by Dawning, Dee
"Four days before Christmas."
I frowned. "I know that. How many days until December 21st?"
"Sixteen."
I couldn't help it. A tear well welled up in my eye. "What am I gonna do?"
"About what?"
To my shame, I started to whine, "If Brad decides he wants to be Ginger again."
"It's not going to happen."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because you guys aren't in competition—you're in love."
Still, I worried. "What if you're wrong?"
"Then you'll grin and bear it. It's not like you'll be a nobody. You'll be the handsome executive you were before, only now you'll be in charge of the fastest growing investment company in the country."
I shook my head. "That's true. We're all better off than we were three months ago, but every time I happen to glance in a mirror and am reminded how much I like being a woman, I think, thank you Suzi Carpenter AFC. I was meant to be a woman. Amber, what can I do?"
"Ask Brad what he intends to do."
I shook my head so vigorously, a strand of my hair fell in my face. "No-o-o! If he's not thinking about it, why would I bring it up?"
"No? Well let me think." Amber cupped her chin. Her mouth opened and slowly her eyes widened. "I know. What is Brad's favorite thing about being a man?"
I shrugged, "I know he likes being one of the boys. He also likes peeing in a urinal. He even teases me about that." I shrugged again and stuck my hands out to the side. "But other than those…I don't know."
"He hasn't told you what he likes about being a man? You know things like not having to carry a purse or wear high heels. No bras, no lipstick, no curlers?"
"Actually, he said he missed not having a purse sometimes. He liked not wearing a bra, but misses his breasts. The only thing he's glad about is no more Aunt Flo which is the only thing I don't like about being a woman."
She nodded, "Yeah, all women hate AF. What about sex?"
"Well, we both like sex and I'm sure we'd continue to enjoy it even if we switched back. The only thing is… That's it!"
"What?"
"Brad loves receiving oral sex."
Amber laughed. "What man doesn't?"
"I mean really loves it, more than I did when I was him."
"That's it then. Blow his mind with blow jobs."
~ * * ~
I was beat when I got home, after twelve hours at the office, at a quarter to nine. All I wanted to do was to put on my pjs and go straight to bed. However, Ginger seemed to have something else in mind. After meeting me at the door with a pink lady, my favorite cocktail, in hand, she gave me a passionate, thirty second, tongue filled kiss. "I missed you. How did your day go?"
I glanced at my watch. It had only been an hour and forty minutes since she sucked me off at my desk, after everyone else had left for the day.
"I hope you don't mind that I swallowed. I didn't want to get your love juices on my clothes."
That was pretty much the same thing she said after dragging me into the sick room, on our coffee break.
This time, after wiping the residue of my offering from around her mouth with a Kleenex, smiling as she stood, she straightened her clothes and winked. "I'm going home. Don't be too long. Okay?"
God, I love when Ginger fellates me, but what's with two of them at work? And now, here she is meeting at the door with a cocktail and a kiss, while practically naked in a racy see through baby doll.
She handed the cocktail to me and loosened my tie as I glanced around and took a sip. Ahh, that does hit the spot. "Amber isn't around."
Ginger giggled. "She and Lew went to a movie. Which means you and I are free to do anything we want."
"Which I hope means we can go straight to bed. I'm dragging, Honey Babe."
"Oh, you poor, thing." She took my hand and tugged me toward the bedroom. "Come, let's get your clothes off and get you comfortably in bed."
Standing beside the bed in a sleepy trance, Ginger undressed me then pulled back the covers helped me into bed and slipped in beside me. My closed eyes snapped open, when Ginger began gently massaging me down below. At first I was too tired to say anything, but when it started to react and I awoke enough, I asked, "What are you doing?"
She snickered. "Isn't that obvious?"
"I mean why?"
"Because I like to. Does it bother you?"
By now I was half hard—hard enough to be stroked and believe me it's impossible to stay tired when a beautiful woman strokes your manhood. "No, but I'm too tired to do anything."
