Schemers And Dreamers free porn video

Scheming and Dreaming By Cassandra Morgan If college is a time of dreams, then the days afterward are a time of nightmares. There are no jobs anywhere. We went from trying to conquer the world to trying to be able to afford to live in it. I'm Steve Bridges. My girlfriend, Jenny Barlow, and I just graded from the University of Cincinnati with degrees in finance. We were certain -- absolutely certain -- that industries were going to beat a path to our door. We were going to be rich, and we were going to be wealthy, and we were carve out a nice little life for ourselves. But it didn't happen that way. We kept getting rejection letters. Our resumes didn't make anyone happy. Others around us found work, but for us, there was o room at the inn. "Sorry, but we have nothing for you now. However, we'll keep your information on file..." And so it went. Every business you could name seemed to be full. I was two dollars away from applying at McDonald's and four dollars away from not being able to afford to eat there. It was no better for Jenny. She got a part-time job at a hair salon, but it didn't even pay the rent. Jenny's dad, Patrick, made a good living, and she could always move back home. But there were no prospects for two graduates who wanted to enter the business world. And, finally, there was. Jenny came bounding though the front door and left on me, knocking me over to the floor. She kissed me a dozen times on the face. In her right hand, she had a letter. "Stevie, I found something! It pays wells, and it has great opportunities for advancement. It's our dream." I smiled, feeling her joy spread to me. "Tell me about it." "Okay, okay. Now, don't get mad, because I know how you are about getting help. But my Uncle Davie has a business in Vidalia, Georgia. My dad called him, and he had something!" "I don't know, Jenny," I said. "I don't like working for family. And where in hell is Vidalia?" "Oh, Uncle Davie isn't really my uncle. He was my dad's college roommate. He has businesses all over the country. What they do is that buy up a lot of property in small towns. That way they run the town's economy and can get past a lot of zoning ordinances and stuff. It's all legal. So we'd be moving to Visalia." "Really? Is there work for me in Vidalia? What's the town known for?" "Well, onions. They grow a certain kind of onions." "So would I pick them? Would I put them on a Quarter Pounder with Cheese?" "No, no," Jenny said. "I'll talk to Uncle Davie and see if he can find you something. It may not be what you deserve, but for a couple of years, we can make it work. Baby, let's celebrate. Dinner and dancing, on me. We can afford it!" "Beautiful words, those," I said. "I'm sure this will work out." "For bigger paychecks." "And nice cars." "And a big house." We laughed, and we twirled. And for a moment in time, we were happy. It wouldn't last. * * Vidalia is a small town in the Eastern Part of Georgia. Everyone knows about Atlanta, of course, but this is a good distance from there. It's closer to Savannah. And not far from Higgston. The plant itself was a large building, too large for the rest of the tiny town. But it employed more workers than any other business around. I could see where Davie Andrews, the sort-of uncle of Jenny, would be a big shot. Now, you might be like me and envision him as Boss Hogg or one of those short-and-fat land barons from television. But he wasn't. He was thin, and he looked to be in his mid 30s instead of his mid 40s. He had brown hair (with a little gray mixed in) and a country club tan. Think of the junior senator from California, and that's him. Jenny rushed to embrace him, while I lingered back to shake his hand when they were done. The thing is, they embraced for a long, long time. He ran his hands over her back and smiled. "My little pony has grown up," he said smiling. "You're gorgeous." He gave me a dismissive handshake, then put his arm around Jenny as they walked into the building. "The thing is," he was saying, "is with the internet and phone system, you can get anything done in Vidalia. And when we need to travel, we'll go. You do have your passport, right?" Jenny smiled. "I'll get it renewed," she said. He turned to me. "Sit down, Steven. I'm afraid I have to talk to you." Uh-oh. So I sat down in his huge office, all leather and wood. His desk seemed impossibly large, and his chair was regally high. I felt like a boy in the principal's office. "Steve, Jenny called me about your situation. But we have a problem. UC doesn't have any record of your graduation, or even of you attending college. I'm afraid we can't hire you for anything until this is cleared up. Not even a janitor." Andrews smiled. He was sure that Jenny nor Steve had noticed the small placard on the business school at UC. "Donated by Andrews Industries." "That can't be right," I said. Jenny said: "I had classes with him almost every day. I compared test scores. Someone must have messed up." "I"m sure of it," Davie said. "And I'm sure we'll clear this up very quickly. I've got my lawyers on it already, Stewart." Somewhat placated, I nodded. "Thank you, Mister Andrews," I said. "But it's Steve." "Yeah, yeah. In the meantime, I'm sure you'll find something, Steve. A bright guy like you won't stay down too long. And if not, maybe you can be Jenny's house-husband." I blushed, but