Date: Tue, 27 Apr 2004 13:47:33 -0700
From: Eugene Webber
Subject: Guy and Ellen  Part  II  (TV/TG)

After Nathaniel sat down, six other people boarded the bus. The first was
a woman, mid-thirties, dressed exactly like the driver, only a skirt
replacing the pants, a different color necktie, and black pumps with
three-inch heels instead of oxfords. Nathaniel then noticed that the
bartender also was dressed the same: shirt, tie, vest, pants. Only the
color scheme and pattern of his shirt and tie differed, his shirt bei ng
taupe and theirs black. Nathaniel had been in the working world long
enough to realize that these were uniforms, with the differences in shirt
colors and tie patterns indicating different ranks and functions. Very
subtle, he thought, immediately followed by apprehension. Rules,
brochures, uniforms, secrecy. THE ESTATE sounded more and more ominous
the more he learned of it.

More ominous still was the way the woman was addressed by the driver and
the bartender. "Good evening, Mistress Sylvia," each had said, the driver
first. Mistress Sylvia did not speak to them, barely acknowledging their
greeting. She looked directly at Nathaniel, a brilliant smile breaking
her otherwise stern visage.

"Good evening," she beamed extending her hand. "You must be Mr.
Spotswood." Nathaniel stood and nodded, shaking her hand. "Welcome to THE
ESTATE. I hope you enjoy your stay with us."

Nathaniel was trying to think of something to say when a middle-aged
couple boarded th e bus. "Welcome aboard, Mr. and Mrs. Harris," the bus
driver said, alerting Sylvia to the couple behind her. She turned, the
neon smile on.

"Welcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Harris," she beamed. "It is always a pleasure
to have you visit us."

"Thank you, Sylvie," Mr. Harris said, easing his way past her. He turned
to the bartender. "The usual Jeff," he said without breaking his ambling
stride.

"Yes, thank you, Sylvia," Mrs. Harris said wearily as she passed Sylvia,
trailing her husband. She merely nodded to Jeff, indicating the usual for
her also. The couple took the last alcove on the right of the bus.

Nathaniel had silently watched all this, still standing, not knowing
whether to continue his conversation with Sylvia. At least one thing was
settled: he did not have to call her Mistress. Just as the Harrises
settled into their alcove, two women clamored aboard the bus. They seemed
to be about fifteen years apart in age, the younger one in a black leat
her skirt suit, the hem of the skirt barely below the hem of the jacket,
knee-high boots with five-inch heels. With her overly teased and spiked
hair, all she needed was a large sign proclaiming "Butch Dyke." Whatever
THE ESTATE was, Nathaniel concluded, it had a varied clientele.

"Welcome to THE ESTATE, Ms. Trevor," Sylvia beamed, her smile now on
automatic. "And your guest is ... ?"

Her guest looked at the floor. Like Ms. Trevor, she wore a skirt suit,
but unlike Ms. Trevor, hers was raw silk, dark plum in color, matching
the deep red pumps, handbag, and briefcase. Her hemline was below the
knee.

"Sylvie, this is my lawyer. I got a whole mess of legal problems I need
to work out." Turning to the lawyer, Ms. Trevor placed her left
forefinger under her chin, forcing her head up. "Georgina, honey, this is
Sylvia. Mistress Sylvia to you. You be a good girl this weekend, or I'll
give you to her." Ms. Trevor turned to Sylvia, "Sylvia, this is Georgina
Mettri nos, terror of music producers on three continents, and most of
the staff at ... " Ms. Trevor stopped and smiled, at Sylvia. "Almost
forgot about that privacy thing here." Turning back to Georgina. "See,
Georgie honey, they got this thing about respecting everyone's privacy.
Members gotta respect everybody too. Bad things happen if you break the
rules. Nobody's gonna know that Ms. Hardass Bitch spends her weekends as
a Stepford Wife to her No. 1 dyke client."

Sylvia looked at the pair with a pained expression. Ms. Trevor was the
birth name of one of the most successful female country singers in the
nation. Her image of the wholesome, demure, well-mannered All-American
Girl Next Door had been carefully crafted. Few knew that she was really a
foul-mouthed, alcoholic butch lesbian with a mother fixation. Ms. Trevor
visited THE ESTATE about three times a year, between tours and
engagements, and always for extended stays of weeks. Sylvia only had to
deal with her arrivals an d departures, but her stays often tried the
best of the other mistresses, and not a few of the masters. And always
with some woman ten to twenty years older who looked like she was June
Cleaver's clone. Sylvia wondered if Ms. Mettrinos' alter ego was really
the submissive housewife type, or was she a very savvy lawyer indulging a
very rich client. If she was that savvy, maybe she should be a member.

"Jack Daniels and two glasses, Jeffy," Ms. Trevor yelled as she sashayed
to the alcove at the left rear of the bus. The bus driver sat sideways in
his seat, watching the ass and one of the finest pair of legs in country
music--hell, in America--weave down the aisle. Jeff also took a good
look, pretending to fix the drinks. A quick look from Sylvia caused both
men to assume their professional poses. They were here to serve, not to
enjoy. Sylvia didn't object to their looking or enjoying, on a personal
level. She'd had those fine legs draped over her shoulders before, and if
i t wasn't for Ms. Trevor's tendency to get maudlin and possessive a week
or so into her stay, she wouldn't mind yodelling in that canyon again.
Was Ms. Mettrinos to be there only for the weekend? And what could she do
to make the lawyer a bad girl?

