Journey of the Soul

Journey of the Soul - Part 5, Arrival at Stanholtz

Please Note: This continuing story is fictional. Any perceived similarity to real persons, either living or dead, is strictly coincidental. Although it's intended primarily as an entertaining story with alternative sex, the "story" part takes priority over the "sex". If you are looking to read a story that is pure sex with almost no plot, don't bother with this one. It's rather long, presented in several parts, and (just as is usually the case in real life) the sex portions are slow to develop. Also, if you are below the legal age or fiction of a sexual nature is illegal where you live, please leave now.

Summary of previous episodes: Abducted by unknown individuals working for his wife, and left for dead as the victim of a staged car accident just off a remote mountainside, young Software tycoon Paul Taylor recovers in the cabin of Rusty MacDonald. With his own clothes ruined in the "accident", Paul has little choice but to borrow the clothes left in the cabin by Rusty's late sister. A secret crossdresser, Paul finds himself adopting, and becoming comfortable with, a female persona. One thing leads to another, and soon Paul (now thinking of himself as "Paula") and Rusty become sexually involved, first with Paul giving Rusty an impromptu blowjob, and then actually sleeping together. Their relationship develops to the point where the two find themselves in love and committed to a life together. Rusty develops a plan that, if successful, will allow Paul to truly become a woman, while still seeing to it that Paul's estranged wife gets the punishment she deserves, instead of being rewarded by inheriting Paul's estate. In Part 4, they're finally able to get out of the snowbound New Mexico canyon where Rusty's cabin is located, and make the journey north into Colorado, stopping for the night about an hour's drive short of their destination in the mountains west of Boulder.

Rusty and Paula were up early, showered, dressed, and had a leisurely breakfast in the hotel's restaurant before getting on the road. Rusty had gotten a little impatient with the time Paula had taken to get ready, but she was really enjoying finally being able to do something feminine with her hair, and explained to Rusty that she just wanted to be as pretty as possible when they arrived at the clinic for his benefit, as much as for her own.

Soon enough, with bellies full of real eggs, bacon and home fries (Paula swore she'd never eat reconstituted powdered eggs again!), they were back on the Denver-Boulder Turnpike, with Denver fading behind them and Boulder rising in front. When they reached Boulder, the Turnpike simply dissolved into surface streets, which Rusty navigated easily, only checking the on-board GPS system once. They rolled through the downtown area and suddenly found themselves in the mountains. There was really no suburban area at all on the west side of the city. It seemed like they were just downtown one minute, and in mountainous wilderness the next. The road twisted and turned to the point where Paula completely lost all sense of direction, sometimes thinking they were traveling in a big circle, and was half expecting to find herself looking at Boulder's downtown again any second.

Finally, Rusty slowed to turn off onto a small gravel lane, which was marked with an unobtrusive sign that simply said "Stanholtz Clinic – 1 Mile". A wave of panic overtook her, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than to be back in Rusty's cabin retreat . . . back in her own comfortable bed, with Rusty's arms wrapped around her and his cock buried deep in her ass. Rusty saw the worried look on her face and stopped the car.

"Look, sweetheart. Nobody's going to do anything to you here that you don't want done, and nobody's going to twist your arm. You're committed to nothing more here than a little visit. Think of it in terms of a retreat to a resort spa. You can relax, enjoy their facilities, like the indoor pool and hot tub, eat some great food . . . I don't think they ever have rabbit stew or venison jerky on the menu . . . and just collect your own thoughts. After you've seen the options they offer you can choose whatever you feel is right for you, including choosing nothing. I'll back you in whatever decision you make. I'll pay for whatever procedures, if any, which you choose to have performed, and I'll still love you, no matter what you decide."

Paula gave him half a smile, trying to find some courage from somewhere. "Okay. We've come this far. We might as well get this last mile over with." With that, Rusty dropped the car back into drive, and they slowly continued up the long gravel driveway. Minutes later they came over a small rise, and Paula got her first view of the clinic. It looked more like a palatial country estate. The building itself must have taken up at least 5 acres, and the grounds, which were surrounded by a 20-foot high wrought-iron fence, was at least 10 acres . . . probably more. The driveway passed through a security gate, which Rusty drove up to. He pressed the button on the intercom, which brought an almost immediate response.

A woman's voice crackled "Yes? Who is it?"

"Rusty MacDonald, escorting Paula Reynolds", he responded.

A few seconds passed, and then there was a loud "clank", and the security gate began rolling to one side. Rusty drove through, and the gate began rolling closed behind them. Close to the building, the driveway turned into a large circle, with a large cascading fountain in the middle. There were parking areas on both sides of the circle, with the spots closest to the building marked "Visitor". Rusty navigated the Lexus into one of those spots and killed the engine.

"Ready?" he asked Paula.

"About as ready as I'll ever be." she replied.

They got out and walked hand-in-hand to the main entrance and into a spacious atrium foyer. An attractive young woman sat at a semi-circular desk at the far end of the lobby. She looked up and smiled as they entered.

"Mr. MacDonald! Miss Reynolds! Welcome to the Stanholtz Clinic. Dr. Holtzman said to tell you that she's on her way. Please, just make yourselves . . ."

At that point the door behind her burst open, and a statuesque woman in her early forties rushed through. "Rusty, you crazy old Scotsman! How the heck ARE you? How long's it been? Two years?" She rushed over to give Rusty a hug.

Rusty hugged her back. "More like three. I was here when the IRS was harassing you, about six months before my sister died, and she passed a little over two years ago."

"Ah, yes! I remember Cindy. Such a lovely girl. Such a pity and a waste to die so young. But, let's talk of pleasanter things! Introduce me to your young friend!" Holtzman turned to Paula for the first time, and extended her hand in greeting.

Paula shook Holtzman's hand while Rusty made the introductions. "Paula, this is Dr. Donna Holtzman. She's one of the co-directors here, and an old friend. Donna, this is Paula Reynolds. I made preliminary arrangements with Karen for her to stay here for a few weeks while I take care of some legal issues for her. And, in addition to being a sanctuary for her, you and she may decide on some other services your clinic might be able to provide her."

"Welcome to Stanholtz, Paula. And you can forget about titles like "doctor" and "director". We find that they tend to get in the way of what we do here. Just call me Donna, and we'll get along just fine. Normally, Byron would have been here to welcome you as well . . . that's Dr. Stanley, to the outside world . . . but he's in surgery this morning. In addition to being a brilliant surgeon and a wonderful man, he's also my husband. You'll get to meet him this afternoon."

The small twinge of jealousy that Paula had experienced when Donna and Rusty hugged dissipated instantly when she realized that Dr. Stanley and Dr. Holtzman were a couple, and she warmed to the taller woman immediately.

"It's nice meeting you Donna, and I'm looking forward to meeting Dr. Stan . . . Byron. I have to admit that I'm more than a little nervous about this whole thing."

"That's understandable, Paula. But please put yourself at ease. We offer a very wide range of options, and even though we'll make our recommendations to you, the ultimate decision as to which options you decide you want or need is pretty much in your hands. Of course, we do reserve the right to NOT offer you options that we feel strongly aren't in your best interests, but our overall goal is to allow you to become the person you really want to be."

