Part VII

If you're under 18 or dislike Transgender stories, don't read this.

I would like to thank Anyport for his permission to write this sequel to his story, The Transformation, and use the characters he created. I would like to thank Tigger for allowing me to include a guest appearance by his character, "Aunt" Jane Thompson. I would especially like to thank Steve Zink for editing such a very long story for me. Thanks also to PJWright for supplying the picture of terrified Dainie here in Part VII.

(This story is set in the Vaingirls universe.)
©2003 Turn Right Productions

Robbie remained behind. She waited till the paper smoldered and then finally caught fire, then she went back into the den and put on her dress. She mussed her hair and smudged her makeup as if she had been sleeping. She looked back into the living room, and seeing that the fire was spreading from the paper to the edges of Ed's chair, she reached in her purse, pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number. "Show time!" was all she said. Ending that call, she dialed 911.

About two blocks away, Steve put down his cell phone and started his car, a 1995 red Mazda Miata; he had bought it just three days ago, thinking it was perfect for them both, Steve and Stephanie. He drove toward Lou and Ed's building, pulled up about two buildings away, and waited. Robbie would call again if he was needed. About five minutes later he heard the sirens, and in another couple of minutes watched as a fire truck rolled up in front of the building and the firemen hurried in.

It had been about twenty minutes since the call to 911, and the smoke was getting heavy. Robbie was coughing and wheezing, and it was no act. She was just about to call Steve again when she heard knocking on the door; she collapsed to the floor instead. The knocking turned to hammering, and the door burst open. Three firemen entered; one grabbed Robbie and helped her stand. "Any others?" he asked. When she shook her head no, he clapped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth and half walked, half carried her out of the apartment while the other two moved to double check and then put out the fire.

As the fireman brought Robbie out of the building, Steve came rushing up. When he saw the oxygen mask, the plan went out the window. "Robbie! Robbie! Are you all right?" Realizing she couldn't answer with the mask over her mouth, he turned to the fireman. "Will she be okay?"

By this time, they were to the curb and the fireman helped Robbie sit down on the bus stop bench there. Ironically, the ad on the back of the bench was for a firm that sold and installed fireplaces. He knelt, and while Steve hovered over his shoulder, he removed the mask. Robbie gave a few quaking coughs, and then her breathing gradually dropped to normal. "I think she should be okay," he said to Steve. "Her breathing seems to be normal, and her coughing stopped pretty quickly in this smoke free air." He looked back to Robbie. "How's your throat, Miss?"

"A little sore," Robbie answered in a slightly raspy voice, "but I believe I'll be okay, Officer ... ?"

"Clemens, ma'am, Sam Clemens, but my friends call me Mark, for obvious reasons." He smiled. "I'd feel better if you'd let us take you over to Cook County General, and let the ER people have a look-see."

Robbie gave him her most dazzling smile. "Thank you, Off ... er, Mark, but my personal physician, Dr. Adkins, lives fairly close to here, and I can contact her and have her check me out."

"I'll call her right now," said Steve, getting out his cell phone and beginning to dial. When Joan answered, he moved off a bit and explained to her what had happened, and that there was no sign of Lou or Ed. He returned to where Mark was having Robbie fill out the ubiquitous paperwork that always went with things like this. "Honey, Dr. Adkins says I'm to take you right to her office, and she'll meet us there." He turned to Mark. "Is that all right?"

"I believe so," said Mark, not taking his eyes off Robbie; they kept straying to her cleavage, and then he would snap them back to her face while his cheeks turned red with embarrassment. "Robbie has signed the release forms. She's given us Ms. Edwards' and Ms. Porter's cell phone numbers, and we'll try to reach them. I see my mates coming out now, so the fire must be out and the apartment secured. If you reach the ladies before we do, please have them contact us." He unzipped a pocket of his fire suit and pulled out a business card. "It's got my personal number on it, too," he said shyly, handing it to Robbie.

She took the card and, much to Mark's chagrin, immediately handed it to Steve, who put it in his shirt pocket. "I certainly will, Mark, and thank you so much for saving my life." She stood up, and on to her tip toes, he was easily 6'5", and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. He blushed a fire engine red. 'Well, that's certainly appropriate,' she thought.

