The Disaster Sisters

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Three exquisitely diverse ladies stood on the shore of the tiny island with their arms crossed as Randy approached from the ocean.

Isn’t this just lovely? Randy thought as he waded up to the women.

“How did you get on this island?” the cinnamon colored woman asked.

“I doggy-paddled. No, bitch, I was in a fucking boat that’s at the bottom of the fucking ocean right now.”

“How did you survive after your ship crashed into the rocks?”

“What do you mean? My ship has been long gone. I’ve been drifting on a raft for three days and all of a sudden I heard Donna Summers floating on the wind. I started paddling in the direction of the voice. Was that you guys?”

“It was, honey. Did you like it?” the ebony woman batted her eyes at Randy.

“Sure, it was fabulous. Say, is that a pack of cigarettes over there? You really got a pack of smokes on this shit-sandwich?” Randy went over to the pile of what looked like trash, but as he rummaged he saw it was men’s personal effects. He kept an eye out for the shady women until he found a match and took his first drag in seventy two hours. “Oh God, that feels so good. Say, who are you ladies and what are you doing with a pile of dead men‘s belongings?”

“We’re the sirens. You’re the first man to step foot on this island and not fall at our feet.” the cream-colored girl pouted.

Randy waved a hand. “Ha! You Neapolitan ladies are scrumptious with your chocolate, vanilla and strawberry appeal, but you are barking up the wrong tree. The last vagina I touched was the day I was born, and I have not looked back. Besides, the whole sitting-on-a-desert-island-waiting-to-destroy-men-thing is so passé.”

“Are you judging us?” all three asked.

“Oh honey, no. I’ve wrecked many a man’s life. I’m just saying you could do so much better for yourselves. Live in penthouses while men below destroy themselves for you. I tell you what, you get me off this island and we’ll take New York together. I live in a dump right now, but with looks like yours we won’t need money. I’ll show you how to manipulate men, and you cut me in, deal?”

Randy and the sirens left the island that night. When they landed in New York, Randy kept his word. He and the sirens were squished in his basement apartment for only a couple weeks before Randy helped each woman land themselves a gullible fish. The sirens are actually kind of famous now. This writer is not at liberty to mention their names, but one had a reputable acting/singing career. The second purposely leaked a sex tape of her with someone famous and landed her own reality show. And the third made a moderate career of politics, despite the photographs of her holding a machine gun, wearing a skimpy bikini and a man-killing smile.

(This and 3 of my other short stories will be published in the upcoming anthology “Men In The Company of Women” by Edgar Allen Poet publishers.  More info soon!)

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Full Wish Pt. 5

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In darkness Aylea slept, despite fear and confusion. When she woke she was in a hotel room draped in pure white with silver accents. Two large men dressed in black tuxedos were watching her. One nodded to the other. The second rose, walked over to a white door and knocked on it.

Senator Sika Sullivan walked through the door. Aylea was only mildly interested in politics, but she knew who Sika Sullivan was. She was a force to be reckoned with. Her charm was as radical as her ideas. The media kept her under constant criticism for her aggressive handling of political affairs, but the voters loved her. And Aylea knew that when it came to women, the word “aggressive” was often interchangeable with the word “assertive.” Sika’s black hair was tied up, shimmering under the hotel room’s white light. Two strands of silver hair hung down on either side of her temples, the tips blending in with the silver robe that all Senators wore. Her waist sash was golden, her shoulder sash plush purple. Aylea wasn’t sure exactly what the different colors meant, but she did know those colors were of the highest regard. Aylea wasn’t sure if her jaw literally dropped, but something betrayed her shock. The senator’s eyes sparkled like a dominant animal that commands the jungle.

With hardly a look from the senator, the two men were dismissed. Sika did not speak until they were gone. “Stand and undress, please.”

“I-I-” was all Aylea could stammer out.

In a small fluid motion, the senator undid her sash and her robe slid down her body into a shiny pool on the floor. She was a beautiful blend of Asian and Caucasian. Her shoulders were slender, but strong, her hips full and curvy. Her breasts invited soft secrets whispered with wanting. Her arched back magnificently curved down to a small, yet fully round butt.

“And if I don‘t?” Aylea tried to sound defiant, though she was in awe of the senator’s eye-seducing body.

“Nothing. You’re free to go.”

“So you’ll cast me out to the wolves as a fugitive escaped from justice.”

