Tango on the Razor's Edge Ch. 10

When I finally got back to work, everyone on the floor was in a mad rush to prepare for the upcoming inspection. I tried to gracefully merge into the workflow, but Raul intercepted me. He said, "Nice of you to show up."

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but it couldn't be helped."

He shook his head in disgust. Rather than ask for an explanation, he told me that Dan was parading from station to station, making pointless changes to long-established processes. "He's driving everybody crazy. Can you distract him so we can get some work done?"

Dan was the last person in the world that I wanted to talk to, but I hobbled up to him and asked, "Hey Dan, can you help me sort out the scheduling?"

He turned to me and asked, "Where the fuck have you been?" as he speed-walked to the next station.

My inflamed ass raged in pain as I chased after him. "I really need your help."

Without looking back, he said, "What you need to do is to get these people working." He yelled something at one of the long-time workers and then turned to me. "We're going to fail this fucking audit because your backlog is crushing my bottom line. It's all your fault, but you're too busy to do anything about it."

I knew the backlog was a problem, but I suspected his foul mood had more to do with Holly. Rather than address the issue directly, I said, "Why don't you come to my office so we can figure out how we're going to meet the deadline."

"Fuck that. What we need to do is bash some heads."

I wasted a few more minutes trying to distract him before concluding that he was dead set on messing everything up. I knew from experience not to let him go unchecked. The last time he'd acted like this, he fired two promising up-and-coming technicians. I texted Holly, Could you please distract Dan for me?

She texted back, Are you asking me to fuck your boss?

Me: Maybe you could just take him to Martinelli's for a nice, long, three-martini lunch.

Holly: I could take him home. If that's really what you want.

Me: I didn't say that.

Holly: Dan and I haven't christened our bedroom yet, and since you just changed the sheets...

Me: No, just a long lunch. I need to get some work done, and he's making it impossible.

Holly: Well, let me know. I'll take him home if you want.

I chased Dan around the floor for another twenty minutes before I gave up. Okay, you win. Take him home.

Holly: I won't do anything for you unless you ask me properly.

Me: I have to beg you to cheat on me?

Holly: You have to beg me for everything;)

Me: My Goddess, will you please take Dan to our home and have sex with him in our bed while I work to make both of you rich?

Holly: I will on one condition.

Me: OMG Why are you making this so difficult? I'm doing this for you!!!

Holly: Don't you want to know what the condition is?

Me: Go ahead, tell me.

Holly: After work, I want you to come home and cook dinner for us.

Me: For you and Dan?

Holly: No, for the whole family.

Me: Including the girls?

Holly: Yes, of course.

When I didn't respond right away, Holly continued, And I want you to be en femme when you do it.

I followed Dan around the floor for another twenty minutes. He was like an industrial honey bee flitting from station to station, pollinating each site with malformed ideas that rapidly germinated into bickering and discontent among my crew. It was like he was out to undo everything I'd accomplished in the years since I'd taken over the floor. I texted: You win. Please My Goddess, take Dan to our bed and have sex with him. I will serve you while en femme when I get home tonight.

Holly: I'm sorry, Princess, but that offer has expired.

Me: What do you want now?

Holly: I want you to compose the text that I use to lure him to our bed.

Me: Are you serious?

Holly: You'd better act fast. I have the feeling that this offer is about to expire too.

Me: Okay, you win. I'll do it.

Holly: That's a good girl. I knew you'd see it my way.

I thought for a few moments, then sent Holly this: Since Nick will be busy on the floor for a while, why don't you and I go make a mess in the sheets he just washed?

Holly: That could be the least sexy text I've ever seen. Try again.

My second attempt: Thinking about you working up a sweat on the floor makes my pussy wet. Let's go to my house where you can plumb that wetness on the sheets Nick just washed.

Holly: Hahaha, I would NEVER call you Nick. You're either Sissy or Cocksucker or Princess or something like that. Spice it up! Be more creative. You're trying to get him to fuck me, not take me out for coffee.

I tried yet again: Thinking of you working HARD on the floor has fired up my pussy. Why don't you put that hardness where it can do the most good? My sissy has cleaned the sheets in one of his pathetic attempts to get me to let him clean up after you - he loves the taste of your cum. Let's go to my house and make a different kind of mess for him to clean up!

Holly: You called yourself he. I thought you knew better than that.

I immediately responded with: Please forgive me. Then I resent the whole message using 'her' and 'she.' I didn't hear back from Holly, but moments later, Dan checked his phone and then left the floor.

