Date: Wed, 23 Apr 2003 00:08:31 +0100
From: Beverly Taff
Subject: Snake 4

	Jack Bentley considered himself a very successful realtor.  In the
two years since his buddy's unexpected death from AIDS, his little empire
had expanded tremendously.  He was now considered to be one of the more
prosperous icons of the local business community.

	Jack Bentley also considered himself to be something of a `Ladies
man'.  He looked after his lean tall body and worked out regularly.  He
looked good for his thirty years and noted with no small satisfaction, that
many covetous female eyes still followed the course of one of the most
eligible bachelors in town.

He had no wish to marry however for bachelor life was pretty good. He had
the pick of most of the female hopefuls in town and he regularly indulged
that choice.  Since his buddy's unexpected death from AIDS however, he had
been forced to employ a little more caution.  He had been dammed lucky.

Andrew, his buddy had always tried to Emulate Jack's bachelor style but the
difference was that Andrew had been married.  Whereas Jack could openly
indulge his pleasures, Andrew was more circumspect.  Hen alone, Andrew
hunted in the quieter seedier low profile bars whilst Jack was free to
roam.

Jack knew that Andrew envied his bachelor life but invariably, when they
went out together, it was Jack who encouraged Andrew's weaknesses. Jack
supported him by adopting Andrew's more secretive circumspect approach.
When paired, they frequented the less popular haunts.  Because of these
secretive forays, Jack's opinion of Andrew wasn't very high.  The thought
of him betraying his wife and three lovely kids left a sour taste in Jack's
mouth but like any loyal buddy, he did not pursue the issue.  Andrew's
family life had to be his own affair.  If Andrew wanted to play away, who
was Jack to condemn?

When he heard of Andrew's infection a small twinge of guilt pricked his
conscience but it quickly evaporated.  Jack paid a brief visit to Andrew's
widow but did not learn of her infection.  Like Jack, Ellie ran her own
realty business and whilst it was not as large as Jack's, it had provided a
tidy living.

Andrew had worked at the bank and it was probably his wife's additional
income that enabled him to indulge his expensive extramarital activities.

Jack felt that any wife should make it their business to check husband's
infidelity and if they didn't then it was their own lookout.

`Weren't all men programmed to roam?' Jack often asked himself.

He knew he was driven to wander; to taste all the delights, and he could
never face being `tied down'.  The hunting was part of the fun.  He soon
tired of his conquests though for he had concluded that nearly all women
seemed to have one ambition.  Every woman he had ever met eventually became
`clingy' and started dropping hints.

Then, when they fell to harping on about male infidelity, he eventually
dropped them.  Their scheming female natures were one the main reasons that
Jack had remained determinedly single.  There was another but Jack kept
quiet about it.

He did not worry about the bitching by his ex lovers.  He made no secret of
his transitory predatory nature and as far as his lifestyle was concerned,
nobody could call Jack a hypocrite.  He was a confirmed bachelor and let
every woman know it.

It was this open approach that so frustrated his ex partners.  In truth,
the man wasn't a hypocrite.  He warned every one of them on their first
night.  He had no plans for a `long term relationship' and absolutely no
intentions of ever getting married.  What drove the eligible spinsters to
distraction was that Jack Bentley stuck to his convictions.

Older past partners tried to warn their ambitious younger sisters that the
man was a confirmed bachelor but they invariably failed.  Jack's good looks
and charm invariably surmounted any obstacles caused by his reputation.
Jack Bentley usually got his girl- then dropped her.

As to his opinion of Andrew accompanying Jack on his forays, well, that had
been between Andrew and his wife.  If she was a gullible, trusting,
`stay-at-home' girl, that was her lookout.  Andrew rarely refused Jack's
invitations to go out clubbing.  He was just too weak to say no when it
came to sex and Jack's successful manner nearly always guaranteed Andrew a
lay.

Andrew's weaknesses suited Jack.  Women usually moved in pairs so it was
convenient to have a partner.  Jack invariably got the `looker' whilst
Andrew took whatever crumbs were left.  Additionally, Jack knew that Andrew
often hunted alone.

Because of this Jack did not feel guilty about Andrew having caught AIDS
whilst he remained uninfected.  He knew Andrew usually indulged his habit
in the seedier bars on `the wrong side of the tracks.  It was a sure-fire
way to become infected when you screwed with junkies and prostitutes.

On the grapevine he heard a whisper about Andrew's widow becoming ill but
he thought nothing of it until the `Closed for Business' sign appeared
outside her neat little offices further down the main street.

Ever the opportunist, he moved quickly to absorb as much of her trade and
business as possible. Ellie's departure was the main reason for the recent
good times brought about by lack of competition.  He next heard whispers
that Andrew's widow had fallen on bad times, but, because he rarely had
need to visit the big city, he never saw the fallen woman plying her wares
on Seattle's seedier streets.

As far as Jack Bentley was concerned, his buddy's widow had disappeared
without trace and it was an ill wind that blew nobody any luck.  Jack had
readily absorbed the extra realty business and easily kept any potential
competition at bay.

He was therefore surprised a couple of years later, to find the little
office re-opened and the very same widow, Ellie, starting up her operations
again.  Naturally, he felt obliged to pay her a visit.  After all, she was
his old buddy's ex wife and it made good business sense to `sound out the
opposition'.  –Before seeing it off that is-.

Strangely, however, he failed to meet Ellie for several months after her
office reopened.  There was a young receptionist who `minded the store';
probably of Mexican extraction for she bore all the hallmarks of an
original Amerindian-cum-white half-breed cross.

Jack Bentley was nothing if not basic in his assimilation and determination
of a person's race.  He tended to class them as a horse breeder would class
an animal's pedigree then treat them accordingly.  Jack Bentley was ever so
slightly racist.

He noted that the girl was pretty and her English wasn't bad.  A likely lay
if and when he got around to sounding her out.

For the present however, he could wait.  He didn't want to muddy the waters
with Andrew's widow so he kept his `business hat' on and kept all
approaches strictly formal.

Eventually his patience appeared to pay off.

A local port authority was selling off some surplus land as their
operations moved away from the town towards deeper water further out to
sea.  The pier at the bottom of main-street and the surrounding land was no
longer suitable for the larger ships and the authority was selling it to
raise capital.

On the scale of the usual land deals around the town, this piece of real
estate was a `biggie' a real `gold mine'.  It was over a hundred hectares
of prime flat accessible land.

