Lights! Camera! Action! free porn video

Lights! Camera! Action! By Cassandra Morgan So this was what it was like to live in the fast lane. The autograph hounds hovered few feet away, wanting for Luke to acknowledge them so they could approach and beg him to scrawl his name on paper. The photographers from the paparazzi stayed to the outside, restrained by two beefy looking members of his security detail. The servers flitted about him as if he might die without his precious sparkling water. He was wearing sunglasses, so he wouldn't be recognized, but a canary yellow suit, so he would be, And me? The geek? I sat, transfixed by it all. Trying not to be star struck. Failing. Luke Williams, star of stage, screen and your local tabloid newspaper, seemed impervious to the chaos around him. He sipped his water, and he flashed that golden smile of his, and he might as well have been dining at one of the several country clubs to which he belonged. He picked at his salad, as if the vegetation wasn't quite lush enough for him. And then he gave me that old familiar shrug of his, exaggerated charm mixed with false humility. It was the same grin you have seen in Speedtrap 2 through Speedtrap 7, those movies in which he decides to suspend gravity as the cars crash around him. "You been okay, Arnie?" Luke asked me. "I'm glad we were able to get together. I never know when I'm going to be in Cincinnati." "Um, I'm glad, too, Luke. Mr. Williams. Luke, I mean." He smiled that imperious smile, a star's smile, the kind of smile that can get a kid through puberty. Somewhere, young girls were swooning at that smile. Maybe a couple of young boys, too. "I'm glad you called, Luke. Or that you had your agent call, anyway. I mean, I never knew you felt we were really that close." "Not that close?" Luke said. "Who got me through calculus my junior year? That was the year we won state, remember? "I remember. You were fantastic." He smiled. "I was, wasn't I?" he said. I grinned. I was determined that I wasn't going to fawn all over him. I wasn't going to ask about Dark Star, his new sci-fi movie which was going to make millions. I wasn't going to get his autograph even though Junie would love it. "Yeah, you were," I said. "My wife loved it." "You're married? To a woman?" He seemed shocked. "Of course it's a woman, Luke. Junie. She didn't go to school with us, though. I met her in college in Spanish lab." "Well, congratulations, Arnold, old boy. That's great. I don't mean any offense, but I always thought you played for the other team." I blushed. "No, Luke. I was never gay. Girls just didn't like a little dweeb with a pocket protector and a certain fascination with ... girly roles in plays. They liked the quarterback who scored touchdowns on his way to Hollywood. " "Well, it doesn't matter, does it? Twenty-first century and all that. Hell, Hollywood is run by homo...well, by gays. Speaking of which, I'm working on a project..." "You're going to be Randolph Scott, the gay gunfighter?" "Ha. No. But it's not a bad idea. I should write that down. He could kiss Cary Grant in the end. So to speak." The waitress refilled his water, although he hadn't ask. He gave her his dazzling smile, and she seemed to melt. If he wasn't careful, she would follow him home. "So what is your project, Luke?" "I'll be honest with you, Arnie. You're just right for what I have in mind. It isn't just chance that I called today." "I didn't think so." "You remember acting in Rent as a senior? You were good." "You noticed?" "Of course I noticed. You were the best Angel ever. You really made me believe you were really a transgender girl. You were stunning. When you died, I damn near wept. You taught me a lot about acting." I smiled at the memory. I loved playing the HIV-positive Angel, for what it was. I wasn't like Luke. I didn't have the magnetism to attract the big agent firms. I liked to act, but I was better as a face in a very large crowd. "Thank you, Luke." "I was thinking about those days the other day. Arnie, do you ever think about reprising them?" "Be Angel again?" "Not necessarily Angel. But someone pretty. Someone feminine." "What are you talking about, Luke?" "Be honest with me, Arnie," he said. "When we were young, were you a cross-dresser?" I turned 26 shades of red. I stammered out an awkward denial. He grinned at my discomfort. "There is a reason I ask, Arnie. Please be honest. It means a lot." I looked up. I took a breath. I finally answered "Hell, I don't know, Luke. I dressed up some. But how many times do you have to do it to be a registered cross-dresser? I never went to the prom. But I wanted to." He nodded. Then he began his pitch. "Okay. Cards on the table, but you can't tell anyone No one can keep a secret in Los Angeles. I'm thinking about directing a movie. ?Million Dollar ?Sissy. We find some guy off the street, a normal dude, and we give him a million bucks to be a woman for a year. You're the closest thing I know to being a cross-dresser." I looked at him. "How do you know I'm not a cross-dresser now?" "Silly boy, I had you checked out," he said. "In Hollywood, we check everything out. I kind of suspected. You were too pretty not to." So he had known all along. About Junie. About my job at Tech-Data. About my work at the Little Theatre. I should have figured it. We hadn't really been friends, not share-a-milkshake friends. Hollywood big shots don't remember the little guy, calculus or no calculus. "So what's the idea?" I asked. "It's easy. The cameras roll, and we do a movie about a guy who gets a mill to be a girl for a. year. His highs. His lows. His conflicts. His life. But the thing is, no one knows he's being paid to do it. Not his wife, not his parents, not his boss. No one. It will be real to them. It'll reflect the values of a young trans woman and we'll get to see what his parents and friends think as he does it. I've talked to some people, and there is some talk of a TV series on Logo after the movie. This could set you up financially for life, Arnie." "This could get me divorced, beaten up and fired," I said. "With this kind of money, who needs a job?" he said. "So who pays for all of this? In the end, someone always pays." "Arnie. A million bucks isn't much to pay the lead star of a movie. Hell, I got $15 million for the latest Speedtrap. I don't want to brag, but my name will bring in major investors to this movie. Besides, transgender shit is all the rage, Arnie. Supergirl has one. Jessica Jones has one. There is Caitlyn and Laverne and that girl from Sense8. The Danish Girl. So why not join in? We'll buy your clothes on our dime. Your makeup. Your lingerie. And you get a million bucks. Even after taxes, that's a lot of money." "So why don't you star in it yourself?" "No one would believe it, and the protests about how I was a straight man portraying a trans girl would go through the roof. They'd nail me to the wall. No, I couldn't get away with it. But you could." "I can't tell Junie?" "I'm afraid not. It would spoil her reactions. You can be a trans for her, but not that you're being paid. But just think of how she'll react when she sees that check." "Shit. I can't do this. I can't carry it off." "I think you can. I think women will pull for you in a male-dominated world. I think men will get hard