Heiress: (Feminization, Crossdressing) Read online

  “Admittedly I would like to hurry you out,” said Arden. “The strippers are already on their way.”

  Arden, who may have been anywhere from 50 to 80, was probably joking. Probably. I got into a push-up position and ached myself to stand.

  “Whatever’s fine,” I mumbled, sitting in bed. “Just... Let’s get going.”

  “Very good, Sir. May I make a suggestion?”

  My father would have said no. I just waved my hand.

  “Perhaps consider removing your nail polish?”

  I looked down at my fingers.

  Harrow seemed to like my pink fingernails.

  But he was gone.

  “Yeah,” I responded, rubbing my hand against my nylons.

  Time to be a guy again. As if I had a choice.

  I sat and waited for Arden to get those awful men’s clothes ready.

  Wishing I could get back in my skirt.

  Chapter 10

  HARROW

  Arthur Turgum’s office was on the top floor of Inverness tower directly across from the executive conference room. His name and title were stenciled in gold on a plaque on the front of his door, though I’d noticed they left the word ‘interim’ off the placard. The placeholder fancied himself a real President. He certainly acted like one.

  “He’ll be with you shortly,” cooed his leggy secretary from behind her desk. I nodded, adjusting my spine against the hard-back oakwood chair. “That’s an antique, you know.”

  “I’ll try not to break it.”

  The secretary held onto her smile.

  “Ah, Mr. Tanning!” Arthur Turgum exited his office alone, standing midway between the door frame and his secretary’s desk. I stood and went over to him. He quickly shut the door and stuck his hand out. “We’re delighted you made it.”

  “It’s why I’m here. How are you, Mr. Turgum?”

  The may held a thin smile in his grey goatee. “Fine, fine.” He pulled back and stuck his hands into the pockets of his double-breasted grey suit. “Well! The board of directors are waiting. Did you want to give your colleagues a call or are they on their way up?”

  “Just me.”

  Arthur Turgum blinked.

  “Oh, and my laptop.”

  I pulled my worn leather briefcase up to my ear. He didn’t look at it.

  “Well,” he said, voice and demeanor vastly different, “carry on, then.”

  I waved a goodbye to the secretary and followed Arthur out to the conference room. He pulled open one of the glass doors and slipped inside. I pushed both doors open and followed in.

  “Gentlemen,” he said, as the five men at the conference table rose at once. “Harrow Tanning of the Renault Group.”

  The board of directors were an uncanny sight. Aside from the fact that one of them still had a mop of grey hair, they were all universally bald, besuited, and barren of any emotions.

  “Pleasure to meet you.”

  The 10 eyes of the board men shifted from me to Arthur to the door.

  “Just me,” I noted in a voice that carried. That brought their attention back. “I hope I won’t disappoint.”

  For a moment, the board members stared at me with abject disdain. They’d all come in on a holiday to hear me out. Were their beloved company not in such dire straits they would have sent me packing with a wave of the Femnosi hand.

  But they didn’t. They couldn’t. They needed my help.

  And I was here alone to make them an offer.

  We took our seats. Me on one side of the oval cherry table, the five board members and Arthur on the other. I scanned the faces once more as they opened their manila envelopes and poured glasses of water, enjoying a moment’s silence before we started.

  My eyes almost missed the boy sitting in the corner. He looked about 20, maybe 21, young with a cherub face and an almost feminine physique. The suit he wore fit his frame, which is to say, an extra slim cut. His hair was cropped close.

  He looked so damn familiar.

  “I’m sorry,” I said standing and interrupting their calm. I moved around the table and smiled down at the kid. I was used to seeing interns and PAs at company meetings. Something about this one drew me toward him.

  He looked at me with a bored gaze that I expected. What I didn’t expect was for his eyes to go wide as dinner plates.

  They were a lovely shade of green.

  “Harrow Tanning. Don’t think we’ve met.”

  His eyes said we had.

  I just didn’t know from where.

  Chapter 11

  CHRIS

  “Oh, uh…”

  FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK HOLY FUCKING FUCK

  “I’m, ah…”

  “Always a credit to the company,” murmured Frank Spiro, the CEO of one of our steel subsidiaries. Two of the other men on the board chuckled at the joke at my expense.