Indeed, Jack Bentley knew that the authority was considering using one of
the big national realtor companies to advertise the property for industrial
development.  The land would be ideally situated.  It was flat and well
connected to all the essential services, like road, rail and utilities.

It was also totally free from any risk of flooding.  For a decade the land
had been a carefully controlled re-fill site beside the sea and was now
settled and compacted at a new height well above sea level.  There was no
risk at all of storm inundation for the port had always been well protected
from any storms, located as it was behind the high rocky headland.
Additionally, the new harbour wall protecting the new dock also served as a
double buttress to protect the old estate.  This priceless piece of land
was a veritable jewel and Jack couldn't wait to see some of the action.
Naturally, there was a lot of interest.

Early one warm summer's evening Jack was driving by the area and spotted a
lone figure standing at the edge of the plot looking out to sea.  He
immediately recognised her as Ellie, Andrew's widow and the old competitor.
Eager to discuss their mutual interest he pulled over and bounced across
the rough in-filled land to park his four by four beside her little jeep.

"Hi.  What d'you think?  Prime bit of land don't you agree?"  Asked Jack as
he glanced around the huge plot and waved his arm expansively.

Ellie turned to study the man and quickly recognised the features that made
him attractive to women.

`He still had them', she noted as she discreetly inspected him as only a
woman can.

His tall rangy muscular frame, still not run to paunch, and the easy ready
smile that fixed on a woman's face without inevitably sinking to her
breasts.  `Oh yes, Jack Benson knew exactly how to set a woman at ease',
she concluded

Jack Benson's gaze stayed resolutely on Ellie's face then turned without
threat to re-address the plot.  Ellie knew that this was always the man's
way.  There was never a sense of threat when he addressed a woman and they
inevitably fell easily into his web.  She followed his gaze across the plot
and spoke without looking directly at him.  Preferring to adopt the
professionally mutual assessment of the plot's potential.

"It's got the lot hasn't it?  Residential or industrial."  Ellie eventually
replied.

"Yacht marina-cum-apartments d'you think?" Suggested Jack.

"That as well maybe.  It would bring jobs and housing to the area."  She
agreed easily.

"Town needs more industry though, I think," he offered, "more jobs that
is."

"Yeah, but who's going to bring a factory this far out, at least a factory
big enough to fill this whole site?  It's a nice idea but it'll be a real
job to persuade any takers.  The town was built on lumber and that's its
bread and butter," observed Ellie.

"A pulp mill maybe," suggested Jack.  "The lumber's still here, look, there
goes one of those new lumber ships right now.  Huge aren't they?"

"Maybe, but think of the pollution, the environment, the protests, you name
it,"

"Ay.  You're probably right.  Maybe some new silicone set up then, a
microchip factory of some sort.  This is a lovely area to live and work."

"Amen to that," finished Ellie.

She turned to catch Jack's eye and pouted her lips thoughtfully.  They were
both trying to win the agency for the plot and the commissioners for the
port authority were considering their offers as they spoke.  It was a huge
slice of action.  The good news was that only that afternoon, they had both
learned the business was to be kept local.  No large out-of-town realtors
were being considered.  She and Jack were bidding head to head.  She found
little more to say and turned to leave but Jack spoke again.

"I'm sorry about Andrew and the business with the children."

Ellie felt dead inside.  The mention of her treacherous husband and her
beloved children in the same breath devastated her emotions.  To be both
angry and sad at the same time had overloaded her capacity for emotion.
She stared at Jack and just failed to understand how he could be so
insensitive.  She had discovered after the divorce just how much Jack had
known of Andrew's infidelity and for weeks had kept asking herself why he
hadn't given the slightest intimation.  Jack must have known the risks that
her bastard of a husband was taking, the squalid sex down in the seediest
parts of town, not to mention the prostitutes in Seattle.  Ellie bit her
tongue before replying.

"Yeah.  Not half as sorry as I was."

"You were lucky though," Jack persisted insensitively.

"How?  You might have warned me about him.  It was disgusting!"

"His infection though, the AIDS and stuff. You were lucky to escape that."

Ellie had to bite her tongue harder.  Apart from their family doctor, Jack
was the only other local person to know that Andrew had died of AIDS.
Fortunately, nobody but the clinic in Seattle knew about her own infection.
Bitterly she kept her counsel.

"Yeah.  I suppose you could call me lucky, losing a husband, a family, a
home and a business.  Yeah, that's luck I suppose.  What about your luck
Jack?  I see you've been doing quite well whilst I was away."

At last Jack sensed the irony but only after Ellie had laid it on with a
trowel.  He was about to suggest a date but quickly changed his mind.  The
silence deepened so Ellie completed her unfinished turn then picked her way
across the rough rubble infill towards her jeep.  Jack Bentley belatedly
recognised her mood and waited tactfully for her to leave.

As Ellie's jeep bounced away across the hard-core infill Jack glanced back
with a casual dismissive air then, without a ghost of conscience, he phoned
one of his friends amongst the harbour commissioners.

The choice of agents had not been finalised.  The commissioners had shelved
it until the following month.  Jack arranged another dinner for the
commissioner and his wife.  The wheels of commerce needed continual oiling
but he reckoned he had the deal pretty well sown up.  Ellie was small beer.

As often happens after an initial encounter, Jack bumped into Ellie at
several other locations.  The relationship was always courteous and formal
for both felt it was a waste of un-necessary effort to waste time on
confrontation.  Ellie seemed to win the agencies for most of the most
private domestic properties whilst Jack seemed to do better with the larger
commercial sites.  Jack felt magnanimous about this situation.  There were
fewer opportunities with commercial property but the fees were higher.  It
suited Jack Bentley, for the agency work was roughly the same on each site.
He had to do less work for more money.  Indeed, he began to see Ellie's
firm as a relief valve to absorb any domestic niggles out of his business.
Divorces could be messy and always affected any subsequent home sale.

Usually there were only one or two genuinely interested parties in a large
commercial site while a domestic site might attract dozens of curious but
not genuine buyers.  Jack knew only too well that many viewers of private
homes were simply there to find out how the previous occupiers lived- and
then gossip about what they'd found.  Ellie was welcome to that sort of
business.  He felt it probably suited her womanly curiosity.

A few days before the Port Authority's decision Ellie spotted Jack
entertaining several more of the board members with their wives in the best
restaurant in town.  It irked her.  She knew Jack was well able to afford
the tab while she still had to watch the pennies.  Her business had yet to
recover to its previous level.  Money talked in a small town, indeed money
always talked.

