Life on the Run in Skirts Chapter 22
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Life On The Run In Skirts - Chapter 24 free porn video
CHAPTER 24 - First she crawled, then she walked, now today she has
learned to fly.
Heather, under Ellen's direction, checked his makeup one last time and
took the time to fill his handbag with the feminine essentials that Ellen
had laid out for him; a cherry red lipstick, his new Est?e Lauder's powder
compact, a brush and comb combination, a miniature glass bottle of
Heather's favorite perfume and a lacy handkerchief Ellen's mother had
given her. When he had everything in there, just to tweak Ellen's nose,
he made a quick trip to the bathroom and returned with a pack of condoms
and a tampon. He made a major production of putting them is his purse.
Ellen looked at him with curiosity, eyes ablaze. "George, what's the
idea? Is there something you aren't telling me?"
Heather smiled mischievously and replied, "Relax, I don't anticipate using
these items but a girl has to be ready for all contingencies. Isn't that
what you told me when I ask why you always have a box of Trojan condoms
along with your feminine hygiene products in your purse. Besides if my
purse is searched, they will provide an air authenticity."
Ellen realized when she was being had and gave her husband a playful sock
to his shoulder. Playing the game of one-upmanship and to get back at
him, she hurried to the bathroom and came back with something in her
closed hand.
She said, "Open up." She popped a small white pill in his month and told
him, "Swallow!"
"Ellen, what the hell was that?"
It really was an aspirin, but that's not what she told her husband. "It's
a birth control pill silly, you know condoms are not 100% effective, it's
better to be safe than sorry. If that doesn't make you feel girly nothing
will."
Then Heather's cheeks turned deep red as he blushed.
This was one of her husband's tells so Ellen asked, "What else are you
hiding dear?"
Heather took a deep breath and braced himself as he confessed. "I am
mortified to admit this, when I have them with me, I feel feminine, like a
real girl and not a man pretending to be one. I thought that was the
objective of this dressing exercise."
She drove. Heather sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted his nerves were
stretched taut. They dropped Ariel off at the babysitter and then they
proceeded to the courthouse at high speed. Ellen, as a driver, treated
the posted speed limits as mere suggestions.
At the courthouse, they circled the parking lot twice and before Ellen
gave up finding a space up close. She dropped Heather off at the front
and went to park the car. Heather walked inside past the throngs of
people milling about the front steps and halls. His heart was racing and
he was conscious of the swishing of the pantyhose underneath his jeans.
It wasn't a long walk to his destination, yet he felt flushed as if he had
run the entire way.
He was there only a few minutes, but felt like but an eternity to George
as he was sure everyone was staring at him in his skin-tight attire. When
Ellen finally arrived at his side, she took his hand into hers to reassure
him everything was going to be alright. About the time Heather had
started to calm down, the bailiff stuck his head out the door and
announced they were ready for Mr. Trousdale.
Ellen gave him a few last words of encouragement. "You'll make a kick-ass
impression just remember the mantra I taught you. Stand up straight and
push your bra encased hooters out as far as they will go. Keep thinking,
shoulders, hips, and heels."
Ellen gave him a peck on the cheek for luck and quickly slipped into the
courtroom to take a seat in the gallery section while her husband was
collecting himself.
He pushed his way through the crowd and paused at the heavy oak doors. He
was emotionally invested and totally committed to this now. Leon was
going down no matter the cost to his manly self-image.
If he was going to come out to the world as a female, he was going to do
it to the best he could. He was going to march in there as a woman, not a
man dressed as one. His cheeks felt warm as he took a deep breath.
Knowing he couldn't put it off any longer, he clutched his purse tightly
and struggled to open the courthouse door. It took all his strength to
open one door. With a sense of dread, he headed into the courtroom.
Ellen, along with everyone in the court room, turned to watch Mr.
Trousdale make an entrance. He stepped inside and let the door close
behind him. He paused briefly to calm his nerves. He briefly locked eyes
with Ellen who gave him an encouraging nod.
There was an audible gasp as the room full of people didn't see a man in
the doorway as they expected, but rather a slim woman looking like she had
just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. A hushed silence fell
over the room as George strode to the witness stand. He walked with his
head held high and with as much dignity as he could muster. It took his
full concentration to duplicate last night's rehearsed walk. As his
muscle memory kicked in, he recreated a truly female gait. He projected a
man-melting version of the runway model strut. His posture was up and
confident, butt cheeks moving sexily with every step. With his head up
and shoulders back, he led with his boobs. His arms swung loosely back
and forth while his hips swiveled from side-to-side. Just like he had
practiced ad nauseum.