“There’s nothing I can do. Besides rally for your release.” Of all the naked people she’d argued with, Sika was by far the most graceful.

“It’s bullshit!” Aylea yelled, already feeling naked inferiority, though she was the one fully dressed. “It’s all bullshit! The constitution has never been anything but a joke, a doormat for people like you to trample on.”

“I know. But if you want to be a part of my plan I need to be able to trust you. The only way I can know for sure I can trust you is if I know you trust me. Now, if you don’t mind, take off your clothes, please.”

Aylea opened her mouth to object. The senator cocked her head. Aylea closed her mouth and unzipped her jacket. She took off her tank top, then dropped her shorts. The senator circled around the muscular body. She ran a hand down the cleft of Aylea’s mountainous shoulders. Aylea shivered. The senator came around the front. “Stay still, please,” she said, her face inches from Aylea’s. The senator reached down and gently took hold of Aylea’s penis. Despite her discomfort, she could not control the slight hardening. The senator held her professional demeanor, but she wasn’t shy about showing her approval. “Very nice,” she said as she stepped away. The senator leaned against the back of the white hotel couch. “Technology is such a marvelous thing, isn’t it?”

Head bowed, Aylea nodded.

“Now, now. Don’t pout. It ruins that handsome face. I know this isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you were planning your future, but I promise that if you play along a little longer, you won’t be disappointed. Now, I want you to take off the suit.”

Aylea stared at the senator. She wanted to rip the smug look off her face. She wanted to pin her to the ground and crush her esophagus under her large foot. She wanted to give up. She wanted to go home and crawl in her bed and take a nap with Trinity, and a tiny baby that smelled like fresh milk. But Trinity was a traitor. Trinity demolished all of Aylea’s dreams and left her with this.

With her right arm, Aylea reached under her left armpit and found the mechanism. It had to be turned three-quarters and then there was a switch above it that had to be flicked up. As soon as she found it, the image of the muscular man faded. Aylea’s face appeared, sweaty and defeated, peering out from a black suit interwoven with spaghetti-sized electric blue tubes. Aylea unzipped the suit from the back and peeled it off. Her skin was red in spots and covered in a sheen of sweat.

“You must be very athletic,” the senator noted.

Aylea nodded.

“Tell me, why would you want to wear the suit everyday when you can get a one-time operation?”

She had never explained this to anyone before. Only a handful of people knew she was open-gender, and they were so close to her she didn‘t need to explain herself. “I like changing back and forth. I like that when I’m Jake Liverpool no one can find Aylea. And when I’m Aylea no one can find Jake. Haven’t you ever felt like you were two people in one body, senator?”

The senator laughed. “You’re smart as well as athletic. It will take someone strong to carry out the next portion of my plan.” Sika moved toward Aylea again. This time Aylea wasn’t as intimidated as she was tense with anticipation. The sweat started again. Sika ran a slender finger down Aylea’s wet bicep. “You seem very, very strong.”

Sika looked Aylea in the eyes, all of her charisma pouring into her. Sika let her hair down. The silky blackness cascaded down to her shoulders. Aylea had a quick flash in her mind: a mental picture of her holding Sika’s hand on a warm summer night as they snuggled on the couch that sat on her parents porch in Scarlet, Massachusetts. An innocently beautiful fantasy.

Aylea grabbed the senator by both her arms and kissed her furiously before pushing her backward. They tumbled onto the white leather couch, flesh caressing flesh.  The senator had stripped her of everything, inviting her to enjoy her feminine splendor.

Full Wish Pt 4

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 Behind the black shield, under drugged eyelids, the night was as impenetrable as the hopelessness that swallowed her. The numbing effects of the drugs couldn’t take away the pain of the betrayal that saturated her blood. The torture and imprisonment about to be visited upon her would not equal the pain that the memories of Trinity would bring.

She drifted in and out of consciousness until her system was shocked by an explosion. Her only hope was that her sanity had cracked and she was free of society’s prison. The mad are free! Her mind exclaimed gleefully. The mad are free!

In reality a full city block of posi-tracks, usually green-colored orbs that kept civilian hover-vehicles on a certain “road,” were the color of red-defective and chaos ensued as the drivers took manual control of their vehicles. Though trained for this situation, it didn’t happen often, and the police officers had to concentrate heavily on their communication with each other in order to dodge traffic and keep the prisoner secured.