Jenny laughed. "Dinner at six!" she said, joking around. * * There was nothing. I tried the smaller businesses in town, and the owners just shrugged. I applied to be a substitute teacher, but I never got a call back. I inquired into public relations, but no one noticed. I even applied at the Farm Bureau, to work in the fields, but those hiring looked at my small build and just smiled. Jenny, however, was in heaven. She was working long hours and loving it. Her opinion was valued. People respected her. Any time I mentioned moving back to a city, she would shake her head. She was home. She bought a small farmhouse outside of town. It was a little large for us, but it was quaint. She had an office in the back where she could work. Many is the hours where she was in her office, while I did the laundry and the cooking. Late in the evenings, we would make love, where more and more, she was in charge. She liked being on top. She liked talking dirty. It was her life, and I was just a co-star. There was nothing in the surrounding towns, either. One day, when I was home doing the dishes, Davie telephoned me. That was odd, because he usually interacted with me through Jenny. But this time, he told me he had some good news. "One of the small businesses we own has an opening," he said. "Now...it doesn't pay great, but you can get tips." Tips? I was going to be a waiter? "Now, Andrews Industries owns this bar, largely because of our work force. There is a need in this day and age. I'm sure you understand." "Uh, not really," I said. "Stevie, Diversions is a gay bar. I know it's unusual for a small town in a conservative state, but there really is a need. With a woman like Jenny at home, I'm sure you aren't threatened. Are you?" "Well, no. It's just that ...." "Fine. The manager's name is Kevin Dixon. I'll let him know that you'll be dropping by. I hope it works out, because I don't want to lose Jenny. I love that girl." There was something in the way he said that bothered me. It wasn't a proud uncle talking about his girl. It was a predator talking about his prey. That night, when Jenny and I were eating -- I had made roast chicken -- I told her about the offer from the gay bar. I expected her to laugh, but she grew thoughtful. "Hey, I don't care if people are gay, Stevie," she said. "Whatever works. It's the same as you working at a straight bar, only the guys go home with each other. You serve drinks. You take orders for chicken wings. Tell me: Would you take a job at Chili's? It's the same kind of thing. "Look, if you took a job there, it would be great for me, because Dave would have helped us, and it would give you something to do. And I'd trust you not to leave me for a guy named Bruno." She laughed. The more I thought about it, the more I thought that I could handle it. Gay people didn't have sex in bars, at least not usually. They'd just have a group of men or women, and I'd serve them drinks. Gay people tip, too, don't they? I certainly wasn't going to judge. If a couple of guys wanted to hold hands while they watched the Hawks play, who cares? So Monday came, and I found the address. It was a small bar next to the bank, for goodness sakes. There were no outward signs that was for gay people. Just wood and glass. A Budweiser sign in the window. I walked in, and a man behind the bar looked at me. "Can I help you?" he said. "Yes, I'm looking for Kenny Dixon," I said. "I'm Steve Bridges." "Ah, Steve, welcome," Kenny said, offering me his hand. I wondered if he was gay. Or bi, maybe. He was of medium build, and he had brown hair swooped over his forehead. He had an earring in each ear. "So you went to the University of Cincinnati?" I told him my story, about how Jenny found work but I couldn't, about how I tried for even menial jobs and shopkeeper jobs, about how Dave Andrews had heard about this job. He nodded. "You know the job doesn't pay a lot," he said. "But we have a great time. The staff is really close. And if you find another job, I'll understand. Does your husband work?" "I have a girlfriend." He looked at me oddly. "Whatever floats your boat." We talked about the hours. We talked about waiting tables. We talked about gay people. We seemed to get along fine. He was loose and easy; I was grateful to have the possibility of a paycheck. Then he said this: "So, Steve. What size dress do you wear?" What? WHAT? Dress? No one said anything about a dress." "Steve, the job we have is for a waitress. We get a lot of transgendered people in here. So our wait staff wears dresses as uniforms. Maid's dresses, to be honest. You know those restaurants where everyone dresses as a celebrity? Well, our waitresses dress as maids. They curtsey when they take your order. You'll get used to it in no time at all." "Um, is that the only women's garment I'd have to wear?" Kenny laughed. "No, no. You'd go full-tilt. Makeup and heels. Bras and panties. Your hair is long enough, I think, to be styled. Earrings. Hose. A corset. Breast forms. All to do our Friday night musical numbers. And you'd need a name. Stephanie, maybe? Bridgette Bridges? Bubbles? Something like that." I just sat there, open jawed. He had offered a job, and now it felt as if it would be taken from me. I was dizzy. The room was spinning. "Can I think about it?" I said. Think about it? Why would I say that? There was nothing to think about. "Sure. But jobs