Just as she took Steve's offered arm and started to turn away, one of the other firemen came up to her with her purse; it was a bit smudged and smelled of smoke, but otherwise was intact. She thanked the fireman, and asked if there was any clue as to what happened to Lou and Ed. The fireman said that they had only found the one purse, hers, so they didn't see anything odd, and expected that Ms. Edwards and Ms. Porter would show up shortly.

Robbie and Steve crossed the street to Steve's car, and Steve opened the right door for Robbie; as she moved to seat herself, she noticed Mark watching her. She waved to him, and deliberately sat so as to expose her stocking tops as she eased into the car. "Good-bye, and thanks again, Markie!" she called. Even from across the street, they could see him blush.

They both held control for a block, but then Steve pulled the Miata over to the curb, put the gear shift in neutral, applied the parking brake, and they both collapsed against each other laughing so hard they cried.

"You little flirt!" accused Steve, between laughs. "I do believe you've made another conquest!"

"Why, what ever do you mean ... Stevie!" At "Stevie", Robbie's pretended indignation broke down, and she laughed even harder. Finally getting her breath, she confessed, "Okay, the 'Markie' was a bit over the top, I admit, but I was just trying to make the poor guy feel good. After all, as far as he knows, he really did save my life, or at least saved me from being badly burned. And what's this about 'another conquest', sir?"

Steve turned serious. "Well, you've conquered me, Robbie. Do you know that, unlike the others, I've never met or even seen Robert? I know he existed, and intellectually I know he is ... was ... you, but I don't see any trace of him. I don't know whether you are planning to become as much a woman as you can be or not, but I know I don't think of you as a man in a dress, or even as an accomplished cross-dresser. I'm not gay; when I look at you, I see and think of a beautiful woman. A woman that I found, just a short time ago when she was in a burning apartment, that I cared deeply for."

As Robbie listened to Steve, she too became serious, and when he was finished, she took his hand. "Oh, Steve, I think I'm beginning to fall for you, too. I'll be honest with you. I still have my male parts, and they are still functional; Lou and Ed started me on hormones, but they haven't kicked in to any great extent yet. I really hadn't thought of making womanhood a permanent choice, I was just enjoying being a T-girl, till I turned around the other day expecting Stephanie, and there YOU were. Now SRS is looking more and more like an attractive option - now that I have a man to be a woman for. AND, I get a great girlfriend in the bargain ... you are planning on becoming Stephanie every once in awhile, aren't you?"

Steve pulled Robbie to him and kissed her; their tongues met and caressed each other. The moment stretched. It was Steve who pulled away first. "I think," he said, smiling, "that if we try anything else in Red here," he patted the dash, "I'll be putting some chiropractor into a Mercedes."

Then the smile left his face. "Seriously, if you decide to be a total woman, it should be because you want it for yourself, not for anyone else; I'll respect your decision, either way. And yes, Stephanie will be here when you want or need her to be, and maybe even when just I want her to be."

He paused for a moment, and then continued, "After I finished the Vaingirls program, I never expected to become Stephanie again. Not that I regretted the experience; hell, I put my own son through it and now, as you know, "she" has informed me she wants to be "she" permanently - and I'm happy for her! Joyce and the program probably saved me from really messing up my life, and it was really kinda fun toward the end. I would, and, in fact, am - you know this could become a really dangerous game we're playing don't you? - putting my life on the line for Joyce. I consider her my "Aunt" Joyce, even though she's considerably younger than I."

"However, I considered my time as Stephanie a learning experience, and I had learned what I needed. I never dressed again till just before I met you, and then only because Joyce convinced me that I was the best person for the job of reaching you and convincing you to meet with and really listen to Rose.

"I surprised myself, though, by finding I liked being Stephanie just for the heck of it - a fact which apparently convinced you to trust me enough to listen to Rose. I don't want to be Stephie all the time, probably not even most of the time; I like being Steve too much, and I think you like Steve too much to want Stephie all the time. BUT," he switched to Stephanie's voice, "girlfriend, I certainly will be around to go shoe shopping with and dish the dirt with occasionally! Speaking of shoes, you know there's a sale at ..."

Robbie smacked HER and got HIM back. "Let's go, dear. Dr. Evil is waiting for us. This plan really is coming together!"

