Return to the House of Fabulous

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"When do we make our move?"

Raptor glanced around the room. The mousy young man with the pony tail was studying the arts and entertainment section while he sipped his latte. Raptor lowered his voice, and his answer was obscured by the clatter of cutlery. The two men talked for a few more minutes, then got up and left. The young man waited until they were out of sight before he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a number.

It was five o'clock in the morning in San Francisco, and the strap of Doyle Rogers' nightgown slipped off his shoulder as he fumbled in the dark for the phone. "Hello?"

"Sorry to wake you, Doyle, but I just struck pay dirt."

"Terrence! What's going on?" Rogers was suddenly wide awake.

"Everything you suspected is true. DeVour, Raptor and Bigelow are all in it together, and between them they have enough shares to blow the company out of the water. They're going to tear it apart limb from limb and move the corpse to New Jersey."

"How much time do we have?"

"Don't know. My guess is, not much."

"Then it's time for phase two. Do you have everything you need?"

"Oh yes. Thanks to the advance you gave me, I'm a very popular girl at Bloomie's and Sax."

"I hate you!"

"Meow," Terrence purred. He was flushed with excitement as he switched off his cell phone and headed back towards his suite at the Peninsula Hotel.

* * *

When Terrence returned to the House of Fabulous during his stopover in San Francisco one month earlier, he was greeted with hugs and kisses by Madam Fabulous the Mistress of Style. The Mistresses of Fashion and Deportment had resumed their careers at Finnochio's, and their replacements seemed a bit awestruck as they were introduced to their legendary customer. "Look at you!" Madam Fabulous gushed as they stared at the stunning blonde androgyne with the golden tan. In his Birkenstocks, baggy chinos and cotton sweater, with his hair pulled into a pony tail, Terrence's true gender was impossible to discern.

The Mistress of Style took him by the hand and sat him down in one of the reclining salon chairs. "I can't stand it!" she said. With a flourish, she applied a swipe of lipstick to his open mouth. "Presto! You're a girl. Can I take the rest of the day off?"

"This must be how a sculptor looks at a perfect piece of marble," the Mistress of Fashion marveled. Tall and statuesque, she felt like a troll next to Terry. "What can we do for you?"

"Doyle told me you need to be able to get in and out of character quickly," Madam Fabulous interjected.

"That's right. And I need a new look. Something in between Lawyer Terry and Bimbo Terry."

"What are you going to be doing exactly?" Madam Fabulous asked.

"I'm really not sure. All I know is, I'll be in New York swimming with the sharks."

"Sounds like a job for Cosmo Terry," the Mistress of Style said. "Short skirts, high heels, sharp nails...." The Mistresses practically tore off his clothes as they set about preparing his transformation.

"You're so tan!" sighed the Mistress of Deportment, a bouncy brunette with a tad too many muscles. "I love those bikini lines!"

"She won't need stockings, that's for sure," the Mistress of Fashion observed.

"Then our first priority is a pedicure," the Mistress of Style proclaimed.

Madam Fabulous was smiling to herself as she left Terry alone with her Mistresses. "Let me know when you're finished, girls. I want to have lunch with Cosmo Terry."

* * *

Terry thought back to that afternoon with Madam Fabulous as he luxuriated in a bubble bath in his opulent tub. Over a delightful al fresco lunch at a stylish bistro in North Beach, they had spent hours discussing the latest fashions, and one of Cosmo Terry's new outfits was laid out on the king size bed in his suite: a black lace tube top, matching silk pencil skirt and chic ruched front jacket from Bloomingdale's. Black lingerie and sheer nylons, a rather large black purse and 3" black heels completed Terry's ensemble. As he shaved his tanned legs, he had to agree with the Mistress of Fashion that the nylons weren't really necessary, but he never got to wear them in Maui and they felt so sexy to put on! The very thought of wearing his new wardrobe excited him, and after he finished shaving his legs, he closed his eyes and stroked himself under the bubbles, feeling more like a woman when the wonderful release washed over him. As he patted his pampered body with a plush Peninsula towel, he wondered if Gail would be jealous of his alter ego? Or would she want her more than Terrence?

Such thoughts were pushed to the back of Terry's mind as he got down to business. After slipping on his lingerie and stockings, he sat down at the vanity and dried his long blonde hair before pinning it up into an elaborate French braid. Then he returned to the bedroom and took his time dressing himself in his new outfit, reveling in the sensation as the lining of his skirt brushed against his sheer nylons. Rather than step into his new heels, he stuffed them into his purse before he returned to the bathroom and scooped his makeup into it also. Then he sat back down at the vanity and went to work on his other disguise.

* * *

Charles Bigelow was a few minutes early for his one o'clock appointment at the Peninsula Hotel. He had been mildly intrigued when the personal secretary for a Saudi prince had called earlier that morning to inquire as to whether he might have time to meet with a representative of the Saudi royal family. Bigelow was becoming bored sitting around his hotel waiting for DeVour and Raptor to launch their takeover, and no American executive could pass up a chance to talk business with the fabulously wealthy House of Saud.