are scarce. Can you let me know by Wednesday? I staggered out of the bar, and this time a man in a suit watched as I left. I stopped at a coffee hutch and sat down. My cell phone rang. Jenny. "So how was your interview, Nancy-boy?" she said. "Did it go okay?" "Jenny, I'm afraid not," I said. "They would want me to be in drag to work. Dresses. Makeup. Jewelry. The whole RuPaul." She giggled. Then she said, "So?" "So? That would be demeaning," I said. "No, demeaning is not having a job.Now tell me about what you would do." I told her. Kenny would start me working from 11 a.m. until five. There would be some weekend work, some work at parties. I told her about the pay, and the maid's dress, and the breast forms. I told her about picking a new name." "Stevie, let's think about this. It's only clothes, okay? And you don't care about the opinions of the people who would see you. It would help me manage time with my job. It would be a way of saying thanks to Uncle Davie for his help. You would still be able to get home in time to cook dinner. Dresses aside, I think it's perfect. And you'd get to meet some of the nicest guys." "JENNY!" She laughed. "I think you'll look cute. Besides, as long as you're cooking and cleaning, I might put you in a maid's dress at home. So it's inevitable." "Har, har," I said. "Seriously, I'll tell Uncle Davie that you took the job," she said, "and i'll remind him to check with UC about your grades. Now go take the job, and we'll buy you some underwear, girl." So I walked back down the street and back in the bar. "You've got me, I guess," I said. "And I guess I'm Steffie." "Well, welcome aboard, girlfriend. You're one of us now." That night, Jenny played Barbie dolls again. This time, Steve was starring in the role of Barbie. She had him shave. She slid panties up him. She put a bra on him. She had him put on hose and heels. She bunched his hair into pig tails. He tried on her black dress. And her red one. She put on a blue prom dress she wore as teen. The whole time, she reassured Steve -- Steffi -- that it was okay. It was just a costume. She thought he was pretty, prettier than she would have guessed. She wondered aloud if he had ever dressed before, but he insisted he had not. Now he would make up for lost time, however. He was her girl. "So how does it feel, Steffi? What do you think." I paused. The panties feel good. Better than good. The hose on my shaved legs is thrilling. The bra is tight. But I like the shoes. They pinch, but they're pretty." "You're pretty, sister," Jenny said. "You're going to be very popular." About an hour later, Dave dropped by. He hugged Jenny, then he looked at me and smiled. "My God, man, you look great. You were meant to dress like this. Your lipstick is great, and your butt is cute. Jenny, you be better careful around the boys." I blushed again. "Dave, I appreciate the job, I really do. But it's going to take getting used to." "I don't know," he said, looking at my legs. "You might never be in pants again." * * That weekend, Davie took Jenny to New Orleans. The next week, Chicago. The week after, New York. She was working insane hours, but she was making a mark on her career. On the road, Jenny got her own room. I checked. But she and Dave worked closely together. Me? I was in a dress. The big adjustments were the bra -- my breast forms were Cs, but they got in the way over everything -- and the heels. It was like working on ice. I was going to bust my ass, I was sure. But, yeah, they made my legs look nice -- Jenny insisted i shave them -- and they came in lovely colors. Did I say lovely? I got hit on a lot. I didn't expect that, but it was easy to discourage the guys. Women did it all the time. Gordon worked at the bank, and he came in to my table every day. Zeke was a farmer, but he always had a corny joke for me. Randall was a school teacher, and a huge flirt. Tommy worked for Andrews Industries. He was married -- to a woman -- but he still liked to touch my rear. I would walk through the bar, and guys would touch me. Sometimes on the butt, sometimes on the hand. It's amazing how fast you get used to it. The honest truth? It wasn't that bad. The clothes were soft and colorful. I liked hose. I loved heels. I like the way a dress tickled my thighs. Makeup wasn't as bad as I would have thought. On the nights Jenny was gone, I would come home, tired, and kick off my shoes. A lot of the time, I kept my women's clothing on. Who was there to change for? I kept the bra and panties on. Then, one night when Jenny was in Denver, I slipped on one of her nightgowns, and it felt wonderful. From then on, I slept I women's clothes, too. I told myself it was all part of the job, but the clothes were starting to feel more natural. Even puttering around the house, I would wear heels. I loved the feel of lipstick. I had my ears pierced. I had my hair styled. I bought a dress that I couldn't wear at work. Before long, I was dressed every night that Jenny wasn't home. I was falling into the rabbit hole, and I wanted to look nice when I got there. *. * One of the rare days that Jenny was in town, she drove me to work. "Oh, no," she said. There were Christmas lights behind us. A police car was pulling us over. The police officer sauntered up to our car. He had on sunglasses and a straw in his mouth. My God. Cops are such a cliche. He looked at Jenny's license. He