Mr. Wallace and Me Pt. 11-12

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I have some feminine things to do before moving.
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Part 5 of the 6 part series

Updated 06/09/2023
Created 04/05/2013
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oberon_52
oberon_52
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By Robin O.

Mr. Wallace and Me

Part 11:

Dad couldn't get off from work on Friday, but Mom and I went to Mr. Drummond's office in the morning. Mom wore a purple sleeveless, pleated, A-line polyester dress with a very modest scoop neck under her overcoat. I couldn't help but imagine what the dress would look like on me, but I was back wearing my blue men's suit. Mom doesn't get out very much, which in a way is a shame, because when she dresses up, she's still slim and very pretty. She was only 20 when she had me, and she's the reason my hair is blonde, because Dad's hair -- what's left of it -- is dark brown..

Mr. Drummond couldn't have been nicer. He gave Mom a tour of the office suite and told her how fond Mr. Wallace had been of me, and how much their time in Vietnam had meant to him. He described the law firm's internship program (that he had apparently made up for this occasion), told her about the scholarship money, and said the firm would not accept me without my parents' permission. When he described an all-expense-paid trip to Chicago for Mom, Dad and me beginning Wednesday, Mom was extremely impressed.

When we got up to leave, I thought I noticed Mom trembling just a bit when Mr. Drummond helped her into her coat from behind and told her he hoped things could work out for me, that I seemed to be a fine young man. When we got back into the car, Mom settled into the passenger seat and sighed.

"Mr. Drummond is quite attractive, isn't he?" Mom said, before hurriedly adding: "I mean ... for an older man, that is."

"Oh?" I replied, "I hadn't noticed."

It may have been the biggest lie I've ever told in my life.

Mom said she was pretty sure she and Dad could take a couple of days off for the trip if spending a year in Chicago was what I wanted. I told her that it sounded exciting to me, and that the scholarship money would keep us from having to take out a loan for college. I didn't tell her about Mr. Drummond's promise to give me the $75,000 from Mr. Wallace's insurance if I lasted out the year.

Mom said she needed some clothes for her trip and asked if I wouldn't mind stopping at the nearby mall on the way back.

"I know how much you hate shopping," she said with a mother's smile. "But would you mind ... for me?"

"Sure, Mom," I said, knowing I would be having a wonderful time checking out dresses, tops and skirts that I could come back and buy some other time. " I'll do it ... for you."

Mom spent hours going through six different stores, but in the end wound up with two blouses, three skirts, stockings and some of her favorite Chantelle panties. I made mental notes about coming back for maybe 80 things that I couldn't possibly afford. I had spent almost all of the money that Mr. Drummond had given me on my own shopping spree a few days earlier, but I smiled to myself, thinking I had spent wisely.

The next morning was Saturday, but Dad went in to his office so he could get work done that he would have been doing later in the week, clearing the way for our trip. Mom and her sewing group volunteered once a month at a food bank, and she got a ride there from one of the other members. That meant her car was available to me.

"You won't mind terribly much spending the day by yourself, will you, Billy?" Mom asked. She really is sweet.

"No," I said. "I'm fine, Mom. I'll think of something to do. I'll probably be going out with my friends before you get back. Don't worry if I'm home late."

As it turns out, I knew precisely what I was going to do. Well, maybe not precisely, but I had a pretty good idea. Before I would leave for Chicago, I had some things to do.

It was about an hour and a half later when I drove my Mom's car slowly past Mr. Wallace's trailer. I looked at it wistfully. It contained so many memories, most of them awful. It had been the place where I had lost my virginity ...and my masculinity. But it was also the place where I had discovered my femininity ... and I was feeling empowered in a way I had never known before. It wasn't just kicking Father Kincaid in the balls -- although that was incredibly empowering -- it was the effect I had on grown men ... older, mature men who wanted to touch me, to kiss me, to have sex with me. And now this 18-year-old had some things she -- yes, she -- wanted to do.

I continued slowly down the road, stopping in front of a small stucco house with "15" on the mailbox. Two cars were in the driveway. I checked my makeup in the rearview mirror, opened my car door and slid both my legs out at the same time. I stood up and wriggled, adjusting the puffy-sleeved blue house dress that Mr. Wallace had made me wear those first two Saturdays. It was actually just a little loose on me. I had lost almost 10 pounds.

