Teasing 



Nine


"Honey, don't.  Don't cry.  I know what this contract means to you. 
I'll do it."  I paused, then decided to move the decision into the
realm of our accustomed sex games.  "You've known for months now
that I'm eager to suck cock.  You've kept telling me that.  And
just last night you allowed me to suck on yours, remember?"

She hesitated, then looked genuinely grateful.  A playful lilt
returned to her voice, though her words remained serious,
cautionary.  "It'll be your first directly from another man,
though, sweetie.  Won't it?  The first time you wrap your lips
around a warm tube and swallow whatever squirts out of it?"

So she didn't know?  Or she did know, but was soliciting a
confession from me?  I said nothing.

She continued.  "And what I just said about knowing for certain
goes both ways, remember.  I'll know.  Aren't you afraid it'll make
you seem like even less of a man in my eyes?"  

"Yes.  But you've already told me that I'm now forever a sissy in
your eyes.  Can my servicing a man make things worse?"

"It can.  I mean, look at you, girlfriend.  You're a deliciously
feminine man now, I must say.  A swish sissy, even if a cute sissy. 
But afterward?  You'll be a faggot afterward."  

This was true.  It was already true.

"Yet, if you do it, I won't doubt for a moment that I'm married to
a whore."

"WHAT?!!"  Could I believe my ears?  I'd wondered about that very
thing myself only a few minutes ago, and now she'd raised the
issue!  "A whore?!  I'm not doing this for the money!  Its ...!"" 


"Did I say that?  A whore?  Oh, my dear, no, I meant "a hero"!  A
hero!  Honey, by saving me from sex with another man, you keep me
true to you.  I think that's the most selfless and generous thing
any man can ever do for any woman, don't you?  Suck another man's
cock for her so she can stay faithful to him?"

Jim's cock sucking crossed my mind, but this was not quite the
right time for full confessions.  "Does Bill know what I really am? 
If he suspects I'm a man, he won't find me acceptable.  Does he
also think I'm a transsexual woman?"

Yet another understanding dawned in her eyes, mixed with amusement. 
"Jim told you about our earlier conversation, didn't he?  You got
on?"  

"We seemed to."

"Maybe you also got it on?"

"Maybe," I finally said.

Tara looked amused.  Maybe I was joking?  Maybe not?

"I did hope you'd get on.  I told him you were a man who likes to
imagine he's a woman, so he'd feel more friendly toward both of
us."  

"He does."  I didn't remind her that she'd told him more than that,
not just that I liked to imagine myself a woman but that I felt I
was one.  That's what had encouraged him to seduce me into sucking
his cock -- he was doing me a favor, completing my womanhood for
me.  Nor did I remind her that she'd been the one who gotten me
dressed up like a woman to begin with.  Nor did I remind her that
she'd told Jim about my supposed transsexuality weeks ago, yet
she'd proposed this cross dressing event to me only yesterday --
she'd been scheming this for a long time.  Nor did I mention that
she'd told me it was for a single afternoon when she already knew
it could well be for months and months.  I said none of these
things.  She nevertheless heard resentment in my voice.

"Surely you understand, Pattie.  Jim is Bill's first
Vice-President.  He advises Bill about all of his business deals,
and Bill always takes his advice.  It was essential to get him on
our side.  Transgendered people and gays have a lot in common --
social rejection, problems with understanding partners, you know. 
I thought that if he thought you have gender issues the way he has
gay issues, he'd feel more comfortable with us."

"He does."

She looked at me quizzically for a moment, then gave up.  "Now we
need to get Bill on our side too.  Last night when your ass was
filled with my cock you were emphatic.  'Bring it on!' you said. 
Well, here it is.  I'll wait.  Do what you can, honey.  Don't be
too long!"

I did now feel more a whore than a hero in my own eyes.  As I
turned to walk back toward the creamy French Provincial bedroom,
she added in a low voice, "Better refresh your lipstick first,
Pattie.  Some of it's worn off, a really passionate blow jobs can
do that even to these new cosmetic dyes.  And give your hair a
quick brush too.  I see a bead of semen near your right ear."

I did, but I was almost at the bedroom door before I realized what
her statement meant.  It meant she'd known all along that my mouth
was no longer virginal.  What I'd done with Jim.  She'd only
pretended she didn't know.  Why?  To save my self-respect?  To keep
me unembarrassed, so I'd keep deciding in my usual way to do things
her way?  To hide her complicity in making her husband over into a
cock sucking femme?  