glanced over to me and said "I need to see your license, too, pretty lady." "But I'm driving," Jenny said. "Hush. We have the right to check the ids of a suspicious person. She might have a gun under her panties for all I know. So let me see it." I fished my license out of a small purse that Jenny had loaned me. The police offer looked at the license, then at me, then at the license. "This you?" he said. "Yes. I work at Diversions." "So you one of them he-shes?" he said. "You a dick smoker?" "Wait a minute," Jenny said. "You can't ... "I tell you, queer boy. If your sister wasn't here, I'd take you back to the cell and we'd get to know each other. Know what I mean? You're pretty cute, as long as I don't got to touch yours." The ride-along officer approached the car. "What's up, Ray-Ray?" he said. "Trouble?" "Nope. Just one of them Northern fags. He's wearing a dress, big as all outdoors. Said he wanted to suck my cock." The partner laughed. "They're everywhere, aren't they?" I sat in silence, steaming. There were gay people in Vidalia. Hell, they had their own bar. So why was this guy hassling me? He sat in his squad car and he made a call. Then he came out and told us we could leave. We never knew that Dave Andrews said it was okay. * * One night, in Calgary, Davie turned to Jenny over dinner. "You know how much I think of you," he said. "Oh, Uncle Davie. I think a lot of you, too." "Can you just call me Dave?" "Okay, Dave." "You're a beautiful woman, Jenny. I've loved you as long as I can remember." "Dave, I have a boyfriend." "No, sugar. You have a girlfriend." "Those are just work clothes, Dave. Steven is straight." "Well, maybe he's a little crooked. You want to see pictures?" Dave tossed them onto the table. There was me in my maid's dress, smiling at a customer. There was me adjusting my hose. There was me in a yellow dress going into the salon. Jenny knew I was working en femme, but she didn't know I was going to other businesses dressed. She gasped. "Regardless, Dave. I'm not going to fall into bed because Steffie... Steve ... has taken her job too far." "Her job?" Dave asked grinning. "Not his job." "You know what I mean." "Jenny, I'm not that much older than you. I'd love to be with you. As your man." "No, Dave. No thank you. It isn't destined. I'm with Steve." He took her hand in his. He leaned over and kissed her softly. He took her hand and put it on his crotch. She moved it. She said they should call it a night and forget what had happened. They could talk tomorrow when things made more sense. But Dave didn't forget. And the wheels in his head kept spinning. *. *. * When she was a little girl, Jenny's first crush was her Uncle Davie. He was the one who took her to the fair and won her a teddy bear. He was the one who went to the movies with her, who taught her how to ride. He went to her school plays. When Jenny first masturbated, it was with Steve's face in her head. When she surrendered her virginity her first year in college, she wished it had been with Dave. So, yeah, it had been hard to turn him down. He was older than her, but he smelled like sex. It was easy for her to think about him naked. Then Steffi entered her thoughts. Was her man now a woman? She could tell she liked the clothes, and especially the shoes. She knew she kissed men after tips. That was part of the game. But as he lay there at night, did he think about cocks? Would she move more and more toward femininity? Did she want breasts? Did she want a vagina? Did she want a husband? Maybe should fuck Dave, after all. She thought about it. It would be nice if someone wanted her. She'd like a man who wanted to get into her panties; not one who wanted to wear them. * * Lenny Roosevelt was a simple man. He worked hard in the hot sun, and he fed his chickens, and he had a riding lawnmower that he had bought with his Navy checks when he got out. He didn't mess with the white people around town, and they didn't mess with him. He worked, and he went to his black church on the outskirts of town, and he fished. Three times a week, he had lunch at Deviations. Lenny had come back from the Navy a changed man. In the Phillipines, he had discovered ladyboys. He didn't apologize for. He liked what he liked, and the stunningly beautiful transexuals thrilled him. But none of them were as pretty as Steffi. She was his sun, and his moon. Around him, it was open season on flirting with her. Guys grabbed her and sweet-talked her and left their numbers with her. Lenny just talked. He came in late for his lunches, simply because she could take a minute and join him. She was awfully sad, he could see. Depressed to the point of suicide, he figured. But when she was around him, her mood was light and happy. They talked a lot of afternoons, about farm work, about transgenderism, about him growing up on a farm. They talked about the Navy and the places he had been. One day, he put his hand over hers and asked her to the movies. She smiled at him. "Oh, Lenny, I'd love to go. But you do now I have someone, right? I'm not going to cheat on her." Lenny looked at her. The whispers were that he would have Jenny for long, but he didn't say anything. "How about you just go with me to movies and eat my popcorn. Maybe we can hold hands like we were teenagers. Like friends." What was the harm? Lenny was a sweet guy, and she was alone. She had established