MA-18 (Patreon)

 Stephen Fisher was well on his way to drunk when I found my way to his table. It had taken me a little while to email the insurance packages over to Ex, use the ladies’ room and find my way to the corner establishment through the busy New York Streets.

I sat down, exhaling, laying my purse on my lap.

“Glad you made it!” Stephen said, waving to the waitress who took my order and disappeared.

“Yeah, I had a few things to clean up after the meeting.”

“I bet!” He said, downing another shot, and ordering another.

“Not sure I should be drinking this early.”

“After that meeting, I’m surprised more aren’t down here. They’re probably afraid they’ll get fired, but what the fuck do I care?”

“Not afraid of getting fired?”

He took a smaller sip. “Nope. They got me right where they want me. I’m fucked, Joyce.”

I nodded, taking a long pull on my gin and tonic. It loosened me up in all the right places, and I felt the need to smoke. I pulled out a cigarette and he lit it for me.”

“How do you mean?” I said.

He shrugged. “I was a thirty-year old flight attendant. Someone spotted me, and drugged me. When I woke up I was an eighty-year old man working on a ranch in Montana.”

“You were a woman before?” I exhaled smoke away from his face. I hadn’t actually known there were other people in my situation working for Lord Mallory.

He nodded. “Worked my way through the system and got stuffed into Steve. They must like my work because I’ve been here six years now. I finally had enough to bid on an Experience and whadotheydo?”

He was starting to run his words together. “Suspended until further notice?”

“Zactly,” he said. “Hey, get another martini.” He waved at the waitress over my objection.

“Was gonna be perfect too. I had my eye on an auction…fuck!”

“Well, maybe you can still get into it after Ambition is complete?”

He shook his head. “No, Ambition is gonna change the game, sweethard.”

“How so?”

He took a sip. “Just is. You know about the project?”

“No, no one has told me exactly what it is yet.”

He nodded. “It’s sssupper sssecret.” He put a finger to his lips as his s’s sloshed together. He closed his eyes a bit. “Sssecret.”

“I just sent a billion dollar umbrella policy to cover the liability. It would be nice to know what I just covered.”

He nodded, putting his arm on my shoulder. “I could tell ya…but…then I’d have to kill ya!”

I rolled my eyes. This was going nowhere. I needed to get to the salon anyway, a few hours early would allow me to run another induction and hopefully make me a better stylist.

He leaned in close, and I could smell the booze. “You know, you’re kinda hot for a broad your age.”

I smiled, raising my hand to the waitress and making the signing motion for the check.

“I like the way you dress. I’d like the way you undress too.”

“Think that’s enough for you, bucko,” I said, standing up.

“Nonono no. Don’t leave. We haven’t got to the good part yet.”

“And what’s that?”

He leaned in close, whispering in my ear. “The part where I slide my cock between those giant titties of yours and cum on your face.”

I slapped him. “Fuck off!”

He laughed. “Aww, come on! It’ll be fun, and I’ll tell you about Ambition!” He started pawing at my chest, and I tried to pull away from him.

“Do you need assistance?” I male voice said from behind us.

I was able to extricate myself from Stephen’s boozy embrace. “No, I was just leaving.”

“Come on!” Stephen said. “You know you want it!”

I leaned over and whispered, spearing his toe with my two inch heel. “If I wanted a tiny cock like yours, I could find a better man to give it to me!”

“Ow!” He tried to pull away, and fell back into the divider behind us. He tumbled ass-over-teakettle and his toupee slid sideways. “You bitch!”

I huffed and picked up my purse, as the bartender tried to help Stephen to his feet. I quickly walked away, trembling.

Outside, I lit another cigarette and blew the smoke away. Joyce was a tough bitch, I knew it from her induction series, but that had been scary. He’d held me, and twisted my arm. I rubbed the area and knew I’d have a bruise.

I caught the subway to Queens and went into the salon. “Joyce!” Sue said from behind the register. “You’re early! How are you feeling, hon.”

“I’m okay, thanks.”

“Are you wanting to take on a few before your shift? I can give you…”

“No, I’m going to lie down in the break-room if that’s okay. Headache.”

“Of course, honey. There’s some ibuprofen in the cabinet.”

“Thanks, doll.”

Still shaking, I went to the medicine cabinet and took out some pain reliever. I poured a glass of water and swallowed them, closing my eyes after and feeling the cool water slide down my throat.

I was still trembling from the encounter with Stephen.  How could I continue to work after what he’d done? He’d twisted my arm! Fucker. And I had to work with the guy, how was I even going to look at him again? And he was HR! Jesus, he could have me fired, relocated, or worse!

Unable to sleep, I got up and started toying with the wigs. Billie had an entire wall full of wigs and the girls and I would style them and resell them. I took one down and started backbrushing.

Ambition. I really wondered what it was about. I knew it was in Abu-Dabi and nearly half of the Lord Mallory operating funds went into its construction. It obviously had something to do with Transmigration, but what exactly?

After getting the hair into a nice ‘helmet’ I started curling the ends near the neck. I had an older sixties bouffant in mind…

Stephen would have told me, if I’d allowed him to paw me. I sighed. I did want to know, but I didn’t want to be sexually harassed in order to learn it.

I finished the wig, spraying multiple layers of hairspray and fixit in order for it to stay in its perfect coif. I glanced up into the mirror and fixed my own hair a bit, and touched up Joyce’s makeup.

I put on my smock, fluffed my hair and went out into the salon. Sue and Darlene were working and there were a handful of clients sitting in the waiting area. I went to the Point of Sale tablet on the front counter and looked for the next client.

“Mrs. Hennington?” I said. An older woman waved her hand and stood up. Her hair was shapeless gray and had dozens of split ends. She wanted a cut and set. 

“How’s Randy?” the woman said. “Are you two back together?” She had a heavy New York accent - ‘Togetha’

“Naw,” I said. “He still shakin’ up with his whore secretary,” I said. “Lean back, Delores, let me do ya wash.”

She leaned back and I turned on the water and let it warm up. I knew how to do this like I knew how to ride a bike, or drive a car. Muscle memory from doing it over and over and over.

Or that’s what my body knew anyway. Robbie Adamson faded a bit more each day I wore Joyce Reagan’s body. I wondered how long before I was really Joyce and no longer Robbie?

I washed her hair, then used hot oil deep conditioning treatment, rolled her hair and set her under a hair dryer. While she baked, I picked up a magazine and lit a cigarette flipping through the pages, looking for coupons.

It was easy to slide into this, easy to not think and just let Joyce take over. Easy not to think about Lord Mallory, the insurance portfolios, Exmuritious, Stephen Fisher and all of it. When I started slipping like this I kept Karyn’s face in my mind, her smile, the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed and I’d be back, back to being me.

The egg-timer chimed, and I went back to Delores and brushed out her hair, set it with spray, and went on to the next customer.

Later that evening I made it home to our executive apartment. Karyn met me at the door with a kiss and a smile.