St. Clair Ladies Circle: Marlena

22nd Century Imports was a fancy name for a distressed goods wholesale business. Edward "Ted" Hanratty bought the inventory of businesses that were going out of business for whatever reason, and either sold the inventory to other businesses in the same line of work, or through a chain of discount outlets he had in his own and two neighboring states. The "imports" in the company name came from the fact that most of these goods were made in the Far East; 22nd Century Imports never actually imported anything itself.

Two bad marriages in which his wives took everything in the divorce convinced Hanratty that the sultan of the Sheherazade fables had the right idea: fuck 'em one night, then kill 'em in the morning! Not that he ever did the latter. But he also did not have any meaningful—-or lasting—-relationships either. Between his failed marriages and the nature of his business, Hanratty had no love of mankind. And mankind had no love of him.

Five years earlier he had acquired a warehouse labeled "rubber goods." These rubber goods turned out to be various prostheses and bodywear for crossdressers to appear more female, if not more feminine. For nearly a year he tried to get rid of the merchandise, but these were items which he did not understand, could not think who would actually use them, or who would sell them to these customers, and how.

"Well, boss," smirked Marlena, his office manager, as they prepared the year's taxes in the January of the following year. "Looks like you're finally gonna get a legit write off."

Hanratty scowled at her. Marlena Schwartzmann had been with him for seven years, three as a secretary, the last four as his office manager. One of the few Blacks in the town, he'd often wondered how a Negro acquired a German name. And a Jewish one at that! In fact, Hanratty mused, there were a lot of Jews in this small burg. But Black or white, Jew or Gentile, German, Irish, or Lower Slobbovian, Marlena was an excellent office manager, and quite a shrewd businesswoman. More than once she'd come up with a way to dump an inventory that had turned out to be less than advertised. The first time she did this brought her to Hanratty's notice six years ago. The second time got her the number two spot in the office clerical staff, and the third time got her the office manager's position-—a position that the last Mrs. Hanratty had just vacated.

Shrewdness was just one of the factors in her elevation. Competency, dedication, hard work—and ambition—all contributed to her rise. But the major factor was that she was, first of all, Black, and secondly, plain as hell. Not ugly, but not a face one would look twice at. Hanratty did not believe in fraternizing with the help anyway, but he wanted to make certain that the next office manager would not want to be the next Mrs. Hanratty. A very plain Black woman aroused no lust in him, and hopefully she would see her own race and plainness as barriers to his heart, even if she wanted him. And she did not!

"My write-offs are always legit, Ms. Schwartzmann," he corrected her. "And don't ever forget it."

The office manager's smirk got even broader. Her boss only referred to her formally when he was irked--by her. While she wouldn't say her boss was crooked, she did notice that more than his tax returns were questionable. In seven years she'd seen a lot of deals just this side of legal, and way over the line ethically. But then who said that ethics had anything to do with business? Her boss didn't drive others into bankruptcy. He just picked their bones clean in the settlements! And he wasn't about to let Uncle Sam pick his pickings!

"You've had that stuff sitting in that warehouse for close to a year. The cost of the inventory, the warehouse space you can't rent until you empty it, the insurance, taxes on that building, maintenance. I'd hate to hear that a fire or something struck that place."

Hanratty's scowl deepened. If he didn't like loosing money, he especially didn't like someone telling him he's loosing money. Especially a subordinate! "There's not going to be any fire or theft or anything approaching an act of God, Marlena."

"How much is it worth to you to find a way to get rid of that stuff at break-even? Maybe even turn a profit?" she asked.

Hanratty's scowl turned pensive. If Marlena knew how to get rid of this stuff, how come she never said anything for most of the previous year? She's no shrinking violet. After all, the last time she came up with an idea to rid 22nd Century Imports of unwanted merchandise, she demanded a full quarter of a year's salary as a bonus if it worked. And insisted on this being given to her in a cashier's check before she said a word! He looked at her, knowing that either way he was going to be out of pocket.

"What'd you got in mind, Ms. Schwartzmann?"

Marlena smiled. Hanratty now blanched. His office manager had a plan, and it was gonna cost him.

"One year's salary, Mr. Hanratty," she said. "Usual terms."

"One year!" he bellowed. This was far more than he had expected. Or was willing to pay.