the ground rules. "I'd be proud to, Lenny," She finally said. "But I want candy, not popcorn." They laughed. It was a date. True to his word, Lenny held her hand from the start of the movie. She was beautiful in a yellow dress and red lipstick. There was a ribbon in her hair. He stroked her arm. And halfway through, he put her hand on his cock. She pulled it back quickly and slapped his arm. Wow. It was an impressive cock, she thought. Not a porn-star cock, but it was big enough. She linked her arm in his, partly to keep her hands busy so she wouldn't be tempted. After the theatre, he drove her home. He walked her to her door. And he kissed her, soft and sweet and never-ending. She hungered for his contact. His chest felt great. His arms were muscular and dark. Yes, she was tempted. She missed Jenny, and she felt alone, and she was wearing a dress and his lips were wonderful. And she wanted to take him home and ravage him. But she didn't. Jenny was out there somewhere. It didn't matter that she didn't know. He knew. * * * The next night Steffi was working at the bar again. Her skirt bounced as she walked, and her black pumps made her legs look killer. There was a saying at the bar: Lips for tips. Someone handed a waitress a nice tip, and as a return, he got a soft kiss. On this night, Steffi kissed a couple of dozen guys. And she liked it. She liked kissing softly, and the guys who kissed her hard. She liked beards and goatees. She liked tongues. There was nothing wrong with kissing, she said. Nothing at all. She moved hands from her ass, and she ignored phone numbers written on the bar tabs. It was a busy night, and Steffi was a busy girl. She loved the way her hem bounced when she walked. She sometimes wished her boobs weren't fake. Hey, it happens. You spend enough time creating an image, and you tend to fall in love with it. She moved around the bar, laughing and enjoying her regulars. Then there was a tall woman in front of her. "No lips for me?" she said, grinning. Steffi smiled, and she leaned in and kissed her. She started to back away when the woman grabbed her head and kissed her harder. It felt nice to be kissing a woman again. "Can we get out of here," the woman said. "I'm Mistress Monica." Steffi blushed. "Ma'am, I have someone," she said. "I'm afraid not. Have you tried Miriam?" Monica shook her head. "I wanted you, my pet. You'd make a wonderful sissy. I can see it's your nature." "No, thank you," she said, resisting the urge to follow this woman home. "I need to be faithful." But she wouldn't be. Not for long. Monica disappeared into the night. Staff never saw her again. She suspected she made some (other?) sissy happy. She went back to work, smiling at the men, serving them drinks, fitting into her element. Later that evening, Kenny pulled her aside. "You got a minute," he said. "Sure." Kenny took her into his office. When she turned around, she was being kissed. Hard. Passionately. Just like with Lenny. "Kenny, no," she said, pulling away. "I'm with someone, you know." "Are you? Or is she with someone else?" "What are. you talking about." "Ah, Steffi, sweet Steffi. I hate to be the one to tell you, but Jenny is with Dave now. It was bound to happen. Strange cities, strange beds. They're having an affair, Steffi." "Bullshit." "It's the truth, Steffi. That's why I thought it would be okay to kiss you. Look." And Kenny threw out his own stack of photos onto the desk. There they were. Dave was kissing Jenny. Jenny's hand was on his crotch. They were smiling and holding hands. Now, Steffi couldn't know that the photos happened in the flash of an eye. In context, Jenny had done nothing wrong. But it looked like two lovers alone at dinner. It hinted there was more going on than in the photos. All of the wind left him. His hands were cold, clammy. "No," he breathed. Then Kenny was kissing him again, and Steffi didn't have the strength to stop him. He untucked his belt and let his trousers fall. His erect penis stood out. And Steffi gave up. His grades. His empty job hunt. The girls' clothes. The men he kissed. What did any of it matter? His girl had found someone else. He was lost. He was alone. So Steffi collapsed to her knees. She reached out and grasped Kenny's cock and slowly stroked it. She sighed and looked him in the face. It was time. And then she put her lips around it and bobbed her head. She sucked in hard, then she twirled her tongue around the bulb, the way Jenny did. She tongued him as if she was cleaning him, as if she could lick away her depression. She licked the head, fast, slow, wet. The truth? The truth was that she liked it. It was hard and penetrated, yet soft and pliable. It responded to her tongue. If this was her fate, she could do it. Finally, he grabbed her head and pulled out. He came all over her face. Steffi caught what she could in her mouth. He turned her then. Lying on the floor, on their sides, he pushed against Steffi's rear. It was tight ... tight....there. He moved in slowly and they were grinding in rhythm. Steffi pushed back against him, driving him deeper. Steffi seemed to like being pegged. Every thrust, and sex got better. By the end, she was screaming for it. She came hard, the pent-up emotions driving her. And he came. Hard. Just like Mr. Andrews had told him to do. * * All of it was because of Dave, of course. He had it bad for Jenny, both because