St. Clair Ladies Circle: Marlena
Keywords: Ladies, Clair, Marlena, Circle:, St.,
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22nd Century Imports was a fancy name for a distressed goods wholesale business. Edward "Ted" Hanratty bought the inventory of businesses that were going out of business for whatever reason, and either sold the inventory to other businesses in the same line of work, or through a chain of discount outlets he had in his own and two neighboring states. The "imports" in the company name came from the fact that most of these goods were made in the Far East; 22nd Century Imports never actually imported anything itself.
Two bad marriages in which his wives took everything in the divorce convinced Hanratty that the sultan of the Sheherazade fables had the right idea: fuck 'em one night, then kill 'em in the morning! Not that he ever did the latter. But he also did not have any meaningful—-or lasting—-relationships either. Between his failed marriages and the nature of his business, Hanratty had no love of mankind. And mankind had no love of him.
Five years earlier he had acquired a warehouse labeled "rubber goods." These rubber goods turned out to be various prostheses and bodywear for crossdressers to appear more female, if not more feminine. For nearly a year he tried to get rid of the merchandise, but these were items which he did not understand, could not think who would actually use them, or who would sell them to these customers, and how.
"Well, boss," smirked Marlena, his office manager, as they prepared the year's taxes in the January of the following year. "Looks like you're finally gonna get a legit write off."
Hanratty scowled at her. Marlena Schwartzmann had been with him for seven years, three as a secretary, the last four as his office manager. One of the few Blacks in the town, he'd often wondered how a Negro acquired a German name. And a Jewish one at that! In fact, Hanratty mused, there were a lot of Jews in this small burg. But Black or white, Jew or Gentile, German, Irish, or Lower Slobbovian, Marlena was an excellent office manager, and quite a shrewd businesswoman. More than once she'd come up with a way to dump an inventory that had turned out to be less than advertised. The first time she did this brought her to Hanratty's notice six years ago. The second time got her the number two spot in the office clerical staff, and the third time got her the office manager's position-—a position that the last Mrs. Hanratty had just vacated.
Shrewdness was just one of the factors in her elevation. Competency, dedication, hard work—and ambition—all contributed to her rise. But the major factor was that she was, first of all, Black, and secondly, plain as hell. Not ugly, but not a face one would look twice at. Hanratty did not believe in fraternizing with the help anyway, but he wanted to make certain that the next office manager would not want to be the next Mrs. Hanratty. A very plain Black woman aroused no lust in him, and hopefully she would see her own race and plainness as barriers to his heart, even if she wanted him. And she did not!
"My write-offs are always legit, Ms. Schwartzmann," he corrected her. "And don't ever forget it."
The office manager's smirk got even broader. Her boss only referred to her formally when he was irked--by her. While she wouldn't say her boss was crooked, she did notice that more than his tax returns were questionable. In seven years she'd seen a lot of deals just this side of legal, and way over the line ethically. But then who said that ethics had anything to do with business? Her boss didn't drive others into bankruptcy. He just picked their bones clean in the settlements! And he wasn't about to let Uncle Sam pick his pickings!
"You've had that stuff sitting in that warehouse for close to a year. The cost of the inventory, the warehouse space you can't rent until you empty it, the insurance, taxes on that building, maintenance. I'd hate to hear that a fire or something struck that place."
Hanratty's scowl deepened. If he didn't like loosing money, he especially didn't like someone telling him he's loosing money. Especially a subordinate! "There's not going to be any fire or theft or anything approaching an act of God, Marlena."
"How much is it worth to you to find a way to get rid of that stuff at break-even? Maybe even turn a profit?" she asked.
Hanratty's scowl turned pensive. If Marlena knew how to get rid of this stuff, how come she never said anything for most of the previous year? She's no shrinking violet. After all, the last time she came up with an idea to rid 22nd Century Imports of unwanted merchandise, she demanded a full quarter of a year's salary as a bonus if it worked. And insisted on this being given to her in a cashier's check before she said a word! He looked at her, knowing that either way he was going to be out of pocket.
"What'd you got in mind, Ms. Schwartzmann?"
Marlena smiled. Hanratty now blanched. His office manager had a plan, and it was gonna cost him.
"One year's salary, Mr. Hanratty," she said. "Usual terms."