He was shown into the Saudi's palatial suite by the concierge floor butler, a well-traveled Englishman with a baleful countenance. Bigelow was admiring the priceless oriental vases scattered throughout the parlor when the diminutive Prince al-Teri swept into the room. The prince's robes and sashes were impressive, and Bigelow found himself bowing slightly as he took his highnesses' offered hand. Although his eyes were inscrutable behind smoke-tinted aviator glasses, al-Teri's mustache and goatee parted in a munificent smile as he attempted to put Bigelow at ease. "Please be seated," the prince said as he sat down on a plush brocaded chair. "Have you been offered any refreshments?"

"No, your excellency," said Bigelow as he sat down awkwardly in an equally plump chair. "It was an honor to receive your invitation."

"Not at all." The Prince instructed the butler to bring them coffee and mineral water. After the butler left, he said, "I appreciate your coming on such short notice. I have asked you here to discuss an investment which has caused much displeasure in my country."

"Oh?"

"I refer to our considerable holdings in Tyrex Industries. It has come to our attention that since you left them as chief executive, the company as strayed into some very troubling areas."

Bigelow couldn't believe his ears. His own enmity towards Tyrex was fierce, but to hear the new management being slammed like this by the House of Saud...where was this going? He tried not to overplay his hand. "Well, we certainly ran a tighter ship in my day," Bigelow said.

"Indeed. However, I am not referring to management style. Did you know that your old company has formed a joint venture with a woman named Madam Fabulous to produce a scandalous cabaret in San Francisco?"

"I am well aware of that outrage."

"There are those in my country who point to this as yet another indication of the sad decline of your civilization. However, I am inclined to regard this as a business problem, and to solve it using traditional American methods. Mr. Bigelow, I am prepared to recommend that the House of Saud acquire 100% of the outstanding stock of Tyrex Industries. To accomplish this, we will require a firm hand at the top. You, therefore, are our preferred candidate to become Managing Director of a privately held company which will acquire the core businesses of Tyrex Industries."

Bigelow was speechless. The butler returned with their coffees and water, and the prince waited until they were alone before continuing. "Before you say no, Mr. Bigelow, let me assure you that you will be given a free hand in the management of your old company, so long as you adhere to what I like to refer to as traditional American values. And you will be highly compensated. Here is our proposal." The Prince slid a single sheet of paper across the table separating their chairs, and Bigelow's eyes bulged when he looked at the figures. Compared to this, DeVour and Raptor were offering him peanuts. "And of course, we are prepared to enhance this proposal with a very generous severance package in order to entice you out of your well-deserved retirement." That clinched it. Bigelow wouldn't trust DeVour and Raptor as far as he could throw them, and now he had no reason to.

Still, Bigelow knew he had to negotiate. "I have to think about it."

"Is there something more in keeping with your expectations?" Bigelow threw out an obscene figure, which Prince al-Teri accepted on the spot. "If you will just wait for a few minutes, I will have my personal secretary draw up a letter of understanding."

Bigelow was still dazed when the butler arrived to escort him to an adjoining library. As soon as Bigelow was out the door, Terry pulled the elaborate robes over his head, being careful not to muss his French braid. Only ten minutes to spare! He ran into one of the bedrooms, fished his heels out of his purse and was stepping into them as he dumped his makeup out onto the bed. A fast dash to the bathroom and it was off with the mustache and goatee. A little lipstick and blush, a spritz of cologne, some clip on earrings...the prince's glasses had concealed his eye makeup, and the coat of clear polish on his manicured fingers could pass for woman's. Terry was putting on a pair of tortoise shell glasses when he heard a knock on the bedroom door. "Your other guest has arrived," the butler announced.

"Show him in," a girl's voice answered. Terry waited for the butler to retreat before opening the door. He had to remind himself to walk like a lady as he crossed the foyer and entered the parlor to greet Darwin DeVour.

"Thank you for coming," he said, offering DeVour a limp hand and escorting him to the chair recently vacated by Charles Bigelow. He tugged his skirt down towards his knees after sitting down primly on the same chair he'd occupied as Prince al-Teri.

"It's always a pleasure to meet with the media," DeVour replied as he ogled Terry's legs. "I understand you have a few questions for me."

"That's correct. Vanity Fair is running a feature about the ten most fascinating men in American business, and of course you're on our list. As part of my research for the story, I came across an unusual angle that I thought I should discuss with you before we go to print."

"Unusual?"

"Very." Terry reached into his purse and produced a large manila envelope. He leaned over to DeVour and handed it to him. "Can you give me a little background on these pictures?"

DeVour opened the envelope and gasped as he stared at two 8x10 glossy color photographs. The first was a picture of himself and an attractive blonde. He appeared to be lifting the hem of her short dress while she sat next to him on a sofa. In the second picture, the girl who had just been seen embracing him stood with her dress and panties pulled away to reveal a well-hung penis and balls. "Where did you get these?" DeVour asked, shaking with rage.