***

Raul and I got the floor back into order, and we were just beginning to work our way through the maintenance backlog when I got another text from Holly: Come home now. We're hungry.

Me: What? It's only 5:00. Raul and I are just getting started.

Holly: Are you questioning me?

Me: No, My Goddess. I'm leaving now.

Holly: Get dressed before you leave.

Me: I can't. All my clothes are at home.

Holly: No, I picked up the dry cleaning, and I left one of your outfits in my office. Make yourself up nice. I want you to look good for Dan when you get here.

I put my phone in my pocket and said to Raul, "I've got to go."

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry to let you down. Do what you can. I'll come in early tomorrow and try to finish up."

"It's Holly, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"She's got you groveling on some fool's errand while she fucks off with that dickhead."

"Look, I don't want to get into it with you. Just do what you can here now, and I'll come in early tomorrow and do what I can then."

He looked me in the eyes, and in a well-rehearsed cadence, he said, "You need to stand up to her."

I put my hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and said, "You do what you need to do, and I do what I need to do. Alright?"

"I'm serious. You're not doing anyone any favors by letting her walk all over you."

"I know your intentions are good, and I appreciate how hard it must be for you to watch all this happen, but it's not your problem, so let it go."

He shook his head. "I hope you know what the fuck you're doing."

I laughed and said, "So do I."

***

I'd expected to find my dress hanging from the back of the door, protected by a thin plastic dry-cleaning bag. Instead, I found the black dress, basque, panties, stockings, and shoes laid out on Holly's desk. My wig and makeup were waiting for me under a mirror. On top of the makeup was a handwritten note instructing me to dress there in her office and then pick up some wine and appetizers on the way home. The message closed with, Don't worry about the people in the office seeing you en femme. They already know you're my little bitch. Beneath her scrawled signature was the lush, red imprint of her lips.

I did my best to cover up the emerging stubble of my beard with makeup. I heavily shadowed my eyelids to draw attention to my most feminine features. Once I was happy with my face, I put on the wig, lingerie, and finally, the black dress. The dress was sexy while still loose enough to camouflage my bulky cage.

I was giving myself a final inspection in the mirror when my phone rang. It was Raul. I answered, "What's going on?"

He asked about the settings for one of the calibrations and then a few more about one of the more involved procedures. As we wrapped up, he asked, "Where are you? It sounds like you're in the building."

The delay of the machinery's rhythm over the phone network created an echo distinctive to calls placed within the building. Rather than try to come up with an excuse, I laughed and said, "Hey, I've got to run," and hung up. I stuffed my man clothes in one of Holly's drawers, collected my wallet and keys, and headed out of the office.

The most direct escape was blocked by two secretaries at the end of the hallway, so I headed downstairs. I'd hoped to slip past the hubbub on the floor unnoticed, but just as I rounded the corner, I ran into Raul, who was in a hurry to get upstairs. I pretended to be distracted by my phone as he rushed past, then I hustled as fast as my high heels, and my still-aching ass would allow for the side door. For a moment, I thought I'd escaped unnoticed, but as I pulled the minivan out of its parking place, I saw Raul looking out through the doorway. By the expression on his face, I knew I'd been found out.

He already knew something was going on between Holly and Dan. Now he was going to think even worse of me. I turned the situation over in my mind as I drove home, but no matter how I looked at it, a solution eluded me. I was still lost in thought when Cathryn called. "Hi, Dad. Can you pick me up?"

"Where are you?"

"At school."

"Can't your mother pick you up?"

"No. Mom said you should do it."

There was no point in arguing with Holly, so I drove to the school and parked in a deserted corner of the parking lot. I texted Cathryn: I'm in the back corner of the parking lot.

She texted back: You need to come to the office.

Me: I can't.

Cathryn: Why not?

Me: Your mother has me en femme.

Cathryn: I don't care. I need you to come in.

I thought for a moment. If I just signed her out without talking to anyone, no one would notice. Alright, where will I meet you?

Cathryn: I'm in the vice principal's office.

There was no chance of slipping into the vice principal's office without being noticed. I texted back: You, of all people, know that I can't come in there now. I'll go home and change. Be back in a half-hour.

Cathryn: NO, DAD. PLEASE COME IN NOW.

Me: You're just fucking with me.

Cathryn: No, Dad. I need you.

Me: What's going on?

Cathryn: It's too complicated to explain.