Now I'd be personally delivering Bill his bonus for signing on with
her.  Then I'd have to settle in to be Tara's conceptually
cuckolded husband by night, her Girl Friday office staff by day,
and when necessary Jim's feminized boyfriend.  This was to be my
life for months to come.  Maybe for life.

I'd been too trusting.  I still didn't understand everything Tara
had been doing.  I'd need to wait and see, and try to stay off the
orange juice one day at a time, and keep my own counsel. 
Meanwhile, from now on, I realized, I had to do whatever I did for
my own sufficient reasons, without concern for Tara's.  So whatever
the consequences, whatever Tara had set in motion, whether I liked
it or not I would have nothing to regret.  She'd wanted this, and
I'd gone along.  Despite her trickery as I now understood it, I'd
agreed, and short of a sudden and rancorous divorce I now had to
finish what I'd begun.  But I'd been a gentleman with her for too
long, and though pretending to be a woman, though feeling like a
woman supposedly, I'd exercised a woman's prerogatives not at all. 
It was time to change over, to stop being a gentleman and act like
a woman on my own behalf.  To take some of my own initiatives. 
That now understood, I entered Bill's bedroom.

A half-hour later I returned to where Tara and Jim sat waiting, my
freshened lipstick still intact.  "Here's our copy of Bill's letter
of agreement," I said to Tara.  "Every clause initialed.  The
actual contract to be signed at our lawyer's office next Monday. 
Jim, here's Bill's copy.  You'll set up the arrangements?"

He looked up.  I was speaking more affirmatively than he'd ever
heard me.  "Of course, Patricia."  He glanced at Tara, then again
at me.  "Will you be there?"

"No, Tara can sign for me, she has my Power of Attorney stashed
away somewhere, just as I have hers."  I thought it useful to
remind her of that.  I was an officer in her office design
corporation, nominally.  And we'd signed our signatures over to
each other as tokens of our trust and love when we were first
married.  

"I'll be too busy." I added.  "Tara wants me to finish organizing
our new office by close of business Monday." 

I was deliberately speaking for her even in her presence.  "Your
own office space will be ready for you by then if you want to stop
by after the signing.  Do let me know if you have any special
needs.  Coming, Tara?"

She'd been sitting in the throne-like chair opposite Jim, chatting
with him.  Apparently about business  -- several swatches of
upholstery material were spread out on the coffee table.  She
looked up at me, uncertain how to proceed.  I was not as docile as
she'd expected.

"I really must get back, honey," I said to her.  "There's so much
to do."

"All right," was all she said, and she stood up.  

Jim seemed amused by my take-charge efficiency, but he obviously
had things to do now that the contract issue was settled, and he
awaited our departure with polite impatience.  Tara hadn't stopped
staring at me.  She gathered her samples, picked up her case and
her purse, nodded to Jim, and we both left.  

"So how was it, girlfriend?" she asked as soon as we were in the
elevator and the door had closed.  "With Bill I mean.  Was he
good?"

I looked at her.  "You really don't know, wife?"

Tara actually flinched!  My heart went out to her, but I could say
nothing.  "We kept to business, as I told you.  Did you enjoy your
blow job?"

"I didn't give him a blow job.  It wasn't necessary."

That took even more wind out of her sails.  "You talked him out of
it?  How in the world did you do that?"  She looked at me with
unconcealed curiosity.

"I didn't talk him out of it.  I fucked him out of it."  The
elevator door opened, and we stepped into the main lobby.  

"Oh!" she said.  She seemed subdued, yet at the same time,
impressed.  "Is that why you're limping?"

"I'm not limping, Tara.  I'm just walking very carefully with my
thighs together, just as you'd advised.  But you're right, we new
women aren't as well broken in as you older ones.  My vagina isn't
as accustomed to the odd cock as you claim yours is.  You'll just
have to give me a little more time to get used to it."

"Oh," she said a second time.  And remained silent.  Which gave me
great satisfaction.

By the time we recovered the car from the parking valet she'd
recovered somewhat.  I drove this time, heels or no heels, and she
sat alongside.  There was a long silence.  "I still remember my
first," she said conversationally.  "I liked the boy, but he didn't
know what he was doing, so it was very disappointing."

I refused to pick up on her hint, so she went further.  "I imagine
you found Bill's cock fairly respectable."

This time I couldn't resist.  "Not given the disreputable place it
came from when I last saw it," I said.

She burst out laughing, and her shoulders continued to wriggle
delightedly as she said, "Maybe so, honey.  But I know a girl who
couldn't stop shrieking last night when there was a dildo moving in
and out of there.  Is that why you wanted to try the real thing?"