Marlena was prepared for this. She'd planned for six months for this day—the day she'd get enough money from Hanratty to leave his employ—or be fired. "One year, cashier's check," she said resolutely.

Hanratty stood, walked to the window of his office and studied the cars in the company parking lot. Nothing newer than three years, including his car. He turned and looked at the woman. Why would she want that much money? While not overly generous, Hanratty paid his staff well—especially Marlena. You get what you pay for, he'd found out. And sometimes you pay for what you're not getting, his wife had taught him. He went to his chair and sat, looking at his office manager, saying nothing.

Marlena knew she had the upper hand. If the proposal had been beyond reason, her boss would have kicked her out of the office. Maybe even fired her. Now was the time to get a committal, if not the check.

"Tell you what, boss," she began, "meet me at the warehouse Saturday morning, say 10:00 am, with the cashier's check. I'll explain my idea then. If you think it'll work, I get the check and the plan is yours. If not, you're no worst off than now."

Hanratty rocked back in his chair, staring at his employee. She's just put her ass on the line, he thought. If I like the idea, I could just say I didn't, fire her and keep the dough. If I don't like the idea, I could fire her and keep the dough. Or keep her as office manager and keep the dough. But if it's a good idea ... a year's salary!

"One condition," he said. Marlena sighed inwardly. "If I don't like your scheme, no raise for a year."

"Deal, boss," Marlena beamed. This was too easy.

Damn! thought Haratty. That was too easy.

Marlena was waiting outside the warehouse entrance when Hanratty pulled up. She had already opened and led the way to the warehouse office, where, to Hanratty's surprise, there were several boxes of the fake female boxes already opened, with a selection laid out on tables.

"I took the liberty of inspecting the merchandise more closely," Marlena answered his unasked question.

Hanratty sat in the chair behind the lone desk. Marlena went to one of the tables, turned her back on her boss and began undressing. What the hell! thought Hanratty. She's not gonna try and seduce me, is she? He said nothing, however, just sat and watched as first the dress was unfastened, removed and placed on one of the tables. This was followed by the bra and the panties. Marlena had not worn stockings, so she stood there naked except for her three inch pumps. Slowly, she turned until she was facing her boss.

"What the hell!" he exclaimed.

Facing him was not the woman he had hired and worked with for seven years, but a man with a respectable seven-inch dick resting on a fair size pair of balls. Marlena walked toward him until she was at the other side of the desk, the tip of her dick just a fraction of an inch above its top.

"Yes, Mr. Hanratty," she said, "I'm male. I've worked for you for seven years and you never once thought I was anything other than a woman. There are lots of males like me, especially in this town and in this region."

She then turned and went to one of the tables and selected two items. Hanratty couldn't see what she was doing since her back again was to him. He just sat there, jaw hanging, eyes bulging, unbelieving. Marlena—-a man! He looked at the form before him, slowly seeing that the hips were just a little too slim. As he watched, Marlena bent forward and stepped into something. As she pulled it up, Hanratty realized it was some type of panty. What amazed him was that it matched his office manager's skin tone so well that it nearly disappeared as she pulled it up. Marlena then turned to face him again.

"Omigawd!" he coughed.

Before him stood not the man he had seen minutes before, but a woman with C-cup breasts with chocolate nipples and a ... a ... pussy! He blinked and looked again, not sure he was seeing what he was seeing. He now noticed that the garment that gave her a cunt also added curves to her hips. Marlena turned back to the table and took out another garment. This time she faced him as she put it on. It was a black corset of some type into which she poured her breasts, smoothing the leathery material over her upper body. It had a strap that went around her neck—a halter he would later learn—and that the garment was called a bustier. Except for the halter, her chest above her breasts, and her shoulders were bare. She sat on the table and pulled out a pair of pantyhose. When she put them on, however, they turned out to be crotchless, framing the false cunt in dark nylon. Next came a pair of black leather knee-length boots that laced up the front, with impossibly high heels. It took her several minutes to complete the lacing, all the time she sat on the table with her faux pussy staring at him. She fluffed out her shoulder length hair, then pulled out a make-up kit and applied lipstick. When she stood up, she was the very epitome of a dominatrix!

"I know I don't make a pretty woman, boss," she said, "but would you say I'm not a woman, looking at me?"

