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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Subject: Revised repost: The Adventures of Samantha   (4/7)
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Hi.

  I had complained last time that this story had no end. Well I was
wrong. Someone was so kind to send me the missing last chapters so I
sent now a more completely story.

  As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.

  If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.

Enjoy the story.

Ciao
	Nostrumo

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

4___The_Adventures_of_Samantha________________________________________


"Did you have a good time?" Carol asked Sam.

Tom hugged Sam's shoulders, answering for him, "It was a nice night, after
we left the Booby Trap."

Sam smiled in agreement.

Then Tom drained his cup and stood.

"Well, I have to work in the morning," he began, "and I need my rest to keep
up with you girls."

The girls giggles, as he kissed and hugged each of them.

"Show Tom to the door, Sam," Susan instructed.

Sam got up, and let Tom take his hand as they walked to the door.

Tom kissed Sam again, whispering, "I'd really like to do this again."

Tom walked off before Sam could think of anything to say.

Sam closed the door slowly, returning to the sofa.

"Well, you have had a big day today, Sam," Gwen said.  "I think it's about
time for us all to get our beauty sleep."

The girls got up, leaving the apartment with hugs all around, and big kisses
for Sam.

Sam collected the dirty dishes, taking them to the kitchen and washing them
before Susan could tell him to do the duty.  He was learning some of his
responsibilities.

"Good night, Sam, dear," Susan said, as he went into his bedroom.  "Make
sure you take care of your things before you go to bed."

She locked Sam into the bedroom and went to her own.

Sam took his clothes off, washing the panties and stockings.  He went to the
bathroom, and had a bubble bath.

As he lay in the bath, the heat from the water and the soothing feeling of
the bubbles made him feel how tired he really was.  He got up, dried himself
off, and put on his nightie.

He fell asleep almost immediately as he got into the bed.



23 Chapter -    Tuesday Morning


Sam woke peacefully, but fully to the brightness of the room.  For some
reason, he was feeling good this morning.  He knew immediately where he was,
but, for some reason, was not a dejected about his situation as he'd been
for the past few days.

He swung his legs out of the bed, heading for the bathroom to answer the
call of nature.  As he sat on the toilet seat, he noticed something was
different.  Nature would not wait, but he kept trying to put his finger on
the difference while his body was taking care of its need.

He flushed the toilet, then reached down to remove the panties from his
night gown.  It dawned on him then.  There was no maxi-pad in the panties.
He felt the ice cold stabbing of fear and guilt as he realized that Susan
would kill him, or at least give him the final dose, when she saw the mess
that he'd probably left on the bed.

Susan walked into the bathroom just then.  Sam wasn't sure whether she'd
heard the toilet flushing or he'd called here there somehow mentally.

Susan smiled a cheery, "Good Morning, Sam."

Sam tried to answer nonchalantly, but he couldn't control the fear and guilt
in his voice.

Susan looked puzzled for a moment, then she, too, noticed that the pad was
not in place.

"What did you do with the maxi-pad, Sam?" she asked, fearing that he'd
flushed it down the toilet.  She knew that might cause a clogging of the
plumbing.

Sam looked dejected, stammering, "Um, I forgot to put it in last night."

Susan's face contorted in rage, then smoothed, all in an instant of time.
Her glare at Sam could have turned him into stone.  Yet, without a word, she
spun and walked swiftly into the bedroom.

Sam sat fixed to the toilet seat.  The hollow feeling in his stomach was
deepening by the minute.  As he heard the rustle of the bed clothes being
mussed, he just knew that Susan would be returning momentarily, probably
with the hypodermic in her hands, but he sat immobile.

Susan came back to the bathroom, her face calmer now, but there was a
tightness in her voice as she said, "You are one very lucky young lady."

Susan took the tell tale panties from Sam, gave them a quick glance, and
tossed them into the sink.  Her face softened.

Quickly she kissed Sam on the forehead.  Her voice was much more composed,
almost light, as she said, "I only saw a few drops of blood in the panties,
and the bed was clean.  I think your period is over."

"Go on and start to get dressed while I get into something decent," she
continued, going back to her own room.

"And make sure to put a panty liner in your panties," she cautioned from the
other bedroom.

Sam remained frozen on the toilet seat for a moment.  The relief at her
pronouncement washed all through him.  He knew he had just dodged a serious
situation.

As he calmed, he got up and washed out the panties.  He hung his nightie on
the hook, and went into the bedroom.  He knew he might have gotten past this
one problem, but he'd better be on his best behavior for a while.

Sam went to the dresser, where Susan had been pulling clothes for him for
the past few days, and rooted around, looking for underwear.  He found some
of the same style panties he'd been wearing for the past few days, though
lacier, and put them on.  He also found a bra.

Motivated to dress quickly, and thus try to keep Susan from being angered
again, he put the brassier on, and dipped into the drawer again.  He
couldn't find the pantyhose he'd been made to wear at the mall, so he
resignedly picked up the garter belt and put it on.

Sam went back into the bathroom to get the stockings he'd washed last night.
As he reached for them, the coldness in his stomach returned.  Something had
pulled the material on one of the stockings, and there was a long area that
looked like a wide spaced ladder.  He was holding the evidence when Susan
returned.

"Oh, no," she said.  "Your stockings have a run in them."

Her voice was remarkably calm and matter of fact, Sam thought.

Susan went over to the dresser, selecting a cardboard envelope.  She opened
it, and pulled another pair of the sheer stockings from it.

"Go ahead, Sam," she said, "continue dressing while I put on some coffee."

Sam took the stockings, and managed to get them on.  He slapped some
lipstick on his face, and went to the closet to get a dress.  He figured he
might as well get the dress on before he brushed his hair.

As he looked through the clothing hung up in the closet for the first time
since he'd been here, he noticed that all the dresses and skirts seemed to
be about the same length.  The only one really longer was the suit he'd worn
to church on Sunday, and he recalled how short that one was.  He didn't see
a slip in the closet anyhow, and didn't recall seeing one in the dresser
drawer.  Reluctantly, he began to look through the other clothing.

His hand touched something exceptionally soft and silky.  He pulled it out
for a closer look.  It was a dress, in a pattern of pinks and whites causing
it to appear to be covered by big flower petals.  He could see it had
shoulders, and a collar on it, but no sleeves.  It even buttoned down the
front, though he was a little disappointed to see the tiny buttons seemed to
stop just as they got to the fuller area of the bodice.  The skirt was full,
falling from the waist in gentle, unpressed pleats.  Even though the skirt
was much shorter than he would have liked, he decided he liked the dress.
Then, he noticed he could see the shadow of his hand clearly defined through
the dress, even though the hand was all the way on the back side.  He
slipped his other hand inside the front, and saw it clearly, even being able
to see a tinted color version of his hand through the material.  He decided
he didn't like the dress so much any more.  It was soft, though.

Susan returned by this time, and was watching Sam look through the closed.
As the discovery of the dress first lighted up his face, then fell as he
discovered its transparency, she laughed.

"That is a very nice dress, Sam," she said, "but maybe not right for today.
Why don't we save that one for the next time Tom takes you out.  He is sure
to like it."

Sam was doubly embarrassed by the thoughts that Susan had been watching him
check out the dress, and the prospect of going out with Tom dressed in the
sheer thing.

Susan reached into the closed, quickly selecting a blouse and mini-skirt for
him.  She handed them to him, saying, "Try these on today."

Sam took the garments to the bed, where he put them on.

The blouse was a simple peasant style, with puffed sleeves, and a rough lace
embroidered over the front.  It didn't have any buttons, so Sam just slipped
it over his head, discovering that it didn't cover too much of his breasts
either.  The sleeves seemed to pull down on his shoulders, so he adjusted
the elastic holding them to his arms up, and the sleeves seemed to balloon
into a puff by themselves.

