CHAPTER X
I stayed in that farmhouse for the next three days, just in case any soldiers came back. I wanted to be there, so they would think that I wasn’t on the run. I wanted them to think that I was willing to participate, so that they wouldn’t think that I was a traitor. In reality, I just wanted nothing to do with the war. I was already partially responsible for starting it.
It was at the end of my fourth day at the farmhouse when there was a knock at the door. I was ready for it, even though I wasn’t expecting it. Every morning I showered and put on makeup, and I was always dressed up in pretty clothes—in case someone came to the door—and sometimes just because I liked the way the light, soft clothes felt on my skin. And I really liked the way heels felt on my feet. They forced my butt to perk out, making me look curvy and sexy, like a real woman. I was starting to think that I could be a model in my new life—or maybe an actress.
The same soldier was at the door. I assumed he was there for another sucking and fucking. I invited him in and started the kettle right away. “What brings you down here again?” I asked. “If you’re looking for Joe again—I really can’t help you. I don’t even have a phone, so I have no way of getting in touch with him.”
“I don’t care about Joe,” the soldier said as he dug into his pocket. I thought for a moment that he was about to pull out a gun. I was ready to dive away, and then I saw something very familiar: a recording device. He held it out. “I want to record that impression you did.”
I stared at the recorder. I hadn’t done a recorded impression since the impression that started all of this nonsense. My heart skipped a beat as I remembered that dark parking garage. “The impression?” I said.
“Of Hilary Jenkins. I don’t really have time to explain—but you would be doing me a huge favour. I just want you to say something like, ‘Fuck the military,’ or, ‘All of these Americans deserve to die,’ or just anything like that. Maybe give me a few options.” My heart sank deeper into my gut. I knew how powerful my impressions were, so I had to be careful. I thought about asking for money—people would pay me good money for a similar impression.
“What’s this for?” I asked.
“It would be too hard to explain right now. But it’s kind of urgent. Please.”
So I reached out and pressed record for him. Then, I started giving him options. “Fuck these stupid soldiers,” I said in Hilary’s voice. “God, they’re so useless. I almost wish they would all die over in China. How hard can it be to kill a bunch of gooks?” I watched as the soldier’s face lit up. He nodded his head slowly and made a big smile. “This is so perfect,” he said. “Just don’t tell anyone you did this.”
And then he was gone—just like that. He didn’t even stick around for a sucking or a fucking.
It was a week later when I started running out of food. I emptied out the pantry, and I ate my last can of beans for breakfast. So I packed a bag and started my long hike towards the nearest little town. There was one ten miles away. I took my time getting there. I was in no rush. It was a warm morning and I was enjoying the feeling of the gentle breeze riding up my exposed thighs. The town was cute, with lots of little shops and happy-looking people. Everyone waved and smiled at me as I made my way towards the little grocery store. I was starting to think that I could live in a small town like that. Maybe country living was the life for me.
I went into the store and started filling a basket with essentials. Two different employees politely asked if they could help me. And then I was checking out when I noticed the newspaper on display next to the cashier. “Jenkins to be impeached. End of war in sight!” was the main headline. I stared at it for a minute, thinking that I was possibly having a dream. Jenkins to be impeached? But why?
“Can’t expect to stick around for long after talking shit about our soldiers,” the cashier said casually. “I’m just surprised no one killed her.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“You didn’t hear the tape? Some general recorded her talking in a meeting—stuff about how much she hates our troops. Wish she was here now so I could spit on her face.” I grabbed the paper and flipped over to the article. And I could see my lines being quoted in bold font: “God, they’re so useless. I almost wish they would all die over in China.” My heart was pounding quickly. According to the article, she was expected to be impeached at any moment.
And that moment came quickly. Before I left that little town, I caught the news segment on the diner television at the edge of town. I could see the headline through the window. “Jenkins impeached!” it read. It was only a week later when they started bringing the troops back home.
It was my impression that started this whole mess, but it was also my impression that ended it. And no one had any idea.
It was announced on TV a few days later that draft dodgers wouldn’t be prosecuted. The military was dropping all charges—though I decided I would stay as Kristy for a little while longer, just in case they changed their minds—and because I didn’t feel like I was finished with my fun little female guise. I liked being Kristy. I liked wearing little dresses, and I liked the way people smiled at me in the streets.
I cleaned up the farmhouse and was just leaving when a car pulled into the driveway. I was frightened that it was the homeowner, about to catch me, and then I was relieved to see the familiar face of the soldier who recorded my Jenkins impression. He walked over to me with a big smile. “I owe you in a big way,” he said.
“Maybe I owe you,” I said.
And then he handed me a briefcase. “This is for you,” he said. “It’s half of what I got—just take it and don’t question it. I should be going.” Before he got back in his car, he planted a kiss on my forehead. Once he was halfway down the driveway, I looked in that briefcase. It was filled with stacks of money—more money than I’d ever seen in my life—more than enough money to start my life as a woman off on the right foot: my life as a free woman in a country that wasn’t at war with anyone.