“Maneuver south-west, pull up, roll thirty degrees, hit the buckle, now-” the bark of static was barely heard over the crack of automatic gunfire. Fifty caliber shells slammed into the captain’s opal. Though virtually bullet-proof it was no match for seventeen fist sized bullets shot in six seconds from an armored hover-car, sending sparks, shrapnel and blood raining over the tumultuous traffic. The three remaining pods turned and fired upon the armored hover-car two seconds before the Captain was obliterated. Just as quickly, a commercial hover-truck came up behind the police-pods and shot out a steel cable that wrapped around the detainee-pod. Secured, the cable pulled the pod to the gaping back door of the hover-truck at six hundred feet per second. Two of the pods turned toward the hover-truck. One was ambushed from the side by another armored hover-car. It was immediately dispatched. Of the two remaining pods, one was still engaged with the armored hover-car that had initiated the attack and the other was maneuvering through traffic and around the tops of buildings, chasing the commercial hover-truck. Police issued machine gun bullets caromed off the exterior of the truck. The second armored hover-car was in pursuit of the pod.

“Get him, get him!” orders screamed through the armored hover-truck’s radio.

“I can’t get a clean shot!” the armored hover-car driver yelled.

As the armored truck turned around a corner, the back door presented itself to the officer’s machine gun fire and one of the men inside, clinging to the handles on the wall, was split in half.

“Fuck, Fin is dead!”

“Just shoot him now before he kills anyone else!”

The armored hover-car took aim and let the fifty cals go. One bullet went past the police-pod, skimming the side of the opal resting inside the back of the truck. Had it been a few inches to the right, Aylea would have been no more. The bullet was slightly deflected and it burrowed harmlessly in the side of the truck. The second bullet hit the truck’s closing door, ricocheted, and lodged itself in another mercenary’s leg. The third one hit a civilian vehicle, tearing through its driver-side door like paper and ripping a woman’s stomach apart. Blood exploded, coating the interior cockpit and the nose of the hover-car tipped down as it started its descent, smashing into other civilian vehicles on its way down. The next eight bullets found their mark, shredding the police-pod apart. “Target is destroyed, battle unit 1, do you need assistance?”

The instigating armored hover-car responded: “No, target has been destroyed. I do need medical help, but stay with the Primary until camouflage has been shed. I’m going to see if this piece of shit will make it to the nearest OP.” Codeword for Out Post, where their own doctors could work on the wounded.

“Copy that.”

With both vehicles still in motion, a mercenary crawled out of the passenger side window of the commercial hover truck. He ascended a ladder to the top, where he attached a bungee to himself. He opened the first metal latch, then repelled down the side of the truck, opening more metal latches.

When the last one was released, he jumped as high as his bungee would allow as the metal shell peeled away. The mercenary threw a high-powered grenade after the shell and clambered into the now officially licensed government truck. The armored hover-car took off moments before the posi-track began glowing green again. The government hover-truck was locked into its place on the road, obediently following the green posi-tracks on its way to deliver its cargo.

Forty miles later the government vehicle stopped at a penthouse suite balcony and a lone man in a tuxedo carrying a brief case knocked on the driver’s side door. The driver stepped out and the tuxedo man stepped in, putting the brief case on the seat between him and the passenger. The passenger pulled out a pistol and put it to the tuxedo man’s temple. “What’s to stop me from blowing your brains out and taking the money and the hostage?”

“There are snipers watching this vehicle. If I don’t make it out alive, no one does.”

The mercenary nodded and jumped out of the vehicle, leaving the tuxedo man intact. The tuxedo man didn’t even pause to watch the mercenary turn on his personal hover pack and glide to safety. He just put the hover-truck into gear and piloted the vehicle to the destination point.

Full Wish Pt. 3

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The government thought about banning TV shows from the twenty-first century, just the ones that had pregnant women. Fearing backlash for censorship, they merely pressed the point that pregnant women were to be looked down upon. Any contemporary movies that were set in the old days showed the agony of pregnancy, and the heartache of carrying a baby to term only to lose it, or have it grow up to be a criminal. And then there was the trend of horror movies, depicting women giving birth to monsters, dragons, aliens and any other sort of demonic spirit. Anyone watching an old sitcom could laugh and enjoy the show, but not without a small amount of pity and embarrassment on the part of the woman. The only action the government did take was not allowing old TV shows to be remastered into holograms, so only historians and a small amount of the public tolerated the one dimensional programs.