The skirt was a straight one, a combination of reddish and pink lines
forming large squares all over the fabric.  As usual, it had the button and
zipper on the waistband.  He pulled it over his head and settling it down on
his waist.  He sighed as he saw the hem just barely covering the tops of his
stockings.

Susan took a long look at him standing there before her, then got a few
things for him.  She gave him the pair of black pumps he'd worn before, and
then circled his waist with a wide, shiny black belt, which she fastened in
the back.  It had a white net flower where the buckle in the front would
have normally been.  She moved the belt a little, until the flower was off
to one side, just about where Sam's now flatter stomach joined the roundness
of his hips.  Susan gave a curt nod of approval and went back to the
kitchen.

Sam now noticed what Susan was wearing for the first time.  He'd been caught
up in his own trouble, he really had not been paying attention.

Susan was wearing a white blouse, that circled high on her neck and had
ruffles all over the front.  It was buttoned up the back, and sheer enough
that her bra displayed its lace very plainly through the fabric as the
fabric strained to clutch her body when she moved.  Her skirt was a charcoal
gray, with just a hint of red stripes running up and down it.  As with her
skirt yesterday, it fell to the middle of her knees.  She had brownish red
pumps on her feet.

Sam recognized that the skirt Susan was wearing was obviously the bottom of
a suit.  He sighed with resignation, knowing he'd be farmed off somewhere
while Susan went to work.

Sam brushed his hair, getting the job done quickly as he remembered to use
very light strokes, and looked at himself in the mirror.  He was not really
displeased with the woman who looked back at him.  In other times, he
thought, he wouldn't mind taking her home.

Like yesterday, they had coffee in the kitchen, which Sam drank without
comment.  He took his calcium and vitamin pills without a protest.  Still
being on good behavior to mitigate the close call after forgetting the pad
last night, he washed the dirty cups without a word from Susan.

Susan had gone back into her room to finish dressing.  She now emerged with
the jacket matching her skirt on, carrying a black shoulder bag and a black
briefcase.  She was obviously ready for work.

"Grab your bag and come on," she said, heading for the door.

Sam got the black shoulder bag from the dresser in his bedroom, and followed
her out of the apartment.

When they got to Susan's car, she got in the driver's seat, and leaned over
to unlock the passenger side.  Sam took the hint, and slid into the front
seat, buckling the seat belt.

"I have to go to work," she explained as she was starting the car, "but Gwen
needs to talk with you.  I'll drop you off at her place on the way."

Sam wondered why Gwen needed to talk to him, but kept his question to
himself.  He was still trying to atone for his earlier problem.



24 Chapter -    Strike Two


They drove through the suburbs, until they came upon a large house situated
in a big landscaped lawn.  As Susan drove into the driveway, Sam figured
that this must be Gwen's house.  He'd never been here before, having taken
her to his apartment the time they'd gone home together.  That thought
brought a flash of a smile to his face, which crashed almost immediately as
he recalled it now seemed like a lifetime ago since that night.

He turned his eyes to the house, estimating it must have cost at least a
quarter million dollars.  That brought up the question of how a nurse could
afford such a big house.  After the revelations about Sharon last night, he
was not about to ask Susan about this though.

They got out of the car and walked up to the door.  Gwen answered the bell
almost immediately.

"We're a little early, I'm afraid," Susan smiled at Gwen, "but I really have
to get to the office."

"No problem, Susan," Gwen replied, returning the smile.  "I was just getting
ready for Sam anyway."

"Thanks, Gwen," Susan said, turning back to her car.

Over her shoulder, Susan said, "Sam, be a good girl for Gwen today."

"Come in, Sam," Gwen said.  "You are looking very pretty this morning."

Sam thanked her for the compliment as they walked into Gwen's living room.

"I need to get a few things," Gwen said.  "Why don't you make yourself
comfortable here.  I'll only be a minute."

Sam looked around the room.  It was a large, airy room.  There was a sofa, a
love seat, and a couple of matching chairs scattered around the room, along
with some end tables in a dark wood.  The furniture was done in a light
beige, matching the carpet.  He also noticed the beige curtains framing the
picture window in the rear of the room.  One wall had an open fireplace,
with all the tools on it, but it was obviously not in use.  The opposite
wall had a book case full of books.

Sam walked over to the book case.  He had never been a big reader before,
but there was something about these books that grabbed his attention.
Perhaps it was the bright colors on the book covers.  He looked over the
selections, recognizing several of the titles from the best seller lists in
the newspaper.  As he examined the books, he noticed that they all seemed to
be done by one author.  He wondered who G. Chambeaux was.  Whoever he was,
he was sure a prolific author.

On impulse, Sam picked one of the books from the shelf.  The title was one
that he knew was on the current best seller list.  As he opened the book, he
almost dropped it on the floor.  There, on the back flap, was a picture of
Gwen staring at him.

"You can take the book with you," Gwen said from behind him.  "I have
several copies."

Sam turned red.

"Now, come over to the sofa.  We need to talk," she continued.

Sam sat on the sofa, while Gwen sat in one of the chairs.  She looked so
natural in this setting, and desirable in her black pants, that looked like
she'd been poured into, and red silk blouse.  The feeling of his nipples
straining against his bra, and a slight feeling of moistness in his groin,
reminded him that he couldn't do much about that desirability now.

"I know you are finding yourself in strange surroundings," Gwen began, "but
there are a lot of things you have to learn.  I'll try to teach you some of
them this morning.  We don't have a lot of time, so pay attention."

Gwen started talking about reproduction, and menstruation, and babies.

Sam lost interest almost immediately.  He didn't want to know about all this
girl stuff.  He certainly had no intention of getting close enough to a man
to get pregnant, even if Gloria's changes had made it possible now.

After a while, Gwen noticed him fidgeting on the sofa, and the distracted
look of boredom on his face.

"Pay attention," she said sternly, "this is important."

"Why are you telling me all this junk," Sam retorted.  "I'm not going to do
anything like that."

"Oh, but you will," Gwen replied, the stern, no nonsense, tone still in her
voice.

"As women," she said, "our bodies are designed to do one thing.  They want
to reproduce.  And they will do everything they can to get us to make a
baby, whether we want to or not."

"Hmmmpf," Sam retorted, sharply, "That's fine for you, but I'm not going to
get within a mile of a man and a bedroom."

"You aren't going to have any choice in the matter," Gwen said.  "Your body
will take care of that.  In fact, you'll probably end up in bed with Tom
before long."

Sam was stunned.  Tom was a nice guy, but the idea of going to bed with him
was ridiculous.  Besides, he remembered, vaguely, something Gloria had said
about getting pregnant making his condition as permanent as the last dose of
the medicine they were holding over his head.  He had no intention
whatsoever of allowing that to happen.

"Now, may I have your attention so we can continue?" Gwen asked.

"I don't need all this bull," Sam said, in anger.  "I am not going to bed
with Tom, or any other man for that matter."

"Besides, what the heck is so special about Tom?" he blurted.  "The whole
lot of you women carry on like he is some kind of Greek god.  He's just a
guy, like thousands of others.  Just like I was, until you girls did this to
me.  You all act like you'd jump in Tom's bed in a heartbeat."

Gwen reddened.  She was getting angry.

"We have known Tom for years now," she said.  "He is a special man, much
more of a man than you ever were.  And he HAS taken me to bed, as well as
the other girls.  And we are DAMNED happy he's around to do it."