for you. I think young transgender girls will have a role model. Everyone wins." I looked out the window. A woman in a yellow dress was walking past. Could that be me? Should that be me? "Think of it, Arnie," Luke said. "A dress around your thighs again. A bra over your shoulders. Panties. High heels. Lipstick. I know you still think about it, Arnie. Don't you?" "Maybe sometimes," I said. "Late at night." He grinned. "Take a day then. Think about it. But in Hollywood, you have to move fast. The early bird gets the guy's worm." "Please stop," I said. But I didn't know if I was talking to Luke, or to those voices in my head. * * A million dollars! That would pay off our house. It would get Junie a better car. We could go to France. It would pay off student loans. I sat in my office, but I couldn't keep my mind on work. I watched as the women of the office went by in their colorful clothing. I would never admit this to Junie, but the old feelings hadn't died. I had repressed them, sure, but there were still buried in there. Sometimes, when I was alone, I rubbed her panties against my cheek and let my imagination run wild. Now, I had an excuse to let the demons out. Also, I would star in a movie. That was no small thing, either. Every local actor on every makeshift stage across the country dreams of being in a movie. I looked in the mirror. I pursed my lips and whispered. "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille," I said. I smiled. Then I turned and sighed, "As God is my witness, I will never be hungry again." And again. "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." One more time. "Fasten your seat belts, it's going to be bumpy night." I giggled. This could be fun, I thought. And rewarding. And ego- feeding. Hell, why wouldn't I do it? The hard part, of course, would be Junie. It was going to be an adjustment for her to be living with a man in skirts. But, hell, she might like it. Women all over America were feminizing their husbands. Yeah. I bet that, deep down, Junie would enjoy that, too. She could be the mistress, all dressed in dark clothes. Shit. I bet the producers would like that. Hell, I was meant for this part. Who else had been Angel in high school? Who else had been Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz? Luke didn't even mention that one. I stopped by Macy's on the way home. I walked through the dresses, casually shopping like a man looking for a present for his wife. There was a beautiful little black dress. There was a red skirt that was to die for. There was a paisley summer dress that was made for me. A burgundy shift that I would have died to have worn out of the store. I stood at the rack, my fingers trailing through the dresses. My. heart fluttered to imagine me wearing them. Girls always had better clothes than boys; that's just a fact. Boys wore jeans to protect them at football. Girls wore skirts to twirl around as they danced. And damn it, I had spend my life on the wrong side of the room. I was a dancer. I made up my mind. I was going to be a woman for Luke. And how many fan-girls had said just that? A million dollars? Hell, maybe I should be paying Luke. * * It's amazing what they can do with tiny cameras these days. I felt like Q, the old weapons guy from the ?James Bond? movies, was in charge. They put them all over our home, including the bedroom. They put them in our cars. They put them in our offices. Yeah, the whole world was going to see me transform. Christ. When I thought about it, my mother went to the movies. My sister. All my friends and co-workers. And in the movies, they can even show your naughty bits. Come to think of it, maybe Luke was getting a bargain at a million. I thought about my coming out. I needed to be doing something normal. Cleaning, maybe. I decided that I would "let" Junie catch me, as if I had been dressing up for all the years of our marriage. Isn't that what usually happens with the gender fluid among us? Eventually they slip up, and they get caught by a parent, a spouse, a sibling. Some of them even want to get caught. So was I truly transgender? I didn't know. I had dabbled in girls' clothes when I was younger, but a lot of guys do. I loved acting in women's roles. I liked being kissed on stage. But on my own, would I surrender to the lifestyle? Probably not. Yet, now I was going to spend a year in skirts. That was an intimidating thought. I sighed. I walked upstairs. I went into the guest bedroom, and reached back into the far recesses of the closet. There was a blue dress. I went into the bottom drawer, and I moved some towels around. There was my old lingerie. I knew my makeup was waiting in the guest bathroom. I guessed it was time. I shaved my legs, because a lot of women do. I pulled up my panties, feeling my nerve endings come alive again. I fastened my bra, and the straps felt wonderfully familiar. I slid in the breast forms. I considered my girdle, but then decided that torture could wait. I didn't have a lot of time before Junie would get home. I pulled the blue dress over my head. As a man, my hair was fairly long, but as a woman, it was fairly short. So I put on my blonde wig. I knew I needed makeup, but I had gotten a late start. So I put on lipstick, but decided that eyeliner was for another day. I looked into the mirror. I cocked my head to the left, then to the right. I posed in front of the mirror. Was this the face that would sell a thousand bottles of shampoo? Was a Revlon contract waiting for me? I grinned. The clothes felt as great as ever. I pulled up my hose. I stepped into my heels, and immediately I started to wobble. Damn. It was like walking on stilts. I moved around the room, feeling my hem bounce against my thighs, feeling the weight of my forms on my chest. Jewelry! I needed jewelry. I started across the hall to our bedroom. That's when I heard the downstairs door open and close. "Sweetie! I got off early." Junie! Shit. I ran into the bathroom. "I'm in the loo," I yelled out, frantically undressing. "The loo? Are we fucking British now?" her voice carried up the stairs. "I'll have a spot o' tea." I shoved the clothes into the laundry. No. No good. I opened the door and slipped into the hall. I dumped the clothes into the guest closet to get later. I glanced at my guy self in the mirror. Shit. I still had on lipstick. I picked up a towel and rubbed it off. I went back into the bathroom and washed my face repeatedly. I stepped out and there was Junie. "Everything come out okay?" she asked. Old bathroom joke. "I'm fine, baby. How was your day?" "I'm good. How did your reunion go?" "It was good. Luke and I weren't that good as friends, though. I guess he was just slumming." "Well, I think it's great. My sweetie and my dreamboat, together at once. I'd like to jump into a pile of you guys and have to eat my way out." "Hush," I said. "That's my friend you're ogling." "You want to know the truth? When you told me you had gotten a call from his agent, I didn't believe it was the same Luke Williams. I thought you were shitting me. So, did he say "pedal to the floor, partner" like in his movies. Damn, he's hot." "No. We didn't talk about his movies." She looked at me. "Actors always talk about themselves," she said. "Next thing you'll tell me, he didn't even