Donna nodded towards a young man who'd just entered the lobby through a door on the other side of the room, pushing a luggage cart in front of him, and turned back to Rusty. "Rusty, if you'd be so kind as to get Paula's bags out of your car, you and Carlos can take them to Paula's quarters, and then please see Karen about dotting the I's and crossing the T's on all the necessary financial paperwork. Then Karen can show you the way to my office. Paula and I have a few minutes of "girl talk" we need to get out of the way."

Rusty nodded his agreement and went off with the younger man while Donna escorted Paula through the door into the office area. A few yards down the hall Donna opened the door to a spacious and comfortable office with a breathtaking view of the mountains through a large panel of windows on the far wall. Donna motioned Paula towards a comfortable "guest chair" as she walked around her desk and settled into her own chair.

"Okay, Paula. Let's have a little chat before Rusty catches up with us, and then I'll give you both a tour of the clinic. There's been a lot of progress made in our field over the last few years, and a lot of changes here that Rusty hasn't seen yet, so I don't think either of you will be bored. First of all, I should tell you that I wear several hats here. One of my two primary functions is that I'm the staff psychiatrist. And no, I'm not going to try to shrink your head. I do, however, need to make an evaluation as to your overall mental fitness to undergo the sort of drastic changes we often bring about for our clients. So far, I don't see anything glaring that would keep me from recommending that you be allowed to do whatever you want with your body, but we'll have more chats over the next few weeks."

"My second hat is that of staff endocrinologist. Now, in THAT capacity I have to ask you a serious question. Have you always been naturally effeminate, have you been seeing another doctor or have you been self-medicating?"

Paula looked a little sheepish as she opened her purse and set the two pill bottles, both now nearly empty, on Donna's desk. "I guess you're mad. I figured you would be."

Donna shook her head. "No, I'm not mad. Of course, I certainly can't condone someone self-medicating, but I daresay you aren't the first girl in transition to try to do it on their own, and you certainly won't be the last. In fact, 15 years ago I did pretty much the same thing. Of course, I was in med school at the time, and was working from a somewhat better understanding of what I was doing, but . . ."

Paula was shocked. "You mean you're a trans . . ."

"A transitioned woman is the term we use here. We've taken the view that transsexual' sounds a little too crude, although it's the clinically correct term. And t-girl' just sounds too whimsical to be able to encompass the many issues transitioned and transitioning women face. But, yes. I was born `Donald Holtzman' and made my transition when I was in my late 20's."

"I never would have guessed! You look so . . . so natural!"

"I have to give full credit to my very gifted surgeon. That's how I met Byron. He had just finished his surgical residency, and was getting into research on gender reassignment surgery. I was one of his first patients. Of course, at that time I was just another patient to him, and any sort of romantic or sexual relationships between doctors and their patients are strictly forbidden by our code of ethics. But, once I got my board certification in psychiatry and started advanced studies in endocrinology I looked him up again, and we hit it off from the start. But, back to your self-medication. May I?"

She indicated the pill bottles still sitting on her desk. Paula nodded and Holtzman picked them up to study the labels. "These were Cindy's? They haven't caused you any problems? No radical mood swings?"

Paula shook her head.

"Well, you're a lucky girl. These are more than a year out of date, so they've probably lost a lot of their potency. If they were at their normal strength they probably would have sent you through bouts of manic-depression. PMS times ten. You'd have probably driven yourself insane . . . and Rusty with you, assuming you two are a couple."

Paula could only nod, taken somewhat aback at how irresponsible she realized now that her impulsiveness really was.

"Do you mind if I dispose of these? I'd much rather have you take a couple of simple blood tests and then get you on a regimen of hormones that better suit your needs, and include a testosterone blocker. I could have the appropriate balance figured out within two days."

Paula smiled. She was expecting more of a lecture, and was more than happy to turn the task of figuring out the best medications for her over to a professional. "It won't stall my . . . my progress? Heck, even if it does, you know far better than I. Take `em away!"

"No, I don't think you'll see any real setback in two days." Donna replied, dropping the pill bottles into the trash. "But, speaking of your progress, tell me about your breast development. You're looking pretty good. Is that all you, or are you wearing breast forms?"

"Well, the bra's a little padded, but it's mostly all me. Most of my clothes I've inherited from Rusty's late sister. She wore a B-cup, which is what I have on now. The cups are a little big, but I tried on an A-cup last night at Wal-Mart and it was too small, so I guess I'm sort of between cup sizes."

"A better hormone cocktail will probably give you a little more than what you would have gotten with those old pills, but if the end results don't meet your expectations, we could always do an augmentation with implants. A lot of the girls here want them, and the surgery itself is relatively simple, but it can be a painful recovery. That's the voice of experience talking. I was sore as hell for nearly two months. I wouldn't recommend it unless you . . . or Rusty . . . are really hung up on big breasts."

"I'm fine with them the way they are. I wouldn't complain about them being a little bigger, but it wouldn't be the end of the world for me if they stopped growing right now. And Rusty hasn't said a word about them, one way or the other."

Just then there was a tap at the door. Donna called out that it was open, and Rusty joined them.

Acting as if she and Paula had just been discussing the weather, Donna stood up and asked if they were ready to go on a tour of the facilities. Rusty took Paula by the hand as she stood, and the three of them set out down the hall. Their first stop was a pair of classrooms, both of which had doors that accessed a small beauty parlor which was located between the two classrooms. Donna explained that there were two cosmetologists on staff who taught classes in hair care, skin care, makeup application and related topics, and in between classes took care of manicures, pedicures and hair styling for both staff and clients. There were a few more classrooms, one with a sound booth, which Donna told them were used for classes in "feminine deportment" and speech, to help clients become more feminine in their mannerisms and voice.

After a short walk and an elevator ride to the second floor, they finally reached the surgical wing, where Donna led them into a sort of glass-walled balcony room, which overlooked two sophisticated-looking operating rooms. Both rooms were unoccupied and spotlessly cleaned.

"Both of these two OR's are fully equipped to accommodate any and all of the surgical procedures we perform here, but the one on the left is usually used for the actual GRS procedures, and the one on the right is mostly reserved for breast augmentations, bone restructuring and other cosmetic procedures."

Paula, noticing the emptiness of both rooms, jumped in with "I thought you said that Dr. Stanley . . . I mean `Byron' . . . was in surgery this morning. Is he done already?"

"No, we actually have a third OR, but it's over in the research wing where we'll be going next. That's where Byron is today. But you won't get to see him there. That OR is off-limits to all except a few special staff members.

But there is something over in that wing that I WOULD like to show you. It's a development that we're very proud of here."

She led Paula and Rusty out of the surgical area and down a long corridor. With nothing to see anywhere on either side of this particular hallway, Paula took the opportunity to ask Donna the question that was starting to gnaw at her.

"Donna, can you describe the actual GRS procedure to me? Or is that something that I should talk to Byron about?"