She paused for breath, continuing heatedly, "I don't know what he sees in
you.  He's much too good for the likes of you, but he'll probably take you
to bed very soon.  I'm doing this mostly for him.  I don't want to see him
hurt because you can't take care of your own urges."

She stopped suddenly, the tension and anger clearly showing all over her
body.

"Bull!" Sam repeated, clasping his arms roughly around his chest, then
moving them hastily when his breasts got in the way.

"Well, if you won't learn how to take care of yourself, I don't care if you
get pregnant," Gwen said tightly.  "I just hope it isn't with Tom.  He'd
feel obliged to marry you, and he deserves much, much better than you."

"Hmmmpf!" Sam exclaimed.

Gwen now burst into tears.

"Get out of my house!," she shouted.  "I don't want to see you again."

"I didn't want to be here in the first place," Sam retorted, as he angrily
stomped out the front door, slamming it behind himself.

Gwen was running, in tears, towards her bedroom as Sam left the house.

Sam stood on the door stoop, taking deep breaths.  He was more than angry.
He was angry that he was here, angry with Gwen, and angry that he was in
this body.  He was also angry that his clothes were so revealing, and angry
at all the women who had brought him to this condition.

As he cooled down a little, still on the door stoop, he decided he needed a
drink.  Then it dawned on him that he had no money.  Frustrated, he decided
just to walk away and let these women find themselves another play toy.  He
began walking down the driveway.

He cooled down even more as he was walking, and realized that he had even
left his purse on Gwen's sofa.  He had no money, no identification, and
nowhere to go.  He was stuck in this female body, dressed like a hooker, and
walking in one of the most affluent suburbs of the city.

He looked up to see a police car passing slowly on the street.  He saw the
officer looking suspiciously at him.  He turned and walked back to Gwen's
doorstep.  All he needed was to get arrested as a hooker, he thought.

He sat on Gwen's door stoop, and his anger changed to despair.  He realized
that he had no hope at all of getting back to his old self without Gloria's
help.  He also realized he'd made Gwen mad, and Gwen had probably been the
most helpful of the women in the group.  She would probably have Gloria give
him the final dose now, he thought.  Heck, she might even do it herself and
be happy taking her revenge.  With these thoughts, he bowed his head an
began sobbing, for the first time since he'd cried since he had been a
little boy.

He was still crying when the door opened softly.

Gwen stood at the doorway and said gently, "Come inside Sam."

Sam followed her, still sniffling.

"Sit here," she directed, in her no nonsense tone.  "I'll call one of the
others to come get you."

Sam could see the tracks on her face where she'd been crying through his own
tears.

"I'm sorry, Gwen," he blubbered through his tears.  "Please, don't be mad at
me.  Can we try again?"

Gwen looked at him in surprise.  Sam seemed so dejected, sitting there
crying, and so sincere.

She put her hand on Sam's cheek, gently.

"Sam," she said softly, "you hurt me terribly.  I should give you your final
dose now, but I can see your really are sorry."

"Come into the bathroom," she directed, "we both have to repair our faces."

They went into the large bathroom, where Gwen took a wash cloth and washed
the tears from Sam's face.  Then, she washed her own face, and took him by
the hand back into the living room.

As they settled into their previous positions, Gwen said, "I am disappointed
in you Sam.  And I'm still angry and hurt.  I'm too upset to continue
teaching what you need to know, but I'll try."

"Have you taken your pill today?" Gwen asked.

Sam looked over at her.  He had not taken one of those birth control pills.
He had no intention of needing them.

"No," he admitted.

"Sam," she said softly, "you must take one of those pills every morning.
You never know when you will need them, what with rapists around, or maybe
just the right man comes along."

Sam had never considered the possibility of rape before.  He had never had
to think too seriously about that in the past.  Rape was something that only
happened to women.

As he was thinking, Gwen had gone into the kitchen, and now returned with a
tumbler full of water.

"Take your pill now," she said.

Sam fumbled in his purse, finding the bag from the drug store.  He opened
it, and saw a plastic container with twenty eight pills arranged in a circle
on it.  The pills pushed through the foil backing.  He got one, and took it
with the water Gwen handed him.

Gwen took the tumbler back to the kitchen while Sam was looking in
fascination at the pill container.

"If you remember nothing else," Gwen said softly, as she reseated herself on
the chair, "remember that your body wants you to give it a baby.  You can
trick your body with the pills, but it will still try and get you pregnant."

"Now," she continued, "we have made a mess out of our time together this
morning, and you have to be at Darlene's in a few minutes.  We have just
about enough time to get there."

As they got into Gwen's car, Sam said softly, "I really am sorry."

"I know, dear," Gwen said.  "I won't do anything hasty, but you better not
let this happen again."

They drove to the dress shop in silence, each deep in her own thoughts.



25 Chapter -    First Fitting


When Darlene met them in her shop, Sam noticed that several other women were
present, looking over clothes hanging on racks or bolts of fabric stacked on
tables.  Most of the women were in pants, and they were mostly young.

"Gwen, Sam!" Darlene greeted them cheerfully.  "You are right on time, but I
am afraid I am a little behind.  Sarah Brewster added two more bridesmaids,
and I'm still fitting them."

"That's OK, Darlene," Gwen said, with a small smile on her lips.  "Do you
mind if I use your phone?"

"No," Darlene answered, "go right ahead.  Use the one in my office.  You
know where it is.  In the meantime, I'll take Sam into the fitting room.
We'll be in the same one we used the other night."

"Fine, and thanks," Gwen said, as she went off to Darlene's office.

Darlene took Sam into the curtained cubicle where he'd been put into the
strapless dress on Saturday.  Cindy poked her head through the curtains,
greeted Sam, and disappeared again.

"Ok, Sam," Darlene said, "take your dress off and get up on the pedestal."

As Sam was disrobing, Darlene leaned through one of the curtains, returning
with some material on a hanger.

"You made quite a hit at The Game Cock," Darlene said cheerily, as Sam stood
on the small platform.

Sam thought back to Saturday, and had to smile, despite himself.

"Oh," Darlene said, "I didn't realize you were wearing a bra.  You'll need
to take that off so I can fit you properly."

Sam took the bra off, throwing it to the couch where he had laid the dress.
His breasts got chilly as they were exposed to the air, and his nipples
stiffened.

Darlene laughed a bit, as she began wrapping the fabric on his body.

Darlene draped the fabric in various ways, putting pins through the material
every so often.  She was humming to herself as she stood to examine her
work.

Just then Susan walked into the cubicle.  If looks could kill, Sam would
have been dead.

"Darlene," she said sweetly, "do you mind?  I need to talk with Sam for a
moment."

"Certainly," Darlene said, as she tactfully went through the curtain.

There was steel in Susan's voice as she began, "How could you?"

"You hurt Gwen deeply," she continued.  "I have half a mind to stick this
into your fat butt right this minute." She produced the hypodermic from her
purse.

"Susan!", Gwen's voice was raised as she stepped into the cubicle.

"Sam apologized," Gwen said.  "Yes, I am hurt, but I think she was sincere.
I don't think you need the needle."

Susan looked at Gwen, fiercely at first, then softening.  She looked at Sam
again.

"Young lady," she had the steel back in her voice, "you are very, very lucky
to have Gwen here to defend you." She placed the syringe back into her
purse.

"If I EVER hear even a hint of that type of thing happening again, not even
Gwen's pleading will save you from the final shot," she continued.  "Do you
understand me?"

Sam, the cold feeling of dread receding from his stomach, said contritely,
"Yes, ma'am."

Susan wrapped her arms around Gwen's shoulders as they both walked out of
the cubicle.  Darlene stepped in a moment later, and began fussing with the
dress again.