  I didn’t see who they were and I didn’t glare at Frank for mocking me. Instead, I just stared at the foreigner.

  Harrow. Fucking Harrow, right in front of me, looking down at me with his hand out. The same hand that had been on the back of my head while I blew him 12 hours ago.

  Why the hell was he here?

  “Ah, Christopher is our intern,” said Arthur, rushing over to lay his hand on my shoulder. I wasn’t making the best impression as the future face of the company. I knew that.

  But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even speak.

  Harrow was here.

  I never thought I’d see him again. If I did, it’d be at some club in LA. or New York or Milan.

  Not in my own fucking company when I wasn’t even dressed properly.

  “You usually bring interns into these kinds of meetings?”

  “Well, Christopher is, erm…”

  “I’m -” I started to speak, then realized I was using my female voice. I cleared my throat, trying to hit a manly pitch. “I’m the heir,” I rumbled. Arthur quirked an eyebrow at me, wondering why I’d dropped my voice about an octave. Maybe he thought I was trying to ‘act manly.’

  “Oh! Well then by all means.” Harrow nodded down at me. For a moment I thought he might bow. Some people did that from time to time. People who thought our customs were as ancient as the grand seal hanging on the back wall.

  They weren’t. And Harrow would never bow to another person. That was why I liked him.

  I just didn’t want to like him here. Especially when these pants were so damn tight.

  “We’ll be discussing the future of your company,” said the cocky American. “I’d say you have every right to join in.”

  Arthur laughed awkwardly. “Ah, Christopher doesn’t have any say in the decisions. He’s, ah, still learning the ropes.”

  “I see.”

  “Perhaps we could begin our meeting, Mr. Tanning? The board is a bit busy today.”

  Harrow turned his set jaw to the board, who stared back at him, fuming. He had no idea these were some of the most powerful and monied men in Femnos. Or he didn’t care.

  Either way, he was as easy standing before them as he was with me. This was a man who only reacted to a blowjob.

  “Of course,” said Harrow, moving toward his seat. “I also have a hair appointment this evening.”

  I had to giggle at that. The back of each man’s bald head went a bit red. Even Ian, who had spent a fortune on hair plugs, looked like he was about to shed his fur.

  Harrow was playing a dangerous game. In fact, I didn’t know what kind of game he was playing at all. Wasn’t he just priming himself for failure?

  “Harrow,” said Arthur. “We’ll be brief. Your Renault Group offered us a merger when they established a branch here in the early 2000s. We turned down the offer at that time. Now we would like to accept.” Arthur pushed a manila envelope forward. “We’ve used the same text and terms from the decade prior. The numbers have changed, of course. Inflation and all. Aside from that, Renault and Inverness would be joined as one conglomerate. We can begin restructuring as soon as the ink is dried.”
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  “Very sensible of you.”

  “You agree, then?” Asked Ian, leaning forward way too eagerly.

  “Of course not,” said Harrow.

  Ian sat back in his chair, burning red along with the rest of his board colleagues. “What in the bloody hell -”

  “Mr. Tanning,” said Arthur loudly. “If you have terms you would like to change, perhaps you would do best to read the contract over first.”

  “Oh I’ve read the contract. A bit before my time, of course, but I definitely read it.” Harrow put his hand on top of the folder. “This was all written 17 years ago. You know, before your ex-President went to jail. Before your stock tanked. Before you lost your stake in Femnosi Airlines, Monroe Media, WestFoods Grocers -”

  “We are well aware our position has changed, Mr. Tanning.” Arthur sighed, wiping his hands across the table. “This is a negotiation. If there are terms you wish to change then we’ll discuss that.”

  “Oh, only one term. Change ‘merger’ to ‘buyout.’”

  Ian scoffed. Frank shook his head. The other board members looked to Arthur, who was damn near crumpling his envelope between two meaty fists.

  Pretty entertaining all in all. I hardly even noticed my hangover.

  “You know that’s impossible.”

  “Is it? Femnosi law prevents us from establishing a full corporation here. Our branch only deals in importing and exporting. If we buy your company out we can use your infrastructure to gain entree into the entire region. All legal.”

  “We are a 158 year old company, Mr. Tanning.”

  “Yes. And you won’t live to see your 159th birthday unless you get some serious help.”