"Well, you could certainly ask Byron, and he'd be more than happy to spend four hours describing every cut of the laser scalpel, every capillary that gets cauterized and every piece of skin that gets grafted and where it goes.

But I can give you the 5-minute layman's summary. And if any of this starts to make you feel ill, stop me immediately."

"Everyone's a little different, but the first step is to examine the penile and scrotal skin to determine if there's enough skin tissue to fashion the vaginal cavity. If not, additional skin grafts have to be taken from other areas of the body. Once Byron is sure he'll have enough skin to work with, he opens the scrotum and removes the testicles. Next an incision is made from the scrotum up the underside of the penis, and the `meaty' portion of the penis is removed. Then the scrotal and penile skin, along with any other skin harvested from other parts of the body that have been deemed necessary is pulled over a nylon device that looks a lot like a dildo and then sutured together. The device is then pushed into the body cavity and stays in place until the healing process is fairly well underway. There's a lot more to it, like the microsurgery necessary to convert the penis' nerve bundle into a clitoris, but that's it in a nutshell."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Paula. It's not fun. If you choose it, you'll be completely anesthetized for the actual procedure, but when the anesthetic wears off, you'll be in a LOT of pain. It has to be something you really, REALLY, want. And it's not the only way to go. At least half the girls here are completely happy with just hormone therapy, breast implants and a little cosmetic surgery. They live out their lives as women, but with their penis still intact."

Paula looked pensive. "Well, that's about what I expected to hear. Thanks for being honest and blunt about it. One more question, and I'll let you off the hook. What about sex?"

"Oh, they still enjoy active sex lives. It's only oral and anal sex, of course, but is that so bad? I mean, I'm assuming that you two have been sexually active, and it would have to been all oral and anal. You'd be able to keep on that same path. And it's not too bad, is it?"

Paula shook her head. "No, Donna. It's not too bad. In fact, it's great. But I think . . . I hope . . . you misunderstood my question. You were talking about the girls who DON'T get the surgery, right? I was referring to those that had it done. I mean, if I have the surgery, would vaginal sex be normal?"

"OH! Now I understand. Yes, fairly normal. Of course, the skin used to create your vagina wouldn't be mucous membrane, like a genetic woman's vaginal canal, but with off the shelf vaginal lubricants, you'd be able to have as much of a sex life as any woman. Actually, more of one, since you wouldn't have to worry about birth control or `messy days' during a menstrual cycle. Other than that, there'd be no real difference."

Donna stopped and pointed to a door. "We're here. This is what I wanted to show you. And please bear in mind that this is not a normal stop on the 10-cent tour. You're the first two people, outside of our own staff, to see this." She led them through the door and into another glassed-in balcony, similar to the one that overlooked the operating rooms, except this one overlooked an indoor arboretum with a rocky hill in the middle. The entire roof of the huge garden room was glass, bathing the scene in bright sunlight. Openings in the rocks led to small caves, and a dozen or so chimpanzees wandered in and out, climbing rocks and trees.

"We try to give our lab chimps as natural an environment as possible. Look at that one over there." Donna pointed to a female chimp sitting on a rock, nursing a baby chimp. "That's Maxine and her baby, Travis. They represent our most important achievement here to date."

"They're as cute as can be. Especially the baby," Paula said, smiling. "But what's so special about them?"

"Well, Maxine was born at the San Diego Zoo. At birth, her name was `Max'. For a male chimp, Max was a little on the small size. Much to the dismay of the zookeepers in San Diego, Max became the focus of the sexual attentions of most of the other male chimps, readily submitting to, and even encouraging the other males to use him for anal and oral sex on a constant basis. Normally they wouldn't have minded, but the chimps were very open about it, and were putting on public displays of homosexual sex for the general public at least a half a dozen times a day."

"Wow! Half a dozen times a day?" Rusty piped in for the first time on the tour. "Horny little guy, wasn't he?"

"He certainly was! And as often as not, he'd be going oral on one male while another one was going anal on him. Needless to say, there were a few prudes in the human audiences that raised a fuss, and the zoo decided that they needed to send Max elsewhere. He was a perfect fit for our research, so he ended up here."

"So, who's Travis' real mother?" Rusty asked.

"Let me finish Maxine's story. Byron had figured out what he believed to be an improved methodology for the GRS. He theorized there'd be less tissue damage, less loss of blood, a shorter recovery and better overall results with the new process. But, before using it on a human patient, he wanted to try it on a chimp, and Max seemed like the perfect candidate. The procedure was a complete success, and within two weeks Maxine was out of her recovery and a month after that she was back among the population, thoroughly enjoying both anal and vaginal sex several times a day."

"Then there was an accident. Not one that Maxine was involved in, directly, but one that affected her a great deal. One of the other females . . . `Lucy' was her name . . . jumped from the top of the rock hill towards a tree branch, as they all love doing. Unfortunately for her, one of the males chose the same moment to jump for the same branch. He caught the branch a second before Lucy, causing the tree to sway. The branch swung out of Lucy's reach, causing her to miss it completely, and she fell to the rocks below, splitting her skull wide open."

"Byron's a great surgeon, but trauma isn't his specialty. Even if it were, there was probably nothing anyone could have done to save the poor girl. But Byron saw a research opportunity in the accident, and had Maxine brought to the Research OR along with Lucy. He euthanized Lucy and quickly transplanted her uterus into Maxine, opening the end of Maxine's vaginal cavity and attaching the transplanted uterus to it at the cervix. A week later, Maxine had fully recovered with no sign of organ rejection."

"As we do with all our chimps, we had harvested and frozen some sperm from Max before he became Maxine, and had frozen eggs that had been harvested from Lucy when she had reached puberty. Our lab technicians removed the DNA material from Lucy's eggs, separated some X-chromosome sperm from Maxine's frozen sample and inserted the DNA material from those sperm into the nuclei of a few of Lucy's eggs making them, from a genetic standpoint, Maxine's eggs. Then they fertilized the eggs with sperm from one of the males. Two of the eggs developed into blastocysts, one of which was then implanted into Maxine's uterus. Seven months later, Travis was delivered by C-section. Boris is his biological father, and Maxine is the first primate in the world to have ever been born male and then gone on to become pregnant and give birth to her own child."

Paula was speechless. Rusty broke the silence with, "Well, I'll be damned! Has Byron published his results yet? This could be worth a Nobel Prize!"

"Well, we'd probably have to wait a very long time for that Nobel, or it'll have to be shared with a European colleague. Given the current political and religious climate of this country, I doubt that the FDA would ever give us clearance to perform the procedure on a human patient."

"Never say `never'." Rusty responded. "I have a friend at the FDA, and may be able to pull strings. If you want me to, of course."

Donna looked doubtful. "We'll have to see. I don't know if Byron feels ready for that step yet. He wants to do other trials on some of the chimps first, and he wants to experiment with some things like finding out if the process would still work if Y-chromosome material was placed in the egg, which could produce a YY offspring, something that doesn't exist in nature. We were lucky with Maxine, in that her body didn't reject the transplant. We don't know how organ rejection might impact other areas of the body, or other surgeries that had already been performed. And, of course, there's always the matter of finding a human test subject that would be willing, and would be a good genetic match with a potential donor."