A while later, Susan and Gwen returned, both laughing, obviously in better
spirits.  They both took a long look at Sam, still on the pedestal under
Darlene's ministrations.

Sam wanted to shrink into the background, but he was the center of attention
in the small room.  He surely did not want Susan or Gwen any angrier than
they already had demonstrated.

"Darlene," Susan said, "that is lovely.  Can you do one like it for me in
that powder blue I like.  I think I want the walking slit in the back
though."

"Thank you, Susan," Darlene mumbled, her mouth full of pins.  "I think so.
I have your measurements on file, but we'll still need to do a final
fitting.  How about the same time as you bring Sam back?"

"Sounds good to me," Susan laughed, "and don't swallow those pins."

Gwen considered the dress now draped over Sam's body.  It had various
reddish sequins all over the strapless bodice and midriff, continuing in a v
shaped pattern down his belly.  A pale pink silk fabric fell to the floor in
a straight skirt.  She knew it would have a high slit in front when it was
done.

"It IS lovely," Gwen said at last.  "but I don't want to have the same dress
as two others.  Maybe if you could do a red one, with spaghetti straps, and
maybe a chiffon overskirt."

Darlene stopped working on Sam's dress and took the pins out of her mouth.
She ducked into the other room for a second, and brought some material back
with her.  She wrapped some fine net-like fabric over Sam's waist, letting
it fall to the floor.  The pink of the skirt fabric showed through it, but
it looked somehow more elegant.

"I think so," Darlene said, looking at what she had done.  "I think a few
chiffon roses on the overskirt would be nice too."

"Yes, yes," agreed Gwen eagerly.  "Can you do it?"

Darlene laughed, "Certainly.  Would you like to come in with these two for
the final fitting?"

"Sure," Gwen laughed.  "It's only money, after all."

The three women giggled, as Sam stood uncomfortably in front of them.

Darlene began unwrapping Sam's body from the fabric and said, "I think I've
got all I need for today."

The women again laughed.

"I should think so," Susan exclaimed.  "You started with one gown.  Now,
you'll be making three."

Sam was finally unwrapped, and stepped over to the couch to get dressed.  He
picked up the bra.

"No," Susan ordered.  "Put that in your purse.  You have been a bad girl,
and you'll have to go bra-less for the rest of the day.  We'll see how you
like it when the men in the mall notice your breasts jiggling."

Gwen, Susan and Darlene laughed as the mental image painted itself on their
minds.

Sam, uncomfortable at the prospect of drawing that kind of attention,
reluctantly put the bra into his purse.  Then, he slipped into the blouse
and skirt.  He could feel his breasts exploring their new found freedom
under the blouse, and his nipples hardened with the fabric brushing over
them.

"Sam and I need to go over to the mall," Susan said as the three left the
dress shop.  "Will you join us, Gwen?"

"No," Gwen said.  "I better check in with Lois."

"OK," Susan responded.  "We'll see you later."

"Come along, Samantha," she continued, her voice hardening to show that no
discussion was in order.

Sam followed Susan out to the street, walking down the sidewalk to her car.
Gwen went off in the other direction to hers.

Sam felt his breasts bouncing under his blouse.  As they passed several men
on the sidewalk, he became quite aware of their stares at his chest.  He
flushed.

Susan had managed to park about a block from the store, so Sam's discomfort
did not last too long.  They got into the car, and Susan drove to the mall
they had visited Saturday.



26 Chapter -    Getting a Few Things


Sam dutifully followed Susan into the mall, afraid to do anything that might
anger her.  They walked down the long walkway, finally arriving at a store
with several bridal gowns in the show window.  "Bridal Glamour," read the
large sign over the doorway.

Sam wondered what they were doing in a bridal shop, but did not ask.  He was
afraid of angering Susan again.

Susan led him toward the rear of the store, past the racks of bridal gowns,
and bridesmaid's gowns, to the area marked, "Accessories."

"I think some full length gloves," she said to the clerk who had come over
to them.  "Do you have them in a pale pink?"

"Certainly," the salesgirl replied.  "What size?"

"I don't really know," Susan admitted.  "They are for Samantha here."

The clerk took a tape measure, and measured Sam's arms and hands in several
places.

"Just a moment," she said.  "I'll get a pair from the back."

The salesgirl returned with a long, white box, which she was opening as she
walked up to them.  She withdrew a pair of long, pink gloves, and began
unbuttoning the small buttons, which ran from the wrist to the top.  She
took Sam's hand, place it in the glove, and buttoned it up over his arm.
The glove reached up to the midpoint of his upper arm.  It also fit like a
second skin, very tightly around the hands, then loosely around the arms so
that soft wrinkles showed all along the arms.

"I think that's perfect," Susan said, looking critically at the glove.  "Do
you have a pair in blue lace?"

"I think so," the salesgirl said.  "Dark or light?"

"Light," Susan replied, "in a 6."

Susan's gloves fit snugly all the way up the arms.

"Perfect," she said.  "We'll take both pairs."

Susan paid the girl with her card, and led Sam back out into the mall.

"Now, we need some jewelry," she mused.

They walked down the mall to a jeweler's store, Sam selfconsciously aware of
the stares his chest was garnering.

In the jeweler's, Susan began looking into all of the display windows.  Sam
followed suit, having to admit to himself that some of the items were quite
pretty.

Susan looked somewhat perplexed by the time the salesman came over to them.
He looked at her as if to ask what she wanted.

"I was looking for something in rubies," Susan said.

"I have some nice ones over here," he said, leading her to a counter next to
the wall.

"Susan!" a loud man's voice proclaimed.  An middle aged, balding man, who
had obvious trouble pushing away from the dinner table, walked down the
aisle behind the display counter.

"Maurice!" Susan responded in kind, smiling broadly.

"That's all for now, George," Maurice said to the salesman.  "Susan is one
of our best customers.  I will take care of her myself."

Sam could barely hear him mutter, "Don't worry, you'll get the commission."

"Now, Susan," Maurice beamed at her, "what can I do for you today."

"I think rubies," Susan said.  "Um, it will be a formal affair, and the
dress is light pink."

"I have some lovely things," Maurice said, "but in the back.  Would you
follow me, please?"

"Certainly, Maurice," she replied, placing her arm on the man's.

"Come along, Samantha," she said over her shoulder.

The rear of the jewelry shop was not an open store room, like many stores
had.  There were three comfortable looking chairs placed in front of a
considerably smaller version of the display cases in the front.  The case
was lined with black velvet, and held only three large gold and diamond
pins.  Even to Sam, these pieces were quite beautiful.  They had obviously
found the quality place.

Maurice seated Susan in one of the chairs, then repeated the process to seat
Sam.

"Rubies," he murmured, turning to a large vault on one of the walls, behind
the counter.

He entered the walk-in vault, returning in a minute carrying a black box.
He placed the box on the counter, and opened some fastenings.  The sides
dropped away, revealing some fine jewelry on a dark green velvet background.
Several necklaces, bracelets, pins and pairs of earrings were revealed, with
a number of different sized rubies set in gold.

Susan leaned forward, picking up some pieces, disregarding others.

"These are not quite what I had in mind," Susan said.

The jeweler silently moved the box to one end of the case, and went back to
the vault.  He brought out a second box, which he opened like the first.
The velvet was black.  There were fewer pieces revealed, but the stones were
larger.

Susan again began to finger through the merchandise.  She stopped, holding
an earring.  It had a fair sized ruby, surrounded by diamonds, set on a gold
setting, and another, larger, ruby surrounded by diamonds on a single link
below it.  She held it up to Sam's ear.

Susan looked critically at the earring, turning her head one way, then the
other.