of his emotions and because of his control factor. He had been the one to bring them to Vidalia. It had been him who wrecked Steve's grades. Him who made sure there wasn't a job available. Him who made sure he worked as a maid -- not a bartender -- at Diversions. He had paid Kenny to seduce Steve, and he had hired a private detective with a hidden camera for the racier pictures. It had cost him a lot of money. But Jenny was what he craved. And that meant ruining Steve. Steve was weak, after all. What did the old movie say? "If God did not want them sheared, he would not have made them sheep." If Steve was a woman, they would call him a home-wrecker. But Dave was an industry kingpin. He took over companies...and people. He left tears behind him. He ruined lives. Now, he was after Jenny. The plan was almost done. She was almost his. * * The next morning, he met Jenny for breakfast He apologized for coming on so strong, he said, but he felt horrible that she was in love with a man who had just come out. He flipped the new photos onto the table. There was Steffi, kissing Kenny. There she was, going down on him. There she was, taking a cum load into her face. There she was, getting butt-fucked. Jenny was shocked. She didn't know where the pictures had come from, but it was obvious what was happening in them. Steffi liked dicks, evidently. She was a woman now. Someone else's woman. She felt betrayed, and guilty that she had pushed Steffi in this direction. She had always been progressive toward gay men. Now she was in love with one. Did she deserve any less? David picked up the blowjob picture and studied it. "That's a woman who enjoys her work," he said. "And it doesn't look like she was a virgin before this, either. I love a woman who loves cock." Jenny exhaled. She tried to explain what was going on in the photos. She couldn't. "Jenny," Dave said softly. "She's a homosexual. Or a woman. Either one. It happens." Jenny knew gay people were loyal and loving and gentle. But what she saw in the pictures was raw sex. It was a man to know understood what he was. Jenny knew they would never be the same. She had to let him go. "David, do we have to go that meeting this morning?" "No, Jenny, I suppose not. Why?" "Because It's time for you to fuck me," she said sweetly. And he did. She was a wild animal, unleashed. It had been hard on her, having a boyfriend who came closer to being a woman every day. It wasn't just a lark. It wasn't just a job. Steve liked the clothes, the makeup, the life. What? Was she supposed to marry a chick? Was she supposed to walk on eggshells to protect Steffi's ego. Was she supposed to swap earrings? No, it was comforting to let her inhibitions go. Dave was an experienced lover. He knew where to touch her and how. They had wild passionate sex, then soft, caring sex. He took her ass. She blew him twice. They didn't sleep. She screwed him him out of anger, out of lust, out of passion, out of abandon. She fucked until his -- her -- face disappeared. Damn her, she thought. Damn me. Damn us both. * * * When there are indiscretions, you can blame anyone and everyone. Davie had orchestrated it, sure. And Steffi was crashingly depressed. Jenny was devastated. And all of them had turned to sex to make things right. But sex doesn't last very long. And soon, things would be wrong again. Later in the day, and suddenly, Kenny was busy, too. Steffi had accepted that she would have an affair with him, but he was acting funny. He told her it was nothing, that he was dating Gracie and things had gotten away from him the night before. Steffi felt worse than ever. She started drinking that morning, and by the late lunch crowd, she was wasted. Her friends -- Lucy and Miriam, both cross dressers -- told Kenny they would take care of her. So , arm-in-arm, they left the bar. Down the block, they ducked into a small shop with you could her whirring from the machines. Steffi was almost numb as the tattoo artist worked his magic. He put a flower on her hip. He put lipsticked lips on her wrist. And on her face, he tattooed her make up, her lipstick and her eyelider. She looked good. She looked permanent. The trio then made their way to a small shot that the locals new as a medical clinic. Steffi got needles in her chest -- hormones. She got a double dose, but she would have to come back next week. Yeah, Mr. Andrews would be pleased, all right. * * Jenny had told herself she would be calm when she saw Steffi again. But, right away, she saw her boyfriend -- girlfriend? -- had permanent makeup. "And what the hell happens when the graduation thing is cleared up, dammit," she said. "Are you going to have a slut's lips forever?" "It's never going to be cleared up, Jenny," Steffi said. "If it is, I'll work as a woman. It's how everyone sees me anyway." "That's because you keep sucking dick," she yelled. "You couldn't wait for me to get out of town before you blew the guys at the bar. Just admit it. You don't love me, because I don't have a dick." "Yeah; you do. You just have Uncle Davie's. I hear it's pretty substantial." "At least it fucking works," she snarled. "At least he isn't a sissy in high heels. He doesn't wear dresses. He can fuck." Steffi was crying now. She really did love Jenny, but yeah, her despair had led her to men, and she regretted it. As for Jenny, she had her own sins. She had let Dave fuck her. A