3 comments/ 52328 views/ 2 favorites Caught by Kyle Ch. 01 By: MzDeviancy My stories tend toward the nonconsent/taboo side, but I want to be clear that I'm in no way suggesting that the acts in my stories are okay. Forced sex is a fantasy I enjoy and I write for other similarly minded people. Real rape is ugly and sad, and if it's something you're considering acting out you should seek help. * Alright, longest disclaimer ever, but READ THIS, because I won't be responsible if you read something in the story that disturbs you. First of all, this is not a romantic story with feelings of love and mutual respect. The main character is not a nice guy, he's not a woman trapped in a man's body, and there is no love and tenderness. This story is just smut with more dialogue and plot than your average stroke story. Two, there is gay sex in this, which most of you have undoubtedly already figured out, but you'd be surprised at some of the oblivious individuals out there. And lastly, there is mention of STDs in this story. I don't have enough imagination to write a story where that risk isn't present. If the mere mention of VDs is enough to make your pole wilt, then backclick right now. Disclaimer over. Thank you to debby69 and verbinator for providing male perspective. *** "And the winner for most sales this quarter is..." Bryan paused dramatically. "We all know it's Mike! Quit milkin' it, Bryan!" Everyone chuckled. Bryan grinned. "Well, yeah. It's Mike. And thank God it is, otherwise we might have to go outside and see if the sky was falling!" I grinned as I stepped up to accept the top sales bonus. "Thanks," I said to Bryan before turning to the crowd of employees gathered in the upstairs lunchroom. "I'll try and set the bar a little lower next quarter, 'kay guys?" Most people grinned, a few rolled their eyes, and a couple muttered under their breath. I smiled in satisfaction. Fuck, yes. This was what I was all about: beating the competition. I could not give a shit less if they liked me or not. At thirty-four, I was the star broker at the firm - the large firm, I might add - the highest paid broker there, the only one who never had to work a graveyard shift if I didn't want to, with a boss who loved me more than he loved his own children. Outside of work, I had a beautiful Jewish wife who my mom loved, a newborn baby boy, a big house, a hot car, and a hot shiksa girlfriend. My life was every man's dream. "All right, in other news: this is Kyle Adams," Bryan gestured to a built blond guy in a powersuit standing at his side. The beefcake nodded and gave a casual four and a half finger wave. He had those nice, all-American kind of good looks. Probably didn't have two intelligent thoughts to rub together, but that kind of wholesome, attractive face tended to close the easy deals, at least. I smirked as I caught my slutty receptionist and Joanne from accounting checking him out and whispering. And not just the easy business deals... "We figured we may as well introduce him to everybody at the meeting. He was the prize of his last company, and we had to work real hard to steal him, so everybody be good to him." Everyone chuckled. Or rather, the men chuckled. The women tittered. Looked like the beefcake was gonna be getting some office pussy. Bryan started going on about some company safety meetings - blah, blah, blah - and the expectations for the upcoming quarter and annum. Frankly, if it wasn't directly about me, I didn't particularly care. Some might call that vain; I call it honest. People just pretend to give a shit about others and all this tedious shit they really couldn't give a fuck about. Why bother? Be honest with yourself, if with no one else, that was my motto. The meeting was called to a close – finally - and I started to head back to my office. "Hey, Mike! Hang on a sec, I wanna talk to you and Kyle here in my office," Bryan called out. The door clicked shut behind us, and Kyle and I settled into plush chairs beside each other. "You guys didn't really get a chance to actually meet out there. Mike Feldman, Kyle Adams." I shook his hand, noticing with a flicker of annoyance that his hand dwarfed mine. "Feldman? That Jewish?" I rolled my eyes as I turned back to face Bryan. "Does it sound Hispanic to you?" Bryan frowned at me, but I heard a chuckle from the annoying schmuck beside me. "All right, let's get to business." Bryan shuffled some papers, looking, to my mind, like someone who was just trying very hard to look business-like. "I want you two on the same team." "Thought Kyle here was one of the best?" I asked drolly. "If he is, then I don't think we need a babysitting period for him. And I'm really busy, Bryan." "It's not for training." Bryan's gaze flicked away. "He'll be leading your team with you." I stilled. "I beg your pardon?" I turned to find the pretty-boy smiling angelically at me. Fucking chucklehead! He had the vapid, beatific grin of an all-American jock, but I could see the wry amusement in his eyes. God, I wanted to knock his teeth out. Bryan's thumbs were twiddling: always a dead giveaway that he was nervous. "Mike, I told you I wanted you to start going after some really big accounts. Don't misunderstand this: you're good, but you'll need help. You'd probably land the big fish on your own, but you definitely will with Kyle here." I opened my mouth to argue, but Bryan met my eyes; he wasn't going to back down. The fucking traitor. I put on my game face, pouring every ounce of charm into my friendly smile. "Well, when you put it that way...Welcome aboard, Kyle." That amused gleam still glinted in his eye as he shook my proffered hand. "Thanks, Mike." The way he said my name grated along my every nerve ending. I didn't even notice I was grinding my teeth. He not only looked like a jock, he spoke like one, too. A baseball player. That's what he reminded me of. A big, star baseball player, talking to some balding, insignificant sports commentator. "Well, I better get back to work," I said, sidling toward the door. "Great, you can take Kyle with you and show him the lay of the land." I