Betrayed Ch. 07
Keywords: 07, Ch., Betrayed,
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*Chapter Seven: The Eighth Level?*
Angie kept my arm locked in hers, preventing any attempt at escape. We caught a cab back to my place. She was even more appreciative of it than Dianna had been.
"Girlfriend, you live like a queen!" she exuded.
Realizing what she had just said, she giggled.
"Oops! Well, you know what I mean."
She made a beeline for the master bedroom. Her practiced eye did not miss the jewelry armoire or vanity. She nodded her approval, checking my dresser drawers, one by one, noting the lingerie and Dianna's corset. She moved on to the vanity, nodding her head and smiling at the "MAC "products, then stepped to the armoire. Her eyes bugged out when she saw the diamond-and-ruby pieces.
"I'm not even gonna ask," she exclaimed slowly.
I knew what she was implying and nodded my head. She exhaled loudly, then moved on to the closet. She stood silently, taking in the suede suit, the red sequined gown – and the coat. She shut the door silently, then turned to face me.
"Well," she observed, "it's not as extensive as I would have guessed, but "Jesus"...."
Her last word came out almost in a whisper.
"I'm kinda new to this," I admitted. "That's why my wardrobe is so limited."
"Define 'new'," she interrogated.
"Uh, this past weekend?"
""Two days"?" she questioned. "Wow, you're just a "cherry" at this."
"Um, "not...exactly..."" I corrected.
Her eyes bulged. Then she smiled a Cheshire smile.
"You don't waste any time, do you?" she smirked. "I was right about you, Lisa. You "do" know how to use it when the time comes. We are going to become very, "very close" friends..."
"But, Angie, I can't..."
"..."and no one in the office will ever have to know our secret – if I don't want them to." Now, Lisa, I want you to get dressed for me. As much as I might "want" to see you in that red sequined number, I think the suede will be fine for now."
I stripped off my male attire, swapped the pink panties for the freshly-washed lavender bra and panty set, then slipped my boobs into my bra. Angie re-tightened the corset's laces, cinching them down as far as they would go - crushing the breath from me. She also directed me to swap out my suntan stockings for a jet-black pair.
I professed my relative lack of skill at applying makeup. My captor insisted on doing my 'look' for me, right down to re-applying my eyelashes and fingernails. During the course of our makeup session, she was delighted to discover my prosthetic male eyebrows, peeling them away in a flash, then penciling in the dramatic high, thin arches I had affected all weekend. Angie was doubly delighted to discover my camouflaged ear piercings. She pursed her lips and shook her head expressively.
"You are just "full" of surprises, Lisa," she intoned mirthfully. "It really "must "kill you to have to hide all this just to come to work. Just looking at how beautiful you "can" be, and knowing how drab you have to be to get by in your stifling male persona is killing "me.""
When her task was complete, my face did not present the full-blown drag/stage look my girlfriends had given me Saturday night. Still, it reflected a dramatic/exotic "Latina" flair, right down to the dark claret outline of my lips with the more vibrant red filler, all covered with a coat of shimmering gloss. I could not detect a shred of difference in the look and feel of my glamour-length crimson talons from what they had been all weekend. Under Angie's direction, I re-applied my jewelry, then spritzed myself with perfume.
"Looking good, Girlfriend," she assured me. "Now, let's see it with the hair. Wait a sec; let me work with it first."
When Dianna and I had decided to keep the wig, we had picked up a professional wig block, styling brush and pick and, of course, hairspray ("A showgirl's best friend, Sweetheart," Dianna had claimed). Angie now attacked my shimmering mane with the latter three. In less time than I thought possible, she had 'pumped up the volume' – literally as well as figuratively – to compliment the dramatic flair of my makeup.
"Now "that's" what I'm talkin' about," she crowed, then paused and winked. "I'm "also" a secretary. Now, let's get this puppy on you, Sweetie. I can't wait to see."
The elastic mesh cap went over my head first, holding my own longish locks in place. Angie carefully positioned the wig as Mimi had done, cinching the elastic Velcro tabs in back. I then did a credible job mimicking my friends' efforts to anchor my new mane to my own hair with bobby pins. Angelina's smiling face was next to mine, meeting my gaze in the vanity mirror.
"Oh, yeah," she murmured. "Now put on the shoes. I want to see The Strut."
My heart was pounding, but no longer from apprehension. I was into it now. I slipped my feet into the mules. The skyscraper stilettos arched my legs, thrust out my boobs and tush, and made me feel "invincible". I conjured up a mental image of Dianna flowing across a room in that effortless way she did. Then, I willed my body to emulate her.
