The House of Fabulous

"Listen carefully. I want you to take the hem of your nightie and wrap it around yourself. Is it nice and silky?"

"Yes. Oh God."

"Make pretend it's me sliding up and down...up and down...up and down...oh God...oh God!"

At the sound of Gail coming, Terry gave way to a shattering orgasm, prolonged by her panting sighs on the other end of the line. When the waves of ecstasy finally subsided, he fell back in exhaustion, the phone still cradled on his shoulder.

"Well, that was a first," Gail sighed.

"Your first phone sex?"

"Our first simultaneous orgasms. Imagine what we can do when we're in the same bed."

Terry fell asleep to delicious dreams.

* * *

The next morning, Terry was up at five again to begin his preparations for another day as a woman. Shaving his legs, styling his hair and putting on his makeup was almost becoming a routine. Even though he hadn't jogged in two days, the increased metabolism brought on by the anxiety of masquerading as a woman, combined with his new diet, had taken five pounds off his already slim physique. His waist looked almost tiny between his false breasts and pantied ass, and when he tugged on a pair of control top pantyhose, it shrank even more.

Terry dressed himself in his one remaining outfit, the blue suit. Accessorized with a colorful red and white scarf, sheer navy stockings, and the blue heels and purse, he looked every inch the female lawyer. Whereas Terrence Poindexter had been a hopeless wimp, Terry Poindexter had looks, style, and a special confidence that came from knowing he had a secret identity.

He rode the Muni to the financial district and stopped at a corner bakery for a cup of coffee and a muffin before walking the rest of the way to Tyrex Industries. The receptionist was on duty when he got off the elevator, and she greeting him with an amused smile. "Good morning, Ms. Poindexter. You're looking lovely today."

"Why thank you, Jean. I like your dress," Terry said as he walked through the door. He felt her eyes boring into his back as he strolled down the corridor to Gail's desk. "Morning, Gail," he said. "Sleep well last night?"

She followed him into his office and closed the door behind them. They locked in a tight embrace, sharing a passionate kiss that neither wanted to end. When they finally broke off the clinch, their makeup and hair were a mess. Gail went to work on Terry, and he did the best he could with her, trying to ignore the protest from his panties while he wiped his lipstick off her beautiful face. "Down boy," he said to himself.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," Gail said. "Your place or mine tonight?"

He looked longingly at her beautiful body. "Afraid I'm going out tonight."

"Another date with Doyle?" she asked playfully.

"Well yes, but not in the way you think." He could see the hurt in her eyes, and he stopped her before she could leave. "Doyle and I are going to take a walk on the wild side." She listened as he explained.

* * *

At noon, Terry and Doyle left the office separately, a few minutes apart. Terry was waiting for him on the corner of Montgomery and Sacramento streets when Doyle pulled up to the curb in his Porsche. Doyle reached over to open the passenger door, and Terry sat down as gracefully as he could in his tight skirt.

Earlier that morning, Terry had come to Doyle's office to find him in a state of near panic. "Forget what I told you last night," he'd said. "I can't go through with this."

"Yes you can, and you will. The arrangements have already been made. You have an appointment with Madam Fabulous at one o'clock, and she does not tolerate tardiness." Secretly thrilled by Terry's domineering tone, Doyle had meekly agreed. The rest of the morning was spent meeting with the company's investment bankers and preparing for the emergency meeting of the board of directors, which was scheduled for nine o'clock the following day. Doyle's assistant was surprised when he told her to clear his schedule for the afternoon, but with all the craziness going on in the office, she took it in her stride.

Now, as he wove his Porsche through the lunch hour traffic, Doyle was obviously a nervous wreck. "What are they going to do to me first?" he asked.

"Well, let's see," Terry said. "Did you shave last night?"

"Yes." Before they left the restaurant, Terry had instructed Doyle to remove all of his body hair before he went to bed, a command which he had been only too happy to obey.

"Then you will probably go right into makeup. After you are properly gaffed, of course."

"Does that hurt?"

"Just one of the many joys of being a woman."

Doyle's mind was racing as they climbed up California Street towards Nob Hill. "How long do you think it will take?"

"Three or four hours, depending on how long it takes to fit you with a wig and fingernails. That should give us plenty of time to pick out our outfits for tonight."

"We must be out of our minds."