lot. They were two broken people, two flawed souls. "Steffi, we don't work anymore. I'm sorry. I'm going to leave you the house until you're on your feet again. But I'm going to Dave now. He reaches an itch that you can't. He's a man. I'm sorry, but you aren't. Not anymore." And then she was gone. She left, slamming the door. She peeled rubber as her car left the driveway. It was Steffi's place now. Her and her clothes and the shadows of the rooms. * * * In the days to come, Steffi's slide continued. She drank heavier, then she ways selling blow jobs out of the back of the bar, in order to feel even worse about herself. If a guy had poppers, she was willing to join the party. She was a whore and a drunk, and she had a hard time remembering who had last plowed her ass. Jenny settled into Dave's house, and the two lived like man and wife. They had sex almost nightly. Of course, eventually, Jenny figured out that Dave had orchestrated it all. One of Dave's photos was of Steffi in the prom dress. That could only been taken the night the two of them tried on dresses. She had packed up the dress again afterward. She called UC and found that nothing was wrong with Steffi's college transcript. She cornered Kenny and got the entire story about Steffi's cross-dressing job. Still, she said nothing. It was done. It was Steffi who first wore a dress. It was Steffi who sucked her first dick. This was on her, too. She was complicit with her silence, but she could live with that. She was with Dave. She had always wanted to be with Dave, hadn't she? She wondered. * * Kenny didn't have a lot of time for her anymore. They weren't destined to be lovers. He was using her. But in the middle a week, Kenny called her over to the bar. "I'm going to make you some money, Steffi," he said. "Just to let you know that bygones are bygones. Dave Andrews is having a shindig on Saturday night. He needs some waitresses. So our girls are going to do it. You'll be there, right? Standard. Uniform." "Kenny....I can't. Jenny will be there." "Jenny's his girl now, Steffi. I think they might get married. You just need to get over yourself and make some money. There's not a big future in whoring." She looked at him, wounded. She nodded her head. Jenny was like everyone else now. She was a trophy on a rich man's arm. Steffi could do this. Maybe there would be other jobs that came from it. So she showed up early in her maid's dress, and she used the service entrance. She served. Jenny was around the room, chatting with this man, this woman. She wore a flowing red dress. She was the grand mistress of the manor, and her place was beside that of Dave's. Steffi tried not to look at her. She was his now. She was just the help. She swallowed hard, and she made her rounds, and she fetched drinks. Finally, the crowd thinned, and she began to help with the cleanup. There were dishes and garbage and old food, and she worked hard so she could get out of there by 3 a.m. But at 2 a.m., Miriam came up to her. "Mr. Andrews wants to see you," she said. She winked. "In the master bedroom." She climbed the stairs with dread. Why would he want to see the help in the middle of the night. She knocked softly. "Come in, Stephanie," he said, using her formal name. She entered, and Dave and Jenny lay in the bed, only a sheet covering them. "You did a good job tonight, girl. My guests never complained once." Jenny just blinked at her, her face impassive. "So are you doing clean-up now?" "Yes sir. We're almost done." He pulled the sheet off of Jenny. "Here's some cleaning for you," he indicated. Jenny lay there, nude. She spread her legs, and Steffi could see she was still damp from their sex. She knew this was a power move, a show of strength over the submissive. But she couldn't look away from Jenny's pussy. She climbed on on the bed and moved on all fours. Jenny's vagina always tasted like cherries. It was sweet and wet, and Steffi could ignore the sperm that filled it. She lapped and she licked and swirled her tongue, and it was heaven just to be close to her. "So you aren't completely about dick," Jenny said, and laughed. "But if you want, I have one in the drawer." Staffi didn't say a word. She kept at her work until Jenny quivered, then cried out. She kept licking, afraid this would be the last time she was ever with her former love. Finally, Jenny whispered for her to stop. And Dave said. "Now me." Of all of the humiliations in the world, this was the worst. The man who stole his girlfriend, who conspired and manipulated until he was a girl, lay back while she licked his dick. She took the bulb into. his lips, and she bobbed her head. It didn't feel like cleaning. It felt like a blow job. Steffi closed her eyes. She had given blow jobs before, she reminded herself. This was no different. But it was. It was the final surrender. He really wasn't that big, if you want to know. She had had bigger. She had had better. Still, there was a penis in her mouth. He gripped her hair and pulled it. He called her a cunt. And then he came in her mouth, salty and sticky. He held her head in place to make sure she swallowed. Then he laughed. It was the sound of the conquerer. * * A few weeks later, Steffi was summoned to Dave's house again. A little more humiliation, he supposed. She sat in the living room, and Dave and Jenny sat with their arms linked on the couch. She was