She told him at Flower's release of her, and he smiled. She sucked him. He pegged her. It was worth all of the nights she had waited. Clint lay back, thinking. He owed Flower one. He'd pay her back soon enough. * * The next day, Sophie felt wonderful. She was singing as she walked through Clint's house, and carrying a blue-wrapped gift in her hands. To thank Flower for the night. Flower came in, with coffee on a tray. She smiled at Sophie, recognizing the glow. It really wasn't that hard to adjust to. She had worn dresses for weeks now. She could make another transition to third wheel in the relationship. Sophie handed her her present. She tore the wrapping open, and inside was a royal blue dress with white piping. A maid's dress. All of the accessories were there, too. This was what Sophie thought of her? She knew things were different, but she was going to be the maid? She looked up hesitantly at Sophie. ... who winked at her. "Flower, this is for you, for any time you want to wear it. I'm not going to make you a domestic, if that's what you were thinking. But you seem to be submissive, so I got you this. A couple of days a week, you can wear it, and you can do whatever you wish. We both care about you. Now, here. Let's try this on." Flower pulled it on, happily. She twirled and laughed. She curtsied. It wasn't that long he fought dresses. Now, he embraced them. He wondered which earring to wear with it. Which shoes. Clint smiled at his girls. He was happy, too. He hadn't gotten all he wanted out of the relationship, and the truth is, he could still push it farther. But he liked Sophie as the grand lady of his house. He liked Flower as the part-time maid. He liked himself, for the first time in a long time. *. * * Flower brought the breakfast tray into the grand bedroom. He put it beside the bed, as Clint instructed. Bacon and toast. Coffee. That was it. Clinr smiled at her. "Why don't you join us, Flower?" Sophie and Clint scooted over, leaving room in the bed. Flower crawled between them. Clint stopped her as she was halfway up his body. "Please," he said. And so she took him into her mouth. She was getting better at this. Sophie smiled, then reached down and took her hand. As Flower finished, she giggled. "Can I have some of that?" she said. So Flower twisted, and she ran her tongue over Sophie. She licked upward ,then swirled her tongue into tiny circles. She took her time, and Sophie didn't rush her. They were together. They fit like a jigsaw, the man, the woman, the sissy in between. Flower hoped it would last forever. * * * "I'm happy, sis. I know I've had issues in the past, but I'm happy." Clint and Kelly sat in a coffee nook, enjoying the cool morning. "What did you plan to do to them, Clint?" "The usual," he said. "LIke the Turners. By now, Flower would be a two- dollar whore with a crack addiction. Maybe she would have found work at Pandora's. She'd have a man who slapped her around. She'd wear a collar. Her parents would die of shame. "Sophie? She'd be a pin-cushion. Men. Women. I think maybe she'd be a dominatrix. She has that streak in her." Kelly shook her head. "God, you're such a bastard," she laughed. "But you fooled around and fell in love, huh." Clint smiiled. "I did. Sophie has so much honor. Flower has so much passion. And they all lived happily ever after." Epilogue Flower rushed into their home in the hills to find Sophie who was, once again, her wife. Life was perfect. She found Sophie in the kitchen and kissed her. Sophie kissed her back. "How's my sister-wife," she said. "I'm great, Sophie. I can't believe we're all married. I'm so happy." The are poly relationships all over the country. Sophie and she were in one. The two, and Clint, had married the month before. It wasn't legal, but who checked your marriage license? They considered themselves husband and wife and wife. Sophie and Flower had both worn wedding dresses, and the parents -- a little dumbstruck -- had attended. They sang a lot. They kissed a lot. They made love a lot. And on Thursdays, they still dressed up for RuPaul.