Anklets Ch. 01
Keywords: Anklets, Ch., 01,
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She was almost too nervous to watch the four surfers paddling out through the thundering shorebreak after the siren signaled the start of the championship round.
Ashley watched Sandy's red singlet bob up and down on the frightening swells, as one by one the other surfers tried in vain to catch the crashing waves. The first two wiped out almost immediately, and Sandy continued to bide his time as the reigning Masters champion dropped down the treacherous face of a raging barrel, only to be crushed by tons of water before he was pounded against the reef. Sandy seemed serene as the first two surfers struggled to get back into the lineup while the third paddled in with a broken board.
Keen observers on the beach that day thought they noticed something different about Sandy Lane, something impossible to describe. To be sure, he was thinner, and his shaved body enabled him to slide through the water like a dolphin, but there was something else. He seemed more fluid, more passive, almost…feminine as he sat on his board and waited for the right wave to come to him.
When it did, he got up to speed with a few swift strokes, and dropped down the face with amazing grace, as if he were saying to the wave, "Where you been, big boy? Take me for a ride!" The crowd on the beach, and the television audience around the world, stared in disbelief as Sandy Lane toyed with the massive wave, shredding it playfully as he flirted with its power again and again.
Only Ashley, standing alone on the beach, understood what was really happening.
* * *
What a difference a fraction of an inch makes!
Sandy Lane reflected on this as he brushed the loose powder off his nose. When it was a centimeter smaller, with a slightly different curve to it, his nose had given him the face of a beautiful girl. Now, although he was still nice-looking, nobody would be mistaking him for Ashley Vaughn.
Standing side by side at the his-and-her vanities in their new master bathroom, they made quite a sight. Ashley Vaughn, her breasts taped down, was wearing a pair of Sandy's boxer shorts as she tugged at her man's brown wig. And Sandy, dressed in a bra and panties, was applying the finishing touches to his makeup, his long blonde hair still wet from his lilac-scented shampoo.
Sandy trembled with anticipation as he stepped into their enormous walk-in closet to pick out his ensemble for the day. He hadn't worn a stitch of women's clothing since his accident off the Redondo jetty, and he had put on a good ten pounds following his return to competition surfing. Still, his swimmer's body was lean and lithe, and he had maintained the ritual of removing all of his body hair, which gave him a psychological edge in the water.
Let's see, what to wear…he spied a cotton jumper, white with little pink flowers, and a matching pink tee shirt hanging next to it. Perfect for an afternoon of shopping after a lady's lunch. He looked through Ashley's shoe racks and found a pair of pink canvas espadrilles that ought to look cute with his outfit. He was holding one of them up next to the dress to make sure they were the right shade of pink when he felt Ashley's arms around his waist. "You're gonna have to wear nylons to make those fit," she said with a giggle.
"That's okay," he said without a trace of embarrassment. "They turn me on."
"That's what I love about you, Sandy. It takes balls for a guy to say something like that."
"Right now, my balls are a problem," he said, looking down at the growing tent his panties.
Ashley watched as he pulled on the tee shirt and stepped into the jumper. He tied the strings behind his back into a loose bow, like he had been doing it all his life. The dress fit him perfectly, except for a tell-tale bulge in front.
"Try to think girlish thoughts while I dry your hair," she said, steering him back to her vanity. He sat down on her tuffet and closed his eyes while she went to work with her brush and dryer. "This is gonna be so much fun!" Ashley said as she ran the brush through his golden hair. "I can't remember the last time we did this!"
In fact, it had been almost six months. Sandy's spectacular return to professional surfing had coincided with the meteoric rise of Ashley's acting career. Released from her Wet Girls contract, she had snared a part in a made-for-TV movie based on a true-crime story, and her brilliant performance as the victim of a cheating husband had catapulted her onto the cover of People Magazine. That same week, Sandy Lane was splashed all over Sports Illustrated, which featured a cover story about his astonishing return to the pinnacle of men's surfing.
They were one of the hottest twosomes in America, and it was becoming impossible for them to go anywhere without being besieged by autograph-seekers and paparazzi. Although they were not yet married, they had sold their homes and bought a house on the beach near Playa del Rey. They loved their new place, but escaping from it was becoming more and more of a challenge. So when Ashley mentioned for the umpteenth time how much she missed going out like a normal couple, Sandy had solved the problem by redefining what was normal.