The money from the Gaia foundation was a wonderful start up gift but it had
not lasted forever.  She was beginning to break even now but she still
could not run to lavish meals for clients.  Banks still didn't trust her
after the sudden collapse of her previous business and it would take at
least three years to legally establish her full creditworthiness.  Ordinary
credit terms were all but impossible except for proven deals that could
show a quick safe return.

Entertaining did not fall directly in this category and this was the main
reason she had not had much success with the large commercial estates.
Jack Bentley also had some pull with the bank.  His was one of the largest
accounts in the town.  She knew little good would come from bitching about
any corruption.

To add grist to the mill, the very next day she spotted him playing a round
of golf with the judge.  Ellie knew if she lodged charges of corruption
against the commissioners it would do her no good.  Jack Bentley had the
town virtually sown up.  Small town politics sickened Ellie.

Besides antagonising the establishment, if she kicked up too much dirt
before the judge it would be worse for her.  He was the same judge who
would be handling her application for her children to be returned to her.
Ellie was in a catch twenty-two situation.  The men in the town had it
always and it made her think of the `Stepford Wives'.

`Ah well', she concluded, `time to take more drastic steps'.  If she was to
stand a chance at the Port site, she might as well use what weapons she
had.  There were still a couple of weeks.

The following morning Ellie had a small stroke of luck.  An oriental
company was looking for a base to run operations on the North American edge
of the Pacific Rim.  They were involved in logging which suited the town
and they had just made a successful bid for some logging concessions in the
Amazon basin.  The trade didn't warrant a regular ship calling at the
Amazon depot but a `two-port' loading voyage via the Panama Canal would
prove viable.  Ellie of course, had excellent connections in the Amazon and
she was totally committed to the idea of renewable resources.  Her work
with the Gaia tribe quickly produced an excellent arrangement with the
tribe to farm the tropical hardwood timber properly.  The Korean principals
were enchanted with Ellie's unexpected abilities and contacts so they
offered her a deal.  Manage the North American temperate timber side of the
operation.

At first Ellie was a bit overawed by the prospect but with some judicious
trading and dealing she quickly assembled an attractive package for about a
third of the land belonging to the authority.  Her friends in the Gaia
organisation provided considerable back up.

The regional administration offices and a small plywood plant would exactly
complement the town's main business of lumber exports.  There would also be
the excellent additional trade of importing tropical hardwood to
manufacture high-grade veneered ply.  The raw American lumber trade, when
coupled with the processed hardwood ply, would then be exported to Asia.
This would entail a completely self contained trade that required only one
specialised ship trading a three legged voyage between Puget Sound, the
Amazon River and several Asian ports of final discharge.  Ellie reckoned
the port Authority would jump at the nugget.  She reckoned wrongly however.

Confidentiality was paramount for her Korean principals so she could only
hint at the potential for her deal because the Koreans were still setting
deals up back in Asia.

They had stiff competition from Japan and Singapore so Ellie was unable to
elaborate on her plans.

Jack Bentley's finger was also stuck deep in the pie and it seemed he had
already got the commissioners in his pocket.  For want of any hard certain
information from Ellie, Jack Bentley's idea for a yacht marina was the
commissioners preferred option.  Ellie was kicking herself that she
couldn't reveal any more but her deal hung on secrecy at both the North and
South American ends until the project was a done deal in Korea.

Ellie decided there were two options.  One was to go public with her deal
but that would frighten off the Korean principals and it was a total none
starter.  If it looked like failing in Puget Sound, Ellie still had the
option to set up in Portland Oregon or even Vancouver B.C.  The last thing
she wanted was a public political row.

The other option was to fix Jack Bentley once and for all.

She might have forgiven him about Andrew's sexual indiscretions; after all
she knew Andrew was weak.  Her AIDS infection however, and her subsequent
descent into the hell of prostitution was a totally different matter.  She
shuddered as she thought how close she had been to death.

Ellie laid her plans carefully.  Using bitter lessons learned from her
devastating experience as a street prostitute, she soon had Jack Bentley
hooked like a fish on a line.  Three days before Jack expected to seal the
land deal Ellie finally `submitted' to his charms.

They met apparently by accident in a diner after work.  The diner had only
been open for a few weeks but the food was cheap, wholesome and varied.
Ellie and her `Amerindian Secretary' had started eating there each evening
after work.  Jack Bentley had also noticed it a few days earlier and
decided to try it.

When he entered he noticed Ellie and her assistant so he invited himself to
their table.  He had just had verbal confirmation that he had won the
agency work for the harbour property and decided a little sympathy offered
to Ellie would not go amiss.  Ellie had also received a written
confirmation that she had not won the contract.  She was not surprised.
Her letter of rejection had confirmed that Jack Bentley's contract would be
signed at the end of the week.

Ellie's pretty Brazilian assistant moved against the window to make room in
the booth for Jack so he took his seat as he offered his condolences.

Ellie offered him good luck with the deal and resumed eating her salad,
pretending to show little interest in the man as he studied the menu.
Eventually he spoke again.

"What's that salad like?"

"Fresh."  Replied Ellie monosyllabically.

"Is it chicken?"  He persevered.

"Turkey."

He frowned slightly and caught the silent secretary's glancing contempt.
He was not too worried by the `monkey'; it was the `organ grinder' Ellie,
that he needed to appease.  He tried being sociable again.

"I hope you're not too sore about the land thing Ellie."

"Business is business.  You've got what you wanted."

"Good.  I'm glad you're being professional about it.  I'm going to their
offices on Friday to seal the deal and tidy up some loose ends.  One of the
commissioners mentioned that you might have a tenant for a part of the
site."

"I might."

"Would you care to divulge?"

"I'd rather not.  I would be betraying their confidence."

"Pity," shrugged Jack, "I thought we could at least find some mutual
business to both our advantages.  You could charge a `finders fee'.'

"It wouldn't work," replied Ellie, " my tenants would have been industrial
clients.  Their plans would clash with a your plans for a yacht marina."

Jack's eye's widened.  An industrial tenant would bring in a much bigger
rent in the long term.  It would also create an improved realty market as
more jobs brought more wealth and a bigger demand for housing.  In the long
term, Ellie's deal, -if it was genuine- would have a far better prospect
for the town's prosperity.