quiet, and there may have been a tear in her eye. But he was still playing games. Why? For the sake of winning them. "I think we need to get you out of that bar, Steffi," Dave began. "I keep hearing there is prostitution going on in the back, including you. Jenny doesn't need to answer questions when her ex-boyfriend is arrested for solicitation. You know? Now, I don't want to blame you because you suck cocks. It's just your nature. Why you'd want a dick when you could have Jenny is beyond me. But you're a fag. You can't help yourself. You're a sperm-breath." Steffi didn't say anything. She sat there, in her maid's dress again, and stared at the floor. She absorbed his abuse. "That's why it hits me that you'd be the perfect maid for Jenny and I, especially if we have kids," Dave was saying. "You could cook and clean and wear your pretty clothes, and no one would say a word. You could fuck the help. "You know, Jenny liked it when you licked her. She'd want more of that. Of course, since you have a history with Jenny, I'd expect you to wear a cock cage all the time. You wouldn't mind that, would you? I don't want you sticking that little thing in something that belongs to me. Hey, maybe we'll cut it off for you. "We'll pay you a decent living. And you'll get to be around Jenny, although she'll be Mrs. Andrews to you. That's right. We're going to get married. You'll have a room over the garage -- there's an entrance for your boyfriends. You have one of those in your ass, right? Look, Jenny is happier now. She's got money, she's got a good job and her sex is better. She's rid of a cock-sucking boyfriend with permanent makeup. She wins. You lose. So be my maid and clean my fucking toilets." Dave looked at him and smirked. He had completely emasculated Steffi, and they both knew it. Steffi looked at him. "Why?" she whispered. "Why would you do all of this to me?" He smiled like a shark. "Because I could." * * Steffi didn't say a word. She just left. She stopped by Deviations and collected her last check. She told Kenny she would send her uniforms back. She thanked him for being a good boss most of the time. Lenny was in the bar. Evidently, he had a thing with Miriam now. Steffi grasped his hand. She hugged Miriam. Steffi returned to her home. Soon, it would be taken back over by Jenny. That was fair. It was her house. She changed into her lavender dress. For traveling. Her male clothes were long gone, and they wouldn't fit anyway. No, she didn't want to be Dave's maid. She didn't want to whore out of the back of the bar. She didn't want drunk customers pawing her ass. She was done. Slowly, she pulled her suitcase out of the closet and began to pack it. No guy clothes. Between her breasts and her make-up, she'd just look look a freak. She put her dresses and skirts inside the case. She was crying. She packed her makeup. Three of her favorite pairs of heels. A photo of her and Jenny. She picked the photo up and stared at it for a long moment. "It's a nice shot, isn't it?" a soft voice said. Steffi's head snapped up, and there she was. Jenny. She had barely spoken when they saw each other at Dave's house, but evidently, she had followed Steffi home. "Hi," Steffi said softly. "I guess I should say congratulations on your upcoming marriage." "It was the first I heard about it," Jenny said. "I think it was said just to hurt you. And I let it. I'm sorry about that. But frankly, I'd rather marry a porcupine than Dave.." Steffi gave a wan smile. "I screwed things up so bad. I thought you two were sleeping together, back before you actually were, and I left the emptiness swallow me up." Jenny shrugged. "I was empty, too, being on the road all the time with Dave while you were struggling. Look, we both slept around. I pushed you toward cross-dressing, remember. And all those nights on the road. I put work ahead of you, kitten. I'm sorry." "So what now?" "Well, Dave was too much of a manipulator to live with. God, it was staggering the lengths he went to to get in my pants. I called the authorities, Steffi. Interfering with a school's hiring policy is a federal offense. Grade-tampering with a college is a federal offense. The board at Andrews Industries was very interested to hear how he spent so much money to seduce an employee. Dave is going to jail where, I suspect, he will give more blow jobs than you ever did." Steffi grinned. "I think I enjoyed mine more, but I'm sure there is a rapist somewhere who needs a wife." Jenny laughed. It felt good being with Steffi again. They always did make each other laugh. Jenny touched her cheek. "I'd like us to start again, Steffi. I know you have your makeup and your boobs and your heels. You're going to wear dresses for the rest of your life. But can't we adjust? Can't we be happy again." "I've changed, Jenny." "I know." "No, not just the dresses. On the inside, too. I was broken by Dave. I'm a better person now. Before, I felt worthless. I was submissive to the world." "Well, maybe you could start over and just be submissive to me, sissy boy." Steffi grinned. Her heart fluttered. Was this happening? Was it a dream? "Yes, Mistress," she said, smiling. Jenny smiled. "Mistress? You know, I could get used to that. So Sissy, how do you feel about anal sex from your Mistress?" Laughter. "You know what they say. If you start, I'll give you 45 minutes to stop." Copyright, Cassandra Morgan