Hanratty could not say anything. If he had not seen that cock, he would swear the person before him was the woman who had worked for him for seven years. Marlena walked to Hanratty's side of the desk, sitting on it facing him. She stretched out one booted foot until it touched Hanratty's crotch. Instinctively he jumped back, causing the chair to roll several inches backward. Undaunted, Marlena scooted back on the desk and aimed her faux cunt at her boss.

"Looks like the real thing, don't it boss," she cooed. Hanratty still couldn't speak. "Would you like to feel how real it feels?" she asked.

Hanratty just stared. Marlena got up and went to him, sitting on his lap with her legs crossed. She took his hand and placed it on the false pussy. This particular model had real human hair, and a slit that oozed a KY-Jelly type ointment. She moved her hand along his, placing his fingers in the fake vagina. Hanratty couldn't resist stroking it.

'Damn!' he thought, 'it does feel like the real thing.'

As he was fingering her, Marlena put her other arm around him and kissed him deeply. At first Hanratty tried to resist, but soon found himself responding. Marlena took the hand that was fingering her and moved it to her thigh.

"I feel like the real thing, too, Mr. Hanratty," she cooed, running his fingers over her. She could now feel his erection against her ass. She took his hand and placed it on the cup of the bustier.

"They feel real too, don't they, boss?" she continued.

Hanratty squeezed the fake boob. Yeah, he admitted to himself, it does feel real. Marlena kissed him again, Frenching him for nearly three minutes. She could now feel his cock pressing against her ass insistently. She knew it was now or never. She broke the kiss and moved off his lap onto the desk again. As Hanratty recovered from the shock of being kissed by a man and feeling a manmade cunt, Marlena repaired her lips.

"There are a lot of women like me, Mr. Hanratty," she began in a matter-of-fact tone. "That's the market for these items. But you already knew that. What you needed to know is who to sell it to, and for what price."

Hanratty sat up now, the return to business returning him to his senses. Marlena continued. "Have you ever heard of THE ESTATE?"

"THE ESTATE? Yeah, I've heard of it," he sneered. "That's some ritzy type of resort that a lot of the other businessmen belong to—-those new people from some place else who moved here and sort of taken over."

Marlena smiled knowingly. "You're partly right, Mr. Hanratty. It's a sex club."

"A what!" he exclaimed.

"A sex club. Sort of Club Sex for people of means with a more than prosaic sexual orientation."

"You mean perverts like you!" he sneered.

Marlena's eyes narrowed. She was going to enjoy taking his money. She looked at his crotch. "And what do you call a man who gets so aroused kissing a 'pervert like me' that he can't stand?"

Hanratty looked at his crotch, even though he didn't have to.

"Whatever you think of me, or women like me, Mr. Hanratty," she continued, "we exist, and we make up a large number of the 'women' of this town."

At this Hanratty's jaw dropped again.

"Yes, Mr. Hanratty. You'd be surprised which ladies of this town are just like me. And that's who I'm going to sell this entire warehouse of 'rubber goods' to."

Again, the mention of business brought Hanratty out of his stupor. "You're gonna sell to?"

"That's right, Mr. Hanratty," Marlena said, crossing her legs to hide the false pussy, then recrossing them to flash the cunt. "You own the building at 181 Highgate Lane, right?"

Hanratty scooted his chair back to the desk, stealing a peak at the false vulva again. Damn! It does look real! And those legs! How does a man get such good looking legs! The building at 181 Highgate was a three-story office building with shop space on the ground floor. Before all the newcomers came into town, it had been built to accommodate some of the local professionals: lawyers, accountants, engineers, architects. The newcomers-—these THE ESTATE people—-had moved development to a different part of town, and Highgate Lane had been bypassed. Hanratty had acquired the property when the developer defaulted on the mortgage, but he'd been unable to lease it. Another write-off that Hanratty regretted.

"What about it?"

