Heiress: (Feminization, Crossdressing) Read online

  Okay, I almost did, but I deleted those texts before I could send them. I made my way to the subway and headed off to the Femnos Museum of Art, walking through the halls full of sculptures and paintings that stretched from pre-history all the way to the modern day. The Renaissance period turned out to be my favorite. Elaborate oil paintings stretched 10 or 12 feet high, displaying the Kings and Queens from that storied period in Femnos history.

  One of the Princesses looked quite a bit like Christina. I would have taken a picture to send her, but a fussy older volunteer told me off as soon as I took out my phone. Outside the gallery, I took my phone out well away from the building, standing beside the bus stop that would take me within a mile’s walk of the next obscure art gallery.

  Have you heard of Princess Amber? I wrote.

  Less than a minute later, I got my reply.

  I dunno Harrow, have you heard of George Washington?

  Okay, point taken.

  The painting’s description was all in Latin. Kinda missed the historical details.

  LOL, she texted back. Omg, I forgot about that. Told ya Femnos was old-school! Anyway yeah, Princess Amber’s like, mega-famous here. She brought permanent peace between Femnos and Dominar by marrying their Sultan.

  Princess of Peace, I responded. Aside from her name, it was the only thing written in English next to the painting.

  Yup. Well, that’s one of her titles, at least. They also called her The Virgin Princess since she only adopted children.

  She looks a lot like you, Christina.

  I didn’t see the response until I was off the bus.

  Well, there might be a reason for that, Harrow, if you believe the rumors.

  What rumors? I asked, as I paid my admission ticket to the next art gallery, which was really a bar. The paintings were all post-modern paint splotches drawn directly on the walls. They still had price tags next to every ‘piece.’ I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how buying one would work. Did they just give you a piece of the wall?

  The official story is that Princess Amber was barren, added Christina. Some people think that’s not the real reason she couldn’t have kids.

  I furrowed my brow while I sat at the bar, enjoying a glass of free wine that came with my art gallery admission ticket. Only when I finished the liquid did I see the cherries sunk down at the bottom.

  “What’s with the cherries?” I asked the bartender, who wore a smock over his button-up shirt.

  “What’s with anything?” He countered.

  Art people.

  I kept mulling over Christina’s text while I chewed on the cherries. Princess Amber married and had no kids. That meant she was barren. What other explanation could there be?

  Unless she was a girl like Christina.

  Holy shit, I replied.

  Femnos is full of mysteries, isn’t it Harrow? :)

  It certainly was.

  ——

  After a trip to four more art galleries - only two of which managed to scare the shit out of me with their flashing strobe lights and eerie black-and-white looped films - I managed to find the subway and ride it in a daze back to my apartment. With an hour to go until Christina arrived, I was set on making everything perfect for her. That meant cleaning up the mess we’d made last night - or as much as I could manage.

  Before I could head through the door, I got a phone call. The vibration in my pocket made me almost giddy. Who could it be but Christina? Who did I know out here except her?

  One person.

  Trevor.

  “Hello Trevor, what’s this about?” My ‘hello’ was curt and to the point. Whatever he wanted could be handled in a few minutes, if that.

  Or so I thought.

  “So good to hear from you Mr. Tanning! I’ve got you on speakerphone, just so you know.”

  His icy formalities sent a chill through my spine.

  “Harrow, can you hear me?” A familiar voice sounded from afar, probably at the other end of Renault’s main conference table. “This is John Welton. We met when you first arrived.”

  Welton was the President of Femnos’ Renault branch. He outranked me when it came to company matters in Femnos, although since I came from the head office in NYC I acted independently. We’d had a nice, boring dinner when I arrived in Femnos last Friday and a brief discussion about my tactics for approaching the merger. What else was there to say?

  “Listen, Harrow,” he continued, “I know we caught you at a bad time, but we were wondering if you could come to the Renault building and discuss a few details.”

  About what? I wanted to ask. Judging by the whispers and coughs on the other end of the phone, John and Trevor weren’t the only ones on the line. I had to choose my words carefully.