Giggling, she pulled the covers back. "You don't have to do anything. Just lie there and enjoy." Ginger scooted around on the bed until her mouth hovered above my rapidly stiffening member.
By now, I was totally into receiving Ginger's oral affections. "That's all right, darling, oral sex should feel good for both of us and your mouth feels sensational." Feeling as if I'd given her carte blanche, Ginger went to work with earnest.
What seemed like seconds later, when Ginger finished, she smiled up at me. Lifting her into my arms I gave her a tongue filled kiss. "That was amazing, baby. Can I ask a question?"
She frowned as if it was a stupid question. "Of course."
"What's this fixation with taking me in your mouth all of a sudden?"
"The truth?"
I squeezed her tight. "If you please."
"Maybe it's because your doohickey used to belong to me, but I feel an affinity for it. Having you in my mouth makes me feel more like a woman and sexy. And I absolutely love to make you climax. It gives me a sense of control over you."
I chuckled. "All that may be true, but I doubt it is the primary reason."
Her brows dipped. "What do you mean?"
"We've been together almost three months and have been intimate from the get go, and all of a sudden you are consumed with performing fellatio on me? It doesn't add up."
She sighed. "Darling, do you ever wish you were back in your old body?"
"Sometimes. Do you?"
She shook her head with emphasis. "Never, and that's what worries me. I know it's not fair, because you are more productive than me, but I'm getting all the attention and I worry that you might get jealous and want your body back."
I laughed. "Is that what this is all about? Reminding me that if I went back to being Ginger again, I'd never be able to receive a blow job again?"
Ginger had the look of a deer caught in headlights.
"Well, there's one important thing you forgot."
"What?"
"While I do love it when you suck me, I liked cunnilingus almost as much as fellatio, and if we went back I would be able to orgasm over and over."
A tinge of red colored Ginger's pretty face. "Does that mean you intend to switch back?"
"No, it doesn't mean anything. There are plenty of compensating balances in being a man for what I lost in being a woman and while I enjoyed being Ginger, I like our situation just the way it is. Not to mention having a girlfriend as dazzling as you is a real ego boost."
"Okay, what I was doing seems desperate, but I love being Ginger."
"And I love you being Ginger, because I adore you. As Brad, I've found love with you for the first time in my life and I have no intention of changing that."
Chapter Twenty-four
The magazine flopped end over end as it flew past Grace's head. "Stop it, damn it! Stop right now or your blood pressure will go through the roof."
Milton growled, "I can't help it, sis. That little cock tease is on the cover of Fortune. She's becoming famous, while I'm forced to hide from the media and my own employees."
"Don't you mean ex-employees?"
Milton frowned. "Have it your way, ex-employees. Do you realize I had been CEO and President of Bayside for six years and never once had a financial magazine even inquired about writing a story on me, let alone putting me on the cover?"
"It's your own fault. I warned you to stop that high class whoring after the La
nders fiasco, but no. You had to jump right back into it.
"That high class whoring, as you call it, is what got me where I am."
"Was! You're not in jail anymore, but don't forget you're only out on bail. You and that idiot Lancaster had her and Fairchild, right where you wanted them and you let them get away."
"How many times do I have to tell you, Ray was on top of her with his arms wrapped around her. She couldn't move and I choked the life of the haughty bitch when her boyfriend—"
"Shows up with some invisible spirits that pound you to unconsciousness. What do you take me for? This is New York City, not Middle Earth or the Twilight Zone."
"It was more like Harry Potter and the Cloak of Invisibility."
"What?"
"Never mind, I can't make you believe what happened and I don't blame you. I have trouble believing it. She must be a witch or something. You have any ideas about how I can get even with her."
"Get even with her? Now, I know you've lost it. You just said she must be a witch, which infers she uses magic. What do you have to counter magic?"
"I don't know, but she's on the cover of Fortune. She's gotta pay."
"She's gotta pay for being on the cover of Fortune?"