Nathaniel was now seated, observing all. He wasn't aware of the
lesbianism of the three younger women, or their history, but he did
notice how Sylvia put the driver and the bartender in their place with
nothing more than a look. There were a few female supervisors at his job
who could do that. Good thing he didn't work for them. Good thing he was
a guest, and not a staffer here.

Nathaniel was not the only audience for this last performance by Ms.
Trevor. The sixth and last person to board the bus was a woman in her
late thirties, wearing a dark green shirt dress with white polka dots,
white pumps, hosiery, white shoulder bag, faux pearl necklace and
earrings. She had stood in the stairwell as Ms. Trevor commanded cente r
stage. Now that that show was moving to the back of the bus, the driver
turned and suddenly saw her.

"Welcome to THE ESTATE, ma'am," he said loudly, alerting Sylvia. Neither
knew how long she had been waiting, but keeping a member or guest waiting
was a major infraction of the rules. Both had been negligent, but it was
Sylvia's head that would fall if the member complained. Lucky for both of
them, the member was Ms. Bradley.

"Welcome back, Ms. Bradley," Sylvia smiled. "You remember Jeff, our
bartender?"

Ms. Bradley broke in a wide smile as she leaned forward to see Jeff.
"Hello, Jeffrey," she smiled, a certain lilt in her voice. "You know what
I want, don't you?"

"Teacher's on the rocks, and hold the rocks, right?"

"Right, Jeffrey. I haven't had any Teacher's since my last visit, and I
could use a lot tonight." Sylvia and the bus driver smiled. Jeffrey used
to be a teacher. Sylvia knew there would be no complaints from Ms.
Bradley.

"You may proceed, Cleveland," Sylvia said to the bus driver.

"Yes, Mistress Sylvia," Cleveland replied. He went outside and stowed the
luggage on the sidewalk next to his bus in the luggage compartment,
returned to his seat and pulled the huge vehicle into the street. The
drive from the airport to THE ESTATE takes about half an hour, made
mostly in silence, broken on this trip by Ms. Trevor's sobbing as she
looked out the window into the coming darkness. Ms. Mettrinos made no
attempt to console her. Ms. Bradley would have preferred to sit in the
alcove Nathaniel had so she could flash her crotch at Jeffrey. She had to
settle for the middle alcove on the right side, her dress hiked up to her
hips, her legs on the seats.

Sylvia sat with Nathaniel. "I need to speak with you at THE ESTATE," she
said, her voice low. She then took out her briefcase, THE ESTATE's Roman
lettering in gilt across the leather surface, and began doing paperwork.
Nathaniel rode in silenc e, looking at Ms. Bradley's legs reflected in
the window opposite them, then turning to watch the road unwind under the
bus' headlights.

				    ***

Cleveland pulled the bus into the busport of Guest House II. This had
been the servants' quarters a century earlier. Even by the standards of
those times the place was sumptuous. There were twelve rooms, down from
the twenty original ones since toilet facilities had to be added to each.
The dining room and kitchen had been maintained; what could serve thirty
servants and their families could also serve twenty guests. The kitchen
was open 24 hours, seven days a week. Guest House II was only meant to
receive late arriving members and guests who would be assigned other
facilities in the morning, and meals were available on demand. The
Harrises and Ms. Bradley, being members, only needed to sign in and
receive their door cards. Ms. Trevor, being quite drunk by the time the
bus reached THE ESTATE, needed to be carried in bodily. This also meant
Sylvia had to sign her in and make sure she and Ms. Mettrinos were
properly taken care of. By the time she returned to Nathaniel, it was
close to 7:00 p.m.

"Mr. Spotswood, would you mind if we had dinner in your room?"

Nathaniel did not mind. In fact, he wanted to ask a million questions.
What was this place? How was it run? Exactly where were they? What was
going on? Where was Guy? What was expected of him?

His room was on the third floor, reached by an elevator that had required
extensive remodeling of the building to accommodate it and still make it
look like part of the original building. The room itself was huge, having
been three of the larger servants' rooms. Actually it was a suite, one
room being the bedroom, another being a living room, and the third being
a large spa. Unlike the other rooms, this suite could be used for a long
stay, not just overnight. Sylvia gave him a tour, ending just as a knock
on the door signaled the arrival of their meals.

"Just leave everything," Sylvia said, dismissing the waiter. She then
prepared two plates, setting the little cafe table in a corner of the
living room. As they began eating, she anticipated most of his questions.
"Mr. Spotswood, THE ESTATE is a very special and very exclusive resort,
dedicated to the special desires of its members and their guests. You
might call it an exclusive sex resort. THE ESTATE really assures its
members and their guests of their privacy, so I must make sure that you
understand the absolute necessity of minding one's own business."