"No turning back now, Doyle. If I could do it, you can do it." They rode in silence the rest of the way. After Doyle found a parking space on Castro Street, Terry led them to the gingerbread Victorian townhouse with the lavender front door. He strode confidently up the steps, Doyle following a few steps behind him, and pressed the buzzer. The door opened immediately.

"Welcome back to the House of Fabulous. Look at you, Terry! Aren't you stunning? And this must be Doyle," Madam Fabulous gushed as she showed them into the foyer. She was dressed in a simple gray shift with her trademark strand of pearls, classic coif and immaculate makeup. "Terry was right," she said to Doyle. "You are going to be a delight to work with." She sat down on a lavender settee and patted the cushions on either side of her. "Sit down, girls." Terry sat down to one side of her, while Doyle hesitated. "Do as you're told," Madam Fabulous repeated with irritation, and Doyle immediately complied.

Sissy, the Mistress of Fashion, entered the foyer. Terry got up and gave her a hug. After they exchanged air kisses, they stood next to each other while Madam Fabulous turned her attention to Doyle. "Because you were referred by Terry, I will dispense with the usual preliminaries. Repeat after me: 'I dedicate myself to the discovery of my inner woman, and I pledge my allegiance to Madam Fabulous and her Mistresses in my quest to become a Fabulous Girl.'" Doyle hung his head and repeated the pledge in a halting voice. "Take him away to be gaffed," Madam Fabulous said to Sissy, who took Doyle by the hand and led him into an adjoining room.

When they were alone, Madam Fabulous held Terry's hands and smiled with genuine pleasure. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you. You look adorable. How does it feel?"

"It feels...nice," Terry said. "It's a lot of work, but it's all worth it when I see the look in people's eyes. I never thought of myself as attractive before."

"This is just the beginning, Terry. You are truly a Fabulous Girl."

"Madam, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, dear."

"Who were you before you became Madam Fabulous?"

"It's rather a long story," Madam Fabulous replied. "Have you had lunch?"

"No."

"Neither have I. Your friend is in good hands. Let's have a ladies' lunch and share some of our secrets."

* * *

Darwin DeVour got up from the dining room table and strolled over to the windows in the elegantly furnished parlor. The view of San Francisco Bay from the Presidential Suite at the Mark Hopkins was spectacular, and DeVour took a few moments to savor the moment. His last takeover target had been a ball bearing manufacturer based in Youngstown, and although the acquisition had been extremely lucrative, he had left a little on the table to expedite his escape from Ohio. There would be no such incentive tomorrow.

Lance Raptor, still pouring over the computer printouts and financial statements strewn over the dining room table, took a telephone call. It was from a house phone in the lobby. "Sure, bring it up," he said before he joined DeVour by the windows. "That was a secretary from Tyrex. She's got a letter from the board concerning tomorrow's meeting."

"That's what I like about this town," DeVour said. "When we were in Youngstown, they sent goons to our hotel to break our legs. Here, we get a letter from a secretary. Of course, in San Francisco, she probably used to be a man." There was a knock on the door, and Raptor opened it to admit Gail Chestnut. On Terry's instructions, she had stopped by her apartment to change into a tight sweater, short leather skirt, fishnet stockings and calf-high boots.

Raptor was practically drooling as she opened her shoulder bag and pulled out an envelope. "This is a letter with instructions about when and where the board meeting will be tomorrow," she said. "I'm supposed to give it to Mr. DeVour. Is that you?"

"No, that's me, angel," DeVour said. "What's your name?"

"Gail. Gail Chestnut. Nice to meet you," she said as she pressed the envelope into his hands. "Well, I guess I'll be seeing you guys tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?" DeVour said. "I'm going to own your company in a few days, and I like to get to know my new employees." The line was so outrageous that Gail had to stop herself from laughing out loud. Even Raptor seemed to be embarrassed by DeVour's crude approach.

"Tell you what," Gail said as she walked towards the door. "Come to the Top of the Mark at six o'clock." Before either of them could respond, she was out the door and down the hall. She waited until she was on the elevator before she took out her cell phone and punched in Terry's cell phone number.

He answered in his girl's voice. "Hello?"

"Message delivered."

"Great! I owe you big time."

"You may take that back after you see them."

"What do they look like?"

"DeVour is about a hundred pounds overweight, with a bad comb-over. The other guy is skinny, with beady eyes and a cheap rug. Take your pick."