He had heard a whisper that Ellie might have some deal going but he had
treated it as a rumour and also convinced his friends on the Commissioners
board that it was unlikely. They did not know of Ellie's new worldwide
connections and could not see how she would have set up such a big deal in
such a short time.  He studied both girls through narrowed eyes as his
business brain tried to work out a plan to extract the identity of Ellie's
secret client.  He wondered if Ellie's part Amerindian secretary might
somehow give away some secrets but she seemed to read his mind and gave him
another brief withering glance before resuming her meal.

Jack Bentley decided that Ellie was the better target and he quickly
shifted into `hunting gear'.  He knew Ellie's weaknesses and strengths for
he had been a friend since she married Andrew.  On the rare occasions when
they had gone out together as a foursome, Jack had always paid meticulous
attention to Ellie's conversations and opinions.  He knew that Ellie was
the business brain in the marriage.

Now that there might be a good business opportunity, Jack Bentley found
himself reassessing the wife of his dead buddy.

`For a thirty something she wasn't half bad.  Her face still had those
beautiful classical lines that he had found attractive before she and
Andrew had their children.  Her body was curvy with ripe breasts and a
slender waist.  He hips were nicely rounded and she had a fabulous arse,
especially when she wore tight denims when she was out assessing a site.
She was wearing those denim jeans now, and under those denims he knew she
had a spectacular pair of legs. When he summed her up he found it difficult
to understand why Andrew had ever wandered from her bed.

It was an indication of Andrew's weakness that he went out looking for
scrag-end on the street when he had rump steak at home.

Indeed, Ellie Thomas was a very, very tasty little morsel.





If Jack could find anything wrong with Ellie's figure it was the slightly
plump little belly that strained at the zipper of her jeans.  But that was
only to be expected, Ellie had born Andrew three beautiful children.  Even
Jack felt it a shame that the social workers had taken them away but
Andrew's death had brought tough times and Ellie had apparently suffered
some sort of physical and mental breakdown.

Jack surmised that it was not unexpected when your husband died of AIDS.

As he considered the circumstances his respect for Ellie's resilience grew
a little.  A woman in her early thirties putting her shattered life back
together had to be worthy of some respect.  Past his mid thirties himself,
Jack Bentley could identify with the woman's problems for his own view of
life was changing.  He wouldn't always be attractive to women and a few
wrinkles were beginning to show if he looked carefully in the mirror.  By
contrast, Ellie Thomas's face looked as smooth as a baby's but then, women
always took more care.

On reflection Jack decided that `Maybe Ellie Thomas was worth something
more than a quick lay.'

Jack pulled out all the courtship stops and by the end of the meal he had a
date for the following night.

`Just to touch bases, and explore any possible potential,' was his
description.  Ellie knew it was nothing more than a sophisticated ploy to
expose her secrets and possibly testing the sexual waters.

`Or more likely, using the sexual waters to flush out her secrets.'  She
concluded.

The following night Ellie got the full treatment, and eventually allowed
herself to be charmed into bed.  In truth she had been celibate too long
and there was probably nobody better suited than Jack Bentley to assuage
her appetite.  He was after all, still an attractive man.

As they coupled eagerly Jack was surprised at the tightness and texture of
Elli's sex then he was stunned at the tricks she could perform with that
same delicious scabbard of delight.  Ellie seemed to have muscles and parts
to her pussy that went beyond the realms of reality.  Each time, as Jack
was poised for the ecstatic climax, Ellie seemed to somehow release her
grip and stop sucking on his penis.

`Yes!  Sucking for God's sake!  Realised Jack as his final paroxysm was
delayed time and again whilst Ellie orgasmed repeatedly beneath him.
Eventually, Ellie squealed her last cry of passion and brought Jack to his
spectacular conclusion.  Having sated her own appetite, she gripped his
buttocks with her thighs and dragged him deep into her as her hips pounded
eagerly away.  Jack exploded with relief and emptied himself in a series of
titanic bursts, as Ellie's pussy seemed to close even tighter around him.
So tight indeed that during his last explosion of passion his penis seemed
to twinge with delight.  He let out a cry of pleasure and for the first
time in his life, slumped exhausted onto her pillowy breasts.  Ellie let
out a grunt of displeasure and he immediately heaved himself up on his
elbows again.

"Sorry love, I didn't mean to crush you."

"You're heavy, roll over," gasped Ellie as she levered herself sideways and
kept her legs wrapped tightly around him.

Jack carefully brought his knees up and Lifted Ellie like a three-toed
sloth as he gently followed her sideways motion before carefully rolling
onto his back.  Throughout the move Ellie kept him tight inside her until
she found herself in the upper position.

Then she exercised her woman's prerogative to stretch luxuriously along his
muscular frame whilst her breasts squeezed against his powerful chest and
her pussy remained tight around his softening organ.  Once comfortable she
gave a sigh of satisfaction that Jack took as a compliment to his sexual
prowess.

To Ellie's delight, he even chatted softly with her for a while before she
finally felt the need to sleep.  She had to admit to herself that Jack
Bentley was a real ladies man.  It seemed such a pity.

When he rose the following morning, Jack Bentley was pleased with himself.
He had managed to wheedle the bare bones out of Ellie via the pillow talk
and he reckoned that few more nights of intensive passion would do it.
That first night she had not divulged any really vital material like names
and addresses but he felt it was only a matter of weeks if not days.  Ellie
felt she could almost read his thoughts and smiled inwardly as she
contemplated the huge surprise Jack was going to get.  She had to admit to
herself though.

`Jack Bentley was certainly a smooth operator and she had enjoyed the sex.'

The next night the sex was even better.

Jack seemed to have an itch in his cock that would not go away.  At first
he likened the constant erection to a `piss-stand' but it persisted long
after he had been almost forced to perform a handstand in the lavatory.
His erection was so hard it had been impossible to pee standing up and he
had been forced to sit down and lean forward with his erection restrained
by the front edge of the toilet seat.  Jack had never had such a stiff
enduring erection.  After a few hours it began to worry him and he managed
to collect a sample of his pee in a glass.

Fortunately, his urine was clear and there were no obvious signs of
infection.  As an active satyr, Jack Bentley knew what to look for.

Maybe he had strained himself after too much frantic sex with this
insatiable little widow.

On the third night despite, his delightfully hard erection, Jack had to
reluctantly forego Ellie's bed.  The land deal had to be signed in some big
shot attorney's office in Seattle and Jack's seaplane was down for
overhaul.  He considered inviting Ellie to accompany him on the overnight
drive to Seattle but decided that would be like rubbing salt in a wound.
Reluctantly he made his excuses and set off that evening with plans to
sleep over in a motel.  He had to be in the Seattle offices for nine
o'clock.