I guess he heard my car door shut, because Stan, the man who had attacked me and humiliated me in the pitch-black night a week ago, who had told me I should come back today to clean his house and be taken by him again, hurried out of the front door and across the street, a concerned look on his face. I smiled and shook my head, my ponytail bouncing on my exposed upper back and neck.

"I wasn't sure you were going to show up," he said, keeping his voice low. "I guess you liked what I gave you last week, didn't you, you little whore?"

I hated his arrogant smile and attitude. But I smiled shyly at him and adjusted the sleeves off my shoulders, baring them and more of my chest.

"I just couldn't stay away," I said as I looked up at him adoringly.

Stan looked furtively back into his house, and apparently not seeing his wife, grabbed my soft, bare shoulders and kissed me roughly. As my body and lips submitted to him, I felt a familiar chill of desire.

"We'll see if you're as good a lay with your cunt as with your ass," he said, kissing me again before letting me go and looking back again at his house. "But you're early. My wife hasn't left for her mother's place yet. Come back in about two hours."

I put my right hand on his left shoulder and teasingly breathed into his right ear before whispering:

"I don't think so, Stan," I said. "With Mr. Wallace gone, I'll need the money from cleaning your house. I should talk about that with your wife."

I began walking toward his house, smiling back at him over my bare shoulder.

"Wait!" he said urgently, catching up to me and clumsily moving my sleeves back over my shoulders. "Just tell her you'll work cheap, and I'll make sure you get paid extra ... OK?"

"Mmmmmm," I said seductively, making a little kissing motion with my lips, "I think I'm going to like working here."

We walked into his home, and I was met by Stan's wife, Valerie, whom I had met briefly a week ago outside Mr. Wallace's trailer. She said hello after having just gotten through changing their baby's diaper. We sat down in their living room, with the baby on her lap on the couch next to Stan. I sat on an easy chair opposite them with my legs crossed, baring a little of my thighs as I fluffed out my puffy sleeves briefly with both my hands.

"You're a very pretty girl," she said, making it seem as if it were more of a criticism than a compliment.

"Thank you, ma'am," I said innocently.

"It was a shame about Mr. Wallace," Valerie said without sounding terribly sympathetic. "I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but Stan and I went to his house about a year ago trying to raise money for the United Way, and the place was a complete pig sty. How could you work for someone like that?"

"Oh," I said, "it wasn't that bad. But yes, Mr. Wallace could get pretty sloppy."

"How long did you work for Mr. Wallace?" she asked.

I told her that it was only for about two months.

Valerie didn't seem convinced that I had enough experience. Her voice got demanding as she talked down to me.

"Well then, do you have any other references?"

"References?" I said brightly. "Well, yes. I have another reference. Your husband, Stan."

Valerie looked surprised. Stan looked confused.

"Stan?" she said. "What do you mean?"

"Stan raped me last Saturday night," I said sweetly. "Does that count as a reference?"

Stan's face turned white. Valerie almost dropped the baby.

"What??!!!" Valerie blurted in a high-pitched voice.

"Last Saturday night," I said matter-of-factly, "do you remember Stan going out around midnight for a smoke?"

Valerie's mouth dropped open. I continued:

"Well, that's when he saw me leaving Mr. Wallace's house ... and he attacked me. Do you want the full description with the kissing and thrusting and everything?"

Stan started to shout and order me out of the house, but I just sat there calmly, my legs crossed. I took my right puffy sleeve off my shoulder and moved it forward toward Valerie.

"There was a bite mark on my shoulder from just before he orgasmed, but maybe it's faded by now," I said, moving my left sleeve off that shoulder, too, just for fun. "He was very rough. I told him it was my period, but he took me ... you know ... anally."

Valerie looked like she was about to cry. She looked suspiciously at her husband, who stammered that he didn't know what I was talking about. Then she turned to me.

"Why should I believe you?" she said, her voice cracking.

"Well, let's see," I said, the fingertips of my right hand femininely grazing my bare right shoulder. "Before raping me, Stan said you hadn't had sex since the third month of your pregnancy."

Valerie looked horrified at her husband, who was shaking his head "no" vigorously.

"Oh," I said, "and he also said you wouldn't let him have anal sex with you."

Valerie's eyes got very big as I continued.

"And he said you used to like that before you got pregnant."