Joan put down the phone. A fire at Lou and Ed's place? Probable, Ed smoked like a fiend. As she put on her coat and picked up her purse, though, she wondered about the absence of Lou and Ed. During the drive to her office, she speculated on what could have caused them to leave the apartment, especially with Robbie, a very valuable commodity, passed out and perhaps unwell, in the office. She knew they had been gloriously high when she left, and she supposed that that could have degenerated into drunkenness quite easily. She didn't suppose she would find out anything from Robbie, but would ask anyway. She WAS curious about this Steve friend of Robbie's who had called her, and whether he might present a problem to their plans for Robbie.

By the time she had entered her office and hung up her coat, Robbie was knocking on the door. She moved quickly, and swept Robbie into a hug. It was not a spontaneous gesture of empathy, but a calculated move designed to ensure Robbie's loyalty to her - particularly if something had happened to Lou and Ed. She pushed Robbie to arms length and looked her up and down. "Come over here and sit on the table, honey. How do you feel?"

Robbie sat on the exam table. A little stocking top was exposed. Joan noticed. 'She knows better,' she thought. 'I imagine that was done for the benefit of the gentleman.' She glanced at Steve as she pulled on her rubber gloves, and grabbed a sterilized tongue depressor. He was staring at Robbie's legs. 'Thought so! Hmmmmm.' Meanwhile, Robbie was answering her initial question.

"Oh, Joan, thank you so much for agreeing to see me this late. I really didn't want to go to Cook County General. And I'm worried about Lou and Ed; why would they leave with me possibly sick and out cold, and where would they go? I thought you might know something." Robbie paused as Joan held up a hand and indicated she should open her mouth. The tongue depressor was inserted, and she used a flashlight to look down Robbie's throat. As soon as the depressor was withdrawn, Robbie continued, "Their apartment is a total mess! Joan, they are really going to have a hissy when they get back. I tried to do something to put it out, but by the time the smoke woke me, it was too late. I was coughing so badly I collapsed, and that's when the firemen broke down the doors and Mark got me out."

'Mark?'

"Another fireman told me they only found my purse, so I think Lou and Ed must have left to get something from the store, or something, but their cell phones are off."

Joan smiled a genuine smile. One couldn't help liking Robbie, she thought. Sooooo much better as Robbie than Robert; she would miss her after the sale. Again there was a momentary feeling of deja- vu; she had felt the same about Rose. "Well, girl, you're certainly talking up a storm. I think that aside from a slight raspiness in your voice that should clear up in a few hours, and the fact that you're going to have to destroy that outfit - everything reeks of smoke to the extent I don't think it'll wash out - you seem okay." She beckoned to Steve, and he moved over to stand beside her looking at Robbie. "Haven't you forgotten something, dear? From the lack of uniform, I take it this isn't "Mark". Is this the gentleman who called me?"

Robbie blushed. "OH, I'm sorry. Joan, this is Steve, my friend Stephanie's twin brother. You remember me telling you about Stephie. It was actually she I was trying to call tonight, but Steve had borrowed her cell phone." That was the story The Group had agreed on. She turned her head. "Steve, this is my temporary boss, Dr. Adkins."

"Joan."

Steve held out his hand. "How do you do, Joan, Steph told me about Robbie working for you this week; she knows I'm interested in everything about Robbie." He smiled; Robbie smiled. "I guess I got to indulge my knightly fantasy of rescuing a damsel in distress tonight," Steve continued.

Robbie leaned forward, put her arms up around Steve's neck, and pulled herself up so her butt slid off the examining table and her feet hit the floor; she went up on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the mouth. "Thank you, Sir Knight," she murmured, as she broke from the kiss.

"Get a room, you two!" Joan laughed. "Robbie, you're fine. Come home with me and get a good night's sleep. You, too, Steve. Get a good night's sleep, I mean. At your place!" she said pointedly. "Robbie, you can sleep in, and come to the office at noon. I'll make inquiries about Lou and Ed and let you know. I probably will know something by then. It's probably something quite innocent." She made shooing motions with her hands at Steve.

"You'll be okay?" he asked. Joan guessed that he probably had planned on taking Robbie home with him. That didn't fit her plans; virgins brought higher prices. She didn't know whether Robert had been a virgin, but she was pretty sure Robbie still was, where it counted.