show you his pecker." "Junie!" She giggled and went into the bedroom to change. * * * My God! I'd almost had a heart attack from getting caught and yet, my grand plan was to get caught. That didn't make sense. Timing, that's all I could think of. Don't fry an egg long enough, and it's runny. Fry it too long, and it's burnt. I just wasn't ready to be caught. Not yet. I had a few days to practice yet. There were clothes. The studio delivered them on Tuesday, summer dresses and skirts and a-lines and even a prom dress.There was a black and a yellow and a red and a blue and a pink. There was basic jewelry. There were heels. Shit. Could I get all of these into the guest closet without Junie finding out? Over the next few days, I made a daily dry run. The dresses were the best, even better than the skirts. I was getting better with makeup. The feel of dressing like a female was getting to be arousing. I liked it. On Friday, I decided it was the day to get caught. I put on a green skirt with a white top. My heels were green. I slid my forms into my bra and did my makeup. I looked good. I glanced at the clock. It was ?4:43?. Only a few minutes until Junie came home. I fixed myself a whiskey. I needed to calm my nerves. When I was a kid, I had been caught by my mother in one of her dresses. Mom was sweet about it, but the shame of the moment was memorable. I had to wear the dress to dinner that night, in front of my parents and my late grandmother. My father glared at me the entire time. The feeling now, as I paced around the apartment, was the same, thick and filled with dread and anticipated judgment. I could feel my panties, my girdle, my bra. I could feel my skirt swirl around my legs. The door began to open. I swallowed, then I put my headphones on. I began to mop the kitchen, as if I weren't expecting her home. In a way, it was my first acting scene. But as Junie turned the corner, I could hear voices. Junie...and her sister Jazz. Damn. She was with her sister Jazz. They entered the kitchen, and time stopped. I kept looking at the floor, and then I heard it ... laughter. I glanced up, and Junie was leaning against the counter, chuckling. Jazz had wide eyes, and her mouth was open. "So who is this, then?" Junie said. "Is it my new maid, or is it my husband in drag? How long have you been wearing girls' clothes?" "Christ. He's a fag," Jazz said. "Oh, I'm sorry, baby," I bluffed. "I didn't expect you home. Let me go change." "Don't you dare move," Junie said. "This is funnier than Seinfeld." "Only sometimes," I said, hanging my head, laying it on thick "I'm sorry. I just like the way they feel on me." "For how long?" Junie still seemed more amused than offended. "For a while," I said. "I did it as a kid. But I guess I've backslid recently. I'm sorry." "Did you slide into a man's lap?" Jazz said. "Did you sit on his cock?" "It...it's not like that," I said. "Please. Let me change." "It seems like you've changed already," Junie said."Shit. You're a girl. You're a tranny. What do they call it? A sissy." After that, the tears I cried were real. Junie reached down and pulled up the hem of my skirt, exposing my panties and the tops of my hose. The rush of shame I felt was no act. "Jesus," she said. "You went all the way didn't you?" "I...guess," I said. "It's...a compulsion, I've always been like this." "Always? When we were dating? When we got married? Tell me the truth. Did you wear my wedding dress." I hung my head, I nodded slightly. "Christ. How many men have you been with." "One" I said. "Clark Spencer. In high school." This was a gamble. I never had sex with Clark. But I didn't think anyone would confront Clark and ask him. "My God. You've sucked a dick! A real one! Was it big?" "I couldn't help it. He threatened to tell everyone that I wore dresses. And I guess it was average-sized." She looked at me. She looked at her sister. "Are you and Luke Williams a thing? I know a lot of guys in Hollywood are gay. Is Luke? Did you kiss his dick, too?" "What? No." "But you've tried, haven't you? You made a pass at him." "Not really. I mean, when I was Angel in Rent, he said he thought I was pretty. But we just made out a little. That's all." The making out bit was a lie, too, intended to embellish my story. She shook her head. "My husband is gay, Jazz. He's a three-dollar bill. A rump ranger. What should I do? Call a lawyer? Call RuPaul?" "Please don't call anyone," I sobbed. "I love you. I don't want to lose you." "What? You want me to be Ellen so you can be Portia? Are we supposed to be lesbians, holding hands while we work on your car's transmission?" "Baby, I'll stop. I'll go back to being your husband. Just that." "Silly faggot. You'd rather have someone else's husband, wouldn't. You? You'd rather mince around in a maid's dress." "No, baby. I'm not like that." "Well, maybe you are. Maybe you should scrub the toilet now. Or should I go to the bathroom first? Would that make you happy? To wash the shit off the bowl?" I swallowed hard. "Honey, I just like to wear the clothes. That's all. That doesn't make me a criminal. I need you now more than ever. Help me." She softened. She looked at me. "Can you cook?" she said. "Yes, ma'am" "Good. Then make dinner for Jazz and I. Keep your girly clothes on. You can be a maid for tonight, can't you?" "If you want." She shook her head. "I don't know what I want. Not yet. But, sweetie there is something you should know." "Yes ma'am?" "You have a run in your hose" * * And so Junie learned about her husband and dresses. It was trying, figuring out just how she felt about it. Sometimes she would make a gay barb, and you'd swear she wasn't comfortable with it. Sometimes she would compliment me on my skirt and you'd think she was warming to it. But most of the time, she was just amused at the sissy in her house. She would invite friends over unannounced, just so they could see me in skirts and join in the laughter. She started to bring home fashion magazines. Then magazines with male centerfolds. Then sissy magazines. Stu Sturdevant, a director who worked for Luke, started to call daily with instructions for me. About my cover story for Junie. About my cover story for everyone else. He sent over more dresses, more makeup. Finally, it was time to tell Junie our version of the truth. "You know when I met with Luke?" I said. "Your love meeting?" "It wasn't like that. He's producing a movie about a transgender girl. Me. A documentary. " "How did they decide on you?" "He figured out my secret in high school. When I was Angel." "Did you fuck him?" "No. I mean, I would have. I'm not different than any other girl." "Arnie, you aren't a girl." "You know what I mean." "I think you should be Angel. Change your name." "I don't like Angel. I have too much devil." "How about ... Annie? You could be Annie." "Annie works," I said. "So when does this movie start?" "We have to do some voiceovers. Film a few more scenes. We shoot scenes next Wednesday." "Well, good luck." "Aren't you going to be in it? The grieving wife, that sort of thing." "Annie, I don't know if I'm grieving. A person doesn't feel just one way. She's angry, and then she's happy, and then she can feel your pain, and then she wants to inflict some more." "I know. It's all my fault." "It's not. You can't help being