  Harrow couldn’t have known how deep our financial problems ran. We were a public company and posted financial reports quarterly, but some things - like delinquent loans and investments that hadn’t paid off - were still guarded secrets.

  He couldn’t have known.

  Looking into his eyes, I was certain he did.

  So was the rest of the room.

  Merging with Renault wasn’t our ticket back to solvency. All a merger would do was buy us some time and allow us to relieve some of our debts on the American firm. In exchange, Renault’s Femnos branch got extra business and networking in our insular country. Win win.

  A buyout was different. We’d become a subsidiary of Renault. They’d probably let us keep our name and logo and operate more or less independently, but we’d have to answer to their decisions. They’d own us.

  But what option did we have?

  I didn’t really care one way or the other. My fortune was set in a trust fund. I stood to make more money if the company did well, though if we were a subsidiary rather than an independent company I’d make less. Then again, I wouldn’t make anything extra if the company went under.

  For me, it was a wash. For Arthur and the board, this was a matter of Femnosi pride.

  “What makes you think,” said Arthur, aghast, “that we would ever sell our company?”

  “To a damn Yankee, no less!” Shouted Ian.

  Harrow just smiled.

  “Well, you guys could all keep your jobs, for one thing.”

  I stifled a giggle.

  “See? He gets it.” Harrow motioned toward me. “And he doesn’t even really work here.”

  “We can handle ourselves without outside help,” replied Arthur.

  “Yeah, I kind of doubt that. Look. There are advantages to a buyout. We’ll keep your corporate structure in place. The leadership of the company will be all Femnosi; you’ll never have to see me again, pinky promise. All we really need is a wholly-owned subsidiary to do business through. That means more money, gentlemen. For Inverness and all its holdings.”

  Harrow met the stare of each man on the board. Every one of them owned stock in Inverness and ran a company or bank whose interests were tied up with ours. They all began to soften a bit, thinking over what he’d said. They were in as much debt as our company and wanted to get back to where they were before our stock plummeted. The prospect that they could actually leave with more money did a lot to allay their Femnosi pride.

  “In your last authentic financial report,” said Harrow, lancing the egos of everyone in the room, “You reported 34 billion in gross sales.” Harrow wrote a number on the back of the manila folder. “We can guarantee this much.”

  He passed it to Arthur. My uncle stared down for a long, long time.

  “We… have to talk. In private.”

  “You and me or you and these guys?”

  “Us,” he choked. “The board, and I.”

  “Wonderful. Take your time. The heir and I will wait outside.”

  Chapter 12

  HARROW

  Everything went as planned except for the kid. I hadn’t expected anyone but the board and Arthur. While I was aware the heir was still in Femnos, I expected him to stay away from the meetings. Having him show up was a bit of a ballsy move. A ‘look how stable we are’ kind of thing.

  That’s a tough image to sell when your stock price is a fifth of what it used to be and your former President is in jail. Plus the kid didn’t exactly exude confidence. At the meeting he kept his eyes off me whenever I spared a glance. Now, as we waited on the office sofa together, he just stared forward at the secretary’s empty desk. She was on her lunch break. We’d have to wait to eat.

  “Think they’re gonna sell?” I asked.

  “I… I dunno.” He cleared his throat. Thankfully he’d stopped putting on that ‘manly’ voice. I’d met a few interns who tried to deliberately lower their voices to seem more confident. Never worked.

  “If you were President what would you do?”

  “I-”

  “Don’t say ‘I dunno.’ Please. For my sake.”

  The Heir blushed, looking down at his feet. I decided to prompt him by saying his name, but I couldn’t remember what it was. Chris?

  No. That was her name.

  The girl I thought about all night, even when I was in the ambulance with Martin. Even when I went home with the scent of her on me while I beat my meat like a Femnosi flank steak.

  Christina.

  “I would sell.”

  I snapped out of my reverie. The boy’s voice was stable now. He sounded almost like…

  “We don’t have a choice, really. There’s no place to go but down; you said it yourself. A buyout solves our problems and gives us new business worldwide. You get everything you want too. It’s a standard quid pro quo.”

  “Nice Latin.”

  “Thank you. Anyway, they’re not gonna sell to you.”