Robbie kissed Steve again, this time chastely on the cheek, and told him to run along, she'd be fine. After he left, she and Joan locked up, and drove to Joan's condo. Joan showed Robbie to the guest room, where Robbie finally let exhaustion overcome her and collapsed on the bed. Joan managed to get her dress, shoes, and jewelry off, tossed a blanket over her, and let her sleep in her lingerie. Being Joan, she checked Robbie's purse on her way out of the room out of force of habit, and found nothing unusual for a pretty young girl to have. If she'd been suspicious and consciously looking, she might have found one of her throwing knives in it's hidden compartment at the bottom.

She was going to fix herself a double Jack, then decided against it. She went directly to her bedroom, stripped off her outer wear, called her service to give her a wake up call in the morning, and collapsed herself into sleep.

When she arrived at the office the next morning, there was no word from Lou and Ed, but before she could launch any inquiries, the phone rang. It was Jessica from Vaingirls. There had been new developments, she said, could Joan meet with Rose today, instead of next week?

Joan knew she was not scheduled for surgery, or anything, for that matter, today. Today was to have been a paperwork day. The security arrangements she had planned for the meeting with Rose were all in place, all she had to do was turn them on, so she agreed. The meeting was set for two o'clock.

When Robbie came in at noon, Joan told her that she was meeting with a business acquaintance, and would like a recording of the meeting. She did not want the business acquaintance to know she was being recorded, so would Robbie mind sitting in the supply closet with the recorder? It would be good to have a friend to help out if things got sticky, thought Joan.

As Robbie went to get the recording gear ready, Joan ran through her mental checklist. 'Number one: Get dressed.' Opening her office closet, she pulled out the special outfit she had selected for meeting Rose. She quickly moved toward the washroom where her makeup kit awaited. There was a lot to do before two o'clock.

Rose stood before Joan's office door at 1:59pm. She was dressed in the same black leather outfit she had worn the night before, and she was also wearing the same "Don't fuck with me!" attitude. She had pulled herself together in the limo, assuming that Joan would have security cameras focused everywhere from the street to the hallway in front of her door. She reflected on the events of the past twenty-four hours.

From what Steve had said when he got back to Vaingirls about midnight, he and Robbie had done their part perfectly. She was willing to bet that Robbie was in Joan's office now, hidden somewhere as Joan's backup, a double agent. Joan trusting Robbie was part of the plan, and Rose hoped that things would progress today in such a way that Robbie would not have to blow her cover.

Ed and Lou were in Vaingirls' sub-basement, heavily sedated. G.A. had been out since 8:00am this morning, using the power of attorney both had signed, to transfer control of Transformation Systems to a holding company ultimately controlled by Adain, Salielah, and Rose. Later on today, the women would be trotted out to give carefully scripted answers to the questions of the Chicago Fire Department. G.A. was already making arrangements to break the lease on the apartment and pay for it's repair. He was hiring a moving company to move out all Lou and Ed's things; they wouldn't be going back there.

Rose had two aces in the hole down in the black Rolls parked at the curb. She took a deep breath, let the anger wash trough her one last time, and willed it to become ice cold determination. She was ready.

Without knocking, she opened the door and entered. There was nobody at the receptionist's desk, so she swept on by and strode into Joan's office. Joan rose from her seat, came around to the front of the desk, and as the two women appraised each other, the carefully scripted scenarios both had prepared fell apart. Both were prepared to be ice maidens, to stare down the other in the ultimate power struggle. Both tried to stare coldly; they tried to be stern. But little smiles began to tug at the edges of their mouth; both put a hand to their mouths to stifle giggles. The giggles escalated into outright laughter as the two embraced each other - if only to hold each other upright.

Both women were wearing the exact same outfit, head to toe, with their hair in the same style.

They finally pushed away, and held each other at arms length appraising each other, at least for the moment as long lost friends rather than enemies. "God, you look good, Rose," started Joan, "and your fashion sense is, of course, impeccable." She shook her head, and turned serious. "Rose, by all rights you should hate my guts. Do you? Because you ARE here, and here we are embracing like schoolgirl friends who haven't seen each other for ages."

Rose backed away a little, and held up her hands. "Joan, you wouldn't believe ... well, I'll tell you later; for now, this?" She indicated with a sweep of her hand their identical looks. "Been here, done this. Could we sit?"

"Sure." Joan indicated the couch. "Want coffee or something?"

"Something. Got anything stronger?" Rose moved to the couch, seating herself in the corner at an angle so she could talk easily with Joan when she joined her.