""Oh... YEAH"!" the lovely "Latina" extolled. "Girrrl, that is "pure" poetry in motion. Two days, my ass! You were "born "for this. I'm gonna have to work hard just to keep up."
The excitement – and champagne – had caught up with me.
"Angie," I pleaded, "I hate to break up this mutual aberration society, but I really have to pee."
She laughed, nodded, then sat down at my vanity.
"You go ahead, Sweetie," she encouraged. "I'm gonna take advantage of this fabulous collection of cosmetics and touch up "my" face."
While I was doing my business, I sorted out the tangle of emotions from the afternoon. Once I had gotten over the initial shock of discovery and Angie's blackmail, the whole thing had been an incredible turn-on. I could not deny I had always been attracted to my beautiful secretary; now, more than ever. She had given every indication she felt the same way. Where was she going with this? My instincts told me we were this was going to be more than a casual get-together.
Was this being unfaithful to Dianna? No; she had told me there would be times she would not be able to tell me in advance about having sex with a man. She would share it with me later, when she saw me again. I could do the same now, and everything would be all right. Would Dianna be as jealous of me having sex with a GG as she had been about my 'date' with Daniel? Would Angie want to penetrate me as Dianna did – in this case, using a dildo? I wanted to be prepared....
The bathroom was fully-equipped; whirlpool tub, separate shower stall, double sink. toilet – and bidet. When I had toured the place, I thought it was a quaint appendage that would sit forlornly in the corner, forever unused. Now.... The sensation of being thoroughly cleansed by the powerful jet of water was stimulating and unnerving at the same time. My insides tingled from the experience, not to mention the anticipation of what was to come. During my stay in the bathroom, I swore I heard my companion's voice, talking to... someone.
In my absence, Angie's 'touch-up' had rendered her face and hair as dramatic as my own. She beamed at me as I emerged from the bathroom and held out her hand to me.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Déjà vu."
"For...?" I reiterated.
"A celebration!" Angie gushed. "The cab will be here in a few minutes. There is no way two "zorras" like us are gonna sit at home, looking like this. I want all of Chicago to see us tonight. I have "never" felt so alive!"
I had to admit; I felt the same way. I gathered up my suede clutch, added cash, my Driver's License (embarrassing if I had to show it, but at least it was legal), perfume, compact, and another tube of "K-Y." Angie noted the lubricant, as well as the condoms already in the purse, and beamed.
"Planning on getting lucky tonight, Girlfriend?" she cooed.
"The thought crossed my mind," I admitted coyly.
Angie winked.
"You just might be right," she ventured. "I'm really turned on right now and you are "so hot"! This keeps getting better and better."
The cab ride was short, depositing us in front of "Ruth's Chris Steak House" on Dearborn. Well, okay; the bar is kinda nice and I might be hungry enough for a small "filet" later, but.... Angie wrapped my arm in hers and hurried us inside to escape the evening chill. We made our way into the bar. I was musing to myself how long it had been since I had a really good frozen strawberry margarita. My first had been with Susan, at "Fat Tuesday's "in Key West. You remember those historic firsts in your life: your first kiss, your first date, your first love... "your first full-blown coronary seizure". There, seated at the bar, were Rob Nelson and Jim Grant!
"If we turn around "right now"," I murmured to my companion, "and leave the way we came, they might not notice us."
Angie pouted.
"What fun would that be?"
"But you said no one from the office had to know!" I cried.
"If I didn't want them to," she corrected. "Be nice and you will be fine. I was asked out for a special occasion tonight – and I'm not about to say 'no' to our bosses. They asked me to bring a friend for a foursome. I can't think of any girlfriend I would rather have by my side tonight – or one more perfect. Let's go, "Mija"!"
She tightened her grip on my arm and pulled me forward.
"Angie!" Rob beamed. "You made it in record time. Was traffic that light?"
My girlfriend shook her head, beaming her most radiant smile.
"Nothing to it," she chirped. "We were just over by North Pier. We actually waited longer for the cab to arrive than it took to get here. Rob, Jim, may I introduce my girlfriend, Lisa...."
It suddenly occurred to us both she had never asked my femme last name.
"..."L-Layne"," I stammered, lucky to find voice at all. "P-pleased to meet you both."
I extended a trembling hand in their direction. Both men were off their stools in a flash. Jim shook my hand with a gentle touch – as a man would shake a woman's hand. Rob turned my hand over and kissed the back of it. He stood transfixed, staring into my eyes as though turned to stone.
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Keywords: 07, Ch., Betrayed,