a trans like you can't help but have brown eyes or be right-handed or have cocksucker lips." "My lips are fine" "Have you practiced on a banana? A cucumber? A bratwurst?" I blushed and looked at the floor. "I thought so." "I'm sorry," I said. "So how much are you getting paid?" Junie said. "A pretty good amount. It depends on the residuals." "Probably not that much. No one wants to see a guy getting butt-fucked on their screen. That's what they have porn." I bit my lip. I didn't want to tell her how rich we could be. I didn't want to tell her the difference in a major studio and pornography. "When did you say you start shooting?" "Next week. In L.A." "Lots of men in L.A.," she said. "You could fuck the Rams. Maybe the Lakers." "Funny." "Annie. If you want, you can sleep with men. You have my permission. But then I might too. If our marriage is open, then it's open." "I understand," I said, not understanding at all. But then, there was so much I didn't understand. * * Scene One, Take One. I had always wondered how those words would sound from a real Hollywood director. Stu sat in his director's chair, a megaphone in his hand. He was wearing a red beret. The shot was a fast-motion montage of me getting dressed, entering the bathroom as a boy and donning my pretties one item at a time. In the meantime, I spoke. "Hi. My name is Annie. I'm a girl. You might not see me and think I'm a girl, but I am. I have been since childhood, since I fumbled in my sister's closet to try on her clothes. They were softer than my boy clothes, and prettier, and I couldn't put them on without hearing my heart sing. "For years, I made excuses for my 'hobby.' They're just clothes, I would say. But they weren't just clothes. They were the garments that signaled that another me was taking over. This was my drug, my addiction, my habit. I lay awake every night and thought about being a girl, about my hair, about my lips. I prayed for my breasts to grow. Across America, there have been a lot of transgender girls murdered because of these 'just clothes.' People don't want you to go to the bathroom because of these 'just clothes.' They defined me, and they comforted me, and even now, they thrill me. "So come with me, won't you? Step inside the closet, and feel my need. Understand me. Talk to me. I'm a girl, but I'm one who needs her chemicals, and her dresses, and her heels. Around you, there are hundreds of us. Thousands. Boys who have faulty wiring. Boys in the wrong bodies. Boys who put on their wives' dresses and let their imaginations wander. I am one of them. Are you?" In the dailies, the scene faded to black. There was footage of Junie, ridiculing me. There was a shot of a man looking at my rear end as I walked out of a Starbucks (shot with a hand-held camera). There was footage of me it the kitchen with Jazz ordering me around. There was a biography of me, featuring film from my boyhood. I don't know where they got it. Probably from my mother. I was playing with a doll. My sister was brushing my hair. I was in the backyard practicing cheers. They had other interviews, too. Junie talked about discovering me in the kitchen and how crushed she was. Scott Edwards talked about how he wanted to ask me to the prom in high school. Billy Downing said he could always tell that I was gay because I kept watching his groin in P.E. "It's a good start, Annie," Stu said, as the extras applauded. "You're on your way to being a starlet." Then Stu stunned me. He reached out and hugged me. It was innocent, chaste, without a hint of sexual suggestion. Still, it felt like validation. It felt like acceptance. It felt like womanhood. All in all, it made me smile. * * Being in a movie, at least for a beginner, goes far beyond what you see on film. There are voice and diction lessons, movement lessons, rehearsals. Every movement I made was analyzed to make sure it was feminine enough. One day, Stu called me at home and gave me an address for us to meet. It was a beauty salon on the East side. I hadn't heard of it, but Stu told me it catered to "girls like me." I drove there, and Stu was waiting...with four cameramen. They had made a deal with the owner, Barbara, to film me being made over. Hair, eyebrows, nails, the whole shebang. I felt like a rich lady being pampered by servants. "We''ll bring out the Annie in you," Barbara said. "Wait til your husband sees you!" "Um....I don't have a husband." "Boyfriend?" "Wife." "Oh," Barbara said. "Well, it's a whole new world. Now lie back." It was great to be fussed over, even if the session went on a little long. Hair. Nails. Face. Ears pierced. Perfume. Waxing. I felt like an old car getting refinished. But when I looked in the mirror, I was amazed. I was gorgeous. I don't say that bragging. I say that as a testament to Barbara and her wonder girls. In my entire life, no matter what my gender was, I had never looked this good. We left, and we went to an endocrinologist. It was embarrassing as the woman tweaked my nipples. "What size are you thinking?" she said. "I know you girls like them big." "Um, just a C. Maybe a B." "That's all? Double-ds aren't any more expensive, you know?" "No. A C is fine. I don't want everyone drooling." "Ha. Too late, chickee. You're a fox. Now, we'll schedule you for next week. Special rush because of the studio. In the meantime, I have some better forms for you." She slid them into my bra. I posed in front of her mirror, right and left. The breast forms felt wonderful. Junie was going to jump me. Wasn't she? No. She wasn't. When Junie came home that day, she looked me up and down, and she simply shook her head. "You're going all the way with this, aren't you? Have you thought about when you're getting your vagina?" "I ... I haven't thought about a vagina." "Well, you should," she exhaled. "You're not a transvestite anymore. You're a woman." "Junie...do you want me to stop?" "Sweetie, you can't stop. You're Annie now. You have to figure out who you are, and we have to figure out who we are. Are was lesbians? Are we friends? Are we an ex-married couple? What?" "I don't want to be your ex-anything," I said. "I want to be your spouse." "Baby, I can't grow a dick," she said. "And in that dress, you're advertising for one. I don't understand it, but this is important to you. I think I need to step aside." "You don't. Just wait til this movie is done, and we can be together." "For what? To shop? To go to the spa and have our nails done? To pick up men?" "Junie...hang on. Okay? Just hang on for a little while. We can see a counselor." She exhaled. "We'll try it for a little while. Be a girl if you want. But I can't do this forever, Annie. Jazz is already trying to fix me up with one her co-workers, but it feels wrong. For today. Tomorrow? Who knows?" I nodded. I thought about the movie. Hell, I thought about the money. I didn't want to give up either. But I didn't want to lose Junie, either. I imagined being Junie. You come home, and your husband is in a dress, and he's in a movie. It changes your life. It redefines you, and what you thought you had in a marriage. You look across the room, and your man is a woman. Your sister is trying to fix you up with other men. You brace for your friends and family finding out. How do you deal with that? How would Junie deal with