Me: Please call me.

Cathryn: I can't call. Please just come in now. You'll understand when you get here.

I drove up to a park closer to the office, inspected my makeup in the rearview mirror. I thought that if I looked convincing enough, no one would realize who I was. I crossed the campus with my heavy makeup, sexy dress, and high heels, which contrasted with the students' and teachers' casual attire. Fortunately, only a few remained. A couple of guys in letterman jackets whistled as I passed and one of the male teachers gave my legs the once over twice.

A secretary directed me to a small conference room next to the vice-principal's office. The vice-principal stood up, offered his hand, and warmly said, "I'm John Hammonds, the vice principal. I don't believe we've met."

Cathryn laughed nervously and said, "That's my dad, Mr. Hammonds."

Mr. Hammonds hesitated for a moment. He looked at the man to his left and then back to me and said, "Of course. Thanks for coming in, Nick. This is Cathryn's counselor, Mrs. Smythe, and her math teacher Mr. Roberts."

I'd expected someone to comment on how I was dressed, but each ignored my cross-gendered appearance, deliberately looking me in the eye as they shook my hand. I took the seat next to Cathryn, who was sitting directly across from Mr. Hammonds. Based on her body language, her interest was in Mr. Roberts.

"What's going on?" I asked.

The counselor answered, "Cathryn has been making it impossible for Mr. Roberts to teach any of his classes."

"Any of his classes?"

"Other teachers have been having trouble as well."

"What's she done?"

She "Posted a bunch of compromising pictures of her math teacher online," replied Mrs. Smyth.

"What kind of pictures?" I asked.

Both Mr. Hammonds and Mrs. Smythe looked at Mr. Roberts, who cowered in his seat. Eventually, Cathryn explained, "Mr. Roberts likes to dress up."

Mr. Roberts looked like he wanted to crawl under the carpet.

Mr. Hammonds added, "Your daughter has posted a whole page of him in drag on Pinterest. She calls him The Fancy Math Teacher, and now that's what all the students are calling him."

"It's the only thing any of the students are talking about."

"Where did you get the pictures?" I asked.

"I found them on social media. He's posted under a lot of different names on different sites, but image search cuts through all of that."

I asked, "How does he look?"

It wasn't a question that Mr. Hammonds or Mrs. Smythe expected. Cathryn turned to her math teacher. "You look good all dressed up, don't you, Tommy?"

Mr. Roberts's head collapsed into his hands, and Mrs. Smythe erupted, "That's completely irrelevant!"

Cathryn protested, "No, but he does." She reached over and touched his arm. "You look really nice when you're dressed up."

Mr. Roberts didn't know how to respond. He stared at her for a moment before he pulled his arm from her grasp and then turned his attention back to Mr. Hammonds and Mrs. Smythe.

I replied, "I see. So, why am I here?"

A still enraged Mrs. Smythe responded, "Obviously, someone like you understands how difficult a situation like this can be for someone as delicate as Mr. Roberts. I'm sure you can see how important it is that we nip your daughter's disrespectful behavior at the bud."

I rested my chin on my fingertips and said, "I see."

Mr. Hammonds continued in an even tone. "We need to create a safe environment for everyone."

I nodded thoughtfully and said, "Of course, a safe space for everyone." I was convinced my thoughtful composure and feminine attire had won the confidence of school administrators. Even Mr. Roberts looked hopeful, so I continued, "I think we all agree that everyone here deserves a safe space." Everyone but Cathryn nodded in affirmation. She looked fearful of what I was about to say. "And I think we all agree that Mr. Roberts should be free to dress as he pleases." I paused for a moment then asked, "Is it Mr. Roberts, or do you prefer Miss. Roberts?"

Mr. Roberts uncertainty looked to Mr. Hammonds and then to Mrs. Smythe before answering, "It's Mr. Roberts."

"I mean no offense, of course, but I need to be sure."

"Yes, of course," replied Mr. Roberts.

I smiled at him for a moment, then continued, "Of course, we all agree that everyone means everyone."

"Yes, of course." They all nodded. "Everyone."

"Gays, lesbians, queers, crossdressers, even Cathryn needs to be able to express herself." Their nodding became a little less confident as I continued, "It would be hypocritical for us to favor one person's ideas about sexuality over another's."

Mrs. Smythe said, "I knew that you of all people would understand."