Paula let out a long breath, as if she'd been holding it for a few minutes, and whispered "Amazing! Simply amazing! And she's nursing Travis! I would have never thought it would be possible! It's actually conceivable that I could actually get pregnant, have a baby and nurse it, just like any other woman!"

"Whoa! Slow down, girl!" Donna replied. "You've got a LONG way to go before you start worrying about pregnancies and babies! We haven't even gotten the formula for your hormone cocktail worked out yet! Let's take things one step at a time. And, as far as Maxine nursing her baby goes, a change in the hormones she gets does allow her to produce a little milk, but not enough to keep him happy and healthy. For the most part, we bottle-feed him, but both he and Maxine seem to enjoy his suckling, so we don't discourage it."

Paula looked a little embarrassed. "No, you're right, of course. One step at a time is certainly the way to go. I was just a little overwhelmed by the whole concept. I apologize if I seemed overanxious."

"That's quite all right. I understand. I was a bit overwhelmed when Byron told me what he was trying to do, and then completely overwhelmed when the whole process worked. Byron's ultimate goal is to be able to transplant ovaries and fallopian tubes as well, which would open the doors to the possibility of completely normal conception and pregnancy for a transitioned woman, but I suspect that's still several years off. Although my dear husband never ceases to amaze me. Now, I do believe I've shown you everything here that I dare show. Shall we continue our little tour?"

They turned up a hallway that even Paula's poor sense of direction told her was leading them back toward the lobby on the opposite side of the building from Donna's office and rode another elevator back down to the ground floor.

They passed a spacious dining room where, Donna explained, staff and clients alike took their meals. Next to the dining room was a store, which looked something like a convenience store, except that it had impressive cosmetics and women's clothes sections, as well as the basic food items one would expect to find in a convenience store. There were two women busy browsing through the cosmetics and a third standing behind the store's front counter at a computer terminal, apparently waiting to ring up their purchases. Donna explained that the clinic sent a van into Boulder on a daily basis for mail and supplies, and the clients were encouraged to ride along if they needed to do any shopping. Getting out into the public as much as possible was good for them. But there were some who were self-conscious about going out in public, so the clinic maintained the store for those clients, and for anyone who just needed an item or two quickly.

"We don't actually conduct any cash transactions, as such. We only charge them what it costs to replace the inventory, with the charges being added onto their bill for their stay and their surgeries, just like the charges for their hormone prescriptions."

They also passed a small library, complete with two computer workstations, and then passed a small movie theatre. Finally they came to a section in the hallway where the doors were wood instead of glass, and were numbered.

"The quarters for staff members are upstairs. These down here are for our clients." Donna stopped in front of a door marked 117. "And I believe this one is yours. Rusty, did Carlos give you Paula's key-card?"

"He sure did." Rusty replied, producing the card with a magnetic strip from his pocket. Donna took it from him, and used it to unlock the door, before passing it over to Paula.

"That will get you into your apartment, and can also be used in the vending machines down the hall and for any purchases you need or want to make at the store. And I believe the arrangements Rusty made with Karen include all your bills being automatically processed through Rusty's credit card, so you're worry-free while you're here." Donna pushed the door open, and the trio stepped into a fairly small but comfortable-looking sitting room.

"It's not the Ritz-Carlton," Donna apologized, "but it's not as bad as a Motel-6, either."

Paula surveyed the room quickly while Rusty settled into the room's only chair . . . a La-Z-Boy recliner. In addition to the recliner there was a couch, a coffee table, a TV, a small corner desk with Paula's laptop case on the floor next to it, a kiva-style gas fireplace in the corner opposite the desk and a combination floor lamp/end table next to the recliner. Despite the room's small size, the furniture layout was such that it seemed more "cozy" than cramped, and was decorated in soothing earth tones of brown, beige and light green.

Donna made herself comfortable on the couch while Paula headed towards the two doorways off the sitting room. The opening on her right led to a small kitchenette, equipped with a 2-cup coffee pot, small microwave oven, tiny refrigerator, a small sink and a narrow single-burner stove. There was virtually no counter space available beyond what was taken up by the coffee maker and the microwave. Paula looked back towards Donna, smiling. "I guess I won't be cooking very many fancy dinners in here."

Donna laughed. "No, we all take our meals together in the dining room down the hall. The little kitchenette is fine for making yourself some coffee before facing the rest of us in the morning, or for microwaving a bag of popcorn from the store while you watch TV, but that's about it."

Paula assumed the door on the other side of the sitting room led to a bedroom which she fully expected would be half-sized like the sitting room and kitchen. But when she opened the door and stepped in she was pleasantly surprised. The bedroom was larger than the other two rooms combined, and featured a sliding glass door that opened to a small private patio on one side and two doors . . . one leading to a walk-in closet and the other to a spacious bathroom . . . on the other side.

The room was decorated in about as feminine a manner as she could imagine. The color scheme was pink and white, and the furnishings included both a dresser and a vanity. And, of course, a bed. And what a bed it was! Centered off the far wall, it was a queen-sized bed, with pink satin pillow covers and bedspread. But the first thought that came to Paula's mind when she saw it was the old fairy tale called "The Princess and the Pea". Each corner of the bed was supported by an ornate white wooden post that rose almost to the ceiling, where they supported a canopy of pink satin trimmed with white lace. White sheer curtains dropped from the canopy to the floor on all four sides. The sheers on one side had been pulled back to the posts at their midpoints, and tied back with pink ribbons. If anyone were to ever ask her to describe a bedroom that was the epitome of luxury and femininity, this would be that room.

Paula moved the suitcases from the bed to the walk-in closet before rejoining Rusty and Donna in the sitting room. "That is one heck of a bedroom. And that bed . . .!"

"That was MY idea!" Donna stated proudly. "In my sessions with the girls we've had here over the years I came to realize that their bedroom was the most important room to them. Most of our girls need lots of reinforcement to make them feel comfortable with their femininity, and I realized that nothing says `I am a woman, and I'm glad to be one' better than putting on a sexy nightgown and slipping in between satin sheets when you go to bed, and waking up to a pink satin and lace canopy over your head in the morning."

"It's absolutely beautiful! I love it!" Paula came toward Donna, lifted the hem of her own dress a few inches on each side and gave a little curtsy.

"Makes me feel like a princess!"

"Well, how about sitting down, Princess Paula, so you and I can go over a few things, and then you, I and Prince Charming over there can go join King Byron for some lunch!"

Paula sat next to Donna as the older woman opened a binder that had been sitting on the coffee table. "This orientation manual will give you almost all the information about the clinic that you'll need to get around here." She quickly leafed through several pages of information about the history of the clinic, including biographical material on Donna, Byron and several of the staff members, stopping at a pull-out page that contained floor plans of each of the two floors they'd been on during the short tour, plus the lower level that they hadn't visited. "These maps will show you where everything is located so you'll be able to find your way around. Over here" she pointed to a block across the hall from the beauty salon, "is the lab I'd like to take you to after lunch to get a little blood drawn so that we can get your hormone balance straightened out. The lower level is an area I'll let you explore on your own later. Down there we have a pretty decent indoor pool, hot tubs, sauna, a workout gym, music room, game room and a lounge where we sometimes have small parties. The whole floor is basically a recreation area."