forcibly stopped myself from grinding my teeth into dust. "Yeah, great. Let's go." I didn't even check behind me to see if he was following as I strode out the door. *** The day had been total shit. I hadn't even gotten a short reprieve before having to deal with the dickhead. He'd been over my shoulder all day. I'd tried to give him shit to familiarize himself with, and either he wasn't really going over them or he was a fucking speedreader or something, because he'd be right back in my office two seconds later, looking for something to do, asking me what I was doing, acting like he understood complicated things with only the half-assed explanations I'd give him. The worst part was that I was scared he was just that good. All day long, I had to bite my tongue until I damn near chewed it off, and he knew. Every time I got annoyed with him, he could tell, and he was amused. Fucking bastard. There was no way I was going home tonight. Nor was I going to see Tamara; she was starting to get a little too clingy lately anyways, so I'd probably have to start thinking about replacing her soon. Amazing how your outlook on life can change in just a few hours... I unlocked the dingy door to my even dingier apartment in the indescribably dingy building on the other side of town from my real home. I had it kept relatively clean, but there was only so much you could do with an apartment in a craphole like this. On the other hand, the landlord took cash and didn't ask questions, so it suited my purposes. I took a beer out of the fridge and cracked it open, taking long swallows on my way to the bedroom. I stopped in front of the mirror, grimacing at what I saw. Oh, I was good-looking, but in a generic, non-rugged, skinny kind of way. That had seemed good enough until the beefcake walked in today. He was an Adonis, the bastard. Blond hair that bordered on too long, but managed to stay just shy of it. I ran a hand over my closely trimmed head. His broad, muscled shoulders clearly dwarfed mine, even hidden underneath his expensive suit. And his hazel green eyes made my brown ones look absolutely plain and unremarkable. I really, really didn't like this guy. I finished my beer in gulps, then strode over to the closet and flung open the doors. Not twenty minutes later, I was more beautiful than the beefcake could ever be. My long brown hair was shiny and lustrous, offsetting my honey-colored contacts perfectly. My breasts, showcased in a tight, V-necked cashmere sweater, were just shy of large; big enough to tantalize boob men, small enough not to repulse the teeny-titty lovers. My long, stockinged legs were mouthwatering from my tiny denim skirt right down to my four-inch heels. Mike might not be prettier than Mr. Kyle Adams, but Tiana sure as hell was. I slung my purse over my shoulder and went out looking for a date. *** The hot, sun-soaked air of Los Angeles hit my face as soon as I stepped out of the airport. Baltimore was nice, but I'd always loved sunny places. I was here because Martin, the owner of Real Investments, wanted the business of his old college buddy Ted Wallace. Supposedly the old guy was unbelievably loaded, moving back to Baltimore at some point, and considering giving his friend his business, but just needed an extra push. I was the company closer, so here I was, ready to spend a couple of hours doing the song and dance for Martin's buddy then the rest of my three days enjoying some LA sights and sunshine. "Lot warmer than Baltimore, isn't it?" If only I was here alone... I frowned at Kyle, as he came up next to me, beefy arms and shoulders stretching his white T-shirt, making me feel scrawny and ridiculous in my black wifebeater. "So whaddya wanna do after we land this, man? It doesn't sound like this guy needs more than a little push, so we'll have tonight and the weekend to kill." Was this guy just completely without a clue? I glanced at him and saw the amusement there. No, he definitely knew I didn't like him. The last couple of weeks I'd cooperated with him, but I'd made no effort – besides not openly telling him to fuck off - to hide my disdain for him. He just didn't seem to care. Every time I was short, he'd get that amused look on his face that just made me want to punch him. "I don't know what you're planning on doing, but I'm gonna go visit some friends," I snapped. If one interpreted visiting friends as picking up men while dressed as a woman, I wasn't technically lying. "Oh. Well, I guess I'll try and find myself some action tonight. Some beautiful ladies out here," Kyle said, grinning at a tan and shapely twenty-something year old as she smiled at him on her way by. I was not standing around all weekend while women made bedroom eyes at this asshole. "Let's get going. Sooner we get this done, sooner we can each go about our respective plans," I said testily. "Whatever you say, man." *** Ted Wallace didn't get rich by being a fool; he was old and fat, but one of the sharpest motherfuckers I've ever met. He asked some tough questions and pushed for the kind of special treatment that would get most people laughed out of my office. Not him, though. He knew how much we wanted him, and he was making sure that he got as much as he could from us. Galling as it is to admit, Kyle was smooth as butter. Answering some questions just that much better than I would have, and slapping down some of Wallace's more ridiculous demands while managing to be totally inoffensive. Not that I was sitting there useless. I'd picked up the ball when Kyle had dropped it a couple of times, stepping in smoothly and mixing just the right amounts of truth and bullshit. In short: we nailed it. Ted wanted a very large and very diverse portfolio that would yield a lot of profit in the next ten years, which meant lots and lots of money; Ted Wallace had dropped figures that had literally given me a bit of an erection. Now we were back at our hotel, with Kyle for some reason lounging on my bed as if we were best girlfriends on a sleepover. He'd brought over celebratory beer so of course I hadn't turned him down, but now