  “Well…” Well what? We were still technically, if barely, within business hours. I could probably put off the meeting until tomorrow, but what would that solve? I’d have this mystery call hanging over my head throughout my entire night with Christina.

  “We would really appreciate your time.”

  “Alright. Hey John?”

  “Yes?”

  “Nevermind.”

  Petty, but if they’re going to play these games with me, I might as well fuck with them too.

  “Be there in a minute.”

  I opted for my rental car this time. Subways and buses are fine when you want to see the city. When you’ve got a tight sissy ass waiting for you at home, you’d rather speed along the mega-highway.

  I dictated a text to Christina while I drove.

  “Hey babe, I’m gonna be a bit late. Called into a meeting. Is 6:30 okay?”

  The car’s bluetooth read the response in a voice that sounded surprisingly like hers.

  “That’s fine! Okay if I get there early and wait for you to come home?”

  Leave it to Christina to understand the ‘joy’ of corporate scheduling.

  “Sure,” I replied. “See you then.”

  Up on the conference floor, John Welton, Trevor, and Trent welcomed me in warmly. There were a lot of handshakes and pats on the back and congratulations for my merger offer, news of which had already begun to spread in the insular Femnos business community. That sort of scrutiny could sink the deal - or it could prompt the Inverness board to make their decision even sooner. Tough to say. I’d have to ask Christina how to say ‘leave it up to fate’ in Latin later.

  “So, Harrow,” said John, taking his seat with an old man’s grunt. Trent and Trevor plopped down on either side of him, giving me a spot on the other side of the table - the exact same seating arrangement I had at the Inverness negotiation yesterday.

  Back then it made perfect sense. I was the outsider from a rival firm and they were the heads of a different company. In this building, we all technically worked for the same company.

  I could tell they didn’t feel that way about me. The outsider.

  “What would you say the odds are of this deal going through?” John asked bluntly.

  “One hundred percent.”

  Trevor set his jaw. Trent let loose an abashed smile. John just stared.

  “One hundred percent,” repeated the local boss.

  “Mhm. Or zero. Tough to say.” I leaned back in my seat, getting comfortable. “The terms of our offer have been set down. Inverness might haggle for some superficial concessions but the deal is otherwise set in stone. They really don’t have any room to bargain. Either they take it, or they don’t. One hundred percent, or zero.”

  “That’s not how probability works,” sneered Trevor.

  I gave him a gormless smile. “I’m not much of a numbers guy, T-Dog. They sent me here to do a job.”

  “Yes, quite,” said John, before Trevor could get in another word. “We all have our duties to our companies.” John exchanged a look with each of the men on either side of him, who nodded. The older man twitched his grey mustache, then leaned toward me.

  “Harrow,” he said. “I’ll be direct. If this deal doesn’t go through,
Renault Femnos intends to break away from Renault International. We’ll become our own independent firm.”

  There it was. The reason they’d called me in so late in the day, a mere 36 hours after I’d put forth the deal that would make Renault International one of the top conglomerates in the entire world. The Femnosi’s response was to tell me they expected failure.

  “Is that it, then,” I said, trying to remain composed.

  “Yes. We wanted to give you a heads up, just in case the worst case scenario occurs.”

  “Sounds like you’re expecting something.”

  John tented his hands on the desk. “We try to anticipate the unexpected.”

  Like hell. Still, I forced a smile.

  “I’m sure you do.”

  ——

  My mind swam with possibilities on the entire drive home. John, Trevor, and Trent wouldn’t have told me their plan if they weren’t trying to minimize any potential blowback. Assuming the deal failed, they could more quickly wash their hands of the failure if they had it on the record that they were planning this from the start. Instead of looking like connivers, they’d portray themselves as good people forced by financial interests to break away from our company. Femnos International wouldn’t just miss out on a new business opportunity - we’d lose what we already had for our attempt.

  I slammed the breaks in my parking space and let the car jolt to a stop. What did those guys know that I didn’t? They’d heard about the deal, sure. That I could handle. What else, though?

  Why were they even imagining a failure?

  My hand shook slightly when I took the keys out of the ignition. Heading back to the states on Monday to inform the US bosses would be a death sentence if the deal didn’t go through. I could weather a failed merger - these things happened. But to come back with less than I started? Telling everyone that not only had I failed to secure Inverness but had somehow managed to lose our Femnos branch as well?