"Take the rest of the day off. You've earned it," Terry said. He switched off his phone and put it back in his purse. "Sorry," he said to Madam Fabulous, who was seated across the table at a trendy restaurant featuring a fusion of Mexican and Asian cuisine.

"Not at all," she said as she studied the menu. "I recommend the Thai chicken enchiladas with lotus sauce."

"Why not? At least our farts will be fragrant," Terry said, and they laughed like two schoolgirls. After they ordered, he asked her the question he had posed earlier. "Who were you before you became Madam Fabulous?"

Madam Fabulous sat back in her chair with a faraway look in her eyes. "Have you ever heard of Finnochio's?" she asked.

"You mean the Disney puppet cartoon?"

"No," she smiled sadly. "For over sixty years, Finnochio's was the hottest thing in North Beach, with the possible exception of Carol Doda's 44D breasts at the Condor Club."

"Carol Doda?"

"You've never heard of her either?" Madam Fabulous shook her head. "It's so sad. In its heyday, Finnochio's was the toughest ticket in San Francisco. People used toline up around the block for over an hour to see the next show. Straight people, tourists, businessmen and their wives, even Hollywood celebrities."

"What kind of show was it?"

"The world's premier cabaret for female impersonators. Six days a week, there were four shows a night with a live orchestra, while tuxedoed waiters served drinks to the packed tables. Finnochio's was a complete variety show, with lavish production numbers, a chorus line, singers, dancers, strippers, comediennes, jugglers, even a puppeteer. All of them played by men."

Terry was perplexed. He was pretty sure that Madam Fabulous was really a woman, but why was she so wrapped up in the history of a drag show? And what did it have to do with the House of Fabulous?

As if reading his mind, Madam Fabulous said, "No, I wasn't an act in the show. The nerve of you to even think that! For over twenty years, my father was the emcee at Finnochio's. Every afternoon, he used to leave for work dressed as a man – that was one of the house rules – and return home the same way, although I was always in bed by then."

"Wasn't that kind of...weird?"

"Compared to what?" Madam Fabulous chuckled. "Half of my friends came from broken homes, and there were plenty of strange things happening in San Francisco in those days. Haight Ashbury, the Summer of Love, People's Park over in Berkeley...so my father put on a dress at work.

"And he was beautiful! I knew what he did, but until my sixteenth birthday I never saw him perform. I'll never forget that experience! In his sequined gown and platinum blonde wig, he was absolutely devastating. 'The First Lady of San Francisco,' Herb Caen used to call him. He even got some cameo parts in movies and hit TV shows."

"Your mother must have been very understanding."

"If anything, she was jealous that he looked better in a dress than she did. But she knew how lucky she was to have a gorgeous husband who didn't play around, loved his family, and was a good provider. Mr. and Mrs. Finnochio paid top dollar, including medical benefits and Christmas bonuses, and we had a very comfortable life."

"What happened to Finnochio's?"

"It went downhill after my father retired, and closed up for good eventually."

"And your father?"

"He died of Alzheimer's a few years later. My mother had already passed away, and they left me with a tidy inheritance. Bay Area real estate wasn't so expensive when my father was performing, and he invested every spare cent in Marin County."

"So you decided to invest it in the House of Fabulous?"

"Some of it. I got the idea at my father's funeral. Hundreds of people came up to me and told me how much they enjoyed seeing him perform, and dozens of old Finnochio employees were there too. You met three of them the other day."

Terry had a blank expression on his face until he realized what she meant. "The Mistresses?"

"Of course. The Mistress of Fashion was an ingénue in the chorus line, and the Mistress of Poise used to juggle coconuts while riding a unicycle in hot pants. The Mistress of Style was a makeup wizard, one of the few female employees at Finnochio's."

Their entrees arrived, and for the next two hours Madam Fabulous regaled Terry with tales of Finnochio's and the House of Fabulous. Eventually she looked at her watch and said, "We'd better get back and see how your friend is doing." They emerged from the restaurant into a glorious afternoon, sunny and crisp, and they took their time strolling back to the House of Fabulous. It was almost four o'clock by the time they returned.

When they entered the foyer, they came face to face with the most spectacular confection of face and form that Terry had ever laid eyes on. Ash blonde hair topped a visage of exquisite beauty, complemented by a body that could raise the dead. Large firm breasts and a pair of legs that didn't stop were wrapped in a skin-tight dress that showed considerably more than it concealed. Even Madam Fabulous was speechless. Feeling a bit frumpy in his conservative suit, Terry could only stand and stare at the person who used to be Doyle Rogers.