Joan was by the coffee maker. "What did you have in mind?"

"Liquor, Joan; hard liquor; I think we need it, at least to start with. My personal preference is Jack Daniels."

Joan stared at Rose. "Ohmygawd, Rose, mine too; this is uncanny! I bet you like it double straight up?" Rose nodded. "Don't tell my patients, but I keep a bottle right here under the coffee maker." She bent down a bit seductively to get it, wondering if there was ANY Ross left to appreciate it. She was surprised when Rose laughed.

"No good, Joan. Ross is gone, and I prefer ... other ... outlets."

Joan just shook her head, and got the bottle out. 'Sheesh, she knew what I was doing! And I wonder what she means by "other outlets". This is going to be a VERY interesting conversation. I'm sure glad Robbie is recording it all.' She poured the drinks, using her most expensive, seldom used crystal glasses. She figured that if her butt and legs didn't impress her, she'd use something that would impress a lady. And she was right.

Rose took her glass and looked at it, swirled the amber liquid around in it. The crystal caused the light passing through the liquid to give it a beautiful depth and quality. She spoke appreciatively. "Beautiful glasses, Joan; Austrian? We have a set of Austrian crystal very much like this at home."

Joan seated herself on the couch at an angle facing Rose. Both women crossed their legs in exactly the same way at the same time. Both shook their heads. "Rose, this is really getting spooky!" Then Joan shook her head as if to get herself back on track. "And how is Adain? And Salielah?" Then she held up her hands. "Wait. You haven't answered my very first question yet. Do you hate me? I would think that you must. I certainly don't trust you, yet here we are, sitting on the couch sharing drinks and chatting, as I said, like long parted school chums."

'Show time,' thought Rose. "Joan, believe it or not, and I hope you will, I don't ... hate you, that is. For a while I did, but I don't anymore. Do you remember the last words you said to me?"

Joan thought for a moment. "In the limo? No, not exactly, but ..."

Rose shook her head. "No ... no, not in the limo. In the operating room, as you gave me the knockout shot just before you operated."

Joan thought, but couldn't remember. She shook her head no. "No, I'm afraid not."

Rose leaned forward, and spoke with intensity. "You said, 'Good girl!' And I have been, by your standards. You're a bitch, Joan, no mistake about that. You're the biggest, badest bitch on the block. But you didn't befriend and then betray me; Louise and Edwina did. I have them, by the way; we'll decide what to do with them later." This last she just tossed out in an off-handed manner.

Joan was somewhat in a state of shock. Rose had called her a bitch, which should have set off alarms in her brain, but she had said it in a neutral, maybe even an admiring tone of voice. And she had Lou and Ed!? And what was this 'We'll decide ... '? She figured she ought to just listen, and not even try to say anything or do anything herself till Rose was done. After all, there was still Robbie watching out for her. And then she realized that Rose had continued talking.

"... so there I was in the middle of a who-the-hell-knows-where God-forsaken sand dune with two people who owned me and had the firepower to back it up. Not to mention that - remember I was still mentally Ross at the time - I was decked out as a shemale sex toy and figured I was pretty much going to have to BE that for quite awhile.

"I determined that I damned well wasn't going to just give up. If I couldn't get out, I was definitely going to try to arrange things to my liking! But how? Then it hit me; I had a role model for getting my own way. You, Joan; you!" She reached over and put her hand on Joan's thigh. "I thought about what you had told me in the limo; how adversity had just made you stronger, and how you got revenge - cold, calculating, patient revenge. Do you know that several months ago, Ross visited the Whip and Cuff and 'played' with Stella? I could see the force of your will just in the short time I knew you. I decided to let 'What would Joan do?' be my guide. And it worked, Joan. It worked exceedingly well! In fact, I have proof of how well it worked down in the car; would you like to see?" Without waiting for a response, Rose continued. "I don't hate you Joan, I admire you. I THANK you! I'm stronger, richer, and more capable than Ross ever would have been, and I LOVE being Rose! You became my mentor in absentia, and I just knew that the day would come when I could meet you again and thank you. I wasn't quite sure at the time whether I'd thank you as Ross or Rose, but now I know, and now you know. I'm a BITCH, Joan, a bitch just like YOU ..." here, she rose from the couch and stood legs spread, arms thrown over her head in exultation "... and I LOVE IT!!!"