"Partly," I confessed.  "Also, I was feeling bitchy.  I don't like
any man thinking that I'm on call.  I told him that.  I told him
I'm the one who decides who gets fucked and who gets sucked.  And
I told him that if he wants either fucking or sucking he'd first
have to kiss my ass."

Tara was solemn.  "That could have cost us the contract," she said. 
"What did he say when you told him that?"

"Nothing.  He kissed my ass.  Then, since it was already bare and
there, I told him to go ahead and fuck it.  He did that too. 
Enthusiastically."  

"And how was it, honey?  Was it good for you?  Did you shriek, like
when I fucked your ass?"

I turned to smile at her, and at first said nothing.  It had felt
marvelous, Bill's hot, thick cock sliding back and forth inside me! 
I suppose I owed Tara for that.  So finally I said, "Not quite as
loud as with you. Tara.  But nearly!"

And Tara actually seemed pleased.  "He never noticed your own cock
and balls dangling down there?"

"He wasn't looking down there.  He was looking at the back of my
neck.  Anyhow, I covered them with my hand.  I suppose he thought
I was diddling my clit."  

There was a long pause.

"No, he knew about your cock and balls, honey," Tara said slowly. 
"That's why he enjoyed you.  Bill Bartram is gay.  Just like Jim."

"WHAT?!"  The car lurched.  I stared again at her.

Tara looked at me, concerned.  "Maybe you should pull over for a
minute, honey?"  

I did.  Then I sat there breathing heavily, trying to control my
rage, my confusion!  What was going on?  What had been going on?

When I'd calmed down I said simply, "Then Bill Bartram never would
have made moves on you?  Your honor was never at risk?  You never
did need me to go to that hotel room with you disguised as a
woman?"

"True, my honor was never at risk.  It was your honor that was at
issue.  And I did indeed need you to be there with me.  That was
always clear, from the very beginning."

"What beginning?  Of what?"   I was utterly baffled.  I sat staring
at her.

"Honey, it was like this.  Some months ago Jim and Bill were
keynote speakers at an office architecture conference, and I got to
chatting with them afterward.  There were rumors that Castro
Enterprises intended to expand into this city, and I wanted the
business.  They knew my work, and they'd heard stories about how
diabolically clever and effective I can be at getting difficult
jobs done.  So clever that they didn't believe any of the stories."

She sighed, then continued.  "I told them I could prove I was that
clever, no problem.  They said they didn't think I could manage a
huge project, not without a home office, so I told them I
could get one, no problem.  I saw they were amused by my
determination, so I opened up and flirted with them a little, and
that amused them even more.  After a while they explained that
they'd be far more interested in my husband than in me, and then
that they might be more interested in my work if I could actually
make my husband available to them.  Maybe it was a joke at first,
but it turned serious.  I told them I could do that too if it was
essential, also no problem.  That it wouldn't be easy, because you
were not inclined in their direction, not at all.  That in fact you
are as straight and true to me as they come.  Well, that tied it,
they didn't believe that either."

"When they said so, my dander got so far up that I made a bet with
them then and there, and we signed it as a binding letter of
intent.  Within six months I would prove that my husband is
absolutely straight and also utterly faithful to me, and then I
would arrange things so that knowingly, willingly, informed and
consenting, he would suck or fuck each of them in turn.  They
didn't believe I could do it, so they signed.  If I did it, they
agreed, the main project would be mine.  They'd believe I could do
anything I claimed." 

I was now stone silent.  I took a deep breath, then started the car
again.

"Now it's mine.  Today I won the bet.  Thanks to you."

"You're welcome," I said.  I saw what she was saying, but I was
getting confused again anyhow.

"First of all," Tara said, "they wanted evidence that you were in
fact a straight stick, not a closet gay or a bisexual swinger. 
That took the months and months of audio tapes I made of us in bed
fucking and teasing and fucking some more to convince them.  For
months I confessed or dropped hints to you about all sorts of
sexual infidelities.  It was such fun!  To your face, and into your
face, I brought forward lover after lover.  Yet you seemed to love
me all the more, and you remained staunchly faithful to me.  You
were so hopelessly enamoured by the idea of me fucking other men,
so deliciously titillated by it, so in love with me, that it never
once occurred to you that if I was unfaithful to you, you could
justifiably be unfaithful to me with someone else.  You made no
such moves.  In the end they believed me and believed in you
because they thought you were simply unbelievable."

I was silent at that as I pulled back into the stream of traffic
and headed across town.  I couldn't just sit still.  I had been
heading home before.  But now I didn't know where I was going.  