Donna folded the floor plans back into the book, paused briefly at a page that listed the names and phone extensions of all the staff members, and turned to the last page. "This is the list of rules that we expect our clients to live by. We don't try to rule you to death, but there are a few rules that we've put in place for a number of reasons."

Donna closed the book. "You can read the entire list later on, but I'll give you a quick overview of the most important ones. First of all, while you're here we expect you to look and act, to the best of your ability, as a woman. You'll be expected to dress like a woman at all times. Any male clothes you brought along should just stay in your suitcases."

Paula smiled. "That one's no problem for me, because I don't own a stitch of male clothing. Not even a unisex outfit of any sort."

"Well, that certainly makes it easy for you to comply with THAT rule!" Donna laughed. "And I doubt very highly that you'll have any problem with the next one. Sexual contacts between clients and between clients and staff are strictly forbidden. Friday and Saturday nights are designated as conjugal nights, so if Rusty comes up for a weekend visit, he's welcome to stay with you those nights, if you wish. But no hanky-panky with either the staff or other clients."

Paula looked at Rusty with a big smile. "I wouldn't dream of looking twice at any man other than Rusty! And I've got no interest in doing anything with other girls. My only concern is how I'll manage to persuade the other clients to keep their hands off my man, if he visits!"

Donna laughed at that. "That's YOU'RE problem, girlfriend! I can't help you with THAT one!"

"Now, here's the last big one." Donna continued. "We've found that having too much free time is counterproductive to what we're trying to accomplish, so we require 20 hours a week of productive work in some facet of the clinic's operation. It's not that we're too cheap to hire more help, but we've found that it's therapeutic for our girls, and it also automatically adjusts the number of people we have providing services as the number of people using those services go up and down. We intentionally keep our permanent staff at `skeleton-crew' levels. You may want to give some thought to where you'd like to help out, and sort of prioritize your likes and dislikes. Food service and housekeeping are two areas where there's always room for one more. Clerical positions are a little harder to come by, but that's also a possibility. The store is always fully staffed . . . that seems to be a favorite . . . so it's probably out."

"What about working with the chimps?" Paula interrupted. "I'd love to get to know Maxine and Travis!"

Donna shook her head. "I won't say it's out of the question, but that's Byron's area, and he's really picky about who goes in there. You can talk to him about it, but we've never had a client work in that area . . . just staff. I think we'll have to find something else. By the way, I noticed you brought a laptop." She nodded towards the laptop case sitting next to the desk. "Are you into computers at all?"

Paula nodded cautiously. "I do OK with them. Why do you ask?"

"Well, Oscar . . . he's our facilities manager . . . he's great with a hammer, saw and pipe wrench, but he's the first to admit that our computers, which fall into his area of responsibility, are a little beyond him. Whenever we have troubles with them he ends up calling in an IT consultant from Denver, which knocks a big chunk out of his budget. Plus, that consultant has us pretty low on his list of priorities. I think our clients make him sort of nervous. A lot of folks are like that.

Our server seems to reboot on its own at least two or three times a day, the wireless internet that supposedly is available in all the suites works about half the time, the internet connection for the two community-use workstations in the library isn't much better and we've got three workstations sitting in the server room that are just gathering dust until the next time the guy from Denver comes out to figure out why they won't boot up. I'm quite sure that if you can be of any help at all to Oscar, he'd really appreciate it." Donna gave Paula a little wink. "It never hurts to be on good terms with the facilities manager. It can make the difference between an hour and a week to get an annoying drippy faucet in your bathroom fixed."

Paula smiled. "I think I know enough to be of some help. Ask Oscar when he'd like me to start, and what he'd like me to look at first. If he doesn't have a preference, I'd like to start with that wireless internet problem. That's something I'd really like to be able to use, myself."

"It's settled then!" Donna said, standing up. "I'll have Oscar get in touch with you to negotiate some sort of a schedule. Now, let's go get lunch! I don't know about you two, but I'm hungry!"

The trio left the small suite together, and headed down the hall to the dining room, which was by now about half full of staff and clients. Sitting alone at one of the tables, with his back to the door, was a slightly overweight and balding middle-aged man. Donna snuck up behind him and planted a big sloppy kiss right in the middle of his bald spot. Byron Stanley turned and smiled at his wife, and then noticing that they had guests stood to greet Rusty and Paula.

"Honey," Paula started with the introductions, "do you remember Rusty MacDonald?"

With a big smile on his face, Byron stuck out his large, yet amazingly delicate looking right hand toward Rusty to shake. For a moment, Paula thought Rusty might accidentally crush the surgeon's hand, but Dr. Stanley showed no sign of discomfort.

"Of course! Were he simply our lawyer, he might be forgettable. But this is the man who saved us from that boogeyman from the IRS a couple of years ago! I could NEVER forget that! How are you Rusty? Never mind! I don't really care how you are, and you know it. What I really want to know is, who is this lovely creature with you?"

Rusty gave the doctor one of his broadest grins, and clapped him gently on the back. "I'm doing quite well, whether you really care or not. And this is my . . . my special friend, Paula Reynolds."

Paula smiled and extended her hand to shake hands with Byron, who instead of shaking it brought Paula's hand to his lips and kissed the backs of her fingers.

Donna just laughed. "Don't worry about Byron. He's a terrible flirt, but he's quite harmless. At least, he is as long as I'm within arm's reach of him."

The foursome sat down and made a quick review of the extremely short menu, and Donna signaled for a terribly masculine-looking server to come over to take their orders. Once the server had left, Donna leaned over towards Paula and whispered in her ear.

"That's Barbara. Poor thing, she's gotten an allergic reaction to every testosterone blocker I've tried. Three times already I'd put her on a course that seemed to be working, and each time she's gone back out into the world to live as a woman only to end up with problems from the medications. This is her fourth stay with us. This time I think Byron's going to have to castrate her in order for the other hormones to have any real effect."

"Do you have that sort of problem come up often?"

"No, not often. But every once in a while we run into this or other equally challenging difficulties. But I don't think you have a thing to worry about. You did far better with Cindy's prescriptions than I ever would have suspected you could, so your body apparently takes to the hormone therapy well."

Paula glanced quickly around the room to see if the waitress was the single anomaly, or if there were others who could never pass in the world as women.

She spotted two others who were obviously men who were dressed and made up as women, but neither was anywhere near as bad off as poor Barbara. Four others would probably cause an observer to pause and wonder what their true gender was, but the remainder . . . about 30 women . . . were either natural-born women who were on staff or transitioning women who passed well enough so that Paula couldn't tell who was what.