"You know better than that, Susan," Maurice chided, laughing at the same
time.

Maurice picked up the matching earring, and came around the counter.  He
took the earring from Susan, and turned his attention to Sam.  He gently
removed Sam's studs.

"Just been pierced recently," he observed, "but it looks healed well enough
to handle these."

He put the ruby earrings through the holes in Sam's ears, fastening them
securely at the back of the lobes.  He then went in back of the counter.

Susan looked at Sam's ears critically again.  She had him move is head
several times, so she could get a better view.

Maurice returned to Sam with a mirror, which he held up so that Sam could
see how the earrings looked on his ears.

"I think they will do nicely," Susan said, finally.

"Now, we need a necklace," she continued.

She began sifting through the display items again, as Maurice removed the
earrings from Sam's ears, replacing them with the studs.  He got a small box
from under the counter, and placed the earrings in it.  Then, he turned his
attention back to Susan.

"Just a moment, Susan," he said, returning to the vault.

He brought out a box containing only a half dozen items.  One necklace had a
line of rubies, alternating with diamonds down the center, and a line of
diamonds on either side of that, all the way around the gold setting.  A
larger ruby, about the size of the drop ruby on the earrings, was attached
in a pendant to the center of the necklace.  This ruby, set in gold, was
circled by it's own line of diamonds.

"It's perfect," Susan cried, as Maurice held the necklace up for her
inspection.

"Not quite yet," Maurice again chided, as he came behind Sam, draping the
necklace around his neck.

"Susan," Maurice cautioned, "you know better than to pick fine jewelry
without seeing it where it wants to live."

"However," he continued, looking at Sam's neck now, "I think you were
correct this time."

"I love it," Susan cried in joy.  "Now a bracelet."

Maurice put the necklace aside, and held up a bracelet.  It was simply a
series of rubies, set like the pendant on the necklace, attached on a gold
link chain.  He placed it on Sam's wrist, then, after a moment's hesitation,
put the necklace back on Sam's neck as well.

"They were designed as a set," Maurice said.

Susan was speechless, seeing the jewelry adorning Sam now.

"We'll take them," she said, offering her card to Maurice.

"They do look quite stunning," Maurice offered, as he removed the jewelry
from Sam.

The jeweler got a black box, lined with red velvet, from beneath the display
case.  He arranged the jewelry inside, and placed it in a small paper bag.
He took Susan's credit card, and made out the receipt.

"Oh," Maurice said, as if he had just recalled something.  "Are you still in
love with that powder blue, Susan?"

Susan laughed, "Of course, Maurice.  I'm afraid you know me too well."

"Well, wait just a moment," he said laughing.

Maurice gathered up the boxes from the counter, and went into the vault.  He
returned with a small box.  He opened it in front of Susan.

"These are the finest blue diamonds I have seen in a long time," he said to
her.  "Try them on."

Susan unfastened her own earrings, and placed the diamonds in her ears.  The
simple gold setting contained a cluster of the small, sparkling gems on the
earlobe, and a drop pendant of a much larger stone, also set in gold and
surrounded by even more of the smaller stones.

Susan sucked in her breath, as she looked into the mirror offered by
Maurice.  Even Sam was impressed.

"Oh, I just have to have them," she said to the jeweler.

Maurice placed the earrings into another black box, as Susan replaced her
earrings.

"There is no one else in this city who could wear those and do the credit
you do them," Maurice said, beaming broadly.  "In fact, I thought of you
when I got them."

The credit card was produced, and charged, once again.

Maurice walked with them out into the main store.  He turned to Susan and
asked, "And when am I going to make that special ring for you, Susan?"

Susan laughed, "I think you will just have to hold on for a while yet,
Maurice."

Sam and Susan walked out of the shop, and turned back up the mall.  As they
passed a shoe store, Susan suddenly stopped and led Sam inside.

The saleslady was on top of them as soon as they walked into the door.  "Is
there anything I can do to help you ladies?" she inquired.

"Those gold evening shoes in the window," Susan began.  "Do you have a pair
to fit Samantha here?"

The saleslady walked to the rear of the store, the others following, until
they got to an area with hard plastic chairs set around it.  She seated the
women, and took up a device to measure Sam's foot.  Satisfied, she went into
the back room.

She returned carrying several shoe boxes.  She took a pair of shoes from
one, and placed it on Sam's foot, then did the same with the other.

"Stand up and see how they feel," she said.

Sam stood, and almost fell over.  The heels were at least four inches high,
and the shoes held on his feet by a single thin strap of a gold lame
material just above his toes and the pressure of his heel on the gold lame
covered back of the shoe.  He recovered his balance, and took a few awkward
steps.

As he sat down again, he was about to say the heels were too high for him to
manage.

"They will do just fine," Susan interjected, before Sam could say anything.

The saleslady took a pair, in silver this time, from another box, holding it
up for inspection.

"I think the gold will work better," Susan said definitively.

The saleslady took the re-boxed shoes to the register, where Susan paid for
them with her credit card.

The left the store and walked out of the mall through the big department
store on one end.  Aileen's was a short way across the lot, and Susan began
going in that direction.  Sam followed.



27 Chapter -    The Waxing


Aileen greeted them as they entered the door, with cheerful greetings and
hugs.

"Is Becky free right now?" Susan inquired.

"I think so," Aileen replied.  "Let me check."

She returned a few minutes later with Becky in tow.

"I think Samantha needs a full waxing," Susan told Becky.

"Sure, no problem," the cosmetologist said.  "Come on in to the back room
and I'll fix her right up."

Sam had no idea of what a wax job was, but the gleam in Becky's eyes gave
him a clue that he wasn't particularly going to enjoy it.

Sam and Susan followed Becky to the back room.

"Oh," Susan said, when they were alone.  "Samantha has not been a very good
girl today, so you don't need to be as careful as usual."

Becky laughed as Sam began to turn red.

"You did say the FULL treatment?" Becky inquired.

As Susan's nod, Becky turned to Sam, saying, "OK, Samantha.  Take off all
your clothes."

Sam looked around in fear, but the steely gaze Susan was giving him made him
begin to strip down.  He hesitated at his panties, but Susan pointed her
finger at her purse, and Sam took those off as well.

Becky positioned Sam on a table in the center of the room.  It was similar
to the one in Lois' office, though probably more suited for massages.  Sam
lay down on his back.  Becky rolled him over.

Becky took an implement, and began spreading a warm, somewhat sticky
substance all over the back of Sam's legs.  She then appeared to rub them
for a minute, and turned him over onto his back.  She repeated the process
on the front of his legs.  As she did the rubbing, Sam could see that she
was pressing strips of paper into the sticky stuff.

"OK, spread your legs to the sides of the table," Becky ordered.

When Sam complied, Becky spread the wax and paper all over his pubic hair,
and down between his legs.  He felt the wax near the opening to his vagina,
but not on the lips.

"Stretch your arms over your head," Becky ordered.

Becky put the stuff on his underarms as well.

Becky rolled him back on his front, and pulled sharply at one of the strips.

Sam yelled, feeling the paper, wax and hairs from his legs being pulled off.

"Oh, quiet down, crybaby," Susan laughed.

Becky kept pulling the paper strips off his legs, then rolled him over, and
pulled them off the front side.

She started to grab one of the strips on his stomach, when Susan suggested
she save that part for last.

Becky nodded, and went to the underarms instead.  The pain Sam felt was even
greater than on the legs, and he involuntarily yelled as she pulled the
first strip off.

Susan and Becky just giggled, while Becky kept pulling the strips off.
Then, she went back to his stomach.