Tara looked at me.  "We need to go shopping, Pattie.  Head for the
Main Mall with all the upscale stores.  We're going to celebrate
this triumph tonight in style, so you need a gorgeous dress to
wear.  With all the trimmings.  You also need appropriate clothes
for Monday, and for the weeks to come.  Baby, you need everything! 
You'll be the first person people see when they come to consult
with me, so you'll need to impress them at the outset with our good
taste.  Then too, Jim is an important corporate executive, he'll
want to be seen with a girl who's stylish as well as beautiful
whenever you're out together.  Whatever you need is chargeable to
the company, so cost is no issue, that's the least we owe you."  She
grinned.  "And even if that weren't true, I'm sure that as a woman
you'll understand this -- there's a 70% off sale on bras at
Filene's that neither of us can afford to pass up."

"I don't need any bras," I said truculently.

"Oh yes you do," Tara replied.  "You're well on the way, Pattie. 
I started you on hormones months ago, you're well-softened up.  You
didn't notice that half of what's filling your C cups right now is
already you?  And those suppositories made it irreversible -- the
two you've already pushed into your pussy gave you a wonderful
jump-start on the rest of your figure.  And on your future. 
You'll want to keep using them, if only because they provide the most
comfy lubricant a girl could ever ask for when a cock comes calling.
Then by the time Jim moves on to his other projects, your figure will be
so girlishly curvy he'll have lost all interest in you, you'll never
be able to persuade him you're still a boy.  No matter, beause by then
you'll have discovered a whole world of hunky contractors out there.
And of course there's always Henri, with his magical hands, so
understanding of a woman's every need.  "

I kept driving, now utterly addled.  Toward the mall.  Now we were
both silent.

"I'm afraid it's decision time, sweetheart!" Tara said suddenly. 
"The moment I've dreaded, but there's no use putting it off any
longer!  What are you now, Patrick or Patricia?  Are you a
much-used, much abused, credulous, tricked, feminized, maybe
cuckolded wimp husband who's headed straight for a divorce from the
wife he still loves and who somehow still loves him?  Or on the
other hand are you an equal partner in a very lucrative office
design business living with the girlfriend she loves despite
everything, living as the woman she finally became not an hour ago,
a woman confidently in charge of her own life?  Confident enough to
fuck anyone she wants if he'll first kiss her ass?"

Not easy.  I had to feel my way through my own feelings.  What was
I indeed?  What did I want?   Could I see where my accumulated
feelings and confusions had led me?  Where my desires really lay?

"You betrayed your own husband," I said resentfully.  "You used me
to advance a business venture." 

"That's true," Tara said.  "I'm ambitious.  I did get carried away. 
I'm sorry.  I couldn't resist the challenge.  But it's done.  And
are you worse off now?  Think about what you were and what you
are."

The difference was obvious.  My feelings and desires finally
arrived where Tara had led me anyhow.  No contest.

"You really did win that bet," I said to Tara.  "I did do everything
willingly.  I'm still willing.  You really are diabolically clever,
girlfriend." 

Tara laughed, so visibly relieved that she now seemed to sink deep
into her seat.  "No," she said.  "It's just that men are easily
fooled, that's all.  They want us so badly we can do anything to
them!"

"Not true, Tara," I replied.  They love us so madly we can do
anything to them.  But that doesn't make it right."  

Tara was silent at that.  Then, "You'll love our life together,
Pattie," she whispered in a low voice.  "I promise you.  Because we
do love each other!  From now on, you be my conscience, and I'll
always listen.  Almost always."    

"Yes," I said.  And there were tears in my eyes.

I waited a moment, and then decided to take advantage of our new
intimacy woman to woman to settle the one question that had teased
me from the beginning. "Tara, about all those men of yours.  The
hunky contractors and so on?  Were they ever real?  Any of them? 
Are they?  Were your husband's fears ever justified?  Or his
desires?"

"I told him about them every night for months," Tara replied.  "I
acted out my fucking them, and he acted out sucking their semen out
of me.  It got him accustomed to sexual humiliation and it weakened
his grip on his own masculinity.  Eventually he started acting out
the submissive femininity he needed to help me win the Castro
contract, and he enjoyed that well enough.  But you know what?  I
don't think he ever really believed me.  My infidelities made such
wickedly attractive fantasies, he was so much in love with the idea
that I was fucking other men, that he always decided I was only
teasing him."

"Well, weren't you?"

"Why of course I was, honey!"  

Before I could ask her what that meant we arrived at the Mall, and
Tara and I together began to live the rest of our lives.