Trinity was watching one such program with her new partner, Jillian. The program was nothing more than hired cameramen (they actually had to have people attached to the cameras back then) following around pregnant teenagers. “Can you believe people used to be so stupid they’d let their children have screaming flesh pods ripped out of them. They were probably ruined after that.” Jillian shivered at the thought of going down on a woman who’d naturally birthed a baby.

Trinity broke down in tears.

A few months later, Aylea received a call that woke her in the middle of the night. It was Trinity, her voice like a child’s, as she cried on the other end of the receiver. “I’m in trouble,” she confessed. “I need to see you.”

“Yeah, I can meet you tomorrow for coffee or-”

“No, I need to see you now.”

Aylea took in a deep breath. She had stopped crying herself to sleep over Trinity and something inside her told her if she saw her now, she’d be back to sleeping on a pillow soaked with tears. “I don’t think that’s such a good-”

“I’m pregnant.”

Aylea was pouring her third shot of whiskey when the security screen announced Trinity’s presence. Even the holographic image showed that there was something wrong with Trinity. Her eyes were hollow, her face pale. Aylea downed the shot and opened the door. The shock was tremendous. She had always dreamed about this day, but in her dream the child had been hers, or at least partly hers. The thing inside Trinity’s belly belonged to a stranger. Perhaps with time, a small voice whispered, perhaps with time it could be- Aylea shook the thought from her head.

“How did this happen?” Aylea asked once Trinity calmed down. “The doctors-”

“I was…I was so lost without you. I associated myself with some radicals. People who think like you-” Aylea looked away. Trinity put her hand on Aylea’s. “I mean, people who believe we should go back to the old ways. I heard of a doctor who could reverse what they do to us when we start to have the blood. The blood is what makes us pregnant-”

“Not exactly,” Aylea whispered.

“I know. I know now. But stopping it altogether stops us from becoming-” she looked down at her belly. “This doctor, his method, it works.”

“So why are you here?”

“The doctor’s dead. My friends-the people I thought were my friends, they disappeared.”

“What makes you think I can do anything?”

“Please. I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t turn me in. Just say you’ll help me. Please.

“Okay, I’ll help. What should I-”

The room filled with white light and horrendous noise that seemed to scream from every wall. Aylea covered her ears. The pain forced her to the ground. “What’s happening?!” she tried to scream, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. She saw her door kicked in by a figure dressed in black riot gear, carrying a black metal rod. The figure was followed by ten more figures, all pointing the rods at her. The screeching noise stopped abruptly and their angry voices filled the room, yelling at her: “Stay on the ground! Stay on the ground!”

She held her hands out and the black-clad men bound them. Outside, the red strobing lights glinted off the falling rain, turning the drops into blood red spikes falling from the black sky. The armored men pushed her against the wall of her condo and checked to make sure she didn’t have any weapons on her. The men didn’t give her an inch to breathe. They weren’t seeing an athletic woman, but a large muscular man, one that they had recorded proof of his willingness to break the law.

Through her shock, she heard Trinity’s voice. “Wait!” Trinity cried. “Wait, I just want to talk to her. Please!”

The men turned Aylea around. Trinity’s baggy shirt was deflated. In one hand she carried a partial neuro-suit, similar to the one Aylea wore to disguise herself as a man. Trinity ran up to Aylea, wrapped her arms around her neck, her flat belly against Aylea’s. “I’m only trying to help you,” she whispered in her ear.

Aylea’s eyes widened. Trinity pulled back, giving Aylea a deep look of sincerity. Aylea spit in her face. “Traitor.”

Trinity’s knees gave out and she crumpled to the ground. “I’m only trying to help you!”

Aylea struggled against the men as they pulled her away. “You fucking traitor!” she screamed over and over until they injected her and strapped her to a three-inch thick oval shaped disk that hovered horizontally above the ground. One of the visored officers slid a thumb across the rim of the disk and a dark shield enveloped Aylea so that it now resembled a black opal. Then the four men strapped themselves onto similar disks hovered vertically, surrounding her, and had machine guns mounted to their sides. They covered their disks with the same black visors and their red strobing lights pulsated around the perimeter of the disks, pushing traffic aside as they ascended.