the beer was gone. And he was still here. I glanced at the clock. "Right, well, I gotta get going right away." He grinned wryly, and I gritted my teeth, wondering what the fuck he always found so amusing about my brush-offs. "All right, Mike. I'm gonna go check out that bar across the street." "Yeah, have fun, man," I said, rolling my eyes as he finally left. I showered, and took extra time with my clothes, hair, and makeup. I chose a gold lamé halter top, and a black leather mini. I chose my curly wig tonight, and pinned it up, leaving some tendrils to curl around my face and the nape of my neck. My makeup bordered on slutty, but I had a line I never crossed with it; I wasn't interested in looking like a drag queen. To complete the picture, I slipped on my black knee-high boots with the stiletto heels. My olive-tinted skin seemed extra radiant today. I couldn't keep from smiling as I looked at myself in the mirror; I was such a hot bitch. Swinging my little gold handbag and my hips, I decided to take the stairs: I was wearing a silky thong that felt magical as it rubbed against my freshly shaved sac. I'd researched the red light districts of LA before coming, so I smoothly told the cab driver to drop me off at a store on a street that was marked as a walk for transvestite hoes. Some crossdressers have a big thing about being viewed as people with thoughts and emotions and many other sappy things; not me. I had no interest in being respected and loved for who I was. I loved being used by perverted men who just had a kink for fucking men in skirts. That was it. The money was small change to me - laughable, really. I just liked being used like the little hoe that I was. I smirked at a couple of hideous trannies as I passed by them, my lips twitching as they glared at me; no hoe liked new meat on her block, but it was especially understandable for these ugly bitches to be pissed off with me: I was hot and wearing nice, if slutty, clothes, whereas they looked like Courtney Love on steroids. Ew. It wasn't even two minutes before I was picked up by my first date. Toyota Camry, clean, carseat in the back. I smiled invitingly at the driver as I slid into the passenger seat. He was a business-casual type just this side of being plain. Good-looking, in an innocuous kind of way. "Hi, honey. You mind if I see what you're packing?" I reached over and grabbed his package, not waiting for an answer. 'Hmmm. Average all over.' I quickly dubbed him Mr. Average in my mind, giggling at my own little joke as he reached into my lap and nervously squeezed my cock - already semi-swollen with arousal - in return, completing the universal hoe-john procedure for proving that neither one of you is a cop. After he removed his hand, I absently stroked my cock underneath my skirt. Unlike some crossdressers, I can never get so into the whole being a girl thing that my dick becomes a pussy or a clit to me - a dick is a dick, and women don't have balls. But it's really not a sad thing for me; I think of it like being a woman, but with male genitals, which somehow seems obscene and extra nasty. Much hotter than these teary-eyed trannies who are 'women trapped in men's bodies.' Jesus. With that much estrogen, no fucking kidding you're a woman trapped in a man's body. No way would any doctor be coming near my dick with a scalpel. No, sir. "You know where to go, honey?" He nodded, his eyes now fixed to the road as he pulled out. "This your first time?" He shook his head. "Second." His voice was barely audible. "Well, what do you wanna bet I'm better than the first? All my boys tell me they've never had a girl as good as me." He smiled weakly. I frowned. Cute as the inexperienced were, they were never much fun for talking to. We finally pulled into an empty school parking lot hidden from the view of the road. I grinned. His last trick must've shown him this place. "It's eighty for a fuck, forty for head, that okay?" He nodded. "What say we get in the back seat?" He nodded again. I didn't get out and use the door, instead climbing between the seats, wiggling my ass seductively as I passed him. I felt a hand brush my thigh, then quickly pull away. I easily unbuckled and moved the carseat, wondering if Mr. Average was pondering how I knew how to take a carseat out so quickly. I set it on the floor and sat back, turning to face him. I spread my legs and ran my fingers over my panties in invitation. He climbed into the back slowly, and half-rested back against the front seat divider/armrest. I mentally sighed; I really hated the ones who couldn't take any of the control. But I pasted a smile on my lips. "Come here, baby." I tugged him to me, and he surprised me by pressing his mouth to mine, moving his lips against mine until they opened, then thrusting his tongue inside. His tongue was warm, and tasted good, like coffee. I slid my palm down his belly and massaged his cock. It was rock hard, jumping at my touch through the material of his pants. His hand slid up underneath my short skirt, and he brushed his fingertips across the ridge of my dick. I broke away from his lips to ask what he wanted tonight, but moaned instead when he palmed my balls and trailed his hot mouth down my neck. It took me a moment to catch my breath. "Do you want to fuck me, baby?" I moaned, growing increasingly excited at the thought of stuffing his cock inside me, average or not. He tore his lips away from my neck for only a second, "Yes." He twisted and pressed me down to lie along the backseat, licking down to my cleavage as he did so. I hooked my leg around his and rubbed my foot along his calf, arching up against him as he tongued everything that wasn't covered by my top and rubbed his cock against mine. I felt a wet drop form at my little slit, dampening my silky panties. Suddenly he pushed my leg down, grabbed my thong by the sides and slid it down. I nearly came when he leaned down and gave my rapidly distending cock a tonguing kiss. "Please fuck me!" I pleaded, unable to believe this completely average guy had me so excited. I thought I saw him give a crooked