Joan's mind was working furiously. This was NOT what she had envisioned her meeting with Rose would be like. Before Jessica had called with Rose's request for a meeting, if she had thought of Rose and possibly meeting Rose again at all, it was in a scene where she was with Adain and in a totally subservient role, maid or sex slave or some such. Then had come Adain's frantic calls, and she had believed Rose dead. Then Jessica had called with the news that she was alive and wanted to meet, and she knew her original scenario for a second meeting would not come about. She hadn't known quite what to expect, anger, tears, threats perhaps, but not this. This was too much. "Pardon me, Rose, if I don't immediately embrace what you've just said as gospel. The Ross/Rose I remember was a nice person. While I remember thinking at the time that Ross wasn't quite the pushover he seemed, I never sensed the cold steel resolve to be a ... bitch - yes, I suppose I am - ... a bitch like me. And you LIKE me? Rose, I SOLD you, for God's sake. What the hell have you got up your sleeve?!" As she had been saying all this, she had risen and was now facing Rose.

Rose reached out and gripped both her arms, looking her in the eye. "I brought proof. I told you. It's out in the car; may I show you?"

Joan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Okay. Turn your security cameras off. Trust me this far, please?" Rose was almost pleading. "I want this to be a surprise. If you have someone you trust, send him with me."

Joan debated a moment, and came to a decision. This was too intriguing to let drop. "Her ... I have a her." She went to her desk and clicked on the intercom. "Robbie, would you come in here for a moment, please?"

When Robbie came in from the back office, Joan made the introductions. "Rose, this is my temporary secretary/receptionist, Robbie. Robbie, this is an old acquaintance of mine, Rose Thorn."

Robbie reached out and shook hands. "How do you do, Ms. Thorn." She looked at Joan. "How may I help, Dr. Adkins?"

"Go out to her car with Ms. Thorn ..."

"Rose. Pleased to meet you, Robbie," Rose interrupted.

"... Go with Rose, and help her with whatever she needs, please."

"Certainly, Dr. Adkins; lead on, Rose." As Rose turned to exit, Robbie gave a raised eyebrows "Is she dangerous; should I watch her?" look at Joan. Joan gave her a "Yes ... and like a hawk!" nod in return. Robbie gave a thumbs up as she exited following Rose.

As the door closed behind them, it was all the two actresses could do to maintain a professional demeanor for Joan's security cameras. Inside, each felt like giving the other a high five. So far, so good!

Joan pressed a button on her desktop, and a section of the desktop folded back and a monitor arose. Turn off her cameras, indeed! She moved to watch as the monitor showed Rose and Robbie leaving the building. She saw Rose drop a half step behind Robbie, and turn her head to look directly up at what was supposed to be a hidden camera. She mouthed some words, smiled and waved, and, as she turned her head back, the monitor went dark. A chill ran through Joan. 'What the hell is going on!?' she thought. She moved quickly to reboot the computer, but couldn't get anything new from the security cameras. She replayed the last few seconds, and enlarged Rose's face; she could tell that she was mouthing the word "couch". She looked over at the couch, and there, sure enough, was a sheet of yellow legal pad paper folded into quarters stuck in the crease between the two seat cushions. Dreading just a little what she might read, she walked over to the couch, pulled it out, and opened it; it smelled slightly of "Obsession" perfume.

Looking at the note, Joan thought that if it represented Rose's normal handwriting, it was a good thing she herself was a doctor; her own "professional" handwriting was worse so it was no problem to decipher it. She finished reading and ran the note through her shredder. Then she grabbed her glass and the bottle of Jack from the coffee table, was going to pour herself a double but thought better of it, poured a single shot instead, and tossed it down in one swift smooth movement. She went back to the desk and opened The Drawer. 'Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson,' she thought, 'now may be the time you earn your keep!' She hoped it wouldn't come to that, but a girl couldn't be too careful. She flipped open the cylinder and made sure all six bad boys were in position. Flipping it closed, she went over and unlocked the door, then positioned herself across the room at an angle to it so that whoever entered would have to turn and find her before firing. She moved a three drawer filing cabinet out from the wall and got behind it, resting her arms on the top. She held the gun in both hands in the manner she was taught, flipped off the safety, and waited.