I smiled back. "Of course, we have to be willing to go to the mat to defend everyone's right to express themselves. And I mean everyone." Each of us sitting at the table nodded in our firm commitment to defending everyone for a long moment. Then I said, "But at this point, I think we have to ask ourselves what we're willing to do to defend Cathryn."

Mrs. Smythe's smile evaporated. "Defend Cathryn?"

"Of course, we must defend Mr. Roberts' right to post pictures of himself cross-dressing on the internet. Surely we must also defend Cathryn's right to repost on the same subject."

"Not when her posts are malicious."

"What did she say that was malicious?"

Mrs. Smythe turned her computer so that I could see Cathryn's post. Pink and purple hearts were sprinkled around pictures of Mr. Roberts posing evocatively. A feminine script across the top said, "The Fancy Math Teacher."

"Are you going to try to tell me that this isn't demeaning?" snarled Mrs. Smythe.

"No, but you're assuming that Cathryn did this maliciously. What if she did it because she thinks it's hot? What if Mr. Robert's pictures excite her? What if she wants to tease and dominate him in precisely the way he wants to be teased and dominated? What if Cathryn likes Mr. Roberts?"

Mrs. Smythe was so angry that she couldn't speak. Mr. Hammonds patted her shoulder. He said, "There, there, now, calm down," and then he asked me, "Do you expect us to believe that she did this as some kind of kinky schoolgirl crush?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility."

"That's just sick," shouted Mrs. Smythe. Her face was beet red, and her arms were shaking.

It was strange, but I had compassion for her. She truly believed she was doing what was right. I shook my head and calmly replied, "When it comes to people's sexuality, I don't think any of us can cast stones."

Mr. Hammonds tried to come to Mrs. Smythe's aid. "But surely, this is out of the norm."

"Is that what we're doing here, making everyone normal?" I asked.

He thought for a moment before turning his attention back to Mrs. Smythe.

Without prompting, Cathryn turned to Mr. Roberts and said, "I'm sorry if I hurt you."

It was probably the most sincere apology I'd ever heard. For that brief moment, I forgot what a holy terror Cathryn had been to me.

Mr. Roberts accepted her apology with a deflated nod.

***

On the way home, I said, "You realize that Mr. Roberts is finished as a math teacher, don't you."

"No, Mr. Hammonds will look after him."

"Mr. Hammonds might help him find another job, but he'll be gone by the end of the month."

"No, they can't do that. It would be discrimination."

I shook my head, "He can't teach students who don't respect him."

"But, we all like him."

"You might, but this would never have happened if all his students respected him."

Cathryn silently stared out the window as we drove. After a moment, she asked, "Are you going to leave too?"

Without taking my eyes off the road, I said, "I'm trying to hang on, but it's tough when the humiliation keeps piling up. Your mother could have easily covered that meeting. Both of you... Fuck... BOTH of you...." I thought for a second before I continued, "You guys teamed up to out me to Hammonds, didn't you?"

"No. It was nothing like that. I needed one of you, and Mom was busy."

"Of course she's busy. She's busy fucking my boss." After a long pause, I asked out loud, "Why do I put up with this shit?"

Cathryn protested, "We didn't team-up. I just thought Mr. Hammonds would be more sympathetic if you were dressed up."

"How am I ever going to look him in the eye again?"

"Mr. Hammonds likes you."

"Yeah, well, maybe he did. He'll think differently of me now." I pulled into the parking lot of the supermarket. "I've got to pick up some stuff for dinner."

"You're going in there dressed like that?"

"I'd send you in, but you're not old enough to buy wine. Besides, this is what your mother wanted, so I really don't have much choice, do I?"

"Why don't I go in with you?"

I stepped out of the car and asked, "What if you ran into someone you knew?" I pulled at my dress to make sure it was covering me up and then concentrated on heel-toeing across the parking lot, my ass burning with each step.

I picked up some steaks, potatoes, a bagged salad, a couple of bottles of wine, ice cream, a pound of jumbo shrimp, cocktail sauce, and a six-pack of beer, and then went to stand in the checkout line. In front of me was a woman I'd seen around but didn't know well enough to call by name. She looked me over the catty way women do when inspecting the competition. My dress was too short, and my heels were too high for a suburban supermarket, so she probably thought I was a slutty homewrecker. She turned her attention from my attire to her phone while I gazed out the window into the parking lot. I saw a woman who lived two houses down from us approaching. Her daughter was on the volleyball team with my girls, so she was sure to recognize me, but she was bound to head down one of the isles before I would get to the exit.