smile, but he quickly flipped me over onto my stomach. I rose up onto my knees and thrust my ass back at him. I jerked so hard I banged my head into the door when instead of the push of a cock or even fingers against my rosebud I felt that hot, eager tongue. My cries were caught in my throat as he stroked and probed my tight anus. "Do you have a condom on you?" I gasped. "Yes." I could feel his warm breath against my rosebud. I shuddered. "Put it the fuck on and get inside me NOW!" I felt him smile. I heard the crinkling and tearing of foil behind me. I stayed in my position - a bitch ready to be mounted - clutching the edge of the seat in anticipation. The smooth, latex-clad head pushing at my tight opening nearly made me cum right there. The lubricated condom and my saliva-slicked ass made for easy entry, and I groaned as he pushed past my tight sphincter. I never let myself get too loose - if I started getting a little on the loose side I'd take a break for a few weeks - so my ass wrapped around him like a glove as he slid in. He grunted quietly behind me as he began working his cock in and out, lightly holding my hips. "Feel good, baby?" I moaned teasingly, rocking backward and clenching my ass around him. "Yes," he said breathlessly. His cock was pushing on my swollen prostate gland, harder and harder as he got increasingly less shy. His hands were gripping my hips tightly now, and his hips slapped against my ass as he pounded into me. My cock was practically streaming pre-cum as I took the onslaught on my G-spot. I jerked as a hand wrapped around my cock, using a finger to smear the fluid leaking copiously from the slit, then beginning to jerk me. Caught by Kyle Ch. 01 He leaned down close over my back now, the heat from his body setting mine on fire. "Does it feel good?" he whispered. "God, yes!" I groaned, my hips jerking wildly: back to stuff cock into me, forward to slide my cock through the tight grip of his hand. "Are you going to come?" he asked, his voice breathy and low in my ear. "Yes!" Suddenly he was pounding into me so hard I had to brace myself against the door to avoid bashing my head into it. My gland swelled and pressed against his pistoning cock and suddenly my cock was spasming and spurting semen all over his hand and seat. His breathing grew louder as mine just began to quiet, and he jerked into me, slapping his hips hard against mine as he came on a groan. I felt replete. The pleasant post-cum lethargy started to creep over my satisfied body. Then I felt it: wetness dribbling into my bowels. "Um..." I heard from behind me, "The condom broke," he said shakily, pulling his softening cock out. I spun around, wanting to hear that he'd been mistaken, but I felt cooling jizz leaking out of my ass, refuting any possible claim to the contrary. "Oh my fucking God..." Stark terror washed over me. I climbed back into the passenger seat numbly, waiting in silence as my john hooked his carseat back up. This had always been just for play - just a game - but it wasn't anymore. I pictured my wife in my head, so trusting and supportive of me in everything. What if this guy had HIV? Johns and hoes lied to each other all the time about shit: for all I knew, this guy could have been with every hoe from LA to New York. As he settled in to the front seat, I opened my mouth to ask when was the last time he'd been tested, but snapped it shut. I wouldn't be able to believe him if he said yesterday and he was clean, and it would just shoot my blood pressure through the roof if he said something like 'Never.' "I don't mean to sound rude," he said nervously, "but when was the last time you were tested?" "Would you believe me if I said yesterday and I'm clean?" I snapped sarcastically. "I don't know," he said quietly. "When was the last time you were tested?" The words just seemed to come out of my mouth. "I...well, I never had a reason to, before..." Oh. My. God. What would I do if I had HIV? What the fuck would I do? The rest of the drive back to the strip passed by in a blur of anxious thought. I called a cab from a payphone and got in, giving the driver directions then losing myself in thought again as I stared out the window. The ride back to the hotel was both an eternity and no time at all. I took the stairs again, just in case Kyle came back to the hotel at the same time I did. As I climbed up to our floor, the small remaining bit of cum in my ass dribbled out into my already wet thong. Strange as it seems, I was so numb emotionally by that point that the feeling of wetness was actually a little arousing. I emerged into the hallway and nearly pissed myself on the spot; standing not fifteen feet away from me, fishing for his key card in his back pocket with one hand, massaging the ass of a suntanned Californian with the other, and looking me straight in the eye, was Kyle Adams. Oh God. My heart had instantly started pounding in my chest, and it felt like it was going to explode as I stood there frozen, staring at the guy who could now ruin my life forever. It was a long moment before suddenly realized that he was staring at me confusedly, not in shock; he was either wondering why I looked so familiar or why I was staring at him, but he hadn't recognized me. I flashed a weak smile at him and went down the hallway in the opposite direction from him, finally rounding a corner and nearly collapsing against the wall. I heard the sound of a key card sliding into a door and a second later the sound of a door slamming shut. I nearly wept in relief, still fighting the nausea that had roiled up in my stomach. I waited a couple of minutes just to be safe, then practically ran to my room. It took me three fumbling tries before I managed to get my key card to work, my hands were shaking so badly. I lay down on the bed in full costume, only managing to find the energy to pull my boots off. One second I was thinking how there was no way I'd be able to sleep that night, the next I was out. *** Kyle and I had been neck and neck for top sales going into the new quarter, but the last month I'd been such a