"One year!" he bellowed. This was far more than he had expected. Or was willing to pay.
Marlena was prepared for this. She'd planned for six months for this day—the day she'd get enough money from Hanratty to leave his employ—or be fired. "One year, cashier's check," she said resolutely.
Hanratty stood, walked to the window of his office and studied the cars in the company parking lot. Nothing newer than three years, including his car. He turned and looked at the woman. Why would she want that much money? While not overly generous, Hanratty paid his staff well—especially Marlena. You get what you pay for, he'd found out. And sometimes you pay for what you're not getting, his wife had taught him. He went to his chair and sat, looking at his office manager, saying nothing.
Marlena knew she had the upper hand. If the proposal had been beyond reason, her boss would have kicked her out of the office. Maybe even fired her. Now was the time to get a committal, if not the check.
"Tell you what, boss," she began, "meet me at the warehouse Saturday morning, say 10:00 am, with the cashier's check. I'll explain my idea then. If you think it'll work, I get the check and the plan is yours. If not, you're no worst off than now."
Hanratty rocked back in his chair, staring at his employee. She's just put her ass on the line, he thought. If I like the idea, I could just say I didn't, fire her and keep the dough. If I don't like the idea, I could fire her and keep the dough. Or keep her as office manager and keep the dough. But if it's a good idea ... a year's salary!
"One condition," he said. Marlena sighed inwardly. "If I don't like your scheme, no raise for a year."
"Deal, boss," Marlena beamed. This was too easy.
Damn! thought Haratty. That was too easy.
Marlena was waiting outside the warehouse entrance when Hanratty pulled up. She had already opened and led the way to the warehouse office, where, to Hanratty's surprise, there were several boxes of the fake female boxes already opened, with a selection laid out on tables.
"I took the liberty of inspecting the merchandise more closely," Marlena answered his unasked question.
Hanratty sat in the chair behind the lone desk. Marlena went to one of the tables, turned her back on her boss and began undressing. What the hell! thought Hanratty. She's not gonna try and seduce me, is she? He said nothing, however, just sat and watched as first the dress was unfastened, removed and placed on one of the tables. This was followed by the bra and the panties. Marlena had not worn stockings, so she stood there naked except for her three inch pumps. Slowly, she turned until she was facing her boss.
"What the hell!" he exclaimed.
Facing him was not the woman he had hired and worked with for seven years, but a man with a respectable seven-inch dick resting on a fair size pair of balls. Marlena walked toward him until she was at the other side of the desk, the tip of her dick just a fraction of an inch above its top.
"Yes, Mr. Hanratty," she said, "I'm male. I've worked for you for seven years and you never once thought I was anything other than a woman. There are lots of males like me, especially in this town and in this region."
She then turned and went to one of the tables and selected two items. Hanratty couldn't see what she was doing since her back again was to him. He just sat there, jaw hanging, eyes bulging, unbelieving. Marlena—-a man! He looked at the form before him, slowly seeing that the hips were just a little too slim. As he watched, Marlena bent forward and stepped into something. As she pulled it up, Hanratty realized it was some type of panty. What amazed him was that it matched his office manager's skin tone so well that it nearly disappeared as she pulled it up. Marlena then turned to face him again.
"Omigawd!" he coughed.
Before him stood not the man he had seen minutes before, but a woman with C-cup breasts with chocolate nipples and a ... a ... pussy! He blinked and looked again, not sure he was seeing what he was seeing. He now noticed that the garment that gave her a cunt also added curves to her hips. Marlena turned back to the table and took out another garment. This time she faced him as she put it on. It was a black corset of some type into which she poured her breasts, smoothing the leathery material over her upper body. It had a strap that went around her neck—a halter he would later learn—and that the garment was called a bustier. Except for the halter, her chest above her breasts, and her shoulders were bare. She sat on the table and pulled out a pair of pantyhose. When she put them on, however, they turned out to be crotchless, framing the false cunt in dark nylon. Next came a pair of black leather knee-length boots that laced up the front, with impossibly high heels. It took her several minutes to complete the lacing, all the time she sat on the table with her faux pussy staring at him. She fluffed out her shoulder length hair, then pulled out a make-up kit and applied lipstick.
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Keywords: Ladies, Clair, Marlena, Circle:, St.,