Barbara returned to their table a few minutes later with their food, the short preparation time being a welcome byproduct of the very limited menu. They made some small talk as they ate, and at one point Byron started talking about his surgery from that morning. Donna noticed Rusty looking a little pale and not eating anymore when Byron started describing, in etreme detail, the process of transplanting an ovary from one of the female chimps to one of the transitioning chimps . . . a necessary precursor experiment that needed to be successful before trying to transplant an ovary into a genetically male subject . . . , and put a hand on Byron's arm, giving him a pleading look with her eyes. Byron, quick to take the hint, segued quickly into a discussion of the Colorado Rockies' pitching staff, and Rusty quickly recovered his appetite. Paula made a mental note to not get too graphical if she had to discuss with Rusty any surgeries she herself may have to undergo in the future.

"So, tell me Rusty," Byron began, pushing his plate away from him as he finished eating, "will you be staying the weekend with Paula?" Paula realized for the first time that it was Friday, and the rules of the clinic would allow Rusty to spend two more nights with her before he had to leave and she had to settle into her new routine at the clinic.

Rusty shook his head sadly. "No. There's nothing I'd like better, but I have some . . . some matters to take care of back in New Mexico, and when I finish with those issues I need to go to LA to attend to some other business. I doubt that I'll be able to get back here for a visit for several weeks. I'll be leaving before dinner tonight. I'll stay overnight where we stayed last night, between Boulder and Denver, and then get an early start in the morning. I'd like to get back to Tres Piedras sometime late tomorrow night."

Paula was disappointed, but she understood. It had been very early in the morning when they had come out of the canyon and through Tres Piedras, so it was likely that nobody was aware of the fact that Rusty wasn't still home alone. If he could make the return through the little town, swap cars and get back to his cabin while everyone else was asleep, nobody would ever know that he was gone, and there'd be fewer questions that would be asked when events began to unfold.

"Well then," Donna chimed in, "for the next hour or so I'd like to borrow Paula from you so we can get a little blood from her and get some tests started. You're welcome to tag along with us, or visit with Byron, if he doesn't have anything on his schedule."

"Why not come along with me to my office, Rusty?" Byron cut in, "It's the only place that Donna allows me to enjoy an after-lunch cigar, and that's my one vice. We could relax with a nice Dominican smoke and I can get your reaction to our latest advances in our surgeries!"

Rusty looked a little uneasy at the thought of Byron giving more detailed explanations of his surgical procedures. "Actually, I've got a couple of phone calls to make. Maybe I should just find a quiet corner with a strong cell signal."

"You're not going to find that anywhere around here . . . unless you go almost all the way back to Boulder. There's essentially no cell phone service out here. But you can use the phone in my office. We can have our smoke and then I'll give you some privacy while I check on my two patients in recovery."

Rusty smiled. "That sounds like a plan. To tell the truth, I can't even remember the last time I had a decent cigar!"

They all got up to leave, and Barbara moved in to clear the dishes from the table. Back out in the hallway Rusty and Byron headed one way, to go to Byron's office, while Paula and Donna headed the opposite direction, toward the labs. Donna introduced Paula to Dawn, the lab technician who would be drawing the blood. Paula was relieved to see a number of certificates on the wall in the young woman's name, which indicated that she was a trained professional. Paula had had blood drawn a few times before, and it wasn't anywhere on her list of "favorite things", so she was made a little less uncomfortable with the knowledge that Dawn wasn't just another client who was helping out in the lab as her mandatory part-time job at the clinic.

As it turned out, Dawn was a real pro. Paula barely felt the needle going into her arm. Less than a minute later, a tube of blood had been drawn and Dawn was pressing a cotton ball to the tiny wound. Before she fully realized that the lab experience was over, Paula was being led by Donna back down the hall towards the offices.

Paula detected just the faintest smell of cigar smoke as they passed Byron's office. She smiled to herself, hoping Rusty was enjoying the simple pleasure of a good cigar, and not enduring it for the sake of being polite to Byron. Back in Donna's office, which was right next to Byron's, Paula sat down in the same chair she'd sat in a few hours earlier, while Donna used the telephone to page Oscar. Donna's voice requesting that Oscar Ramirez please call her office had barely finished echoing in the ceiling speakers of the PA system when Donna's phone rang. Paula could only hear Donna's side of the conversation, but it wasn't hard to figure out what Oscar was saying.

"Hi Oscar!"

"Doing well, thanks."

"No, no problems. In fact, I think I may have solution to one of the problems you're already dealing with. Can you come by my office to meet someone?

"Well, right now would be great, if you're not too busy."

"Wonderful! Just come on in when you get here."

She hung up the phone and turned back to Paula. "Oscar is Carlos' father, if you remember Carlos from the lobby."

Paula nodded, recalling the young Hispanic man who helped Rusty get her luggage from the car to her room.

"Oscar, Carlos and Byron are the only men you'll normally see around here. Carlos also has two groundskeepers working for him, but they're very rarely inside the building. And there are occasionally specialists that Oscar brings in for one problem or another, like the IT consultant from Denver, but they're only infrequent visitors."

With that, the door to Donna's office opened and a good-looking middle-aged Hispanic man stepped into the office.

"Oscar, I'd like you to meet Paula Reynolds. Paula, this is our facilities manager, Oscar Ramirez." Paula extended her hand and Oscar shook it. Not as gallant as Byron's kiss on the backs of the fingers, but a firm, yet gentle, handshake.

"Nice meeting you, Paula." Then, directed mostly toward Donna, he asked "And what can I do for you two pretty ladies today?"

"Actually, it's more a matter of what we might be able to do for you. Paula just happens to know a thing or two . . . three, if we're real lucky . . . about computers, and has expressed an interest in helping you out in that area, if you're interested, as her work program while she's here."

Oscar turned to Paula. "How much is a thing or two?"

Paula replied "Well, I built a computer for myself some time back, and have done some basic repairs on them." She felt no need to mention that "some time back" was when she was 10, and that she'd built dozens since then. "I can find my way around a network, including administering a server and configuring a router. I can . . ."

"WHOA!!! You had me at the word `repairs'! You're obviously well beyond me. I still manage to screw up setting up a computer by plugging the mouse into the hole for the keyboard and the keyboard into the mouse hole."

"Ports." Paula corrected. "They're called ports' . . . not holes'."

"Whatever! You're hired! When can you start? This afternoon?"

"Take it easy on her." Donna interjected. "She just got here this morning. How about we get her started on Monday?"

"Monday is fine. What's best for you, Paula? Mornings or afternoons?"

"I really don't know. Like Donna said, I just got here this morning, so I don't know what other fun things Donna is going to have me scheduled for yet."

"It makes no difference to me, Paula. We can schedule everything around whichever shift you're not busy on. You'll have routine things like a physical and chats with me, but we can do those at any time of the day. It all depends on whether you're more comfortable doing your computer magic when you're fresh in the morning, or after lunch."

Paula thought about it for a minute and then decided. "Mornings would probably be best. That way any free time I have between other appointments will be in warmer weather, now that spring is almost here, and I'll be able to sit out on my patio with my laptop, if I want."