it? * * Scene 36. Take 11 I walked the rain-soaked streets of Cincinnati, staring at the lights of the oncoming cars. I lifted my skirt an inch, and I thrust my hip out to the side. You know, like a prostitute does. This was Stu's latest "what if." What if Junie threw me out. What if I couldn't find work, not even as a waitress. What if I had to take to the streets in one of those "dream sequences?" Hell, according the script, I couldn't even find work in a hotel. I had to be a street whore, giving blow jobs in the back of Kias. I had to go through a dozen men a night, all of whom had wives who didn't understand them. I told the men, of course, that I was trans. I didn't want to be knifed if a sailor found out that the whore who had just sucked him off had a dick. I tried to stay in the light, not only for safety, but so Leon -- my daddy -- would keep an eye on me. It was simple. Forty bucks for a blow job, sixty for half-and-half. You got an hour with my ass for $100. Leon, of course, sampled me for free. Between jobs, I hung out at the diner, with Shirl and Traci. They were trans, too. They have been working the streets long before I had, and Traci was chasing a meth problem that seemed to be winning. It was the grit that Stu wanted in these shots. The danger of unprotected sex with a stranger in a country where you could buy a guy easier than you could get a fishing license. I didn't like being a whore. But, hell, I had an apartment with a warm bed. I was better off than most of the girls here. I stepped back onto the streets. The rain was playing hell with my hair. I walked up and down the sidewalk, listening the catcalls, tempting the men to pay off. A cop slowed down. He rolled down the window. "Hello, officer. Have you caught the Manson gang yet?" He chuckled. "You're safe from Charlie, but I think Ted Bundy is still out here." "Eek. I need a big brave Starsky and Hutch to save me." "You want a ride? In the back?" I narrowed my eyes. "Aren't you on duty?" "Some cops break for donuts. I brake for blow jobs." "You sure do know how to sweet-talk a girl." "You wish you were a girl." "I will be yet, Officer Dreamboat." "Get into the squad car. I'll drop you at Riley's." "Yes sir" I climbed in the back. I learned forward. "You gonna frisk me?" "Oh, yeah. I'm going to frisk the hell out of you." He pulled into an alley. He joined me in the back, and his hands were all over my breasts, and he was kissing me on the mouth. "Unzip me," he said. I tugged down his pants. He looked at me. "Turn around," he said. "I want your ass. As of now, this ass is officially under arrest." I thirst my butt toward him. "Aren't you going to read me my rights?" I said. Scene 3, Take 7. Junie and I had found a sort of peace between us. I think she still resented not being in on the original decision, but she no longer mocked me. I was her roommate, pretty much. That was it. Tonight's shoot would be in our apartment. I was scheduled to come out to both sets of parents, mine first and then Junie's. The way we planned it is that I would stay in our bedroom until Junie let my folks in, and then I would come into the room. I was wearing a white dress with small cherries on it. I had on a red belt and red high heels. I kept toying in with my hair, and tugging on my corset. I felt awkward, exposed. It would get worse. George and Mary Anne Chandler were simple folk, hard-working. They had raised three children, old brother Ben, sister Jill and me, Arnold. They went to church. He fished. She baked. They loved Junie. Everyone did. She was the perfect daughter-in-law, one who called them three times a week, who planned evenings with them, who went on vacation with them. In a lot of ways, she was closer to them than I was. Especially after I walked into the kitchen. "Oh, my!" My mother said. "What is this?" My father asked. "Oh, my!" My mother said. "You're queer now?" My father said. "Oh, my!" My mother said. "I should have known. I should have made you play baseball." "Oh, my! My mother said. "How are you coping, Junie? Are you going to divorce Arnie?" "It's Annie now," Junie said. "And we're examining all our options." I looked at her. Why couldn't she simply say "No, we're staying together?" What does "examining our options" mean? Was she going to divorce me? Really? "This...this is me, mom. Dad. I'm not evil. I'm not a murderer. I just like to wear girls' clothes. Is that so horrible?" "If you asked, you must think so," my father said. "Was it us, Arnie...I mean Annie? Did we do this to you?" Mom asked. "No one did anything to me. It's all my fault. Blame me." My mother moved beside me. "It's okay. It really is. Your Uncle Chester is gay. He and Walt are very happy. You will be, too, after Junie divorces you." "Mom!" We sat and talked. About suspicions. About Caitlyn Jenner. About drag queens. About sexual preferences. About the movie (I could only say so much). About heels. About bathroom policies. About makeup. About what makes a man sexy. My father never really did get on board. He was raised simply, and he simply couldn't grasp why a healthy man would want to be a woman. My mother tried to understand. And Junie waited for her own parents to arrive. They came an hour later. This time, I didn't make a grand entrance. I just stood on display. Peter Ford, Junie's dad, simply laughed as is he was looking at an old Flip Wilson skit. Daphne, his wife, got a sneer on her face. "So you feminized him?" she asked. "I don't blame you, Junie. He was always a wimp." "Feminized?" Junie said. "No, I didn't do this. He did this." "I've heard of women who feminize their husbands when they don't do enough around the house," Daphne said. "I think it's a good idea." "Mom, I'm telling you. I had nothing to do with this." "Mrs. Ford," I said. "This is who I am." "Well, it works out for everyone, doesn't it? Junie gets a broken husband, and Arnie gets to dress like queen of the hop. Hell, you don't even have to try to make him your maid. Just set out the uniform" "Maid?" I said. Why did it come back to me being a maid? "You'll learn to cook, and to clean, and you get to wear panties. Isn't that perfect?" Daphne said. "Hell, I'll even let you clean my house, and you can suck Peter's peter." "Hey!" Peter said. "He's not a maid, Mom. All trans girls aren't maids. He's a girl." "A sissy girl." "Annie?" Junie said. "Do you want to be a maid? Are you a sissy?" "No," I said firmly. "This is just about cross-dressing. Nothing else. I'm lousy at cleaning and worse at cooking. I don't want to be a sissy." "But what if you're meant to be?" Daphne said. "What if you're destined to stick a butt plug up your ass and vacuum?" "It sounds like a good trade to me," Peter said. "You get to wear this fag shit, and my daughter gets a clean house. What a deal." "You'll need a clean house," Daphne said. "For when your boyfriends come over." "Please stop," I said, fearing what thoughts she was putting in Junie's head. And mine. * * The dailies were a smashing success. Stu loved the interplay between the parents and I, especially Daphne. There was enough contention, enough angst, in the room for real movie-making drama. Then there is this. Stu thought the stuff about the maid was "golden." Recently, there has been a crop of transgender movies -- Boy Meets