total headcase that there'd been no way I was winning. My sales had plummeted, I'd dumped my girlfriend, and I'd used the excuse of working late every night not to sleep with my wife. At first, I think she was grateful - dealing with the baby took a lot out of her, I guess - but the last month she'd been pressuring me, going on the whole, "You don't find me attractive anymore," kick. Little did she know that I'd come close to fucking her so hard it bordered on rape a couple of times. I was holding myself back because, while I'm a selfish prick - and, yes, I do know that I'm a selfish prick - I love my wife, and until my three month limit was up and I could be tested for HIV, there was no way I was taking the chance of dragging her down with me. Unfortunately, I couldn't use not getting her pregnant as an excuse to wear a condom because as soon as she'd stopped breastfeeding she'd started taking birth control. Not to mention I'd just found out firsthand the reliability of condoms... So I was pretty much doomed to a life of anxious masturbation until I got the all clear. Or until they told me that my little hobby had gotten me a significantly shorter life span... *** "Michael?" I'd been so lost in my own whirling thoughts that I was surprised I snapped to attention like I did when the nurse called me. "The doctor will see you now," she said, giving me a patently polite smile. "Now" apparently meant fifteen minutes later when the clinic's asshole-on-duty breezed in through the door. "Mike, is it?" he asked amicably, extending his hand. 'For fuck's sake, get to it already!' I was ready to throw up, and this dipshit was taking his sweet ass time about everything. He opened the file and flipped through the pages, apparently finding the right one. "Ah, okay, here we are. Your HIV, hepatitis, and syphilis were all negative." He flipped the page. "Your bacterial swabs all came back negative, too. On the other hand, I'm very concerned about your responses to some of the questions that determine risk for HIV." I could give a shit less what he was concerned about. I wanted to jump up on the exam table and dance a jig. "Doctor, you can save your concerns. I'm a changed man." I didn't wait for a response as I strode through the door. *** Funny thing about change: it turns out that it's easy to have grandiose ideas about changing when you're basking in relief that you're not going to die, but not so easy to remember why after a couple of months of trying to live like a saint. For two months, I'd touched no one but my wife. I hadn't dressed up once. I couldn't quite stop myself from checking out women, sometimes even flirting, but I stopped it there. And holy fuck, was I ever getting tired of it. I missed having a girlfriend on the side, but that wasn't my deal. No, what was eating away at me was not wearing any of my beautiful clothes, not feeling sexy. Especially day after day of working with a guy who looked like an Abercrombie and Fitch model. It was like a part of me was missing, but I was determined to hold to my promise of changing myself. I couldn't sleep. I lay staring at the ceiling, exhausted but still unable to drift off. All I could think about was sneaking a nightie from my wife's drawer, running to the bathroom and slipping it on. Even if it was only for a few minutes...just the feel... A sharp buzzing sound snapped me out of my thoughts. It took me a moment to realize it was my cell phone, still in the pocket of my pants, which I'd dropped on the floor. I glanced over at my wife, but she was completely out, well-fucked on top of being exhausted from taking care of the baby. I knew that anyone calling at this hour wasn't calling for reasons on the up and up, but my hand seemed to grab the buzzing phone while my feet carried me out of the room without any intervention from my conscience. I looked at the ID screen, but didn't recognize the number. "Hello?" I whispered. "Hey, this Jason?" a booming voice asked. There was only person who thought my name was Jason. "Joe?" "Yeah. Good to know you remember me, 'cause I ain't been seein' any money from you the last couple of months, so I thought maybe you mighta forgot who I was. You only paid me up 'till the end of March, but I ain't got no money for the last two months." I remained silent, knowing I should tell him I didn't need the apartment anymore, but finding myself unable to. "I kept the place for you. Anyone else didn't show up and pay me, didn't tell me a fuckin' thing, I'd be tossin' their shit out on the goddamn lawn. But you been here a long time, and you always been good to me, so now I'm bein' good to you. I understand that our arrangement ain't exactly regular and you might not be able to get down for a few weeks, but now I wanna know: you need the place still or not? Put on the spot like that, the answer seemed to fly out my mouth, "Yeah, I'll bring you some money this weekend." "'Kay. Glad you're stayin' on, man. You been a good tenant. Wasn't lookin' forward to losin' you." "Thanks, Joe. I'll see you Saturday." I hung up and stared at the phone, wondering what the hell I'd just done. *** I decided that I would keep the apartment just to dress up in. I didn't hook, I just went to the apartment to wear my clothes and be Tiana when I could. I started doing regular things while dressed up: going to the movies, going out for dinner, et cetera. It was better than not dressing up at all, but it felt somehow incomplete without being used by men. I knew though that I needed to stop taking so many risks. So I limited my dress-up time to normal activities in areas of Baltimore where there was no chance of me being recognized by anyone. Until the Stock Broker Awards. I still don't know why I did it. I knew I was taking a huge chance - again - but I couldn't seem to help it. I threw several outfits for Tiana into my bag alongside my stuff. The awards dinner was a rip off of an idea that had been sprung in Australia: a fundraising dinner for charity where they give out awards to the broker houses and investment banks that have sold the most stocks, bonds and bullshit. There was no doubt in my mind that Kyle and I were in line for some awards. I wasn't thrilled about sharing the glory, but it didn't quite kill my love of winning. Now, more importantly than the dinner of benevolent stockbrokers, was that we were going to be staying in a hotel in Washington DC for four days. Hence, time to dress up. *** I climbed the stairs to the sixth floor of the convention hotel we were staying at. The movie had been crap, and I was struck more intensely than ever by my dissatisfaction with dressing up just to go out and do bullshit things. I emerged into the hallway and looked both ways before proceeding to my door and fishing out my key card from my purse. I heard the elevator doors open and I hurriedly stuck the card in the door and yanked it out. The light flashed red. 