"Sounds fine with me." Oscar agreed. "

Oscar asked her if there were any special tools she would need, and she started to run through a mental list. He stopped her a few items into the list and suggested that she make a written list, and the two of them could start off Monday morning by going into Boulder together to get whatever she needed. Paula agreed, and they ended the meeting with another handshake before Oscar left.

Donna broke the brief silence after Oscar left the office. "Well, that sounded productive, even though I didn't have the foggiest idea what you were talking about when it came to tools. You actually know more than just `a thing or two' about computers, don't you?"

Paula blushed. "Well, maybe three or four things. Enough, I think, to get you fixed up pretty quickly."

"I'm glad we could find an area for you to work in that you'll enjoy, and do it so quickly. Now, shall we go and see if the men are all done stinking up Byron's office?"

Paula stood, straightening her dress as she did so. "Lead on, Lady Donna!"

Donna laughed. "As you wish, Princess Paula!"

They traveled the handful of steps down the hall to the door to Byron's office, which Donna tapped on before sticking her head in. Byron was gone, but Rusty was still there, sitting behind the desk, using Byron's phone. Rusty held up one finger, as a message that he'd be done in a minute, and Donna withdrew, closing the door behind her.

"Rusty's still on the phone, and I get the feeling it's private. Since we're all alone for a few minutes, do you have any questions so far?"

"Tons of them. I hardly know where to start, but I suppose the best place to begin would be to ask you what sort of timetable of events we're looking at here."

"You mean for the actual GRS?"

"I mean for everything. How long do you think I'll be staying here, how long until the new hormone therapy plan you're going to be setting up for me will take to take affect, how long until the surgery and most of all . . . well . . . uh . . ."

"Go ahead, Paula. Spit it out. Most of all what?"

Paula blushed again. It seemed like she'd been doing a lot of that the past few weeks. "Well, Rusty and I are planning on getting married after all the legal details get taken care of. And I'd like to be able to be a REAL wife to him on our wedding night."

"You mean you want to know how long you have to wait after the surgery before you can have vaginal sex? Everyone heals differently, but I'd say probably somewhere around a month. Once the stitches are out and you're all healed up, the sooner the better. To put it bluntly, you're going to need to keep putting something up there on a frequent basis for quite a while to dilate the vagina and keep it from closing up. I've always been a proponent of the philosophy of `better a man than a dildo'."

"Okay, then how about the other questions. How long until we see the full affect of the hormone therapy and how long until I can have the surgery?"

"Here's the deal. The blood sample we took a little bit ago is to establish a baseline. I'll need to get with you about the same time tomorrow . . . right after lunch would be good . . . to get another one. I'll look at the differences between the hormone levels, which will tell me how much of your self-medication hormones are being absorbed out of existence with you off them now, and how much testosterone you're producing. I'll work out an initial dosage for your new meds based on that information, and get you started on them on, probably on Sunday. Wednesday we'll poke you again, and get an idea of how close to perfection we're coming. That's also about the time we'll need to get you up on Byron's examination table for a complete physical. The meds will be trial and error for about two or three weeks, so you'll need to be here at least that long."

"Once we've got your meds pretty well figured out I'd like to keep you here for another two to three weeks. Part of the process, as mandated by the state Medical Review Board, is that you undergo counseling. I told you before that I wasn't going to try to shrink your head, but I do need to get inside it enough for me to feel confident that this isn't a spur-of-the-moment decision on your part, because there's really no going back. Reversals have been done, but they're essentially the same as the "Female to Male GRS". That path is far more difficult and the results are rarely satisfactory."

"Another part of what the Medical Review Board requires is that you live full-time as a woman for one year. That's sort of an extra check to make sure that nobody makes the decision in haste."

Donna could see the sudden disappointment in Paula's eyes, and added "Would you like to hear about the big loophole in that law?"

Paula nodded, and Donna continued. "When we fill out the paperwork for the review board, the form asks for the date the patient started living full-time as a woman, but it isn't required that we, or the patient, provide any proof of the date. We simply ask the patient what date she started to transition on her own, and there's no penalty for the patient if she lies to us. Then we simply fill in the blank. As long as I deem you mentally fit, Byron declares you to be a healthy woman in transition and the date you give us is at least a year before your scheduled surgery date, you're good to go."

Paula smiled. "April seventh of last year."

"Huh?"

"April seventh of last year. Put that down as my start date."

"Okay. Just between you and me, is there any significance to the date?"

"Not really. It just seemed like good timing. It gives me about two months to heal before a June wedding, which is what I'd really like, if the legalities involved make it possible." Paula wasn't about to tell Donna that April seventh was the anniversary of Paul's marriage to Patti.

Just then the door to Byron's office opened and Rusty came out, along with the pleasant aroma of fine cigars. "Have you two ladies been conspiring against me out here?"

Donna laughed. "No, just going over a few things. Nothing you need to worry your shaggy head over. Speaking of which, when are you going to get a haircut? If you want, I could get one of the girls down in the beauty parlor to give you a trim, set and style." Then, with a wink, "Maybe frost the tips, too. I think blond highlights would look good in that red mop!"

"No thanks, but I promise it'll be trimmed by the next time I make it back up here. Once I finish some business in New Mexico I've got to pay a visit to the world's largest parking lot, and they might mistake me for a street person in LA."

"Well, if you're planning to leave this afternoon, I should give you young people time for your goodbyes" Donna said, looking at her watch, "and I've got an appointment in about ten minutes. Dinner gets served at 5:30, Paula.

Maybe we can finish our chat then."

"If you like, but I think you've covered all the questions I have for right now. I'm sure I'll come up with more, as time goes by, but . . . well, yeah. I do have a couple more, now that you mention it.

"That's fine. I'll look for you at dinner."

Rusty and Paula headed off alone, hand in hand, to find their way back to Paula's little apartment. Along the way Paula commented to Rusty that he'd been uncommonly quiet ever since they got to the clinic.

"Is there something wrong? Something I should know about?"

He stopped and reached up, brushing her cheek affectionately with the back of his hand. "No, nothing at all wrong. I've had a couple of reasons for being quiet, but none of them has anything to do with anything being wrong."

She looked up at him quizzically, so he continued as they started walking again. "The single most important reason that I've been quiet is that I wanted you to be free to see what you wanted to see and ask any questions you may have had without feeling like I was pushing you into anything. This trip really has nothing to do with me, personally. I've already told you that I love you, and will take you any way you come. This has to be YOUR decision. This has to be what YOU want. I'm just along for the ride, wherever it happens to take you."

"Oh, Rusty, you big sweetheart, you!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arm around his waist and hugging him close. "I'll admit that I got a small case of cold feet when we pulled off the main road back there, but that all went away as soon as I walked through the door here! All the way here I felt that this was right for me, and I feel that way times ten now, especially since getting to know Donna a little. I've just met her, and I already feel like she's a big sister that I've known all my life. This is what I want, Rusty. Nobody's pushing me into anything except myself."

"That's good. That's the way it needs to be. I've also been quiet because, like I told you before . . . I don't lie well. I figured the less I talked the fewer questions I'd be asked, and we've got a few secrets that I'd be hard-pressed to keep to myself if I got to talking too much. Plus, I've had the gears turning in my head, figuring out some of the things I need to get arranged."