He was a regular visitor to the motel for it was a place he often took his
partners during a weekend break.  Its rooms overlooked the sound and
provided a romantic backdrop to any wooing or conquest.  That night
however, Jack had papers to check so he finished his meal and retired to
his room.

Unfortunately his cock simply refused to let him concentrate on his work.
The itch became stronger and the –by now virtually permanent erection-
simply refused to go away.

Several times during the evening, Jack was compelled to relieve himself and
all attempts to concentrate on his work failed hopelessly.

The itch in his penis just got stronger and stronger and there seemed to be
no end to it.  He tried to ignore it but his pants were too uncomfortable
and in the end his erection won. He was compelled to slip between the
sheets.  There he beat his meat furiously and after several prolonged
spectacular orgasms he finally slipped into an exhausted fitful sleep.

Sometime in the small hours he vaguely recalled pleasuring himself and
dreaming of the exquisite sensations spreading from his groin but he didn't
properly waken.  He was too exhausted and his befuddled mind only partially
savoured the semiconscious waves of orgasmic pleasure that swept through
his body.  It was only in the morning that he eventually learned of his
changed condition.

He rose with the same urgent itch in his penis and stumbled sleepily to the
lavatory to pee.  Finally, as he reached for his organ he realised
something was wrong.  The itch was now overwhelming and his penis felt as
stiff as an iron rod but when he reached to scratch it and try relieving
himself he could not find it.

For several moments his fingers pawed uselessly as his panic increased
until he let out a shriek of terror and ripped his pants down to see where
it had gone.  To his utter horror there was nothing but an angry red nub of
flesh covered with an intense dappled rash.  The itch continued to drive
him crazy but when he tried to relieve it he simply found his finger nails
digging into a rigid excited little bud.  This only increased the
sensation.

The delicious signals from his groin confused him and his bodily functions
seemed to be located in different places as his urge to pee finally
overwhelmed him.  He was still standing stupidly facing the pan as his
urine unexpectedly sprayed between his legs and soaked his groin before
finally flooding down his thighs and saturating his pants.  He was peeing
like a girl!!

The shock of realisation overcame him and he collapsed into the pool
between his feet.

He woke again quickly as the cold damp floor chilled him.  The stink of
urine assailed his nostrils and he recoiled from the mess as he struggled
to sit on the toilet seat.  Disgusted by his own stink he dragged the
saturated pants down his legs before returning with an abiding fear to his
itching groin.

"Please God, let it be a dream."  He begged.

But it was no dream.  His trembling fingers located the stiff little source
of the itch and he jerked uncontrollably as the pleasure lanced through his
groin.

`Christ!  That's good!'  He croaked as the waves of lust rolled up from his
groin and the itch continued to torment his diminutive little bud.

`Oh my God, this is something else!'  He gasped as he sagged on the seat
and grabbed at the washbasin to steady himself whilst still fingering the
vital spot.





The waves of lust engulfed him and the room started spinning whilst his
heart sounded like a stampede of buffalo.  Finally he succumbed to the
insistent demands of his impending orgasm and he slumped into the shower as
his fingers desperately worked to relieve the pressure building up within.

On the floor of the shower he finally achieved an orgasm but it was nothing
like all his previous orgasms.  This one took his whole being to nirvana.
He let out a befuddled wail and finally curled into an unconscious foetal
ball as the aftershocks richtered through his body.

Nine o'clock came and went.

In Seattle, the commissioners and the big shot lawyers tapped their fingers
irritably as the clock crawled stubbornly past ten and then finally eleven
before they lost patience.

"Something must have happened, a road accident or something.  He'd have
phoned or something, he's usually on the ball.  We'll have to reset it for
next week."

The senior partner nodded agreeably and they took some coffee before
separating.

In a motel shower cubicle on the shores of Puget Sound, Jack Bentley's
world was turning upside down.  He woke again at ten as the itch restarted
and spread through his whole being.  It felt like hundreds of caterpillars
crawling around under his skin.  First they seemed to be nibbling at his
waist as he watched it visibly shrink then the itch seemed to be ripple
back and forth between waist and butt as his butt cheeks widened and
rounded. The soft fat seemed to somehow migrate south.

The angry rash had deepened to a vivid red and spread all over his body so
he now resembled a sculpted beetroot.  He stared petrified in the shower
cubicle's mirror as the itch now shifted to his chest and shoulders.
Nervous tears spread down his cheeks as the itch pre-empted another –by
now predictable- development.

Soft pillowy swellings erupted under his masculine pectorals and within the
second hour he knew he was looking at a magnificent pair of rounded
voluptuous womanly breasts.  His muscular arms and shoulders had shrunk,
for the `caterpillars' seemed to have munched his muscle tissue and
transferred it as fat to his tits.  Fearfully he touched the tits and
shuddered with abandon as the enlarged nipples stiffened and stood out like
ripened strawberries.  The fires shot down to his loins again and he
squeezed his thighs together in a paroxysm of sensuous delight.

The itch seemed to anticipate his awareness for now it spread throughout
his body. Itchy red scales seemed to form all over him including his eyes
and ears.  Eventually, Jack Bentley found himself encased in a seemingly
snakelike scabby skin.  With clumsy scab encased fingers, he picked at it
nervously for it itched like hell and seemed to be getting tighter. He
could hardly breath inside the sheath and virtually all facial expressions
were frozen under the thick pancake-like scales.







He felt himself suffocating and reached frantically at the scabs inside his
mouth and nostrils to allow air to enter.  The scabs were too tough and he
thought he was about to die but the sheath obligingly split across his
face.  His nose and lips emerged and he gulped in desperate mouthfuls as
his eyes became clear again and he studied the face in the mirror.

It was not his face but a beautifully tanned golden face with full red lips
and a delicate nose.  His once pale blue eyes were now a beautiful green
that peeped out from beneath thick eyelashes and high arched brows.  It was
not Jack Bentley that stared back at him from the mirror.  Nervously he
scratched and picked at the sloughing skin that peeled down his delicious
golden curves like a snake shedding its skin.