Ellen, her heart filled with admiration, tracked his movements with her
eyes as he sauntered to the witness stand. He sat and crossed his legs in
a feminine manner and gracefully placed his handbag on the floor then
rested his hands in his lap. Ellen marveled at how smoothly he moved in
those stilettos and how he crossed those incredibly long legs as he sat.
If she didn't know better, she would swear she was watching a fashion
model. She mentally patted herself on the back for the great job she had
training him for this moment.
A confused looking bailiff asked, "Are you Mr. Trousdale, George
Trousdale?"
In his best feminine voice, with just a hint of a Hispanic accent, he
answered, "Si senor, I am."
Ellen could feel the air being sucked from the room.
Leon turned to his lawyer, and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear,
"That is not George Trousdale! Make her prove it. What kind of a game is
the government playing?"
The judge banged his gavel and called for silence.
The bailiff swore George in and the judge turned things over to the
government to present their case.
The prosecutor jumped up and asked George, "Sir, can you identify the man
who hid the drugs in your bag?
"Most certainly, he is sitting at the table next to my old boss Mr.
Carlson."
"Mr. Trousdale, do you have any aliases?"
"Yes Sir. For the last year or so, I have been living under the name of
Heather Trousdale."
The defense attorney interrupted hoping to show he was simply a
transvestite running away from his male life, "Isn't it true you tried to
hide your true male identity because you wanted to look like a woman to
attract men?"
The prosecution objected saying that, the witness's sexual orientation was
irrelevant. The judge concurred and allowed George to go ahead with his
testimony.
George was insulted and was tempted to answer the question anyway, but
resisted and said, "I lived this way only to avoid being identified and
arrested, for something I was framed for. I didn't do it."
George's testimony went on to show he was living as a female under duress.
It was only a disguise, not a life choice. He won over the jury, coming
across as completely credible.
The defense's plan of making him unbelievable as a pervert pretending to
be a woman fell apart quickly. Instead, his story of being forced into
skirts to stay out of jail had the courtrooms rapt attention. As he
explained, he was forced by circumstances to suppress his male ego and
live as a woman.
His lawyer interrupted his testimony. "Excuse me Mr. Trousdale. As
everyone can see, you don't look like anything like a man. I would think
no one meeting you for the first time would question your true gender."
"Why thank you, I was under close scrutiny the entire time so I was forced
to mimic female mannerisms to be as authentic as possible to escape
detection."
You could see the men on the jury feeling sorry for what he had to endure.
The women respected him for how completely and realistically he had
embraced his feminine persona.
By freely admitting his lifestyle, he demonstrated he was a man of
integrity and had a spine of steel. Willing to do whatever was required
even giving up his manhood to ensure there wasn't a miscarriage of
justice.
The defense could see they were in deep kimchi, so Leon's attorney asked
for a brief recess.
When the trial reconvened, it was announced that Leon and the government
had come to a plea deal. He would plead guilty and provide information on
his drug contacts and suppliers, in exchange for no more than 15 years in
jail with a chance of parole after 10.
After court was adjourned, Ellen pushed her way through the crowd to
congratulate her husband. She caught up to him in the crowded hall. She
ran to embrace him, her momentum almost knocking him over. Her arms
encircled him to keep him from toppling over and ended up holding him off
his feet by several inches. She spun him around to where they were face
to face and gave him a full-bodied smack on the kisser. They smooched
with a fervor normally reserved for the bedroom. As they stood playing
tonsil hockey, everyone nearby in the corridor became curious, much like
the looky-loos at a traffic accident, about the two lesbians necking in
the courthouse halls.
After a time, the curiosity of the spectators turned to aversion. Despite
the liberal bent of California, the passion displayed in the public
setting by the same sex couple was a bit disconcerting to the general
public. Lesbianism was not looked upon favorably in this town.
After a few polite coughs, the love birds finally got the hint. Ellen let
him down and they found their way outside holding hands and headed to the
car. They were going to lunch to celebrate. Heather felt he was walking
on air. Just as they arrived at the car, Ellen's phone rang. George
watched her face change from euphoric to troubled.