"How do I look?" the acting CEO of Tyrex Industries asked in a voice as soft and sweet as spun sugar.

Madam Fabulous was the first to speak. "Beyond fabulous!" she exclaimed. "Have you selected a name?"

"Well, I kind of like Ginger," he said with a shy smile.

"Ginger Rogers! How perfectly precious!"

Terry finally blurted out, "I want a body like that."

"Of course you do, dear!" Madam Fabulous said. "How thoughtless of me. We'll also want to do a few things to your hair and makeup, and find you something special to wear for tonight. You girls are going to take San Francisco by storm."

* * *

Ginger could barely contain himself as they drove back up Nob Hill. "I'm strictly a female female," he was singing as his dress rode up his thighs each time he shifted his Porsche through the gears. "I enjoy being a girl!"

Terry was relieved that he had been right about Ginger, and the finished product was beyond his wildest expectations. By comparison, he felt like a plain Jane, even after the House of Fabulous bent him into shape and poured him into a tight dress. Of immediate concern was how to get Ginger back down to earth for the business at hand.

The ringing of Ginger's car phone broke the spell. "Answer it like a man," Terry said sharply.

"Hello," Ginger said in Doyle's old voice.

At first the rasping on the speakerphone was hard to understand, but both of them quickly recognized the caller as Charles Bigelow. "Doyle, what's happening with the tender offer?"

"The board has agreed to meet with Great White tomorrow morning."

"That's bullshit! How can they do that?" Bigelow sounded like he was about to have another seizure.

"On advice of our counsel, the board has to go through the motions to maintain appearances."

"I want to see you immediately."

"But sir, aren't you still in Saint Francis?"

"I'm out of intensive care, and the doctors said I can have visitors. You're in your car, how soon can you get here?"

Ginger pushed the mute button. "We're fucked," he said.

"You don't have time to change, pay a visit to Bigelow in the hospital, and get gussied up again for what we have to do tonight, " Terry said. "You're just going to have to go as you are."

"Are you crazy?"

"Either that or blow him off. Go ahead. Show some balls."

Ginger pushed the mute button and said, "I really don't think it's a good idea for you to be discussing business in your condition."

"God damn it, I want you here now!" Bigelow wheezed. "Move it!"

The line went dead. "What do I do now?" Ginger asked morosely.

"You go as you are. Want some company?"

* * *

Charles Bigelow was propped up on two pillows, trying to read Barron's without getting it tangled up in the wires which attached him to an electrocardiogram. He looked up when he heard a commotion in the hall outside his room, just in time to see Ginger and Terry come in with a nurse right behind them. "I told you, close friends and family only," she was saying, obviously certain that neither of them could possibly fit into that category.

"Who the hell are you?" Bigelow asked.

"Don't you recognize us?" Ginger said in Doyle's old voice. Bigelow squinted over his newspaper, then let it fall to his lap as the shocked nurse looked on.

"Rogers?"

"Doesn't he look lovely?" Terry said.

"Poindexter? I thought I fired your ass!"

"Doyle's first official act as acting CEO was to take me back. Now I'm heading up our legal strategy in the takeover battle!"

Bigelow clutched at his chest and the electrocardiogram began to beep alarmingly. The nurse rushed to his side just as Bigelow went into cardiac arrest.

"Oh dear, it looks like he's having a relapse," Terry said.

The nurse pressed the intercom button beside Bigelow's bed and shouted "Code Red! Stat!" She was administering CPR when a doctor and an intern barged into the room. The doctor took one look at Ginger and Terry and told them to leave immediately.

The nurse was going to work with the defibrillatoras they made their way out the door. "Who let those floozies in here?" they heard the doctor ask her.

"Well, it looks like we're dressed right for tonight," Terry said. "Wouldn't it be nice if Darwin DeVour has a heart condition?"

* * *

In fact, Darwin DeVour's heart was reasonably healthy, and he expected to give it a good workout that evening. He was seated with Lance Raptor at a table near the bar at the Top of the Mark, strategically positioned to give him a view of the door. It was a few minutes past six, and Raptor glanced nervously at his watch. "She's not coming," he said. "This place is dead. Let's head over to North Beach."