THE END
TRAP THOT
George likes the status quo. He likes his routine and he likes things being predictable. So he isn’t terribly excited when his girlfriend, Angie, brings home a racy board game for the bedroom, which forces the couple to try new things. When the game starts to get spicy, George refuses to carry on. The next morning, Angie is gone, leaving only a note saying that she needs more adventure in her life and maybe George needs the same thing.
Determined to get Angie back, George decides he’s going to change himself for the better. He’s going to try out all of the things that have always made him feel uncomfortable. It’s a long list, but it isn’t long before George starts becoming addicted to facing his fears.
CHAPTER I
It was a late night in May when I thought I was almost positive that I was about to discover my girlfriend cheating on me with another man.
We’d been dating for almost four years, and each year was a little bit worse than the last. When we first started dating, we were having sex all of the time—as new couples do. But with each passing month, our weekly average seemed to drop slightly. It was Angie, my girlfriend, who pointed out one morning that we hadn’t fucked in nearly a month. I hadn’t noticed because I’d been so busy with work. But what was frustrating was that she looked at me as if it was my fault—as if I hadn’t proposed sex a number of times during that month. I had proposed sex a number of times, but she would always say the same thing: “I’m just not in the mood.”
That elusive mood was becoming harder for me to wrap my head around. It was a few months before our four-year anniversary that I began to suspect she was getting her loving elsewhere. So when I came home almost an hour early from my out-of-town business meeting and I saw that the only light on in the house was our bedroom light, I had a terrible feeling I knew exactly what I was about to see: my girlfriend getting ploughed by some taller, more muscular, and more handsome man.
I opened the front door slowly, trying not
to make a sound. If she was cheating, I didn’t want to give her a chance to cover up, and I didn’t want to give the guy a chance to get away. I put my suitcase down gently next to the door and then I started towards our upstairs bedroom, avoiding the stairs that I knew creaked. I was even careful not to breathe too loudly. I could see the glowing light underneath the bedroom door. There was a slight flickering to the light, as if candles were lit inside. Apparently she wasn’t just getting a quickie—she was getting some serious romance. I couldn’t remember the last time she lit a candle for me.
I stopped short of the door, with my hand on the handle. I took a deep breath and prepared myself for the worst. I was ready to stare the end of our relationship right in the face—at least I told myself that I was prepared. But in reality, I knew that I would probably end up on the floor, bawling my eyes out, remembering all of the fun times we had together. It had been a while since we’d had any fun times, but there still had been fun times, and they wouldn’t be easy to let go of.
I took one last deep breath and then I threw the door open. I wanted to leap into the room, but I froze as soon as I saw Angie clad in tight black lingerie. My lips parted as if I had something to say, but no words came out. My joints were frozen. A trembling started to overwhelm my knees. But there was no man in sight—just Angie, lying on the bed, looking right at me with a sly smile. I’d never seen the black lingerie before. I didn’t even know that she owned lingerie. I never bought it for her, and I was always telling her ‘no’ when she asked if she could buy it for herself. We lived in a nosy neighbourhood—and lingerie is so expensive, considering it’s only worn for five minutes every month at most.
“W—What are you doing?” I managed to ask through my paralysis. I looked around the room quickly. I even threw the closet door open to check for hiding men. Maybe they heard me coming. Maybe they heard my car tires on the driveway gravel.
“Looking for something?” Angie asked with a sexy voice.
I swung my gaze towards her and looked into her eyes. I didn’t accuse her with my words—but that gaze certainly made my point. “What—you think I’m cheating on you?” she said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t actually think that I would cheat on you, do you?”
“Well why are you all dressed up? And what’s with the candles? I wasn’t supposed to be home for an hour. The flight was early and traffic was totally clear. I hit every green light. How could you know that was going to happen?” I kept my distance, still worried there was a guy hiding somewhere in that room. I didn’t want to let my guard down, giving him a chance to slip away.
“We have Find my Friends on our phones, you idiot,” she said. “And I was tracking your flight. I got the notification to my phone, telling me you were early.” She picked her phone up off of the nightstand and turned it towards me. Sure enough, Find my Friends was open, showing my dot right over top of hers.
“Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling stupid, but still reserved. The scene still seemed awfully suspicious, though I no longer knew why. I looked around again, just in case I’d missed something.
“Are you going to fuck me or what?” she asked.
So I took a breath and then slipped out from my suit jacket. I began unbuttoning my dress shirt while she watched. Her lingerie was slightly see-thru; I could see her nipples and even her pussy, which she’d recently shaved. She had her makeup done up nicely, with lots of dark eyeliner around her eyes. She looked good, but it seemed like a waste—especially if I was going to be the only one to see it. “Did you go out today?” I asked.
“No,” she said.
So the makeup really was just for me. I forced a smile, even though I was a bit frustrated. I was always buying makeup for her, and it was terribly expensive—such a waste. She was fine without makeup, and that lingerie would just be coming off, so she was better without that as well. And even the scented candles—those weren’t cheap. I looked over and saw that she was using the ones she bought at Chapters; they were twenty-five bucks each, and burning away quickly. I blew out the one closest to me, which smelled like fresh pine. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“We shouldn’t waste these. They’re supposed to be for when we have guests.”