Girl and ?The Danish Girl? and Carla -- but no one had plumbed the sissy idea except for the pornographers. Stu thought that a segment on me as a submissive would help the flow of his documentary. And so, the next morning, when Junie walked into the kitchen, I was wearing a black maid's uniform and preparing breakfast. To be honest, a double had made most of the breakfast, but it looked on film as if I was doing it. Junie looked quizzically at me. She sat, and I poured her coffee. "Might I get you some juice, madam?" I asked. She grinning this time. "That would be fine, Annie," she said. "I like juice." So I minced to the refrigerator, and I poured her a tall glass of orange juice. I brought it to the table. "Can you put an ice cube in it, maid," she said, giggling. I walked back to the fridge and slid an ice cube into the glass. I walked to the table. "And could I have toast? Whole wheat toast?" I curtsied (and she laughed out loud). I got a plate and popped two slices of bread into the toaster. I got out the butter and the jam. When the bread popped up, I brought it to her. "Do that bowing thing again," she said. I curtsied once more. "That's precious," she said. "I could get used to this. Can you get to the laundry today, maid?" "Yes, Madam," I said. "Damn. Finally, something is in this for me. So you do whatever I say, right?" "Yes, Madam," I said. She beamed. "Cool! Then wash the fucking dishes, and after I leave for work, mop the damn floors. Oh, and change the bed sheets. Tonight, I'll set up a daily schedule." "Mrs. Junie, you really want me acting like the maid?" "It's Miss Junie, maid. And no one's acting. From now on, this is your job. Now, I've got to send my mom flowers for the idea. This may work out, Annie. I may not dump you after all. I'd rather have a sleazy husband than a greasy bathroom floor." This wasn't right. I was an actress, damn it. I wasn't a domestic. I wasn't Hazel, for crying out loud. I was a starlet. First, though, I had to wash the towels. * * Scene 11, Take 1 We were standing outside the Flesh and Fantasies adult novelty store, the crew and Junie and I. Again, Junie didn't know the whole story. She had no idea I was getting paid handsomely for this documentary, and no idea it had started as an act. She thought I was just another transgender husband who was coming out. We talked the aisles of the sex shop, and for the sake of the cameras, I cooed over the displays. The clothing. The books. The videos. I picked up a dildo and showed it to Junie. She giggled. "I think you need a bigger one," she said. "Maybe a blue one." She told me she was going to buy me a butt plug. It looked oversized, too. We moved through the store. She liked the handcuffs. She thought a locking corset was brilliant. She thought a penis gag was inspired. There was a novelty bra with small propellors protruding at the nipples. She bought that, too. Then she came upon an angry looking display of twisted plastic and metal. The chastity cages. "I think my maid needs one of these," she said. "No, madam. I don't." "Are you kidding me. Housework excites you, and I can't have a maid with her itty-bitty peenie sticking up." "Itty-bitty?" "Don't worry about it. I'm sure they have an extra-small. Miss? Miss? Do you have this in a very small size. My sissy husband isn't much of a man, you see, and I want to lock him away. Hell, his dick will be on death row. It could suffer the guillotine. Chop-chop." I blushed. "She's just kidding," I told the clerk. "Snip, Snip," she said, grinning. "Welcome to our team." We kept going through the store. Junie picked up a large strap-on dildo, complete with a belt and a plastic penis. She showed it to the camera. "I wonder if this is a pain in the ass?" she said. She picked up lube. She knew the studio was paying, so she picked up a leather bustier and a paddle. She picked up a two pair of fishnet hose -- she said one was for each of us. She picked up some breast- enlargement cream, even though I had just gotten out of bed from having my implants. Then she picked up some whipped cream. She waggled her eyebrows at me. "You can have it when you're heading for your supper," she said. "Your tongue still likes girls, doesn't it?" * * * Scene 36. Take 1. More improvisation. Junie thought I needed training, so Stu and his crew were back in their can, headed for Fraulein Greta's house to work on my "attitude." Jazz was behind it, I knew it. It was easy enough for the Fraulein to double dip, I suppose. She could take Junie's money, and the studio's. Junie walked mr up the steps to Fraulein Greta. She was a strict- looking woman, her hair pulled back severely. "Come in, Miss Junie," she said. "Bring your worm with you." Junie giggled as she entered the house. "You need a month, you said?" "After a month, she'll be tamed," Fraulein said in a German accent. "You'll be very happy." "Will she be spanked a lot?" Fraulein smiled. "She will think her ass is a snare drum," "Good. I need here. ... passive." "Yes. I concur. We will turn her. Do you object to sexual punishment?" "The best kind," Junie said. Her eyes were cold. "She's already my maid sometimes." "How would you like it if it were all the time?" Junie nodded. Fraulein smiled. "I'll leave her with you then," Junie said. "If Annie wants to be a girl, I think she should be more compliant." My eyes pleaded with her not to leave me with this woman. She looked away. "Stu likes this idea," she said to me. And, damn her she left. The next month was hard. There was maid training, and cooking lessons. But one of the things that set Fraulein Greta apart was that, to her, it wasn't about being a maid. It was about being submissive to dominant women. And so I went through uniform training with her. One day, I would be a maid, then a waitress at a diner two blocks away. I dressed as a nurse, and a meter maid. I dressed as a schoolgirl, and as secretary. I wore Disney Princess dresses, and the Hijab of a Muslim woman. I was a cheerleader, I was a bride. I roomed with Nan, a trans woman from Cleveland. We slept in a spoon, her on the outside. At least, it was that way until I was awakened by her lips on my neck and her hand on my penis. I rolled over, and she gave me the sweetest kiss you can imagine. I kissed her back, and what followed was a fine exhibition of sissy sex. After that, we were lovers. Sissy sex is so nice. It is lace and glitter and rainbows and perfume and painted lips on little dicklettes. I loved waking Nan up with my mouth on her popsie. But one night, we went to bed, and Jamal was already there. Jamal worked for the Fraulein as a driver-handyman. His specialty was that python he had in his underwear. Nan and I were good for Jamal. A man likes a blowjob. Two sissies is a fantasy. I loved sucking him. I loved being mounted by him. But I really loved kissing Jamal. He had these large lips, and his tongue was magic. Except for the nightly spankings, and the relentless chores, I loved it at the Fraulein house. I was dejected when Junie picked me up. But I knew my place now. I was a sissy first, an actress second. After all, one of these days, I might stop being an actress. *** In the offices where the important decisions are made, far above the pay grade for an aspiring actress, Luke Williams and Stu huddled