For a moment, the itch seemed to have eased and he stood admiring the
beautiful woman tantalising him in the mirror.  The bud in his loins
stiffened for a moment but the pleasure was cut brutally short as the itch
entered his scalp.  The `caterpillars' seemed to have invaded his hairline
and he frantically scratched away at his hair like a child infested with
cooties, (nits).  To soothe the irritation he switched on the shower and
grabbed a sachet of shampoo.  To his dismay, his beautifully groomed light
brown hair started coming out in huge clumps and he quickly rinsed away the
shampoo to find a bald woman staring back at him.  The despair turned to
resignation as the shiny itching scalp developed a hint of golden fuzz.
Even as he stood gaping into the mirror, the fuzz started to thicken then
erupted from his scalp and fell as a rich golden mane tumbling down past
his shoulders to eventually arrest itself just above his arrow waist.

Jack Bentley was now forced to accept that he was the stunning woman
mocking him from the mirror.  With knowing hands he explored the woman's
delightful curves and eventually introduced his knowing fingers to her most
intimate parts.  The little bud stiffened obligingly and Jack savoured the
total immersion of femininity from the sensations radiating outwards.  His
nipples stiffened again and his throat tightened as he squirmed his silky
smooth thighs together but the hoped for orgasm seemed too far off.  Jack,
ever the perfect lover, quickly realised that his new woman's body would
have to be `courted', before he could totally indulge in a woman's all
embracing orgasm.  It was no good simply employing the male masturbation
technique and vigorously attacking his sensitive new bud.  It was going to
take time and time was what he patently lacked.

As the itch finally ceased, he finished exploring his delicious new body
then came to his senses and realised he had missed his nine o'clock
appointment.  With a curse that told him his voice was also now a woman's,
he grabbed a clean shirt and started to dress himself as best he could.  It
was then he realised that he was also a woman's size.  The shirt hung from
him like a baggy sail except where his magnificent breasts billowed out to
fill it.  He shuddered as the crisp clean cotton tantalised his sensitive
nipples and they responded immediately.

"Damm!"  He cursed out loud.  "There are going to have to be some changes."

Quickly he tugged the loose ill-fitting garments over his feminised body
and shuffled awkwardly to his 4X4 in his oversized shoes.



He now realised just how much weaker he was.  The suitcase he had easily
manhandled into his room now seemed to resemble a ball and chain.

`So that's why women were so fond of those cases with the little
wheels. Shit!  This thing was heavy!'

Eventually he was ready to leave and bid a fearful farewell to the maid who
frowned at the unkempt girl's strange attire.  Then the maid smirked as she
concluded the girl was leaving in a hurry probably after some sort of tiff.
Jack somehow sensed the maid's contempt but ignored it as he struggled to
clamber into the 4X4 and gratefully gunned it out of the car park. He
thanked God that Jack Bentley had an account at the hotel.

He found driving very different.  The oncoming cars just didn't seem to
leave enough room and the speed seemed frightening.  He little realised
that even his sensory perceptions and spatial awareness were now those of a
woman.  Gradually his speed decreased down to a typical `school-mistress's'
crawl as his male mind tried to reconcile itself to it's new female senses.
The whole perspective of the road and its traffic seemed somehow panoramic
and totally bewildering.  To make matters worse, the starched cotton shirt
sent continual shivers of pleasure through his nipples every time his arms
turned the large steering wheel and his heavy tits wobbled against the
rough straining texture.  As his legs stretched to reach the pedals, his
arse slid forward and his coarse cotton pants sent distracting ripples of
pleasure shooting through his bud.  Several times he actually had to stop
and `cool down'.

Naturally he drove straight home as quickly as his new sensibilities
allowed.  The Seattle appointment was a total non-starter for he had a lot
more serious stuff to attend to.

As his 4X4 nosed cautiously into the driveway, Jack Bentley reflected on
his previous returns home.  As a man his entrances had always been a bold
sweep through the gateway followed by an inch perfect stop in front of the
wide garage doors.  Now his approach was positively timorous.  The gateway
seemed perilously narrow and the 4X4's wings seemed to balloon out for
yards all around him.  It seemed like docking a super-tanker.

Ruefully, he now realised why women were so hopeless at parking.  Their
whole perception of space and distance was utterly distorted by their wider
panoramic vision and lack of depth perspective.  As he inched forward his
rear wing clipped the brick gatepost and he squeaked with frustration as
his loins started to tighten up with tension and his feet fumbled on the
pedals.  After two more futile attempts he gave up.  The car seemed just
too damned large for the drive so he left it angled half off the sidewalk
with its nose in the gateway.  After drumming his tiny fists on the
dashboard, he swivelled on the huge seat and poked both feet out of the
door. With his knees strangely pressed together he slid awkwardly off the
seat and dropped down to the ground.  The seat was far too high now he was
nearly a foot shorter.  He would have to change his car.  The 4X4 was
altogether too big and unmanageable.





After a struggle, he managed to drag the suitcase out of the back and
lugged it clumsily up the drive to his front door.  Once inside, he slammed
the door behind him and stepped gratefully out of the oversized shoes.  In
the hall mirror he studied the ludicrously dressed girl before him then
pattered to the kitchen on graceful little feet to put the coffee
percolator on.  While he waited for the coffee, Jack Bentley sat down and
had his first long think.

"Shit!  Shit, shit shi-it!" Was all he could manage.  `What the hell had
happened to him?'

`He had obviously turned into a younger woman, of that there was no doubt,
but why and for how long?  Was it permanent and if it was; how was he going
to run his empire?  As the thought slammed into his mind he panicked and
fled on mincing, swaying legs to study his image again in the hall mirror.
The stunning twenty-year-old bimbo looked back at him and he suddenly felt
tears well up.

`Oh Christ!  He even had female emotions.  With a shriek of despair he fled
up to the bedroom and flung himself across his bed as the sobs wracked his
newly feminised frame.  For the remainder of the afternoon and evening he
simply lay, sobbing his heart out.  Occasionally the telephone invaded his
world but he ignored it.  Who could he say he was and if it was the
commissioners they would want to speak to Jack, not some strange woman with
a simpering bimbo-ish voice.

The trouble was, that he still had Jack's sharp intellect and acute
business intelligence it was just that nearly every other part of his body
and personality were now female; especially the emotions.  Every time he
tried to rationalise his condition he simply broke down into hysterical
tears.  There seemed to be no escape from the bimbo-ish empty-headed
emotions that overtook his every attempt to remain calm, logical and
rational.

Eventually he dug some beers from the fridge, switched on the telly, and
flung himself into his favourite armchair.  Even this provided little
escape for he found himself attracted to the chat shows and soaps instead
of the sports channels and business programmes.  Resolutely he tried
watching his favourite business channel but although he had no trouble
understanding the language and figures, he found himself bored and his
attention kept wandering to `girlie' programmes.