Sam though he was going to pass out as she pulled the strips from his pubic
area.  He thought he was in an Inquisitor's torture chamber when Becky
removed the strips from the looser skin between his legs.

It seemed like an eternity, but Becky was finally done.  She began rubbing
some kind of lotion all over the areas she had waxed, and massaged it into
his skin.  At last she stood back by Susan.

"I enjoyed that," Becky smiled, then she left the room.

"Get dressed, Samantha," Susan ordered.

Sam put his clothes back on.  They felt strange going over the freshly waxed
areas.

They left the beauty parlor, again to the hugs of Aileen, who gave Sam a
dirty look before hugging him, and walked over to Susan's car.

Sam knew he that Susan was still angry with him, and tried to apologize.
Susan was silent all during the drive to the apartment.



28 Chapter -    The Coming Out


At the apartment, Susan led Sam directly to the bedroom and ordered him to
strip completely.  Sam complied hastily, especially since she was taking the
hypodermic from her purse and returning it to it's spot on the dressing
table.

Susan went to the closet and returned with the pink print dress Sam had been
looking at that morning.

"Put this on," she said.

Sam started to put his panties back on, but Susan stopped him.

"Just the dress," she ordered.

Sam slipped into the dress.  He could see all of the features of his body
clearly outlined under the thin fabric.

Susan got the shoes they had purchased earlier out of their box, and gave
them to him to put on.  Then, she led him into the living room, carrying his
purse with her.

She had him sit on the sofa, saying, "Sit there."

Susan went into the kitchen, and some telephone calls.  Sam couldn't hear
what she was saying.

"Get your purse, and come along," Susan directed, leading Sam down to the
lobby of the building.

"Sit here," she directed, pointing to a hard chair.

Susan paced, looking out the glass doors every few minutes.  At last she
apparently saw what she was waiting for, and motioned Sam to come to her.

They walked out of the building, and Sam was surprised to see a city cab in
front of the door.

As Sam got into the rear seat of the cab, Susan leaned over to the driver
and said something in a low voice.  She handed him some money, then turned
and went back to her apartment.

The driver said nothing.  It would have been difficult for him to carry on a
conversation through the glass partition between the seats, but cabbies have
a way of circumventing that problem.

Sam recognized the route they were following downtown, and off towards one
of the less respectable areas of the city.

They pulled into the parking lot of the Booby Trap, and Sam's heart sank.
He'd been uncomfortable enough in this bar last night with Tom, and he was
acutely aware that he had nothing on under his dress.

The cabby pulled right up to the front door, and opened the rear door for
Sam.  He walked over to the doorman, who went inside to get someone else.
The doorman returned in a few moments with the manager.

The cabby and manager had a few words.  Then, the cabby pointed to Sam with
a flick of his hand.  He got back into the cab and drove off.

The manager came over to Sam, his gaze quite obviously on more than Sam's
face.

"You must be Samantha," he said.  "Susan called about you, and we were
waiting for you."

The man took Sam by the arm, leading him into the bar, and to one of the
tables in the lighted area.  Sam was well aware of the leers he was getting
from the men already there, and began to flush.

"We will be ready for you in a bit," the manager said, beckoning for a
waitress.  "In the meantime, have a drink."

The manager walked away as the waitress brought one of those red "ladies
drinks" over for Sam.

A couple of women were dancing on the stage, and Sam looked at them for a
while.  Somehow, the dancing did not seem to be as stimulating as before his
transformation.  He found himself mentally comparing his breasts to the
dancers'.

He was watching the dancers when some guy slipped into a chair at the table.
Sam didn't know him.

"Hi, there, pretty lady," the guy began.  "I'm George, and you look lonely."

Sam was familiar with the introduction.  He's used it himself on many
occasions.  He kept watching the dancers, though he had no real interest in
their routine, and ignored the newcomer.  He knew from experience that many
women did this to discourage men.

The guy sat for a while, then left, disappointed.

Sam was relieved, and turned back to the table.

As Sam looked around the bar, he noticed a number of eyes meeting his.
Actually, looking closer, he noticed the eyes looking at his chest.  He
reddened.

A short time later, Greg stumbled over to the table.  As last night, Greg
had obviously been partying for some time already.  He pulled a chair right
up next to Sam.

"Well, hello again, sweetie," he slurred.  "I see you are back again."

"Glad you dumped that guy Tom," he continued slurring.  "Maybe you would
like a real man for a change."

As Greg was talking, Sam felt his hand come to rest on his knee.

Sam was also familiar with this line.  He would have laughed at the "real
man" part, but he was too scared.  He tried to ignore Greg.

Greg didn't discourage that easily.

"How about you and me getting out of here," he said, "and going somewhere
more private.

Greg's hand was now sliding up Sam's leg, toward the groin.  Sam switched
his crossed legs, but Greg's hand just continued on the new leg as he'd been
doing on the other.

Sam was trying to figure out how to discourage Greg, and particularly to get
the hand off his leg before Greg got somewhere sensitive.

Greg kept right on talking, and feeling Sam's leg.

In spite of himself, and his dislike for the situation he now found himself
encountering, Sam felt his nipples stiffen.  He felt them pushing at the
thin fabric of the dress.

Greg moved his hand off Sam's leg, but continued talking.  He pulled the
hand up, and touched Sam's breast with the back of the hand, seemingly by
accident.

Sam knew it was no accident.  He had done it before, though not for quite
some time.  He was disgusted, but his nipples got harder, betraying his
conscious mind.

Greg picked up his beer, and began gesturing wildly.  Suddenly, he lost
control, and the liquid splashed all over the front of Sam's dress.

Sam drew his breath in quickly, as the cold beer contacted his skin.  He
automatically started brushing the excess liquid off his front, when he
noticed that Greg was now openly staring at his bust.

Sam glanced down, shocked to find that the thin fabric had not only welded
itself to his breasts, but had turned transparent as well.  He turned a deep
red, seeing his breasts with the tell tale hardened nipples standing out so
plainly.

Sam was in panic, but he did not know what to do about it.  He did not even
know where the ladies room was in this place.  Even with all the time he'd
spent here as a man, he did not recall ever having seen the ladies room.

Sam felt a soft hand on his arm, as a waitress pulled gently.  He got up,
and followed her.  She led him through the stage door, and the ladies room,
immediately behind it.

Sam smiled his thanks to the waitress, who was now disappearing back into
the bar.

Sam went into the ladies room, and was shocked.  The ones he had been in
with the women of the group were clean, fairly airy places.  This one was
tiny, and dingy.  There was one stall, and a mirror over a sink about three
feet in front of him.  A paper towel dispenser hung on the wall, and the
walls were covered with graffiti.  In fact, the only way he could even tell
it was for women was by the coin operated Kotex machine hanging on the back
of the door.

Sam grabbed a hand full of paper towels, and tried to dry himself off.  He
got a lot of wet towels, but the dress was still plastered to his body, so
he went into the stall and just sat on the seat.  Maybe it would dry off
quickly.

He was sitting there as someone entered the rest room.  He heard the
clicking of high heels, much like his own shoes, walking across the small
room, and trying the stall door.  He knew he would have to come out, dry or
not, and let the woman inside.  He was recalling the urgency of when his own
bladder filled.

He got up, and opened the door.  The woman, dressed in a strapless evening
dress, looked at him in astonishment as she quickly moved behind him and
into the stall.  He heard her giggles as she began to do her business.

Sam stood in the small area, waiting for the woman to finish.  He fully
intended to hide in the stall when she was finished.  Just then, another
woman came into the room, again staring at Sam's wet dress.

Sam knew that his hiding place was out of the question now, but going back
into the bar was also not an option.  He pretended to fix his face as the
women exchanged occupancy of the stall and the first one left.  He
recognized many of the women who kept trickling in as strippers.