They'd arrived at the door to the apartment, and Paula took the key-card out of her purse and swiped it, unlocking the door. "What sort of things?" she asked, as the entered the sitting room.

"Well, you can't live out the rest of your life here. And when you're ready to go `home', I don't think it would be a good idea to go back to the cabin for quite a while. There's gonna be people snooping around those woods for months, trying to figure out what happened to Paul Taylor. Since my offices are in LA, and so is Taylor Software Engineering, I figured that, if we're going to be able to run your Patti through a legal wringer, the LA area would be a good place to work from. I own a place in Malibu that I've been renting out to some minor Hollywood types for the past few years on a month-to-month lease. I just gave them a 30-day notice that I'll be returning to town, and they'll need to find another house. It's not a mansion, like a few of my neighbors live in, but it's a lot more spacious than the cabin. Besides that, I don't want to watch you grimace over another plate of reconstituted dehydrated scrambled eggs. You deserve better."

"You're sweet, Rusty. But I could live anywhere and eat anything, as long as I'm with you. The cabin is fine, and I could hide whenever anyone comes snooping around."

Rusty shook his head. "You say that now, but you wouldn't be happy there for long. I've seen you pounding the keys of that laptop. You've got a talent that I'll never understand. You'd be miserable if you couldn't put it to good use."

Paula acquiesced. "Whatever you say. I'll let you decide where we live. Wherever you go, I'll gladly follow. But, for right now, how about reconsidering your decision to leave this afternoon? You could spend the night here with me, and then leave tomorrow afternoon. Nobody in that little half-horse town would ever notice that you were gone an extra day." She lifted the hem of her dress up enough to show quite a bit more leg, right up to the tops of her stockings and the clips of her garter belt straps, and started sashaying towards him, licking her lips, with a "come fuck me" look in her eyes.

Rusty shook his head sadly. "Sorry honey, but it's too big a risk. We have no idea when that car of yours will be discovered, but I can guarantee that there'll be detectives knocking on the cabin door within hours of its discovery."

Paula pouted a little, took hold of one of Rusty's hands and started dragging him towards the bedroom. "Well, if you've got to go, then you've got to go. But before you go, at least help me test this bed out. I'm gonna be real lonely here without you, and I want something to help ease that loneliness before you leave."

He offered no resistance as she pulled him gently through the door to the bedroom, kicking her shoes off along the way, and over to the parted opening in the sheers, where she first sat on the edge of the bed and then laid down on the pink satin bedspread. She pulled him gently down beside her and rolled on top of him, and began feverishly kissing his lips while her hands slipped between their bodies and began unbuttoning his shirt.

With his shirt unbuttoned, she began moving her kisses lower and lower on his body as she slid down between his legs. First his neck, then his chest and then his belly as her hands tugged his belt loose and his zipper down. With her knees now curled up under her own belly, she raised up slightly and pulled his pants and underwear down, exposing his now-swollen cock. She dropped her face to it, her lips engulfing the head. With one hand wrapped around the shaft, stroking up and down on it, she reached back with the other. She pulled the hem of her dress up to her waist with that free hand, and then used it to pull her panties down to her own knees, which were lodged between Rusty's legs. A little more tug and a little bit of wriggling and the panties were down to her ankles and then off over her feet, a small pile of pink silk on the pink satin of the bedspread.

Still holding onto and stroking his cock with her hand, she started moving her lips back up his naked upper body, shifting her knees so that she was straddling him by the time her kisses were landing on his lips once again. Guiding his engorged prick with her hand, she eased her ass back and down, until the head of his cock was pressing against her rosebud, which seemingly magically opened to greet the piece of man-meat that had filled it so many times before over the past few months.

With a little cry, in one motion she raised her upper body up to a completely vertical position and sat down hard onto his crotch, impaling herself on Rusty's manhood, letting it drive deep into her bowels, while Rusty reached up to her chest, cupping a breast in each of his hands. Squeezing them gently, he used her tits to guide Paula into an up-and-down motion. Whimpering and moaning, she rode on Rusty's fleshy pole until she felt the now-familiar waves of pleasure start to roll through her body, causing her inner muscles to tighten around her lover's love rod, squeezing it tight. She felt his hot cream explode inside her just as a massive orgasm wracked her own body.

Not really quite satisfied, but completely spent, she stopped riding him and collapsed on top of his chest. She lay that way for a few minutes before rolling off him, dropping her head and shoulders into the crook of his arm and pressing her face into the side of his chest.

They both lay quietly that way for ten minutes that seemed like an eternity before she broke the silence.

"Rusty?"

"Mmmm" came the reply. She wasn't sure if that was the sound of satisfaction or the sound of a man about to drift off to sleep.

"How do you feel about children?"

"I love kids! I never gave much thought about ever having any of my own, but I certainly love other people's kids. Why do you ask?"

"I've always wanted one or two, but Patti ruled that out pretty early in our marriage. She said she didn't want to be shackled to what she called `smelly brats'."

"Mmmm" came the relaxed and sleepy sound again. "Just one more thing for me to dislike about that woman. Why? Did you want to try adopting after we get married?"

"Adopting, if we have to. That'd be great. But I keep thinking back to Maxine and Travis. If it works with chimps, it'd probably work with people, too. Don't you think?"

"You mean you'd like to get pregnant? Remember, Donna said that an ovary transplant into a human might never happen. There are both legal and biological hurdles to overcome. If it DOES ever happen, it probably won't be until our adopted kids make us grandparents."

"I realize I'm just dreaming, but I think the idea of being pregnant and having a baby is the dream of every woman, which means that it's a dream that I'm close to being eligible and entitled to have."

"Well, if it ever happens, I'm fine with it. You'd look really cute with your belly sticking out like you were hiding a basketball under your dress. But keep the thought as a dream, not a goal. Unattainable goals tend to cause frustration, and I love you far too much to want to see you frustrated."

She ran her left hand through his thick mat of chest hair, admiring the engagement ring on her finger, and marveling at the length and feminine shape of her nails, now painted with a pink polish that almost matched the bedspread they were laying on. They both drifted off to sleep for a nap, lying like that.

They awoke an hour or so later. Rusty slid out of bed, pulled his pants back up, and announced that it was about time for him to leave. Paula retrieved her panties from the foot of the bed and pulled them back on before sliding out of bed to retrieve her heels. She put on her new jacket, grabbed her purse and accompanied Rusty out to the car.

She promised herself she wouldn't cry, since this wasn't a "good-bye", but rather a "see you later". She managed to make good on that promise until after they'd kissed one more time, Rusty got into the car, navigated around the circle at her end of the driveway and the rear end of the car disappeared over the rise in the landscape. Then she started bawling like a baby, the tears streaming down her face, ruining her makeup.

Feeling even more alone than she'd felt at her parents' funeral, she went back inside, went back to her apartment and let the tears flow until almost dinner time. It took half a box of Kleenex, but she finally got the weeping under control just in time to patch up her makeup and join Donna in the dining room for dinner.