together. Stu loved the way the movie was going. He thought keeping the core of the stories away from Junie was working perfectly. But last night he'd had a thought that disturbed him. So we asked Luke for a meeting. "You know how we have to prepare for any eventuality?" Stu said. "Of course. If someone has a secret, it will get out." "Well, Luke. You know Annie, right?" "Yeah. We went to high school together." "People will find that out. It might ruin what we're trying to do here." Luke sighed. "What do you have in mind?" "How about you do a cameo? Non-credited. You can have a conversation with Annie about it being a small world, and how you didn't know. Or you can say that knowing him was the catalyst for the movie. That way, we beat the critics to the punch." "I like it," Luke said. "If I do a cameo, the critics will love it. It would be like Tom Cruise in the fat suit in 'Tropic Thunder.'" Stu smiled. "Perfect. If we do the second one, it can look like you care about your old transsexual friend." "But what if someone thinks there is something going on between us? I Megan, Annie stares at my dick. "That's a no go. Too much negative feedback if he sucks you. Flirt with the wife. We can make it look like something is going on with you two." "Won't that be worse?" "Not if we play it right. You can be the sympathetic big brother, comforting her because her husband is going to get a pussy." "Is she?" "Maybe. That might be a good end to the movie. Maybe Annie wants to fuck you, but you pick poor scarred Junie." "Let's keep shooting. We can figure that out later. But I like the idea of flirting with Julie." "Junie." "Whatever." * * * Scene 9, Take 2 "Is this really necessary?" "Junie, the studio insisted on it. We don't have to do anything." "Shit. I've got a double-date with my husband with the Maltby brothers. Where did you find these guys?" "They're extras on the film, Junie. Stu promised them a scene if they'd take us out." "Are we supposed to sleep with them?" "No. Nothing like that. Just dinner and dancing at LaBrooke. Me, you, Jerry and Barry and a film crew of 13 or so." She laughed. "Sounds romantic." "Junie? Did you ever think you would be going on a double-date with me as the other girl?" "Of course not. But look at you in your little black dress. You're lovely. Did you bring condoms?" "Junie! No!" "You never know. You seem to like sex through your back door." "That's with you." "But you've been with boys before. It's just sex, Annie. Don't overthink it." We arrived at the restaurant. It was one of those dimly lit restaurants with a dance floor and a band with live instruments. Jerry and Barry were there waiting, each in a suit. They were handsome, tall, strong. We sat for a minute, and exchanged small talk, and then we were dancing. I glanced over, and Junie seemed happy. Her head was resting against Barry's chest. I could feel Jerry's rod push into me. And then there was movement, and someone was cutting in. Luke! I was stunned to see him. But he took Junie is his arms, and he moved her around the floor. He was smiling, and the charm was spilling out of him. Junie was mesmerized. She always had a bit of a fan crush on Luke, and now, he was holding her and whispering into her ear. His hand was rubbing her back. I stared, trying to figure out what he was saying. It was only later that Junie told me. "Junie, I'm Annie's friend. You and I have never met, but for the sake of the cameras, I'm here to comfort you as Annie gets ready for SRS." "Ready for SRS? Annie's decided to have the operation?" "You didn't know?" "I didn't. She's ... she's married to me." "Well, you can still be married ... if you don't mind a woman for a partner. Some women love to munch the carpet." "Jesus, Luke. What do I do?" "Just dance. Don't think about anything but the music. I'm here. I'll be your rock." He held her. He smelled nice. His shoulders were broad. She said later that she managed to think about nothing else but him, and her, and the music. Frankly, it looked a little like sex. And, frankly, she didn't seem to mind. * * Scene 26, Take 8 There is celluloid. And there is life. Never confuse the two. In was ?Saturday night?, and I was still folding laundry. I had on a nice peach-colored maid's uniform for the cameras. But they focused on me, and then they faded to the living room, where Luke and Junie sat closely on the sofa. "I'm so glad you're here, Luke. You've been so strong for me." "I'm glad to be here for you," Luke said. "Annie's going through some changes. It's hard on both of you." Junie took a sip of her wine. "Luke? You make it better." "Thank you." "Luke...will you stay tonight? Will you make love to me?" "Junie..." "Luke, I've never asked anyone to do that. But Annie's becoming a woman. After we met at the restaurant, I think she went to Jerry's house for sex. I feel so all alone." "Junie. I think you're beautiful. But I can't." "Why not?" "Because Annie is my friend. Because she and you and still married. It wouldn't be right." "Oh, Luke. Please." "This is hard for me, Junie. You're a gorgeous woman. As pretty as any woman in Hollywood. But you're someone else's. What kind of white knight would I be if I slept with the damsel in distress." "You're just so good, Luke. You're so damned good" And the cameras rolled back, and I was still at work. It caught a close-up of me, and then it faded to black. It would prove to be a wonderful scene, of romance and sacrifice and commitment. Of honor and friendship and marital bonds. But it wouldn't be the complete scene. After the cameras turned off, Luke looked softly at Junie. "She's abandoned you, hasn't she?" Junie nodded. She was gently crying now. And Luke, my friend, my boss, my designer, leaned down and kissed her solidly on the mouth. She kissed back, unleashed, and they went at tooth and tongue. Oh, deep down, I knew it was my fault. She was frustrated and pent-up, and he was a Hollywood horndog, and it was a lethal combination. She led him upstairs to our bedroom, and they tore at each other's clothing like teenagers. I heard the moans, and I went upstairs to see what it was. I arrived just as he was taking off her bra. I stood in the doorway, transfixed, as Luke penetrated her. His body was that of a greek god, with his abs sticking out and his biceps flexing. His cock was long and thick and, yes, gorgeous. Junie looked up and saw me standing there. She turned her head and kept gyrating against Luke. My presence didn't make either of them slow down. I felt this strange mixture of emotions as I watched, lust and envy and anger and love and eroticism and jealousy. Part of me was delighted for Junie -- I hadn't been there much for her lately. Part me was angry that Luke was fucking my wife. Part of me was turned on -- it was a beautiful scene. It would never made the dailies, of course. Even the footage from the hidden cameras would be wiped out. Junie got her revenge, I guess. Luke got sex. Me? I had a check in the mail. Yeah, I had lost. * * It's a wonder I did not wreck the car. I was speeding, and I was reckless as I drove away from the apartment, away from Junie and Luke, away from the accursed cameras. I drove aimlessly for hours. I went to Dayton and back, hoping for an accident without the nerve to actually cause one. Finally, I