A few minutes later, there came a knock at the door. Joan remained silent, and after a moment heard Rose's voice. "Joan?" And then a half minute later again, "Joan?" Another half minute and then, in a slightly disappointed voice, "Okay, Joan. Hardball." The door opened slightly, and a small canister was tossed in. It hit the floor and slid to a stop by the leg of the desk.

There was no way Joan could reach it without exposing herself. "It's a nerve toxin grenade, Joan," came Rose's voice. "One of Adain's companies developed it. He developed it for the Israelis; sort of ironic, huh? It works through the skin, so unless you have a full bio suit on, in about a minute from now, you're going to be in a world of hurt. It can be disarmed, but requires a code to do so; even if you could get to it without exposing yourself to my line of fire, you couldn't disarm it - at least not quickly enough. You don't even want to know what it'll do to you." She paused to let that sink in. "Now, I'm going to send my 'surprise' in. She has the code. You could, of course, shoot her once she's finished disarming the grenade, but then I'd be forced to toss in the real grenades - fragmentation and incendiary with three second fuses. I give you my word, Joan; none of this is a trick. I want us to be friends. When you see the 'surprise', I'm sure you'll realize we have a GREAT deal in common."

The door eased open, and a woman slowly entered. She appeared terrified, and kept glancing back out the door. Whatever she saw outside the door obviously terrified her more than the possibility of being shot by her, Joan thought. The woman was dark haired, about 5'8" tall with a dynamite figure and, once you looked past the obvious terror, quite a cute face. It was what she was wearing that was unusual - a maids uniform. Oh, not a real utilitarian maid's uniform, but an every male's fantasy French Maid's uniform!

'Oh, my,' thought Joan, and did a quick inventory from the bright silver tips on her ankle strap black patent leather five, maybe even six-inch heels on up: sheer black seamed stockings, the seams a little askew indicating her distraught condition, with a white garter around her right thigh; a black satin dress with puffy sleeves and a bodice designed to show maximum cleavage and just barely contain what were at least DD cup breasts; short skirt made even shorter by voluminous petticoats, and covered by a cute little apron with the name 'Dainie' embroidered on it in pink; heavy makeup, showgirl rather than slutty, on a face framed by fright induced unraveling tendrils of raven black hair, the rest collected in a bun at the back, topped by a white lace maid's tiara like cap; pearl earrings and bracelets completed the look. This was a high maintenance costume, meant to be uncomfortable and humiliating to the girl wearing it, while stirring lustful thoughts in every male who saw her. 'Her??' This was the kind of costume many of Joan's clients liked for their shemale slaves. Could it be ...

By this time, Dainie had gone to the grenade and, bending at the waist, had reached down and disarmed it. She had, of course, revealed her pretty ruffled panties while doing so, and Joan realized she must have been taught to pick things up that way as a tease. She was straightening when it hit Joan: 'DAINIE!!' Her mouth dropped open in shock, and the Smith & Wesson clattered on the file cabinet top as it was released by her nerveless fingers. 'OHMYGAWD!!' She stood up, totally forgetting any threat from Rose just outside. "A ... A ... Adain?? Adain Ben Hariesh??"

The girl's face, that had almost relaxed to normal, took on that horrified earlier look, and she literally cringed with fright. "N ... No, mistress! No! Dainie, please, mistress, just Dainie!" She gave a frightened look toward the door, and dropped into a shaky curtsy. "Just Dainie!"

"Or anything else I choose to call you, GIRL!" came Rose's voice from outside the door. The tone of voice sent a shiver down even Joan's spine. "Isn't that right?"

Dainie was literally vibrating with fear now. "Yes, mistress Rose; certainly, mistress Rose. Anything, mistress Rose!"

The door slammed open, and Rose strode into the room and up to Dainie, completely ignoring any threat from Joan. She held out her hand. "Hand me the grenade!"

Trembling, Dainie picked it up off the desk and handed it to her. "You stupid bimbo!" Rose got right in Dainie's face. "DO ... YOU ... REALIZE what could have happened if this grenade had rolled off the desk you oh so casually set it on? No. OF ... COURSE ... YOU ... DON'T, because you ARE just a stupid, brainless little bimbo aren't you?" More cringing. "AREN'T YOU!?"

"Y ... y ... yes, mistress."

"SAY IT!"

"M ... m ... mistress??"

"SAY ... IT!"

Dainie just collapsed while still standing; Joan could just see her wilt in complete abject surrender. "Dainie is a stupid, brainless little bimbo, mistress."