  Goodbye career.

  I couldn’t think about the possibility. Imagining the worst case scenario would only cloud my mind for future negotiations. Still, I had to do something. What? What could I possibly do when my hands were tied?

  My mind was still in a tumult when I went through the door.

  “Hi honey!”

  Then everything was clear.

  Christina stood in the middle of my kitchen wearing nothing but a lacy set of lingerie. Purple stockings ran up to her knees with garters attached to a matching pair of silk panties. The bra she had on ran down to her navel in a diaphanous taffeta, and her hair ran loose around her shoulders. Smoky eyeshadow eyes winked at me when she stepped forward and took my briefcase.

  “Ooof, heavy.” She took the straps with two hands and laid it on the kitchen counter. “My big strong working man.”

  I laid my chin on her shoulder, inhaling her lavender perfume, the aroma washing away the doubt and fear inside of me.

  With Christina, I couldn’t lose. She was my luck and my reason for fighting. Everyone else I cared about was thousands of miles away, wondering how they’d ever repay their loans or afford a real home.

  Everything depended on me.

  As long as I had her, I knew I’d win.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” She asked, gently rubbing my back. I leaned back and looked down into Christina’s wide, caring eyes. She knew better than anyone what a sudden late-afternoon meeting meant: nothing good.

  I shook my head. “Just business bullshit.”

  She frowned. “The worst, right?”

  “The fucking worst.” I grabbed her by the hips. “Sorry I’m late.”

  She smiled and ran her hand down my chest after unbuttoning my jacket. “I don’t mind, Harrow. Gave me a chance to stop by Veronica’s Secret. Do you like it?”

  She took a step back and spun around slowly. The panties she wore were actually a thong, her perfect lily white ass swallowing a thin strip of fabric.

  “‘Like’ might be a understatement,” I growled.

  I could have watched Christina pose for me all night. Could being the operative word there. If my cock weren’t raging against my pants I’d have let her put on a show for me.

  Right now, I needed her in my bed.

  I crouched down and lowered her over my shoulder. The sissy let out an adorable little yelp the turned into a moan when I slapped her right on her rear, my dick throbbing along to the vibrations down my trapezius. Her smooth legs dangled against my chest. I tossed her down onto the bed where she lay writhing against my silk sheets, looking up with the most fuck-hungry eyes I’d ever seen.

  I knelt on the bed and ran my hand up her inner thigh, the silk stockings turning my light touch into a sensual tease. She pulled her knees together; I pushed them apart and saw the bulge in her panties. I dipped my head and pressed my shut lips against her crotch, inhaling her aroma, already fantasizing about the wet bloom I’d make form against these panties.

  I went to place my hand on her cock and felt her fingers lace around my wrist.

  “Harrow,” she breathed. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t?” I asked, confused.

  She sat up on the bed.

  “Last night, when you fucked me… I felt it.”

  I stared into her eyes.

  “I think I can come just from you fucking me alone.”

  Holy shit.

  Hotter words were never spoken.

  “You mean that?”

  She nodded, reaching into my nightstand to pull out my lube. There were condoms in there too, but she passed over them.

  Fair enough.

  “I want to try it. Please.”

  “What if you don’t come?” I asked.

  “As long as you do,” she whispered. “I love making you come, Master.”

  If any woman could make me jizz from words alone, Christina could.

  I laid down on the bed and brought Christina against my hips. She gyrated her ass against my crotch until I was blazing with heat. I unbuckled the belt myself and pulled my pants and boxers down in one swoop.

  From there, I let her take charge.

  Christina slid down her panties and handed them to me, a little memento of our third night. I’d buy her dozens more of these just to have the chance to tear them off her perfect hips. She hotdogged my cock between her cheeks slowly, drizzling lube along my shaft and spreading it copiously before pulling her cheeks apart and impaling herself on my rod.

  Her neck stretched toward the ceiling. Her eyes shut tight and her hands squeezed against my chest.

  Maybe she really could make herself come on my cock - assuming I could hold out that long.