`Shit!  What was happening to his mind?'  He wondered.

After half a single can of beer he needed to pee.  This annoyed him
enormously for he previously used to sit for several hours nursing a couple
of beers as he studied the markets then watched a game.  Obviously, his
female bladder was smaller and he reluctantly rose only to stagger
slightly.

`Was he drunk?' He asked himself, `he'd only sipped half a beer!'

By way of confirmation he staggered stupidly back into his chair as the
room span momentarily and he gripped the arms.

`Of course!  Women were more affected by alcohol and it seemed that his new
young bimbo's body was exceedingly vulnerable.  He'd have to watch
himself.'

Cautiously he made his way to the bathroom and settled nervously on the
pan.  For a few moments he hesitated, uncertain if the stuff would spray
out like it had before.  Then he resigned himself to whatever privations a
woman had to endure and cautiously `let go'.  The urine flowed further
forward than he had expected which surprised him.  He'd always thought a
woman's pee passed backwards and out between her legs under the cheeks of
her arse like a cow or a mare.  Instead it sprayed like a fountain, much
more than a man's directional stream and it pointed more down and forward.

`No wonder women found it so awkward to squat al fresco with their pants
and tights tugged down passed their knees.  They were so damned vulnerable
squatting like a wet hen and splashing their ankles.'

 He immediately began to miss the easy convenience of a directional cock to
squirt wherever it was convenient.  When he had finished, his pussy lips
were soaking and he had to wipe himself with several tissues before being
satisfied he was completely dry.

He made a mental note to buy some extra toilet tissue and with a sickening
realisation he concluded there was going to be a hell of a lot more toilet
stuff he was going to have to buy.  The best thing to do was sleep on it so
he showered then dug out the loosest softest shirt he had to wear to bed.
Even so, his nipples got excited and his tits prevented him sleeping on his
front.  His soft rounded butt acted like a roller and he was forced to
sleep in the three-quarter prone position with his tits filling out his
shirt and his upper leg draped over his lower leg to anchor him and stop
him from rolling over on his back.  It was a peculiar way to lie but his
new body geometry compelled him.

As he often did when a he had been a man without a fuck, he tried inducing
sleep by masturbating but he found it impossible to satisfy his needs with
a quick fix.  His new female mindset demanded a romantic prelude and the
trauma of the past day had been anything but that.  In the end it made
little difference.  He was exhausted with the events of the day and quickly
fell asleep.

The telephone dragged him from his sleep and he scrabble across the bed on
his belly as he groped for the receiver.  His efforts crushed his new
breasts and he grunted with painful shock as his befuddled mind remembered
his new condition.

"Ouch!"  He squealed as he fumbled with his new additions and tried to
massage the pain away.  `Another lesson in womanhood,' he concluded
ruefully as he gently supported the throbbing globes and carefully eased
them back into his shirt.  He reached the phone as the last ring died and
the received clicked in his ear.

"Damn!  Who could that have been?"  He wondered out loud as his feminine
curiosity got the better of his masculine efforts to remain indifferent.
He somehow felt forced to dial back and identify the caller and resistance
proved futile.  His dainty feminine hand seemed to have a mind of its own
as it punched in the code to identify the caller.

The number proved to be Ellie's and he started to punch in her number
before the realisation hit him.

`If she heard a female voice calling her from Jack's bedroom at this time,
she'd immediately conclude betrayal.'

Reluctantly Jack replaced the receiver then took the phone off the hook as
he sat on the side of the bed debating what to do.

`The first thing was some clothes.  It was no good swanning about the town
in Jack's clothes and car.  Some copper would soon stop her and ask some
very awkward questions.  With a sickening certainty he began to really
understand the position he was in.  His new body had no recognisable
I.D. and all his paper and plastic was in his male persona.  Jack Bentley
was in one hell of a fix!

`Hell!  For all the ID I've got, I may as well be an alien!'

Then he realised that for all practical purposes, Jack Bentley was indeed
dead, as dead as if he'd been murdered and buried.  Jack Bentley was no
more!!

Fortunately, there was one remaining glimmer of hope.  In his office sat
the computer with its `on-line' connections.  At least he could go online
to buy some clothes for this new body.  Glad to clutch at a single straw,
he rooted out the best ensemble he could muster and set off for his office.
Outside his gate, the 4X4 still sat across the sidewalk so he clambered
nervously into the driver's seat and carefully aligned it with the kerb as
best his womanly senses would allow.  For a moment he sat debating whether
to drive to his office then decided to risk it.

Fortunately, the rush hour traffic ensured his anonymity.  He found himself
struggling to appear normal as his feminine persona struggled to keep up
with the `speeding' traffic.  Fortunately it worked and several police cars
passed him without a second look.  Jack arrived at his office and parked
askew in the parking bay with a huge sigh of relief.

`Now for that online shopping,' he mused.

A large hypermarket had recently been built out of town and it provided an
online same-day delivery service.  Fortunately, Jack had recently opened an
account so there was no problem paying.  He had a good idea what size he
was for he had been around women long enough to have an understanding of
women's clothing.  He had brought plenty of tasteful presents in his
bachelor days.  Along with his first purchases, he ordered all the clothing
catalogues the store offered.

The first thing of course, was some assorted underwear and a tape
measure. Next, for good measure, he ordered several conservative business
suits in different sizes.  For now, the loose shirt would have to make do,
once he was dressed fit to go out he could choose some more suitable
blouses and tops Belatedly, he also ordered several different pairs of `one
size' tights and five different sizes of low heeled shoe.  He knew he was
about average size so there couldn't be that much room for error.  Finally
he included some essential female hygiene products then he sat back and
waited.

At eleven o'clock, the delivery van arrived and Jack Bentley's new
`secretary' yelled from her office to the delivery boy.

"Leave them in the hall."

"I need him to sign for them."

"I'll get him to sign when he returns; they're on his account aren't they?"

"Can't you sign for them?"

Jack Bentley cursed silently and reached cautiously around the door as he
waggled his graceful little hand impatiently.

"Give it here then.  I'm changing my skirt," he lied to explain why he
could not face the delivery boy.

The docket landed in his hand and he took it then paused before carefully
signing it. He took the carbon copy for future reference.  `His
`secretary's' new signature was going to be important during the next few
days.'

The delivery boy took back the flimsy and left with a shrug of his
shoulders.  As the door closed, Jack sagged with relief and emerged to
examine his purchase.