She waited for Nathaniel to agree. Nate looked at her, then nodded. She
continued.

"There is no reason for you to talk to staff. Mr. Hughes has made all the
arrangements, and unless there is a problem that cannot be resolved when
he is not present, everything is taken care of. You are a guest of a
member, which means you are to be treated by staff as if you were that
member yourself. If you need to speak to staff, only those staffers
wearing a white or black shirt or blouse are permitted to speak to
members or guests to which they have not been assigned, and we strongly
prefer that you only speak to someone wearing white. Of course this does
not apply to your ordering meals, drinks, or asking directions. Do you
have any questions?"

Nathaniel had plenty, but he knew the question was rhetorical.

"Certain staff are addressed as master or mistress by other staff, but
never by members, and only by guests in certain categories. You are not
in tho se categories. You will address staff by their first names, for we
are your staff. You will always be addressed as Mr. Spotswood, or, after
your transformation, as Ms. Spotswood."

This was the first indication that Sylvia knew about Guy's proposition.
Nathaniel wondered how many others knew.

"Mr. Spotswood, you have no secrets at THE ESTATE. You're here to become
a woman, and we're here to make that passage enjoyable and memorable. You
only become a woman once. You will address all members and other guests
as Mr. or Ms. whatever unless they give you permission to be more
familiar. They will accord you the same courtesy. Do you understand all
of this?"

Again Nathaniel nodded. He didn't really understand it all, but enough to
get by. He'd just have to play the rest by ear.

"Tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. the staff supervisor who is responsible for your
transformation will arrive. She will have much of this same conversation
with you and ask you again whethe r or not you want to go forward. You
will be asked this several times during your transformation. Even if
you're not asked, you can still stop this at any time."

For the first time, Nathaniel felt trapped. He realized if he wanted to
get out of this he couldn't. He didn't know where he was, he had no
money, and he was at the mercy of these people with their power games.
Panic played over his face. Sylvia read the consternation on his face.

"Mr. Spotswood," Sylvia said, "You are not going to be raped. If you do
not want to go through with this, all you have to do is say so, at any
time. Now, tomorrow, any time. Mr. Hughes knows our rules about mutual
consent very well. No means no. Now, do you want to go through with
this?"

Nathaniel was really conflicted at this point. He really wanted to
experience this weekend as a woman. He wanted to try being out in public.
He knew he would never get another opportunity like this. Would being
fucked be so bad? Would he be expected to do anything else? He nodded
again.

Sylvia looked at him doubtfully. There had been trannies who backed out
at the moment of penetration. Most times the member stops. Sometimes he
doesn't. These had been messy situations. Is it rape when she says no
just as he drives it home? Can she say no after penetration? THE ESTATE
had been no more successful in resolving these questions than society at
large. Given the unique nature of THE ESTATE, they tried to make sure the
situation never came up. Nathaniel should have no doubt about why he was
there, and what was to happen to him. If he didn't want it to happen, he
shouldn't wait until he was on his back with Guy's cock nuzzling the
crack of his ass. Sylvia had her doubts, but she could only ask if
Nathaniel was willing. And Nathaniel said he was.

"Come with me, then."

She led him into the bedroom and opened the drawers of the dresser. The
drawers were full of lingerie: panties, stockings, panty hose, bras,
slips, half slips, camisoles, garter belts. Next she opened the drawers
of the chest of drawers. Blouses, shells, women's shirts, nightgowns,
loungers, pajamas. Next she went to the doors of the walk-in closet.
Several dresses, skirt suits, skirts, and shoes, mostly heeled from 2" to
4".

"This is all yours, no matter what your decision."

Nathaniel was in a state of revelry. He ran his fingers through the panty
drawer, then pulled out a shell and held it against himself as he modeled
himself in the mirror. Only when he went to the closet did he realize
what she had said.

"No matter what my decision?" he asked. "I thought I just indicated I
would go through with it?"

Sylvia looked at him doubtfully again. "Like I said, you can say no any
time. You will not be seeing me again this stay. So, whatever your
decision, I wish you a happy life." She then shook his hand and left.

It was difficult enough to build one elevator into the ol d building. To
build one for members and guests and another for service staff would have
been prohibitive. It would have been cheaper to tear down the old
building and build a new one. At the second floor, Sylvia had to wait
while two waiters loaded carts. Well, she didn't have to wait. She could
have ridden to the lobby and let them summon the elevator after she had
exited. Most mistresses would have done that. As she let them load their
carts, she saw a naked Ms. Bradley open her door to Jeffrey, literally
jump his bones, wrapping her legs and arms around him as he walked them
both inside. Looks like Jeff was going to do some late night tutoring,
Sylvia mused. Maybe pull an all-nighter. Sylvia wondered if she should
inform Ms. Bradley that she, Sylvia, also was once a teacher.

By the time Sylvia reached the lobby, Nathaniel had stripped off his
clothing and slipped into a burgundy lounger. Good thing too, for the
meal came with a bottle of Bordeaux which Nathaniel nea rly finished
before spilling a glass on himself. While it was Nathaniel who removed
the soiled garment, it was Ellen who replaced it with a satin nightgown.