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.'