ended up in Belleview, which isn't far away from the city. I had a taste for alcohol now. I saw a sign that said "Bar" in pink and blue. I pulled in and I entered. And as luck would have it, it was a gay bar. Men danced with men. Women sat huddled in booth with other woman. Trans women, some of them who didn't quite pass, filled the joint. I was home. I sat and ordered a Scotch, a drunk's drink, and slammed it home. I asked for another. The bartender approached. He looked at me in my maid's dress and my makeup. "There's an old joke," he said. "A guy comes into a bar and asks for 12 shots. The bartender pours them and asks what the occasion is. The guy looks up and says 'I just had my first blow job.' And the bartender says 'hell, that deserves one on the house.' "And the guy says 'nah...if 12 won't get rid of the taste, 13 won't, either." I smiled at him. "So you think I just gave a blowjob?" "Something has you drinking like you want to get used to it." "I just saw my wife and my best friend having sex." "Ouch. So you came here to our glory hole." "Your what?" "Shit. I shouldn't have said anything. They're illegal now. Health issues. But we have a wall where guys put their thingies through, and you can have sex with them." "So I look like a glory hole skank to you?" "Someone's in pain, someone needs relief," he said. "Shit. Which way is it?" "There. The men's room. But you'll have to stop drinking. There are laws about sucking and driving." I looked at him. He laughed. "Have a good time." I entered the men's room. I looked at wall that resembled Swiss Cheese. Damn it. I was friendless. I was a cuckold. I was a transgender girl. And now, I was about to be the finest cocksucker in Southern Ohio. A penis jutted through the way. It was circumcised, purple and angry. I reached out and touched it. Another came down the wall. "Just a minute," I said. Then I kneeled, and I took the first cock into my mouth. Mindlessly, I sucked it until it erupted. I moved own the wall, and sucked the second one. Then another. Then a fourth. It wasn't like sex with men; just their cocks. I stopped at seven. I was still crying, still empty on the inside. There were still cocks jutting through the wall, but I walked out of the room. I asked for one more Scotch, and the bartender poured it without comment. Another customer walked up to me. "Do you sell it?" he asked. "What?" "Sex. Your ass. Do you sell it?" "Yeah," I said. "I get a million dollars, but you also get my wife." He stared at me as I walked out into the night. * * Scene 44. Take 6. I was back at work the next morning. Junie came bouncing past and wished me good morning. I turned away. "Something got your dobber down?" she asked. "Bad mood," I said. "Because of me?" "Partly. And partly because of me." "Do you want to talk?" "I can't," I said. "I have toilets to scrub." "As you wish. Stu called you last night. They couldn't find you in the apartment." "I went out." "Well, call him. I think you're engaged." "What?" "In the movie. Happy endings and all that shit. I think they found you a boyfriend." His name was Owen Johnson, and he was a bit actor from Toledo. Stu said they were going to fudge the script a little, and he and I were going to have a whirlwind romance. It was going to make for some great footage for the movie. "But it's fake," I said. "I thought this was a documentary." "Yeah, and people thought the end of ?the Danish Girl? was accurate." "It wasn't?" "Look it up," he said. "Look, the marriage doesn't have to last. We just want you in a wedding dress in a church with guests. Maybe Junie could be the Matron of Honor. We'll have the vows, and a lot of extra footage to flash as you walk up the aisle. We'll close it out with you taking him to bed, and him kissing you. We'll suggest that he give you a blow job, if you don't mind." "I'm okay on the blow job. I'm not okay on Junie." "No, Junie has to be in it. The message is that she's giving you away to Owen. You end up happy and in love." "And Junie fucks Luke again?" "What? Luke is in Hawaii with Trish Walker making a movie. He never fucked Junie." "Stu, I saw them." "Well, I have a million reasons why you should forget it and finish the movie." "Can I meet Owen?" "Of course you can. We can all have lunch today. How about the Garden? That's a nice place." I sighed. "I might as well meet my husband," I said. "Atta girl. The show must go on." "Tell Owen I like roses. And I like to be kissed on the hand." "I"ll tell him. You like daisies and being kissed on the dick." "Stu, don't be funny." "Okay. But it really is nice to be kissed on the dick." * * The movie was wrapped now. They had a few filler scenes they needed me to do, and a couple of voice-overs. But the heavy lifting was done. I was about to be America's Transgender. I did a series of interviews to promote he movie. I was honest (to a point) and I tried to be funny. I talked to the Advocate and Sissy Quarterly and the Logo network. I went on and on about having a crush on Luke, but damn it, he was straight. I dismissed rumors about Brick Reynolds, saying we were "just friends." I stopped and looked at the set. It was empty now. Was it all worth it? Losing Junie? Alienating my parents? Her parents? Becoming known by all of my friends and family as the man who became a woman? A million dollars wasn't worth it. "Annie...?" A voice came from behind me. "Hello, Junie." I said. "Annie...I never knew about the money. I didn't know so much of it was orchestrated for my own good." "It's okay, Junie. You can keep the money." "I don't want it. I hurt you, and that hurts me." "You fucked Luke, of all people. He's as shallow as a spoon." "You painted me into a corner. But you're right. It was unacceptable." "You seemed to enjoy it." She blushed. "Well, yeah. It was nice. I won't lie." "Junie...I slept around, too. But I loved you more than oxygen." "I loved you, too. I still do." "Yeah. Sometimes that's not enough though, is it?" "Annie...what happens now?" "I don't know. I'm still in dresses, as you can see. I don't think I'll give them up. I love the clothes, the way they feel, the way they make me feel. As far as the studio, they've talked about doing a TV series. I have first refusal on that. There is a transgender website that wants a spokeswoman. I could always find a well-paying job as a hotel prostitute. And I can still work as a maid. Marriott is hiring." "You'll be cute whatever you do. Maybe you can get SRS after all." "Junie, I was never going to get SRS. That was part of Luke's schtick." "You got boobs." "Yeah. They're still there. Guys like to play with them." Junie looked at me. She hesitated. Then she floored me. "Annie...could I play with them sometime?" "What about Luke?" "Shit. Luke is after whatever bimbo who can make him look good on screen. He never wanted me for the long haul. He just wanted to show you he could have me." "Junie ... can we go home? Can we try it again?" "Annie, I'd like that. Maybe my wife can make me lunch." "I'm off on Tuesday." "Well, hell. Maybe we can stop and get lunch on the way home." She kissed me then. Soft, then hard. She was my wife, and my co-star, and my mistress. She was my love, and my guide, and my heart. And I was hers. Even if there isn't a sequel. Copyright (c) Cassandra Morgan 2019