The first thing was to find some suitable support for his fulsome boobs.
His chest was beginning to ache with the downward tug.  Sadly, none of the
bras fitted exactly and he realised reluctantly he was encumbered with a
spectacular pair.  He gently caressed the splendid globes into the largest
cups and ruefully considered the bountiful excess pillowing out of the top.
He was at least a double `D' or even an E.  Fortunately, the banding was
the right size, somewhere between a thirty-two and a thirty-four.  He stood
before the mirror and frowned at the spectacular mammary precursors that
would forever pre-empt his arrival.  He looked down to smile at the
delightfully inviting cleavage and realised he could not see his feet.

`Jack Bentley,' he mused again to the image in the mirror, `you're one well
stacked broad!'

Would he ever get anybody to listen to him or take him seriously with these
klaxons announcing his arrival every time he walked through a door, he
wondered.

Thoughtfully he traced the outline of his nipples and shuddered with
pleasure as the silky smooth material transmitted his attentions to the
supersensitive trigger buttons within the satiny cups.

'Shit!  No wonder women succumbed so easily,' he gasped, ` after only the
slightest attention these little beauties would render any girl helpless!'

As he played with his swollen nipples his pussy became damp and he
reluctantly ceased his ministrations.

`There was work to do and no time for playing just yet.'

He tore off some toilet tissues and wiped himself dry then slipped on a
matching pair of panties. Again he paused breathlessly as he savoured the
exquisite caress of the satiny material around his crotch and butt cheeks.

`Mmmm!  It felt so nice.  Women seemed to have all the pleasure when it
came to dressing.'

He lingered luxuriously then his eyes fell upon the little boxes of tights.
As a man, he had often savoured the silky feel of tights but now he was
about to anticipate that sensation with a woman's smooth soft skin.  He
chose a silky, high gloss pair and rolled them up as he had seen many
different women do in the mornings.  Strangely he found his legs seemed
more flexible as he pointed his toes and slid sensuously into the
captivating tubes of nylon.  He put the flexibility down to his feminine
hips having greater mobility.

The tights slipped on without any resistance and he twitched with pleasure
as his hairless calves slithered silkily against each other.  There seemed
no end to the sensuousness of women's clothing and he squeezed his thighs
together as the silky texture slithered evocatively right up to his
crotch. As he adjusted the waistband the clingy film embraced his butt
cheeks in another layer of silky luxury.

Savouring the luxuriant intimacy the walked around the office and raised
first one leg then the other as the material massaged his legs and tugged
tight into his crotch.

Once again he marvelled that women weren't constantly like bitches on heat
if their clothes always felt as good as this.  He was tempted to throw
himself on the office sofa and abandon himself to the whole, silky, satiny
experience but again he forced himself to forego the pleasures.  He had to
address the more pressing issues of surmounting Jack Bentley's sudden
demise.  He returned to the parcels and examined the suits he had ordered.

The nicest ensemble comprised a charcoal grey power suite with a pencil
slim skirt that he held up to his waist.  Without a second thought he
turned to the mirror and struck a pose that he had always ridiculed when he
was a man.  Now it seemed the most natural thing to do as he twisted his
graceful neck and studied the skirt from different angles.  Finally he
slipped it on and felt a delicious thrill of helplessness as the tight hem
restricted his silky legs and the satiny lining slithered evocatively
against his lingerie.  He tried a few strides and felt his silky inner
thighs caressing each other.

`Shit!' he wondered, `how did women manage to walk without succumbing to an
orgasm with every stride?'  The silky, stretchy tights seemed to stroke
every nerve in his legs from his toes to his waist and particularly his
cock.

-Well it's not a cock any more is it Jack-?  He reminded himself fretfully
as he felt more dampness I that special place next to his pebble hard
little nub.'

He eyed the office sofa again and had to struggle to resist temptation.  `A
woman's body seemed almost totally designed for sex and his was screaming
urgently to be assuaged.'

He next put on his own cotton shirt and fastened it to within a couple of
buttons of the neck.  It hung loose about his tummy but pulled taught
across his bounteous new appendages and the nipples sprang lewdly to
attention again as the material slithered over the satiny cups of his
over-stuffed bra.  He felt the dampness increase and wondered if he was
going to make it to the bank. Once there he could solve the immediate
problems about buying some more clothes by raiding the teller machine
outside in the bank's car park.

Sensing the urges increasing under his skirt he finished tucking in the
shirt's untidy creases around his newly slender waist and quickly donned
the matching jacket.  The darts in the matching tailored jacket smoothly
embraced his sculpted front balcony and he sighed with satisfaction.  He
would easily pass as a girl now.  Then he shook his head stupidly as the
cascading locks swept across his shoulders and around his back.

`What was he bloody well talking about!  He was a bloody girl, and a
stunning good looker at that!'

Finally he chose a pair of shoes that fitted his dainty little feet and
took a few experimental steps.  He was glad he had chosen flat pumps.  In
heels he wasn't at all sure how he would have managed.

He took a lingering look in the mirror and found himself lusting after the
girl in the mirror.  The dampness became un-manageable and he had to slip
into the toilet to stuff some tissues into the crotch of his panties.  As
he busied himself, wiping his crotch the dam burst.  His fingers were drawn
inevitably to the screaming little bud and lingered helplessly before he
finally capitulated to its overwhelming demands.

The whole sensuous process of dressing as a girl and caressing his body in
the smooth silky captivity of women's clothes had been tantamount to an act
of courtship.  After furiously squeezing, rubbing and drumming his frantic
fingers against the amazing new substitute for his cock he finally let out
a squeal of satiation as the lustful demands of his exciting new body
overwhelmed him.  With his skirt hoisted around his waist and his tights
around his ankles, he slumped back on the toilet seat gasping for breath.

There he sat with his shoulders sagged and his knees spread obscenely wide
as the spent fluids of his orgasm dribbled from his newly formed sex and
his heart thundered like a thousand trip hammers.  It was fully twenty
minutes before the last waves of exaltation shimmered up his body and
pressed his turgid, satin-encased nipples against the tight embrace of his
untailored shirt.

Jack Bentley wagged his head with resignation and sighed fatalistically.
He was forced to concede that he was now a very horny twenty-year-old girl
and a gorgeous bimbo at that.

`Fortunately he still had his own sharp business mind lurking under that
spectacularly deceptive mane of `Barbie Doll' golden hair.  He would have
to wait and see how he was going to use his new assets.'