"I'm afraid our sources are confidential."

DeVour had always suspected that somebody at Tyrex had taken these photographs to ruin him, and he was determined to find out who. "I demand to know where you got these pictures!"

"Very well. If you will excuse me for a moment, I'll speak to the man who gave them to me."

"I want to speak to him myself!"

"I don't know...please wait here while I ask him." Terry left his purse on the chair as he got up and spun on his heel towards the room where Bigelow was waiting.

The butler intercepted him in the foyer. "A gentleman just called from the lobby."

"Perfect," Terry said. "Send him up."

"He's already on his way. Are we going to be changing into another costume?"

"Just make sure Larry sees Curly before Moe gets here," Terry said. When the butler gave him a quizzical look, he said, "Never mind. Please show Mr. Bigelow into the parlor."

"Very good, ma'am. Will there be anything else?"

"I'd hide the Ming vases if I were you."

* * *

A few minutes later, Lance Raptor rang the doorbell of the Peninsula suite for his appointment with a potential new investor. An attractive young woman opened the door in a panic. She looked vaguely familiar, but before Raptor could place her she cried, "Call the police! They're going to kill each other!"

Raptor entered the parlor to find Darwin DeVour pummeling Charles Bigelow with his ivory walking stick. Bigelow was down on one knee and bleeding from the head. "What the hell's going on?" Raptor shouted.

"The son of a bitch double-crossed us!" DeVour snarled.

"I just want out of our deal," Bigelow groaned.

"Bullshit! You can't screw with us!"

"We can't let him out now," Raptor said as he tried to pull DeVour away from Bigelow. "Not with millions of our dollars used to buy stock in his name." The tape recorder in Terry's purse rolled on as the three men continued to incriminate themselves.

* * *

"A thousand dollar tip for the butler at the Peninsula? Don't you think that's a bit much?" Doyle asked as he perused Terrence's expense report.

"Not considering what he had to put up with." Terrence was once again his androgynous self, to the dismay of Madam Fabulous, who was sitting with them in the corner of Doyle's office overlooking San Francisco Bay.

"What are your plans now," she asked him.

"Being Cosmo Terry was exciting, but I've got a real girl waiting for Tropo Terry in paradise. How about you, Doyle? Are we ever going to see Ginger again?"

Madam Fabulous smiled. "Go ahead and tell him."

"When things looked bleak," Doyle said, "I initiated some counter-measures with the board's approval. Not that we ever doubted Cosmo Terry, but it was prudent to consider selling off some assets as a pre-emptive move. Want to get in on the ground floor of an IPO?"

"That depends on what you're selling and who's running it."

"Haven't you seen the paper?" Rogers handed him the business section of the Chronicle. Right under the headline story about the indictment of Darwin DeVour, Lance Raptor and Charles Bigelow on charges of securities fraud was a smaller article below the fold:

TYREX TO SPIN OFF FINNOCHIO'S

San Francisco – Tyrex Industries announced that CEO Doyle Rogers is leaving the multi-national conglomerate to head up Finnochio's, which was established earlier this year as a joint venture between Tyrex and the House of Fabulous. According to Rogers, the new company plans to aggressively expand Finnochio's through a national franchising program, building on the reputation of its San Francisco flagship as "the world's premier cabaret for female impersonators." The company, which will be spun off to shareholders of Tyrex and Madam Fabulous, will trade on the NY Stock Exchange under the symbol MTF, for Madam/Tyrex/Finnochio's.

* * *

"Five minutes, Miss Rogers."

Ginger Rogers finished fussing with her elaborate blonde wig and took her silver sequined gown off its hanger. After she zipped herself up, she took a long look at herself in the full length mirror. The side slits in her gown went clear up her thighs, revealing glittering legs perched on silver heels. She practiced a tricky dance step in front of the mirror, singing a few bars of her trademark song as she psyched herself up for her act.

Madam Fabulous, who was standing outside the star's dressing room, gave her a big hug when she opened the door, being careful not to muss her makeup. Together they waited in the wings offstage while the juggling unicyclist in hot pants finished her routine. Then Madam Fabulous stepped in front of the curtain and addressed the packed house.

"Tonight we are so thrilled to welcome back to Finnochio's the incomparable Miss Ginger Rogers!" she announced as the audience began to roar. She stepped back behind the curtain and waited for the stage to go absolutely dark. Suddenly a single spotlight illuminated the fabulous face and form of her chief executive officer and leading lady.

The audience went wild as Ginger broke into song. "I'm strictly a female female...." She belted out the old show tune as if it had been written for her. "I enjoy being a girl!"

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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
I loved it!!

It had me laughing when Terry became 'al-Teri,' that was just priceless and what followed was great! Putting the sharks out to pasture in the manner that the author penned was brilliant!

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