"You forget she broke my nose before she vanished and filed a police report. That's why I was arrested and why I'm out on bail. I used to be CEO of the company. I had a corner office on the top floor of the Bayside building and now I'm hiding out in the playpen loft I kept for my whores and billionaires. All because of that prick teaser. She's gotta pay and Ray and you are going to help me."
~ * * ~
Before I'd even sat at my desk the next day, Amber barged in totally excited, holding her hand up and wagging her fingers like four elegantly manicured snakes. "Look, I'm engaged!"
Sure 'nuf, when she stopped waving her fingers I saw a beautiful engagement ring. "To Lew?"
Amber dipped her brow so low it almost covered her narrowed eyes. She scrunched her nose and pursed her lips in a most disgusted look. "Who else. Really?"
I smiled a wee bit. "Well that Hollywood producer asked you to marry him a couple of weeks ago."
"Months, six to be exact and he was older than Methuselah."
I laughed and came around my desk. "Just kidding. Give me a hug." We hugged and cheek kissed and then I held her at arms length. "Congratulations. You make a fabulous couple."
A couple hours after Amber left, Brad came in. "I heard Amber beat me to the punch."
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
Brad edged around the desk. "Just this." He dropped to one knee. "I was going to take you to a romantic candle-lit dinner to do this, but here goes. Ginger Allen, AKA, Brad Fairchild, I am in love with you." He fussed around then pulled a ring box out of his pocket. When he opened the lid, a duplicate of Amber's ring was revealed.
As I gazed lovingly at the man I adore, he smiled. "You don't have to give me unlimited blow jobs to keep me around."
I smiled. "No?"
"You only have to agree to be my wife. Will you marry me?"
My heart raced and my stomach flipped upside down. Of course I wanted to be Mrs. Brad Fairchild, but the tease in me replied, "Let me think about it."
When poor Brad's face flashed confusion, I melted and placed my hands on each side of his face. "Okay, I thought about it."
"And?"
"I love you too, and would like nothing better in the whole universe than being the wife of Brad Fairchild…AKA, Ginger Allen. I accept your marriage proposal, but let me warn you, I still plan to give you oodles and oddles of warm, wet bjs in our honeymoon bed and thereafter."
Our lips came together and we kissed with passion until Brad pulled away. He took my hand and slipped the ring on my ring finger. "There, that makes it official. Just so you know, continuing my previously wicked life as a courtesan is off the table for you."
A yelp like laugh escaped my mouth. "Truthfully after the Councilman Warren debacle, I don't think it was ever on the table."
After that, waving my fingers at Amber as we left, we took the rest of the day off at the condo for a little morning and afternoon delight in our California king bed. That evening we went back to da Vinci's where I'd taken Ginger that first magical night, when I was still Brad, for a candle-lit dinner of Chateaubriand, free flowing Dom Perignon, and Baked Alaska, before returning to the condo for some post dessert, dessert.
Chapter Twenty-five
After Brad and I arrived late the next morning, Amber strode into my office making a point of studying the time on her watch. "Must have been some wild celebrating going on last night."
I smiled at her and nodded. "There was."
Amber set her hands on my desk and leaned forward. "How many orgasms?"
"Amber! That's personal."
"Suit yourself. Lew was possessed. Have I ever mentioned what a fantastic lay Lew is?"
"Only twenty or thirty times."
"Well smarty pants, last night Lew gave me nine climaxes—nine!"
I raised a single brow. "Hmm, nine climaxes. That was close to what I had."
Amber's expression turned incredulous. "You had more?"
"I told you, it's personal. Where were you and Lew, anyway?"
"At Lew's apartment. We'd never done it there so we thought we'd do it there one time before he moves in with us. Now, show me that ring."
I extended my hand for her to scrutinize the ring.
"Beautiful, just like mine. This is so exciting. Four months ago, I never thought I'd fall in love, let alone get married."
"Me either. Well since I came into the office three hours late, I'd better get to work."