'FUCK!' I thought panickedly, trying again. Red. Red. FUCKING RED! "Havin' some problems there, sweetheart?" a drunken voice slurred from a few feet away. I turned to face Kyle. What did he have a fucking radar or something? Something in him must have sensed opportune moments to make my life a living hell... His eyes narrowed slightly, but remained hazy with confusion. Did he honestly not recognize me? "Don't I know you from somewhere?" "Um...no, I don't think so," I murmured, avoiding his gaze and turning to try my card again. "That's not your room," he said, leaning against the wall with remarkable balance for a drunk person. The idea light went on in my head. "It's not?" I made a great pretense of looking at the door in surprise. "Oh my God! You're right! This is the tenth floor! I'm on the ninth. That's why my card's not working!" He grinned drunkenly. "Happens to the best of us." "Right, well, thanks for your help. I'd best get going and find my room." "I'll come. Wouldn't want you getting lost again," he said with a wink. Shit! How 'bout no and fuck off? "That's really not necessary-" I began, but he cut me off. "I like to think that, if not a gentleman, I'm at least the kind of guy who can take the time to escort a lost woman to her door." His tone brooked no argument, and he came up beside me and took my arm. My mind raced. "Well, I was really just heading out anyways, so I'll just check with front desk when I come back." He looked at me strangely, his mind clearly trying to work through the fog of alcohol. "But you were going to your room..." "Oh...I was just gonna brush my hair quickly, but it's really not a big deal." What is he, a fucking cop? "Well, good. Tell you what, the other brokers I was hanging with all wussed out on me early on, I didn't even really want to go back to my room yet, so I'll come with you. Make sure you don't get any trouble from any of these DC boys." He grinned, flashing even white teeth. "Oh no, that's okay, you don't have to-" "But I want to." "I'm meeting people." "I get along with everyone." I gritted my teeth. Maybe this was how he got so much pussy: just wear 'em down by being an annoying fuck. I wanted to scream at him, but I was scared that any hint of my normal personality would remind him why I looked familiar. "Fine, let's go," I said, deciding to take him someplace crowded and ditch him. Amusement broke through my anger and fear. It was kind of funny. I may not ever be able to tell him how dumb he was for this, but I could always lord it over him in my mind. And, to be truthful, a small part of me was thrilled at having such a good-looking guy hit on me. Talk about validation... "So, what's your name?" "Tiana," I said, striding quickly toward the elevator. Once inside, he turned to look at me expectantly. "Don't you wanna know my name?" Again with the charming grin. "Yeah, sure. What is it?" "Kyle. So, what are you doing in town, Tiana?" "Oh...uh, work. " "What kind of work you do?" Goddamnit, couldn't he stop asking questions for one fucking second? "I'm a lawyer." I was really screwed if beefcake asked me anything about law, 'cause I knew exactly dick all about it. "I'm a stock broker. In town for this award dinner-slash-fundraiser thing." "Oh." I glanced up to find him looking at me like he expected me to say something more. "Um...good for you." He grinned, as if I'd just said something very funny. "You know, you remind me of someone." "Yeah?" I murmured, striving for a calm tone as my heart began pounding. I started praying. Tacky, I know, but show me someone who doesn't start talking to a higher power when their lives as they know it are about to come to an end. "Yeah. This guy I work with. Except you're a whole lot cuter than him." He knew! My head dropped. He was going to ruin me. I just knew it. I forced myself to look at him and I blinked when my eyes finally dragged up to his face. Unbelievable; he was trying to look down my shirt. He must have felt me looking because he looked up and grinned unapologetically. "So, what made you decide to go into law? You sure don't look like any lawyer I've ever seen before..." ...Was he just toying with me? He had to know...didn't he? I mean, I looked a lot different, but my face was still recognizable. And while I passed for a woman, my features were more striking than feminine, and the double-take that caused should have been more than enough for him to figure out it was me...Could he actually be this stupid? My nose wrinkled as he leaned past me to hold the door and I caught a deep whiff of alcohol; okay, maybe he was that drunk. "I just wanted to wear the robe." "Shame to cover all that up..." He gave a lop-sided grin. I tried to keep the corners of my mouth from turning down. Fuck, I hated this guy. "Why did you decide to be a stock broker?" He grinned. "I like to sell stuff. My sister started a lemonade stand once, and even though I thought it was stupid, I decided to help her sell better. You would be surprised how much profit you can make off a totally unoriginal product with the right pitch. I've just always been blessed with the touch, what can I say..." 