"There's no reason we can't go out like everybody else, as long as we make sure nobody can tell who we really are," he told her.
"Well, duh! How are we going to do that?"
"I'll be the girl and you can be the guy."
Needless to say, Ashley jumped at the suggestion. Fortunately, she had saved the wig and prosthetic nose fashioned for her by the Wet Girls makeup department, and they were both bouncing off the ceiling as they began their preparations that morning. Fixing Sandy's libido had been job one, and Ashley thought she had taken care of the problem after she made love to him twice before they got out of bed. Evidently the prospect of dressing up in her clothes was as exciting for him as it was for her.
After Ashley finished drying and styling his hair, she pulled it back behind his ears and tied it with a pink ribbon that matched the flowers on his jumper. At the sight of himself in the full-length mirror, the bulge in front of Sandy's dress became more pronounced. Ashley sighed as she lifted up his dress and pulled down his panties. "This is not very lady-like," she said as she teased his aching cock. Sandy groaned as she kneeled down and began coaxing another orgasm out of him. Stiff and sore, his exhausted penis held out until Sandy's eyes wandered over to the half slip and suntan pantyhose waiting for him on his vanity. The prospect of wearing them sent him over the edge, and he succumbed with sweet anticipation to the pleasures that lay ahead.
* * *
Lieutenant Goering greeted Detective Halani as he came off his Hawaiian Airlines flight from Honolulu. The lieutenant's LAPD credentials had enabled him to bypass security, and he was pleased to see that Detective Halani had carried his luggage on board. Within a few minutes, they were driving down Century Boulevard in an unmarked car.
"If my daughter hadn't left People Magazine in the john, I never would have figured it out," Lieutenant Goering was saying as they drove towards Playa del Rey. "It turns out that Sandy Lane was acting as a stunt double for Ashley Vaughn at the time of the Cruz murder."
"So he lied to you about not having his nose fixed."
"Among other things. I'm still not sure how it all went down, but we have enough to hold him for suspicion of first degree murder."
"What about the girl?"
"At a minimum, she's a material witness. Maybe an accessory after the fact. We'll read him his rights, and see if she volunteers anything."
"What's the plan?"
"They live a few minutes away from here, in Playa del Rey. We've had a crew outside since yesterday. They haven't left the house since they came home last night. I thought we'd pay them a visit."
The lieutenant's radio squawked. "The subject's vehicle is backing out of the driveway."
"Stay with them. Don't let them see you. Call me back when you find out where they're going."
* * *
Ashley and Sandy were unrecognizable as they strolled through the Third Street Promenade in Santa Monica. It was so wonderful, walking hand-in-hand without being hounded for autographs by total strangers, with no cameras or microphones stuck in their faces.
They stopped from time to time, pretending to window shop at little boutiques as they stared at their reflections in the plate glass windows. They were slightly overdressed compared to the other shoppers, Ashley in her black shirt and slacks and Sandy in his dress and nylons, but those who noticed probably took them for tourists. Each indulged in secret thoughts as they studied the handsome couple in the windows.
Why does he dig this so much, Ashley wondered to herself. I mean, putting on guy's clothes is no big deal for a girl, we do it all the time. For me, pretending to be a guy is cool, but for Sandy, pretending to be a girl is…hot. She looked over at him. He had stepped out of one of his espadrilles to scratch an itch through his stockings.
Sandy blushed self-consciously as he stepped back into his shoe. She's looking at me like I'm a fairy, he said to himself. Why do I dig this so much? Look at me, standing here in one of Ashley's dresses. What must she think of me? How can she respect a guy who's such a sissy?
"You know, I think I've got this all figured out," Ashley said at length.
"What do you mean?"
"I'll tell you over lunch. Hungry?" Ashley took his hand and led the way to an Italian restaurant with outdoor tables, under a trellis festooned with hanging plants. They studied the menu and agreed to give it a try.
"Two," she said in her guy voice to the maitre'd, who seated them at a quiet table. She ordered them each a glass of Chardonnay, and waited until they were alone before she took Sandy's hand. Her engagement diamond sparkled on his ring finger.
"Tell me what you're thinking," Sandy said, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
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Keywords: Anklets, Ch., 01,