Valerie's face got very red, and she started shrieking at Stan. She was holding the baby with one hand and hitting her husband with the other. She was screaming about wanting a divorce, he was covering up and yelling, and the baby started crying. I smiled, got up daintily, walked to the door and glanced back over my bare shoulder at the frenzied scene, then walked across the street to the car and drove off.

"One down," I said to myself, smiling, "two to go."

End of Part 11. (To be continued.)

Part 12:

It was hours later, and I was home from the beauty parlor where my makeup was done and my long, blonde hair was styled regally above my head with a sexy swirl over my forehead. If the women doing my hair and makeup knew I was a boy, they didn't say anything. They mostly just gossiped with each other. At home, as I stood in front of the full-length mirror, my light makeup, eyeliner, eye shadow and lipstick were impeccable. Long, jingly, silver clip-on earrings dangled from my lobes halfway to my collar bone, and my mom's subtle Yves Saint Laurent "Cinema" perfume I had dabbed onto my neck and breast added to my femininity.

My ankle-length, slinky, chiffon halter gown revealed most of my upper chest, as well as my shoulders, neck and my entire slender back down almost to my tight, little backside clad in one of my mother's Chantelle frilly panties. The skirt was slit from just above my bare right knee. The slender halter chiffon material was firm on both sides of my collarbone leading down to the scantest hint of my small cleavage. The tight dress gave my braless breasts a nice, little lift. White elbow-length gloves contributed to my classy elegance, and an inch-wide, silver-colored cloth choker that matched my earrings covered what there was of my adam's apple. On my small feet were the same black high heels I had worn to Mr. Wallace's funeral, but dressed as I was, I didn't think anyone would be paying a lot of attention to my shoes.

Looking in the mirror, my shoulders back, my posture perfect, swaying gently to reveal my bare back, I was getting aroused. I wanted to be especially sensual tonight. I looked older than my 18 years, maybe 22 or 23, and I knew I was beautiful. I have come such a long way from when Mr. Wallace made me put on that blue dress for the first time. I wished Mr. Drummond could see me in this classy, sexy dress. But it was going to have to be enough, first to show myself to horny, hypocritical Father Kincaid where he couldn't get at me with all those people in the church for the wedding, then to see about what I could do to postpone Dr. Phillips' search for me without having to have sex with him.

Over my slender, bare shoulders I wrapped a nearly transparent white lace shawl that would provide me just a little modesty in the church if not a lot of warmth when I was outside. I picked up my small, metallic-silver purse, then walked outside to the cold November dusk and my mom's car. My boy clothes were in a gym bag in the trunk. I tingled as I wondered what might transpire before I would put them on to come home

So much was going through my mind as I drove to St. Mary's. I had to concentrate on my driving because of my long gloves and those high heels, but I couldn't help but wonder if I wasn't tempting fate tonight instead of staying home and hoping Dr. Phillips couldn't track me down before I moved out of town. My mind wandered to what my life would be like in Chicago, how much of Mr. Drummond I might be seeing, what changes hormones would make to my body, and who was this mysterious client of Mr. Drummond's that he wanted me to meet.

I was stopped at a traffic light a half block away from St. Mary's when I saw Dr. Phillips in front of the church in a tuxedo. He was ignoring the cold temperature, pacing up and down, every few seconds looking at his watch. I smiled to myself, really tempted to just drive off and let my blackmailer suffer and wait for someone who would never show up, but instead I drove past him and into the church parking lot without him seeing me. After checking my lipstick and hair in the rearview mirror, I picked up my purse, slid my legs out of the car and clutching my transparent shawl to me, walked to the front of the church.

Dr. Phillips' back was to me as I took small, feminine steps toward him. I tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hi Leo," I said softly. "Waiting for someone?"

Dr. Phillips turned sharply, his eyes bulging as he stared at me. He swallowed hard.

"B-Billie," he said. "I didn't ... I mean ... You're here ... Oh my word ... You look amazing."

I thanked him and even though he still appeared loathsome with his few remaining strands of hair combed over his bald head, I told him how handsome he looked in his tuxedo. Then he clumsily leaned forward to kiss my cheek, causing my right earring to tinkle. He babbled on some more about how beautiful I was, how much I was going to enjoy the wedding, and how we don't have to spend a lot of time at the reception because he didn't think he could wait to get me alone.