She rolled her eyes again, with a slight sigh, as if she wanted me to know that she was over me.
“What?” I said.
“Nothing. Let’s just have some fun.”
I dropped my pants along with my boxers, and then I climbed up onto the bed. I was about to roll her onto her back when she suddenly hopped away from me. She reached underneath the pile of decorative pillows and pulled out a board game. “Look what I got,” she said with beaming excitement. The board game had three large red exes on it, and a picture of a woman in a similar piece of black lingerie to what Angie was wearing now. As I stared at the box, I noticed a perfume that I didn’t recognize.
“Did you buy a new perfume?”
“Yeah. Do you like it?”
“How much was it? I just bought you that other one for your birthday.”
“My birthday was eight months ago,” she said, rolling her eyes again. She took a deep breath and then opened up the box. “You get to be the cock,” she said, pulling out a little board game piece shaped like an erect dick. I thought it was rather vulgar. For her own piece, she got to be a tiny tube of lipstick. “So I think it’s pretty simple. We take turns rolling the dice. If we land on a blue space, you pick up a blue card and you have to do what it says. If you land on a red space, you pick up a red card and have to do what it says. Easy, right?” She was looking into my eyes with a smile. The board had lots of blue spaces near the start, and lots of red spaces near the end—but there were plenty of both spattered throughout.
“How much did this cost?” I asked, picking up the box and inspecting it for a price tag.
“George—c’mon. Live a little. It’s just a cheap board game. It’s supposed to be fun.”
I sighed. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s play. Who goes first?”
“You go first,” she said. So I picked up the die and I rolled. I rolled a four, so I moved my cock up four spaces, landing on a blue card. I picked up my blue card and saw a drawing of a couple kissing.
“French kiss for fifteen seconds,” I said. Angie hopped towards me and leaned her head in, ready for her kiss. “This seems silly. Do we have to do this?”
“Just kiss me,” she said. So I pressed my lips against hers, and she quickly penetrated my lips with her tongue. I pulled my head back quickly. I’d never been a fan of French kissing. It always seemed so dirty. Kissing is fine—why do people need to swap saliva? “George—please just play the game,” she said.
“It’s just weird. You know I don’t like tongues touching. It’s just weird for me.”
“Well maybe if you try it you’ll realize you like it. Just do it for me.”
I took a deep breath and kissed her again. I wanted to flinch back when her tongue entered my mouth, but I managed to hold myself together. I counted down the seconds in my head as her tongue squirmed around in my mouth. It almost seemed like she was trying her best to make me feel uncomfortable. “Okay—that’s fifteen seconds. It’s your turn.”
I noticed her slight eye roll before she picked up the die. She rolled a four as well, landing her on the same blue space. She picked up a card, holding it close to her face so that I couldn’t see it. She grinned. “What is it?” I asked.
“Lay down,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because that’s what the card says.”
“It says for me to lay down?”
“It says other stuff too. Just lay down.”
I followed the command. Then, she reached into the box and pulled out a blindfold. She put it over my eyes. I did my best not to protest, even though I hated being blindfolded. Then I waited. There was a cool draft in the room. It seemed like she was purposely taking her time, trying to make me frustrated. “Any day now,” I said.
And then I felt her lips press
against my nipple. I jumped slightly, and then I nearly leapt up when I felt the coldness against my nipple. “What the hell is that?” I asked, pulling off my blindfold.
“You aren’t supposed to look,” she said, with an ice cube held between her teeth. “Put that back on.”
I bit down on my tongue and put the blindfold back on. She continued to rub it against my nipple with her mouth. It felt weird and uncomfortable. I didn’t get it at all, but I tried my best to play along. “Is it my turn yet?” I asked.
“Fine. Go,” she said, sitting back up. I had to use a pillowcase to wipe the cold liquid off of my chest. Now this game was starting to get messy as well as frustrating.
I rolled, and then I landed on a red space. I picked up a card. The game suddenly went from zero to sixty. I was looking at a picture of a woman sitting on a man’s face. “Can I pick up another card?” I asked.
“No. You have to do what the card says.”
“But I get claustrophobic. Just let me pick up another card.”
“What—does it say to lock yourself in the closet or something?”
I showed her the card, and then she laughed. I didn’t mind eating her out—in fact I usually ate her out before we had sex. But she was always on her back, and I always had the option to pull away if I needed air, or if she started to squirt (which she did often).
“C’mon. Just get on your back,” she said.
I flipped myself over reluctantly. I wanted this game to be over with already. I liked the missionary sex we normally had. I liked our little routine, which didn’t involve any ice or face sitting or blindfolds. Why did we need all of these gimmicks? Why did we need expensive lingerie and makeup and a silly board game?
She straddled my face, pulling aside her sheer lingerie to expose her pussy. “Ready?” she asked. I wasn’t, but I nodded my head anyway. She lowered herself down, pressing those lips against my face. She let the weight of her body rest on my face, with her butt cheeks pressed against my chin. I stuck out my tongue, and then she immediately began to grind herself. The claustrophobia quickly began to set in, but I managed to hold myself together. I closed my eyes and counted down the seconds, while squirming my tongue upwards into her pussy.
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