'Maybe you should ask God to bless you with a slightly less enormous ego,' I thought snidely to myself. When we arrived at the bar, after a ten-minute cab ride of non-stop questions, I immediately started drinking. I didn't really mean to get drunk - I'd actually only intended to settle down my worries that I was going to be busted any second - but I guess I just got carried away. I was downing my fifth shot of tequila while Kyle watched and opened his wallet, which was apparently bottomless and ready to pay for as many drinks as I wanted. "Wow, I've never seen a woman put 'em away like that before," Kyle said with a grin and an obnoxious twinkle in his eye; the twinkle of a guy who knew he was getting laid. The dipshit could think again. I would be long gone before it came to that. However, an hour and a half later, I was still there. I kept telling myself I'd sneak out right after 'this drink', but 'this drink' kept turning into 'the next drink'. So there I was: hammered at the bar with a coworker who thought I was a woman and wanted to fuck me. An unfortunate side effect of alcohol though - at least, for me - is horniness, and I was starting to feel a little hot. My cock felt thick inside my panties, and I was having little flashes of sex scenes in my mind. Even Kyle was starting to become more tolerable. And then I started thinking, 'Why not?' I mean, I didn't really need to like the people I had sex with. And he was hot...With the alcoholic haze blanketing my mind and stirring my cock, I could put my jealousy and dislike aside and admit that I was slightly attracted to him. I studied him covertly as he took a swallow of his beer. He had golden good looks; blond hair, gold-tinged skin, hazel-green eyes fringed with gold-tipped eyelashes. His throat looked more lickable with each swallow he took. The part of my brain that was still rational warned against it, but I was too far gone. I ordered a cosmopolitan, then sat with one foot dangling sexily and my false fingernails trailing up and down the stem of my glass. Kyle didn't miss a beat; he was suddenly closer to me, one hand resting on my knee, thumb rubbing a slow, sensuous circle. An R&B song came on with a throbbing beat and raunchy lyrics, and before I could think twice, we were heading out of the bar hand in hand. We barely made it into the cab before we were all over each other. Our mouths melded together, panting as we each tried to dominate with our tongues. His hands ran up and down my back, finally reaching my ass and squeezing. I ran my hands over his chest, which - if I were going to be honest with myself - I'd been wanting to do for a while. We arrived at the hotel and stumbled across the lobby into the elevator. His lips broke away. "Come to my room with me." His voice was part honeyed charm, part order. Didn't matter much, since he'd already pressed the button for his floor. I nodded and went for his lips again, just as the elevator doors opened. He tugged me out into the hallway and dragged me along. Despite his eagerness to get into the room, he got the key card to work on the first try, and suddenly I was being pulled into the darkened room. A flash of a second thought entered my head, but disappeared the moment his lips pried mine open again. Caught by Kyle Ch. 01 I moaned and, without thinking, rubbed my crotch against his. He froze. "What's that?" "What's what?" I murmured, trying to press my lips against his. "Something's poking me." Sobriety came screaming back to me. My mind raced. He was hammered; I could play it off. "Oh," I giggled. "That's just my belt." "Belt? I didn-" I cut him off with a kiss before dropping to my knees. There was one surefire way to shut down a man's brain. I whipped off his belt and yanked his pants down. His briefs followed a moment later. The only sound in the room was his heavy breathing as I brushed my lips over his cock, parting them teasingly only to press another close-mouthed kiss against his cockhead. When I finally pushed my mouth down, enveloping him one inch at a time, his moan was ragged and frustrated. His hand came up to my nape, massaging and squeezing gently as I pushed to the base of his cock, suckling gently. I started slow bobbing motions, using the gentlest of pressures, deliberately teasing him. "Bit harder, baby," he groaned. I looked up at him and shook my head, keeping his dick in my mouth and tonguing it as I did. I resumed my slow bobs up and down the length of his cock. I gradually began increasing my pace and suction. I started massaging his sack; I could feel his balls getting tighter by the second. His leg was growing slick with sweat against my shoulder, and he started thrusting, trying to control the pace. I smacked his ass lightly then grabbed it in a firm grip. I was in charge. He disagreed; one hand clamped down on the back of my neck, and the other wrapped itself in my wig, pulling on my hair and scalp to which it was attached by a strong adhesive. He yanked me forward and back, fucking my face wildly. I bobbed faster and faster, milking him with my mouth on the upstrokes. His balls drew into tight knots in my hand, and the veins in his cock pulsed against my tongue seconds before he exploded. His cum poured into my mouth, salty with a hint of sweetness. I released him with one last loving lick. He stumbled backward and flopped on the bed. I stood up and straightened my skirt, peering at his face and the even rising of his chest. Yup; out like a light. I grabbed my purse and got the fuck out of there. *** When I sobered up the next morning, I felt a moment's worry over the stunt I'd pulled the night before. But it only lasted a minute. I thought about how plastered he'd been, how different I looked as Tiana, and - most importantly of all - how horny Kyle'd been and how unlikely it was that he even wanted to know the truth; I felt confident that I was home-free. When I heard a knock on my door, I felt a little jolt of nervousness, but I tamped it down. It was Kyle, looking like shit run over twice. "Mornin', man," he mumbled as he stumbled in the door. He didn't usually hang around me when our other coworkers were there, but it was just my luck that we were the only two from the office booked