Full Wish Pt. 4  http://wp.me/p2y5v2-S

Reblog of Artsy Forager’s “A Curious Haunting” by Kisa Kavass. I like dark places that make me feel at home

Artsy Forager

I love a good mystery.  Not the throat-slasher kind, but the good ol’ Nancy Drew, Wilkie Collins, Daphne Du Maurier variety.  In this world of over sharing, there is something so magical and magnetic to be found in the mysterious.  The work of Tennessee based artist Kisa Kavass brings to life her own cryptic yet enchanting imaginings.

Kavass’ sepia-tinged images are full of misty light, curious shadows and haunting visages.  There is an other-worldly spell cast by them that though shrouded in enigma, we sense that in this world we are safe.

Though things may be as they seem, the mysteries are innocuous.

Like strange dreams from which we awaken not startled or scared, but wishing we could revisit with each slumber.

To see more of Kisa Kavass’s work, please visit her website.

Thank you to artist Christina Baker for introducing me to Kisa’s work!  All images…

View original post 6 more words

Full Wish Pt 2

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Aylea and Jamison went to the masseuse to rub away the mental and physical aches before spending the evening walking through the community park. They entered the tent of newborns that was set up every spring for soon-to-be parents. Jamison said the babies always reminded him that new things were developing every day. Cradles of living life forms kicked at the sky. “You don’t seem like yourself lately,” Jamison pointed out.

Aylea shrugged her heavy shoulders. “I’m cool. Just adjusting to single life again.”

Jamison nodded sympathetically.

Couples perused through the aisles, their eyes examining the peach-soft babies with the air of shopping for a spring dress. “Did you guys ever come here?” Jamison asked.

Aylea stopped and put her hands on one of the cradles. She looked down into the cradles of bottles and blankets and nodded.

Jamison put a hand on her shoulder. “I understand. Look, if you couldn’t pick one out together, then it probably wasn’t meant to be.”

Aylea let go of the cradle and turned her palms up to her face. They were huge, like blocks of stone. She thought that if she had the hands of a man she could move mountains. She already had the heart, the spirit, the bravery to conquer everything. All she needed was the hands and she would move every mountain in the world. But she couldn’t move this one. There was a time, centuries ago, when she couldn’t marry Trinity if she wanted to, a time when the government sought to protect their idea of sanctity by not allowing people like her, people who were in love, to be recognized as a married couple. That time was gone, along with her great-great-grandfather. But back then a man, or woman could be in love with a big-bellied woman. They could be swollen with the seed of their love. They could witness its first breath. They could laugh and cry at the same time, emotionally and physically exhausted on the first day of the rest of their lives together. Now a couple could pick up a new baby on the way to get their dry-cleaning. Or they could just have both delivered to their doorstep.

“I don’t feel well,” she said to Jamison. “I think I’m going to call it a day.”

As Aylea and her sister, Dina were the same age (her parents had decided if they were going to go through the hell of raising one child, they might as well have two at once) they were given the “sex talk” at the same time. To her embarrassment, her father pulled out a shoe box containing two anatomically correct dolls that he specifically told them were not play toys. While their mother stared at them intently, her father started the speech, “When two people are attracted to each other, they have what is called sex.” He then inserted the male doll’s plastic penis into the female doll’s smooth plastic vagina. “Sometimes these two people get married and then they pick out little babies to bring into their homes to love and cherish forever. Sometimes they don’t get married, they just have sex a couple times, then become friends.”

“Friends can have sex with each other?” her inquisitive sister asked.

“Of course! Your mom and I were friends when we started having sex.”

“You and mom have sex?!”

Her innocent incredulousness caused an eruption of laughter. “Of course we do, honey. That’s how good friends show they care for each other. Not all friends have to have sex, but mommy and I choose to. You should never have sex with someone you don’t want to have sex with. And you should never do it until you are older than twelve.”

Later that night, Dina rolled over and in a harsh whisper, said, “Can you believe mom and dad have sex? Why would I want to do something they do? They’re probably having sex right now!”

Aylea was silent. All she could think about was the female doll, the way the light curved over the smooth plastic breasts, her face looking up at the plastic face of the male doll. When she went to school the next day she realized she wanted a Catalinia Cocharan to look at her in the same way. Aylea tried to concentrate on class, though all she could think about was Catalinia’s body beneath hers, smiling, waiting for their first kiss. When Aylea’s parents discovered her desire for her same sex, they were not just accepting, they were thrilled. They no longer had to worry about her natural urge to become pregnant.