"I've always wanted my own business, a one-woman deal. I don't like working for someone else." Hanratty frowned. "You're a decent enough boss, Mr. Hanratty, but you're a typical man. If you'd known about me seven years ago, you wouldn't have hired me. If you'd found out about me during the seven years from someone else, you'd have fired me. You still might. I'm taking the chance that you won't. You've got a warehouse full of inventory you can't move. You've got an office building you can't lease. I say give me the building for one year and turn over this inventory to me. I know who uses it and how to reach them. I can use the one year's salary to live on. All I need from you is inventory you're taking a loss on now and a building that's going to ruin while you still pay property taxes on it. Unless you were planning on firing me anyway, that salary you would've paid anyway. At the end of the first year, we'll split the profits 1/3 me, 2/3 you. Second year, 2/3 me, 1/3 you. After that, I pay going market rates on 181 Highgate, profits are all mine."

Hanratty stood up, his pants tenting. This bitch! She's been planning this for some time! Letting me get myself in deeper and deeper, waiting to take advantage of me. And I taught her everything she knows! Yeah, I taught her everything she knows! If I were in her place, I'd do the same thing. She's learned well. And not the least bit sentimental about it. Well, she's not a real woman anyway, why should she be.

"How about 50:50 the second year, 2/3 you the third year, and then you pay market rates?"

Marlena smiled. "Deal." She stuck out her hand. Hanratty took it and they shook. "Uh, Mr. Hanratty," Marlena looked directly into his eyes. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

He looked at her upraised palm. Yeah, bitch! He reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet, extracting the cashier's check for a year's salary. "You're pretty sure of yourself, Ms. Schwartzmann."

Marlena took the check, putting it in her purse. "Not really, Mr. Hanratty. I had four ways of leaving here: fired, with no money; fired, with the check; going back to work on Monday with you knowing all about me; or, going back to work Monday to train a new office manager."

A new office manager! Hanratty hadn't even thought about that. "A new office manager?"

"I can't get a new business started and run your office at the same time, Mr. Hanratty," she said. "I'll stay for one month, to the end of February. I figure Wilhemina can take over my duties, unless you want to hire someone from the outside."

Hanratty had to think about that. Wihemina Novitsky had been with the company about five years and filled in when Marlena was on vacation or sick. He preferred to promote from within for several reasons. First, his staff already knew the ropes. Second, he didn't have to worry about someone coming in who was not in tune with his business practices. Third, it was always good for morale when someone moves up in the organization. Gives the others reason to hope, and therefore to work harder and better.

"If you think so, then Mrs. Novitsky it is" he said. Then as an afterthought, "Is she like you?"

Marlena smiled, "I'm the only me, Mr. Hanratty. But no, Wilhemina is a biological woman, as are all the other women who work for you."

"So, when do we complete the paperwork?"

"I've already done so. I'll bring them in on Monday."

Marlena got up and began putting the dress she had worn to the warehouse in the suitcase, her back to Hanratty. As he looked at her move, he still couldn't believe that this was a male before him.

"Uh ... uh ...," he stammered. Marlena turned around. "Is Marlena your real name?"

Marlena studied him carefully. "It's my mother's name. Spelled with two 'e's. In German it's pronounced Marlena, but Americans pronounce it Mar-Leen, so I replaced the second 'e' with an 'a.' My given name is Juergen Schwartzmann."

"Then you are German?"

"Yeah, Brown baby. German mother, Negro American GI father from the American army. Or is it African-American now."

"Are you ... you know?"

"Are you asking if I'm gay, Mr. Hanratty, yes and no." Hanratty looked at her quizzically. Marlena turned to face him fully. "I live as a woman. There are many women who enjoy sex with men like me, and I enjoy sex with them. It takes all kinds, Mr. Hanratty. But if you're a man living as a woman, you sometimes think maybe you should try sex as a woman, and there are plenty of men out there-—plenty of men—-willing to accommodate me. I've had sex with men, if that's what you're asking. And several of them in this town. But it's not my preference."

"Uh ... do you object to having sex with men?" Hanratty continued, his pants tenting.

Marlena looked at his crotch. Hanratty's eyes followed hers, making his pants stick out even more. "Do you need relief, Mr. Hanratty?"

"Yes, Marlena," he begged. "I need relief very badly."

She came over to him and unbuttoned the top of his pants, then unzipped his fly. His cock jumped out, a respectable seven inches. She let the pants fall and squatted in front of him, taking his cock in her mouth without touching it. As soon as her lips locked at the base of the head Hanratty began to cum. Marlena remained in position, sucking him and swallowing his seed.

"Oh you sweet cocksucking bitch!" he exclaimed.