Rose backed off, and addressed Dainie in a normal tone of voice. "Go stand in the corner over there, girl!"

Dainie immediately turned, and walked to the corner of the office away from the two women. "And straighten your stockings! I did not raise you to be a slob." Shakily, Dainie did so, then faced into the corner, feet together, ramrod straight, with her hands clasped behind her back. "DID ... I!?"

Barely audible. "No, mistress, Dainie was not raised to be a slob."

Rose turned to face Joan, who had come out from behind the file cabinet and was standing with her empty hands out; the gun remained laying on top of the file cabinet.

A smile lit up Rose's face, and she was immediately transformed back into the pleasant woman she had been twenty minutes earlier. "I'm sorry about that, Joan, but I swear, you give her just a simple task ..." She saw that Joan was nodding toward the corner and she turned. Both women could tell Dainie was trying very hard to stand motionless, but little tremors were passing through her body every few seconds. Rose looked at Joan, rolled her eyes, and went over to Dainie. She gently started to massage Dainie's neck and shoulders and murmuring to her in a soothing tone of voice. Joan couldn't hear what was said, but she could see Dainie begin to visibly relax. Within a minute or two she was still standing in what Joan labeled her "punishment position", but she was standing in it easily, without the tremors and tension. Rose's voice rose. "There now, all better?"

Dainie nodded. "Yes, Mistress Rose."

Rose turned her head toward Joan so that Dainie couldn't see, smiled and winked, and then turned back. "Dainie," she said in the same soothing voice, only now loudly enough for Joan to hear, "I know this will be difficult for you, sweetie, but I want you to tell Mistress Joan who you were."

"M ... must I, Mistress?" Dainie's voice quavered.

"Yes, you must, dear. You know she'll find out later, anyway; it's better if you tell her yourself. After all, it's not like you still are that person, now is it?"

"N ... no, Mistress Rose."

"Good. Now turn around." Rose placed her fingertips on Dainie's shoulder, gently guided her around, and then nodded slightly.

Dainie curtsied. "M ... Mistress Joan, I used to be a confused, pitiful male by the name of Adain Ben Hariesh."

When she paused, Rose prompted. "And who are you now?"

"Dainie, Mistress Joan. Just Dainie."

'Even the body language is entirely feminine! If this is an act, it's a damn good one!' Of all the many questions going through Joan's mind, one forced its way out between her lips. "WHY?!?" It was a question loaded with puzzlement. In Joan's mind, the last image of Adain Ben Hariesh was of a handsome, tuxedoed, very male supremely confident looking and acting MAN. Now, as she looked closely at Dainie, she could tell from size and facial features that she was (?) Adain. "WHY!?" And then, more softly, "Why, Adain!??"

Dainie cringed, and looked pleadingly at Rose.

"Please don't call her that, Joan," said Rose. "It just upsets her." She turned to Dainie and gently lifted her chin, then looked her in the eyes. "She doesn't understand yet, sweetie. I know it's hard, but you must answer her question," and as Dainie hesitated, with a little steel now in her voice, "now!"

In a tremulous voice and looking at the floor, Dainie began to speak. "Because Mistress Rose wants me to be, Mistress Joan." She paused, then straightened up and looked directly at Joan and smiled. "Because I love Mistress Rose, and want to please her in any way I can!" She became animated and vibrant; Joan was amazed at the transformation. "Oh, Mistress Joan, she is so beautiful, and so smart. She saw through my male disguise to the doubt and confusion within, and showed me the way! Now I am so happy; I'm not confused any more; I KNOW who and what I am. I am my Mistress's lover and servant ... NO! ..." she became almost defiant, and looked at Rose. "... Mistress Rose, I know you don't like me to use the word, but it's TRUE! ..." She looked back to Joan. "... I am her SLAVE! I am anything she wants me to be. Now I have only one thing to think about, and that is how best to make her happy. And I am so happy, Mistress Joan, so very, very happy!" With that she dropped her head, and waited to see if her outburst had earned her punishment.

Instead, Rose put her arms around her and gave her a hug. She looked at Joan then back down at Dainie, lifting her chin up once again. She uttered two words, and looked at Joan and smiled the smile of a cat who has just eaten a canary. The significance and irony of the smile and the words was not lost on Joan; the two words had been, "Good girl."