“Full Wish Pt. 3:”  http://wp.me/p2y5v2-K

A photoclasm, a ramble and an important appeal.

postdigital photo

I’ve grown a little tired of Holga grunge, of double exposures and happenstance. I’m just a touch weary of double exposures and silhouettes and sun spangles. I want to plan. I want to direct. I want to boss models around.

Well, that was the plan.

A few months ago I approached a local model via Model Mayhem. Being naturally a little skeptical about glamour, and not being too glamourous myself, I don’t think the model, who kindly donated her time, knew what to expect. But I did.

Carefully thought-out pinhole exposures, using the model’s movement as a brush against the landscape. Beautifully distressed Polaroid shots, using that cranky new film. Maybe even some clear, crisp, classical portraits.

This is what I got:

So what happened?

My developing spool broke.

This just about drove me crazy. Then I remembered I had an old antique developing drum. I’d never used it. But…

View original post 133 more words

Full Wish Pt 1

“I wish I could make you pregnant,” Aylea said in the caressing darkness.

Trinity’s “What?” and the sudden force of hands pressed against Aylea’s chest stopped their love making.

“Nothing,” she said, but it was too late. In the blackness words were armored soldiers.

“No, I want to know what you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aylea tried lamely.

“You said you wanted to make me pregnant.”

Their loins were separated. Their hearts hammered between warring worlds.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” Aylea stroked Trinity’s hair back from her sweaty temple, but Trinity pushed her hand away. Their bodies were like two curls of smoke rising from diminishing cigarettes, one stream moved toward the other, which backed away before disappearing completely.

“Do you know how disgusting you are?” Trinity asked as she put her pants on.

“Baby, please-” Aylea reached out for Trinity as the yellow knife of hallway light hit her haphazardly clothed body, but it was too late.

“No. Fuck you. I should tell somebody about you. But I won’t. Because-” Trinity looked toward the light, toward humanity. “Because I love you.” Biting her lip, she left.

You don’t love me, Aylea thought. You’re not going to tell anyone because you‘re afraid of what they will think of you. Aylea grabbed the flabby skin at her belly and howled silently in the lonely dark.

With the sun came the rhythmic madness of responsible life. Aylea gave herself a sociopath smile in the full length mirror as she admired her muscular body. The doctor wouldn’t have given it to her had she not been an athlete all her life. “You see,” he told her, “I can only give people the sort of body types they are used to.” She had nodded, agreeing, but not really listening. She could only hear the sound of the light that came rushing through the newly opened door.

She conjured this emotion as she prepared for battle on the football field. Jones rushed at her. He wasn’t afraid of her giant body. He wasn’t afraid of her quick eyes. He wasn’t afraid when she leaned her two-hundred pound frame into his. In fact, he almost escaped her. They collided, muscle smashing into muscle. She wrapped her biceps around him, causing him to stumble, but for a fraction of a second there was a hopeful chance he would escape her grasp. Her business partner, Jamison, had been following Jones with his eyes since the hand off. He planted his foot to the right. The man covering him moved in that direction before he realized Jamison was juking left. The man reached out, pin wheeling, and lost his balance. He did not fall, but it was all Jamison needed in order to lean the other way and put his entire body weight on the ball carrier. The three athletes landed on each other and became intimate with the turf. “Good tackle,” Jamison said, slapping Aylea on her muscular ass as they headed back to the huddle of their team.

“He would’ve made it a couple more yards, at least, if it wasn’t for you,” she said, flashing white teeth above a square jaw.

“What can I say? We make a good team on the field and in the office.”

“Fuck yeah!” she exclaimed as they exchanged high-fives and chest bumps.

In the shower they exchanged their problems and triumphs with women. “Hey, no peeking,” she scolded Jamison when his eyes left hers.

“I just wanted to make sure I’m the biggest fish around here. The head honcho. Looks like I’m right.”

“You may be a tiny bit bigger, but mine gets far more use.” The locker room amplified the echos of their laughter. Only the executive who hired her knew her original gender. And, of course, Trinity. But it was against the law for a corporation to reveal a person’s original gender. Trinity could out her to her co-workers, but she would face social disapproval. Plus, that wasn’t the secret that Aylea was most worried about keeping.

“Full Wish Pt 2” http://wp.me/p2y5v2-C