I sensually rubbed one of my gloved hands over his forearm and suggested that we should get into the church because it was cold and we didn't want to miss the wedding.

"Of course," he said. "I'm sorry. Yes, let's go in. By all means, yes."

I shuddered as I felt his right hand on my back over my shawl as he guided me into the church. It was the same hand that dealt with so many corpses in his job as medical examiner. We sat fairly close to the front, where I could be confident that Father Kincaid would see me. Dr. Phillips took my left hand tightly in his right one. Remembering how slimy his hands were, I was grateful that I had chosen to wear those elegant elbow-length white gloves. As we waited for the ceremony to begin, Dr. Phillips sat there staring at me, going over every feature like the medical examiner he is, making me feel more than a little self-conscious with so much bare skin showing.

"Is something wrong, Leo?" I whispered, breathing into his ear. "Do I look all right? I so want you to be proud to have me as your girl."

"All right?" he marveled. "You're so .. you're the most ... you're stunning."

I smiled, and just then, Father Kincaid took the pulpit in his imposing black cassock and reverse priest's collar. Around his neck was a prominent gold cross he liked to show off because his former classmate, the archbishop, had given it to him years ago. As the murmurings in the church ceased, he theatrically surveyed the pews like a king peering down at his subjects ... until his eyes met mine and his face fell. I smiled and winked at him and then pursed my lips in a naughty kissing motion while almost imperceptively shimmying my shoulders. The huge old man's eyes widened momentarily, then he quickly turned his gaze away from me, and the wedding procession began.

The bride was very sweet-looking and pretty in her white, strapless wedding dress. I wondered how long it might be before those hormones I will be taking might make my breasts big enough to allow me to wear something strapless. I had already determined that I don't ever want massive breasts, just rather small, firm ones proportionate to my slender figure.

After the ceremony, Father Kincaid looked over at me while going down the aisle to have his picture taken with the bride and groom in another room. He seemed angry, as usual. I was hoping he was still sore where I had kicked him.

Before we left for the reception, Dr. Phillips insisted on introducing me as his girlfriend to his co-workers, possessively putting his hand around my tiny bare-in-the-back waist like an immature teenager. I got some strange looks from his colleagues. They were trying to be nice but were surely wondering why a young, beautiful girl was with this homely older man they obviously didn't care for very much. I smiled politely, melded my supple body against Dr. Phillips, whose arm never left my waist,.and I told everyone how wonderful he is.

I shuddered as Dr. Phillips pulled me to him for a little kiss in front of his co-workers before telling me we should be getting on to the reception. I almost panicked. It was the first time I had ever been kissed by a man in public.Those watching saw an older man and a pretty girl exchange a kiss, but within me was an 18-year-old boy being kissed by a man in front of other people.

I smiled nervously. It was ghastly to be kissed by this repulsive man. I wondered what I had been thinking a week ago when we had made such passionate love after he chloroformed me. Had I been so worn down by all the previous events of that day that I couldn't think straight? Was I so threatened by what he said he would do to Mr. Drummond ... and me? Or had I just needed to cum so much that I fooled myself into thinking that being this horrible older man's girlfriend was what I desired?

When we got into his car, Dr. Phillips pulled me to him and kissed me again, this time longer, with his snaky tongue sliding into my mouth. I moaned needingly and gently stroked his face with my gloved left hand.as our lips parted. He had no idea how disgusted and repulsed I really was. I moved away alluringly, telling him that another kiss like that and we'll never make it to the reception. I put on my seat belt and let my gloved left hand rest femininely on his right thigh as he started up the car. I didn't touch it, but it was obvious that under his pants his small penis was erect. Thankfully, the ride to the hotel where the reception was taking place was short. Dr. Phillips pulled the car into the valet parking area, and one of the young attendants opened the door for me, his eyes all over me as I smiled shyly and thanked him. I saw another attendant give Dr. Phillips the parking slip, which he put into his pants pocket.

Soon, Dr. Phillips' arm was possessively around my back, his face beaming as we made our way past the concierge desk and into the reception ballroom. Trying to make conversation, I mentioned what a lovely hotel it was. He responded by pulling me closer and whispering that he had reserved a room in the hotel for the night. I told him that I was lucky to be the girlfriend of such a good planner.

oberon_52
oberon_52
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