He walked out of the rest room, finally deciding he would get no privacy in
that place.  He just stood by the door, not daring to go into the bar again,
and not wanting to explore the unknown realm of the backstage area,
especially in his exposed condition.

He stood there for a long time, and felt the fabric of the dress release his
breasts.  He put his hands to the dress, and found it was still damp and
clammy, but had regained some of the minimal cover it was supposed to give.
At least his whole bust line was not fully exposed now.  Steeling himself,
he went back into the bar.

As soon as he walked into the darker area, the manager came up to him.

"Oh, there you are," he said lightly.  "I thought you had gotten lost."

Sam did his best to smile at the man.

The manager, took his hand, and led Sam back through the back stage door.
They continued past the ladies room.

An older woman was seated at a small table inside the back door.

"ID," she demanded curtly.

Sam fumbled through is shoulder purse, finally pulling out the laminated
card.

The woman looked at the card, and grunted, "OK."

"You can put your purse in the bins over there dearie," she continued, and
wait in the room as the top of the steps.

She had a feeling of not wanting to take any nonsense, so Sam did as he was
directed.

The manager led him up a flight of two or three steps, and into a room
filled with mirrors.  It was brightly lighted, and Sam saw a half dozen
women here, either fixing or applying makeup.  The manager sat Sam on one of
the chairs in front of the makeup tables.

"Wait here," he said.

A few minutes later, a woman came in carrying a tray full of cosmetics,
brushes, and other things Sam was not familiar with.  She stopped right in
front of Sam, placing the tray on the counter.

"Just sit still," the woman counselled.

She began putting makeup all over Sam's face.  Then, she worked on his hair
for a while.  Finally, she got up to leave.

Sam looked in the mirror.  The face looking back at him was definitely
female, but the makeup sharply defined various areas of the face.  The lips
were a much darker red now, and the cheeks.  His eyes were now outlined in
black, and had blue all over the lids.  Even the skin tone was different,
not unnatural, but contrasting starkly with the made up areas.  He did not
like the look.

He looked around the dressing room, and noticed the other women were made up
very similar to himself.  It did not console him, since he recognized two of
them as strippers he had known previously.

A different woman came into the room.  She looked around, then at Sam.

"Samantha?" she queried.

"Yes," Sam replied automatically.

"Come with me."

Sam followed the woman into another small room.  This one was not filled
with mirrors, though it did have a full length one on the wall.  It held two
vinyl covered couches.  The woman led Sam to one of them, and had him sit
down.

"Just wait here," she said, smiling.

"Someone will be along when we're ready."

With that the woman left Sam alone in the room.

Sam sat by himself for a few minutes before another woman came into the
room.  The other woman sat on the other couch, and picked up a much used
magazine she found on the seat.  It was one of those men's magazines that
Sam had liked so much.  The woman was looking at it in a bored fashion.  She
dropped it back on the seat a few minutes later.

"First time?" the woman asked.

Sam felt a sinking sensation.  He now knew what all this preparation had
been about.  Susan, in her anger, had arranged for Sam to do a striptease
here, in front of all the men in the bar, many of whom Sam knew from
earlier.

He tried to compose himself, and choked, "Yes, it is."

The woman looked at him, with some degree of amusement in her eyes.

"Don't worry, honey," she said.  "It isn't all that hard."

A man stood in the doorway, pointing at the woman.

"Your turn, Lily," he said, and the woman followed him.

A few minutes later, the bar manager came into the room.  He joined Sam on
the couch.

"OK, " he began.  "The rules are simple.  Go on out on the walkway and begin
dancing.  Make sure you keep going toward the far end, so you cover the
whole walkway.  As you are dancing, strip down.  Make sure your clothes fall
on the floor of the stage.  If you don't watch them, some of the customers
might not give them back."

The manager smiled, and continued, "After you are unclothed, finish dancing
to the song, and dance through the next one.  Then, collect your clothes and
come backstage."

" Any questions?"

Sam was in shock.  He was too stunned to ask any questions at any rate.

As the music began again, the manager said, "You're on."

Sam numbly followed the manager until they were standing behind some heavy
curtains.

In a distance, Sam heard the bar announcer saying something about a special
treat.  A new girl was going to entertain them, and they should pay
attention, and be appreciative.

The manager held the curtain back and gently pushed Sam onto the walkway
stage.  It was impossible to see the audience from under the spotlights
illuminating the stage, but the loud whistles and cat calls left no doubt
that the audience was out there.

Still numb, Sam stood for a moment, then let his body begin moving to the
pulsing beat of the music.

Already on stage, he couldn't figure out how to get out of this mess.  Sam
began fumbling with the buttons on the front of his dress.

Sam slid the dress off his shoulders and let it lay in a heap on the floor.

He continued moving through the hypnotic beat of the music.  He still was
not fully aware of his surroundings.  In fact, he missed the slight pause as
one song changed to another.  All he could recognize was the pulsing beat.

In his daze, and still moving to the music, Sam stepped out of the heaped
dress, and around the stage.  The music seemed to drive him.

At long last, the spotlights dimmed, and he ran to pick up his clothes and
go back stage.

Hhe could now see some of the nearer faces in the crowd.

Greg was seated in on of the chairs right next to the stage.  Actually, he
was half standing and whistling at Sam.

He got another shock when he recognized Tom, Susan, Jane, Lois, Gwen and
Carol, all seated in seats next to the stage.

Somehow, he managed to get his dress picked up, and get backstage.

He was still in a daze when the lights came back up, and the bar announcer
began talking.  He heard the sounds, but the words were not making any
sense.  He heard a drum roll, and some loud whistling and cheering.  He felt
a hand grab his dress and some fingers on his back, propelling him through
the curtains.

The push caused him to stumble a bit, and take several steps to try and
regain his balance.  He found himself about halfway down the runway.  The
thunderous applause, cat calls, and whistles did not register to him.

Once again, the hypnotic beat of the music propelled him around the walkway.
At last the lights dimmed, and he managed to get off the stage.  He was led
back to the small room where he had waited on the couch, and the manager
indicated that he should get dressed.

When he was dressed, they went down the stairs, and out the stage door.  The
manager hugged him, and kissed him wetly as he walked out.

"You are welcome to dance here any time," the manager whispered.

>From the bright lights in the backstage, even the lighted area of the bar
was too dark to see.  He felt a waitress take his arm and lead him to a
table.

Greg was at another table now, holding Renee, the one who had danced on
Tom's table the other night, in his lap.  He pointed to Sam, gave a thumbs
up gesture, and went back to paying attention to her.  The group he'd seen
from the stage were sitting at this table.

Sam turned a very bright red as he recognized them, and realized that they,
as well as all the other patrons of the bar had seen him stripping in
public.

They all laughed at his sudden modesty attack.  Tom put his hand over Sam's
and patted it gently, as if to say that everything would be fine.

In a few minutes, the group left the bar.  Sam, on Tom's arm now, heard the
whistles and cat calls as he was leaving the bar.  He was not sure whether
they were directed at him or the dancers, but flushed more deeply as he
suspected the answer.

Everyone piled into Tom's car, and they drove off to the suburbs, giggling
and laughing.  They pulled up in front of a big house Sam had not seen
before.  He could tell it was big, but it was too dark to make out any
details.

Tom unlocked the door and led the party into a large living room.  The women
seated themselves, pointedly leaving a love seat open for Sam to sit on.

As they got situated, Tom was laughing, "Sam, you have a nice body, but I
don't think you'll ever make a living as a stripper!"

Sam turned even redder as the whole group laughed.