into rooms on the tenth floor. "Good morning," I muttered back. "What'd you do last night?" he asked. I willfully kept myself from tensing up. "I went to visit some friends." Keep it loose, Mike. "Seems like you've got a lot of friends around the country." Was that suspicion in his tone? "Yeah, I'm sure that must be a difficult thing for you to imagine," I replied sarcastically. Instead of the empty-headed grin my caustic comments usually brought on, he simply stared at me, expressionless. "Okay, I'm going to take a shower." He just sat there. "What the fuck?" I muttered, heading for the bathroom. "Stay and enjoy my room, then." That morning worried me. I came out of the bathroom to find him gone, and he was quiet when I saw him while we checked out. I started to wonder if my confidence had been misplaced. I dwelled on it all the way back to Baltimore, and it pretty much killed the weekend for me. I was dreading Monday, fearing that it would be the day he confronted me. Even though, when I really thought about it, it wasn't likely that he'd really do anything. I mean, if he busted me, then everyone would know he got a blowjob from a dude. And most guys would be scared of having it said that they really knew the crossdresser was a guy, and they fucked with him anyway...My mind warred with my gut; logic telling me he wouldn't do anything, but my gut telling me that I was screwed. After spending Sunday night in knots of anxiety, it turned out I'd been fearing Monday for no reason. Monday came, I worked side by side with Kyle for most of the day, and it was business as usual. I caught him giving me a couple of funny looks, but I chalked that up to him subconsciously noticing the similarity between me and Tiana. Or maybe not subconsciously, but whatever. Didn't matter as long as he didn't say shit. *** "Mike, I know you're under a lot of stress, but you can't keep dealing with your team like this. We've had two complaints against you in the last week!" Bryan spread his hands emphatically. "Bryan, I don't think you understand the level of incompetence I'm dealing with here. I have a receptionist that forgets to send out mail, an accounting department that forgets to give me the receipts I need, and a team of dipshits that I have to repeat everything to at least ten times. I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but Kyle is the only person I'm dealing with lately who doesn't make me feel violent. "I have too much on my plate right now to be dealing with all these mistakes, so forgive me if I don't hold their hands and whisper my criticism to them," I finished, exasperated. I mean, fuck, since when did it become a crime to yell at people who didn't do their jobs? Bryan nodded understandingly, in typical managerial fashion. "I understand, Mike. But you have to calm down and look at ways to communicate what you need without swearing at people. On a personal note, calling the boss's nephew a retard isn't such a hot idea..." I gritted my teeth. "Fine, next time I need to explain in what way they're not doing their jobs, I'll have it embroidered on teddy bears. Can I go now?" I said, already rising. Bryan sighed. "Fine. Just calm it down. I don't want our next meeting to be official. It's quitting time anyway," he said, glancing at the clock. "I'll see you tomorrow." "Yeah. Night," I replied. I closed the door to my office and took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. It had just been a shitty couple of weeks, was all. Lots of work getting the quarterly figures prepared, incompetent people around me 'helping'. I heard my door click softly closed. Now my incompetent coworkers didn't even knock... "Yes?" I snapped. "Doesn't sound like you're having a good day," Kyle said. "I'm not." I turned to find him sitting in my chair. He sneered. "Well, it's about to get worse. Have a seat." He gestured at the chairs for clients on the other side of my desk. I scowled at him. Barging into my office and sitting in my chair? Who the fuck did he think he was? But something in his tone made me sit. I cocked an eyebrow at him questioningly. "So, how long you been dressing in women's clothes?" My body seemed to freeze. Literally; it felt like the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped below freezing. My throat couldn't seem to swallow. "I know it's been a while. I mean, you've been renting that apartment - cash only, of course - from Joe Galioni for six years now?" I remained silent. "Hey, that's cool, you don't have to answer. I've got plenty to talk about. For instance, your girlfriends. I mean, I knew about them before, hearsay and all that, but I wasn't really sure. You'd be surprised what a private investigator can turn up. Like your little habit of hoeing your ass out to strange men. That's a weird one..." "No one will believe you," I forced myself to say with a confidence that I was far, far from feeling. "Oh, I'm pretty sure they will. Pictures help. So do videos. Your one ex, Shawna, was a tough bargainer on those home videos of yours, but she was pretty fair on the price in the end. And Tamara gave me all the photos of you guys for free. Apparently, she didn't know you were married! She was mighty pissed off when I told her... "But I, personally, think the crossdressing thing is more interesting than your little hetero indiscretions. And guess what?" He tossed a handful of photos on my desk. They scattered, various images of me as Tiana, doing everything from looking at mail to leaning into a car window in classic prostitute pose. "I just happen to have pictures of those too!" Panic seized me. I couldn't let this asshole destroy my life. If it came to it, I'd- "Oh, and don't get any dramatic ideas about killing me or anything, either." I paled as he read my thoughts. He smirked. "I took copies of everything to my lawyer, to be sent to one Shani D. Feldman upon my death. I also have a couple of other failsafe measures in place, so you've really got no chance." "What do you want?" I whispered numbly. He grinned evilly. "To make your life a living hell, faggot. I own you now."