Amber let go of my hand and took a seat in one of the chairs that fronted my desk. "Ginger sweetie, there is something else I need to tell you."
"What's that?"
"You know that woman from Boca Raton, that I made a four o'clock appointment for you with her?"
"Gale Becker? The one who called after reading the Fortune magazine article?"
"Ah-huh."
"What about her?"
Amber crossed her well turned legs. "She sprained her ankle and would like to send her limousine to pick you up to bring you to her?"
My eyes thinned. "Where's that?"
"She's fabulously wealthy so she keeps a suite in the one of the high rise buildings overlooking Central Park."
"Well, I'm certainly not going to meet a stranger by myself." I picked up the handset to my phone. "I'll see if Brad can go with me."
Amber leaned forward and stayed my hand with hers. "No. She only trusts women and won’t deal with men."
"That's strange."
"I know, the resource I consulted about her said she has a phobia about men. They called it 'androphobia'—fear of men."
I shrugged. "It happens. Probably was sexually abused as a child or brutally raped sometime in her life."
"I would guess. So will you be able to meet her? I need to let her know."
I considered it and shook my head. "I can't go to meet someone alone. Even if it is a woman."
Amber looked downcast. "Yeah, a woman should never meet a stranger alone." She perked up. "Would it help if I went with you?"
I thought about it. I did want to meet the filthy rich Gale Becker. What could she do, she's only a woman? "Yeah, we could meet with her then go to dinner at Duke's.
Amber grinned. "It's a date."
~ * * ~
As expected a white Limousine pulled up to the curb around ten minutes to four. The chauffeur a smallish man wearing sunglasses stepped out and opened the door for us and slid it closed after we stepped inside.
We weren't in the vehicle thirty seconds when I realized we'd made a terrible mistake. First the door locks engaged and when I tried to talk to the driver, the intercom was turned off.
Amber beat on the glass panel separating the driver from us. She also beat on the windows, waving and shouting to passing cars and pedestrians to no avail. No one could see us thr
ough the dark tinted windows.
I dug out my phone and called Brad. Thank God he answered on the first ring.
~ * * ~
"Hello?"
"Brad, I think I fucked up. Amber and I are trapped, locked in a white limo, driving south on Broadway."
"What?"
"This is no joke. We've been set up. I think we're being kidnapped. Call the police. Call Sergeant Smith. Oh shit."
"What?"
"There's a hissing sound. I smell something. I think…think…it's… nitrous…ox-i-i-d…"
"Baby, baby, are you there?" Shit, I think she passed out. What do I do? Should I call 911? She wanted me to call Willie Smith.
I dug the card out of my wallet, he'd given me and dialed. "Sergeant Smith."
"Willie, this is Brad Fairchild. I just got a call from Ginger. She and Amber are trapped in a white limo heading south on Broadway. Willie, this is no joke. She said they're being kidnapped."
"Is she still on the phone with you?"
"I don't know. She mentioned gas—nitrous oxide—and stopped talking. I think they passed out."
"Laughing Gas? Are your phones still connected?"
"I think so. I hear horns and stuff, just no one talking."
"Give me her number so we can track it."
"212 – 555 – 6862."
"Okay Brad. I have to do some things, but I'm on it. I got to go for now, but I'll stay in touch."
~ * * ~
I rushed over to Jimmy Evans desk.
"Hey Willie. What are you so bummed out about?"
"Grab your portable computer with GPS reader, and plug this number in. 212 – 555 – 6862."
"What's up?"
"We have a kidnapping in progress. Let's get a car. I'll drive while you track them."
"Cool."
"This isn't cool, Jimmy. A couple of really nice ladies are in danger. Let's go!"
We grabbed the first available unmarked car and headed out of the car pool.
We were on 6th Avenue heading south when Jimmy said, "Okay, I got a reading. They just turned onto 9th Avenue from Broadway, heading south."
They were approximately three miles away on the other side of Central Park. "Good work." I tried to pick up speed as best as I could in the heavy rush hour traffic.