"What is it Ellen?"
"It's a disaster. My corporate accountant has just been in a serious auto
accident.
The first word from the hospital is he is in critical condition. It's the
middle of tax season. I'm so screwed he won't be able to get my taxes in
on time."
George offered his professional opinion. "Ellen, it is no big deal. I
can help you file for an extension."
"You don't understand. I was counting on the tax return to keep the
business afloat. We have been doing very well. The loan I took out to
start the business is coming due next month. That will wipe out all my
cash reserves. With all my business improvements and new hires, I am over
extended."
She apologized to her husband; they would have to postpone their
celebration until later in the evening. She had to go in to the office.
She didn't have time to drop George off at home, he could take a taxi or
go with her to work.
George was shaken. "I don't feel comfortable going out on my own dressed
like this. If I go with you, can I just stay in the car?"
"Of course, honey. I wouldn't really recommend it though. This may take
hours. Why don't you come in and relax in our waiting room while I see
what needs to be done?"
"What will the girls at work think?"
"They'll think I have a sexy girlfriend. Seriously, it will be alright.
There are usually a number of clients in the waiting room. Just sit among
them and try to not stand out. We always have a pot of coffee on. You'll
get by. It's certainly better than sitting in the stuffy car for hours."
Ellen wouldn't take no for an answer. She insisted that Heather accompany
her. Arriving at her office after going Mach three to get there, Ellen
practically leapt from her car and hurried into the building. Heather's
skyscraper heels wouldn't let her keep up. He followed several paces
behind as Ellen quickly disappeared behind the two large front doors. His
shaking hand reached for the door and pushed it open. He forced a smile
at the serious faces that stopped talking as he walked in. He felt
unsteady and quickly went to the nearest chair, happy to be off his feet.
Posture prefect - maybe a little too rigid. His hands were in his lap,
fingers clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
When Ellen realized her husband wasn't behind her she was sure he
eventually would catch up. Now she had more important things to worry
about. She found Nancy to get a briefing on where they stood. Ellen and
Nancy left him sitting in the lobby and went into what George assumed was
his wife's office.
George tried to relax and wait. After getting himself a cup of
cappuccino, he scanned the end tables for something to read. The only
thing there were past issues of Vogue, Elle, Southern Living, and In
Style. George would have killed for a sports magazine, but no such luck.
He returned to his seat and waited and waited.
A long-time later Ellen came out, her eyes red as if she had been crying.
Heather thinking fast, ad-libbed. "Mrs. Trousdale, it looks like somebody
needs a happy meal. What's the problem?"
She took him aside where they could talk privately. She explained they
had just heard from the hospital. Their accountant had died and she had
called around to find someone to help out. Being the tax season every CPA
in town was tied up with other accounts. She gave George her patented sad
puppy dog look and asked if he could take a quick look at the books to see
where they stood. As he stood, he noticed the other woman in the office
had congregated around him and Ellen, wanting to know what was going on.
Ellen had to explain something to them so she said, "This is my friend
Chantelle. She is a senior accounting student at San Diego State, before
we all panic let's see what she thinks." That placated the women, hoping
this stranger would be their savior.
George closed the door and was isolated in the accountant's office. He
spent the better part of an hour scanning what was there. He found at
first glance that everything needed was there, it just needed to be
organized. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what Ellen
wanted. He stuck his head out the door and asked Mrs. Trousdale to come
in and he showed her what he had found. Ellen asked if he could help.
Without thinking of the consequences, George folded like a cheap suit and
volunteered to take over the job. He was a bit out of touch but was sure
he could fill in until Ellen could find someone else. They walked out to
where the others waited and they found themselves surrounded by the office
staff.
Ellen hushed the crowd and proclaimed, "The good news is that Chantelle
thinks everything needed is there. I can assure you everyone's job is
secure." Ellen went on, "Chantelle's older sister Heather is an
experienced accountant and is currently unemployed and looking for work.
Chantelle called her and she immediately volunteered to join us. She will
be here tomorrow. I hope you will all give her a warm welcome."
Before George could ponder the ramifications of what Ellen had promised,
there was a celebratory cheer. Chantelle was mobbed and basked in the
glow of a round of applause and more than a few pats on the back.
Miracle
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