Tom and Susan went to the kitchen to make coffee, and the mood subsided.

Gwen came over to Sam, and kissed him.

"It's OK, Sam, dear," she whispered.  "I forgive you."

"But I think you need a bath," she continued.  "You smell like a brewery."

Just then Tom and Susan returned with the coffee.

"I think you may have learned your lesson, Sam," Susan laughed.

The whole group laughed, as the tensions and anger of the day seemed to melt
away.

Tom sat down next to Sam, and put his arm over his shoulders.  He squeezed
tightly, then raised his coffee cup.

"To the cutest stripper at the Booby Trap," he toasted.

The others lifted their cups in response to the toast.

Sam turned a deep red.

The women began talking amongst themselves, and Tom leaned over to whisper
in Sam's ear, "They are having a dance at the Country Club on Saturday.
Would you like to come with me?"

Sam was shocked again, but whispered, "I would love to, but," and his voice
trailed off.

"No problem," Tom assured him.  "The others agreed that you could come with
me already." He squeezed Sam's shoulders tighter.

After coffee, everyone went back to Susan's apartment.  They all sat, as Sam
was told to make coffee.  As he served it, Susan told him to go to his room.

Sam heard the door lock behind him.  He just lay on the bed, listening to
the voices in the other room for a while, unable to make out what they were
saying.  Then he drifted off to sleep.  They had never returned to call him
back.



29 Chapter -    Wednesday Morning


Sam awoke feeling a chilly coolness on his legs and belly.  He rolled, still
only partially awake, to his side, but the coolness remained, bringing him
to full awareness.

He opened his eyes, and saw the pink, transparent fabric covering his
breasts and the bunched fabric of his skirt around his waist.  These
revelations confirmed that his nightmare was still reality.

As he rolled again, the familiar, unpleasantly sour odor of stale beer
assaulted his nostrils.  The smell brought back memories of Greg spilling
his drink last night.  In turn, the events of the night came back to him
with vivid clarity.

Sam blushed, recalling the humiliation of being on display before the men in
the bar.  The blush died quickly, though, as he realized that the experience
was over, and he could do nothing about it now.

The events of yesterday came flooding back to him, as his awareness came
back fully.  He recalled how Gwen and Susan had been so mad at him.

Susan!

He just knew Susan was going to be even madder this morning, after he'd
slept in his dress all night.  She would be even madder, he knew, with the
stale beer smell permeating the dress and his body.

Sam got off the bed, and stripped the malodorous dress from him.  He
couldn't do much for the dress, but he thought he could do something about
the smell clinging to his body.  He went into the bathroom, and drew a tub
of water.  Sliding into the tub, he began to soap himself vigorously.  The
perfume in the soap soon replaced the stale beer smell in his nostrils.

Sam got out of the tub, and dried himself.  He went back into the bed room,
and figured he may as well get dressed.

He went to the dresser, and pulled the underwear out.  He quickly donned the
bra and panties.  He must be getting used to these strange clothes, he
thought, as he had no trouble hooking the bra behind his back.  He had no
trouble with the garter belt either.

Sam smelled a lingering scent of stale beer while he was dressing.  It was
not nearly as strong as before, but still quite distinct.  He knew he had to
get rid of it, so he went to the dressing table, and sprayed the cologne
liberally on his body.  Smelling like a flower was certainly more preferable
than smelling like a brewery, he thought.

Just as he put the cologne bottle down, Susan walked into the room.  She
went straight to the bed and picked up the dress Sam had left there.

She picked the dress up with two fingers, holding it well away from her.

"Yuk!" she exclaimed, wrinkling her nose and taking the dress to the hamper
in the bathroom.

Sam quickly smoothed the bed covers while she was gone.  There was no sense
in angering her even more, he thought.

Susan stopped at the closet on her way back, quickly choosing a dress for
Sam.

Sam marvelled at how quickly she could select clothing.

As Sam put the short, halter style, sun dress on, he noticed that Susan was
wearing a soft, silky blouse and a straight navy skirt.  His sun dress came
to the usual spot, well up on his thighs, while her skirt fell to just above
the knees.  He wondered if he would ever be allowed to wear the longer
styles she did.

Susan looked at him critically.  "That's a cute dress," she smiled.

Sam looked down at the dress.  Well, it was kind of cute.  There was a big
yellow sunflower on the front of the dark pink skirt, and two smaller ones
over each breast.  Of course, the fabric of the top followed the flowers,
leaving quite a bit of bare cleavage showing.  Sam still didn't like showing
so much, but he was getting used to it by now.  Besides, it showed a whole
lot less than what he'd shown at the Booby Trap last night.

He put his stockings on, and went over to the dressing table to fix his face
without a word from Susan.  He knew he had better be on his best behavior
this morning.

As soon as his hair and face were done, he joined Susan in the kitchen for
coffee and pastry.  The calcium supplement pills were next to his cup, as
was the plastic holder full of birth control pills.  He took the pills
without comment.

Susan looked at Sam curiously, as if she was about to say something.  Just
then the telephone began to ring.

"Hello," Susan said into the handset.

"Oh, hi, George, it has been a while since I've heard from you."

"OK."

"Today?"

"Is it REALLY important?"

Susan's voice turned from bright cheerfulness to a brisk, business tone.

"Well, OK."

"I'll be there around noon, I think.  I'll have June arrange the flight and
call you with the arrival time."

"OK. I'll see you later, then."

"Bye," she finished, hanging up the phone.

Sam sat at the table, curious but not going to press his luck asking about
the call.

"Darn," Susan said.  "I have to go to Washington today to see an old
client."

"After the way you treated Gwen yesterday," she continued sternly, now
looking daggers at Sam, "I can't leave you with her, or take you to Lois'
office.  And the other girls are tied up this morning too."

Sam looked down at his cup of coffee.  For some reason, he felt ashamed at
being reminded of his incident with Gwen yesterday.

"Well," Susan said, after some thought, "I guess I'll have to take you with
me." She sighed audibly.

"I won't be any trouble," Sam offered shyly.

"You had better not be!" Susan exclaimed.  "Do you think you can act like a
perfect lady today?"

Susan's tone of voice in asking the question left no doubt in Sam's mind
that he had better answer in the affirmative, and mean it.

"Yes, I'll try," he said in a small voice.

"You had better do more than try," Susan said.  "Step out of line just a
little bit one time, and I'll have that needle in your butt before you can
even think about it."

"And, remember, Gwen won't be around to protect you either," she said, going
into her bedroom to change clothes.

Sam sighed.  He had gotten the message very clearly.

He got up, and washed the dirty dishes, then began to wonder what to do.

"Go change into the suit you wore to church," Susan called from her bedroom.

Sam went into the bedroom, took off the sun dress, and began putting the
blouse and skirt from the suit on.  He was having trouble with the buttons
on the back.

Sam could hear Susan making some phone calls from her bedroom.  He could not
hear what she was saying, but the tone of her voice was brisk and
business-like.

She came into the bedroom a moment later, looked at Sam, and shook her head.
She came over to him, and buttoned the back of the blouse for him.

"We don't have much time," she explained.  "but you are going to have to
learn how to do that by yourself."

Susan now had a matching jacket on.  It fit snugly over her body,
emphasizing the curves at her breasts.  Sam kind of liked it.

She dumped all of Sam's stuff from the purse he'd had last night into the
blue shoulder bag.  Then, she dumped a hair brush and the cologne into the
bag as well.  She handed the bag to him, and went into her room as Sam put
his jacket on.

Sam went into the living room to wait for Susan.  She was only a moment,
returning with her bag slung over her shoulder, and carrying two briefcases
in her hands.

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