Tanya Modern Masquerade ©2005 Tanya J. Allan

This work is fictitious, and any similarities to any persons, alive or dead, are purely coincidental. Mention is made of persons in public life only for the purposes of realism, and for that reason alone. Certain licence is taken in respect of medical procedures, terms and conditions, and the author does not claim to be the fount of all knowledge.

The author accepts the right of the individual to hold his/her (or whatever) own political, religious and social views, and there is no intention to deliberately offend anyone. If you wish to take offence, that is your problem.

This is only a story, and it contains adult material, which includes sex and intimate descriptive details pertaining to genitalia. If this is likely to offend, then don't read it.

Unfortunately no politicians were injured or killed in the writing of this story, and no one else was either.

If you enjoy it, then please Email me and tell me. If you hate it, Email me and lie!

I will always welcome contact.

tanya_jaya@yahoo.co.uk

The legal stuff.

This work is the property of the author, and the author retains full copyright, in relation to printed material, whether on paper or electronically. Any adaptation of the whole or part of the material for broadcast by radio, TV, or for stage plays or film, is the right of the author unless negotiated through legal contract. Permission is granted for it to be copied and read by individuals, and for no other purpose. Any commercial use by anyone other than the author is strictly prohibited, and may only be posted to free sites with the express permission of the author.

 

Modern Masquerade

By

Tanya.J.Allan

7.

Tremaine Industries


Monday morning saw the Marriotts up early, preparing for their first day at work at Tremaine Tower, in the City of London. Pru was wearing a dark pinstripe suit, a pale blue shirt with white cuffs and collar, a tie from the Punjab Cricket Club, and her black brogues, highly polished.

Rob, on the other hand, looked every inch the sophisticated female executive. Having had a little help, his hair was up, his makeup was exquisite and he looked absolutely stunning in a black pencil skirt, dark stockings, a cream blouse and a gorgeous bolero style jacket with black velvet collar. With an ornate cravat in turquoise at his throat, with matching turquoise earrings, necklace, brooch and ring on his right ring finger. Theresa shook her head, as from the tip of his varnished toenails to the top of his head, he looked the most perfect girl that had ever graced the front of many a fashion magazine.

“Oh dear, you look ravishing, and yet there is something distinctly unfair about it,” she said.

“Why?” asked Rob, as he tried to eat toast without smudging his perfect lips.

“Because there are real girls who would sell their souls to look like you.”

Rob chuckled, giving her a coy look.

“You never know, I might just cross to the light side of the force,” he said.

Pru rolled her eyes. They'd had a quiet weekend, but to her consternation, Rob elected to remain as Katie the whole time, despite Pru relaxing as herself.

They'd spent much of the time talking. Rob admitted he was seriously concerned about his gender identity and his sexuality. Pru expected it, but was at a loss to know what to say.

“I just am so at home as a girl. It's like it's become the real me, and the boy has taken second place.”

“You do seem to spend more time as a girl. You don't have to right now, for example,” she said.

“I know, but Letty could come round, and I can't afford to be caught on the hop.”

“That's a crap excuse, and you know it!”

Rob had smiled, but was still serious.

“It's like if I had the right bits, I'd be happy to go to bed with a man. I just don't feel I could with my male stuff. I know I'm not gay!”

Pru had smiled.

“What about going to bed with Letty?”

“Yup, I could do that,” he said with a grin.

“If you were a girl?”

He paused.

“I still think I could. Shit, I am gay!”

“No, you're just fucked up. The sooner we get back to normal, the better.”

“What's normal, Pru?” he'd asked, his voice that of a young girl.

“Take away the clothes, the make up and the pretence, that's normal.”

“We'd be a bit cold, wouldn't we, sis?”

They'd both laughed, but Pru was seriously worried about her brother.

However, now on this Monday morning, the pretence was still holding firm. They arrived at the vast glass and steel edifice, not far from St. Paul's Cathedral, at eight forty exactly. They walked into the huge reception area together, and Pru noticed that virtually all the male eyes turned and locked in on her little brother.

“Peter and Katherine Marriott to see Jonathon Fletcher,” Pru said to the girl at the desk. She smiled and rang through to the HR Manager.

Jon Fletcher was twenty-eight and going places. He'd been with Tremaine Industries for six years, ever since graduating with his degree in HR and business management. He was five eight, slim and very fit, as he played squash three times a week and soccer every Sunday. He had not had the privileged education of Tony, as he'd worked hard at the comprehensive school in Edmonton, north London, and earned his place at university through that hard work.

With short dark brown hair and quite sharp features, he had a reputation of being ruthlessly ambitious and also slightly predatory with the girls.

He was informed of the arrival of two new people, a brother and sister who'd been recruited in Europe for posts in the legal department and in languages. He asked the receptionist to send them up to the small conference room on his floor, the seventh.

It was his task to welcome them to the company, arrange for any training, and see to their documentation, for tax and pensions, for example.

He left his office, reading their files. There wasn't much in them, just a note on each from the man in Italy, stating that they were ideally qualified for the posts and the company would be foolish to pass them up.

He was still reading when he entered the conference room. Looking up he almost dropped the folders. For seated in a chair, with the most wonderful legs crossed, was the single most attractive girl he'd ever seen.

Standing behind her was a young man, one hand in his immaculate suit pocket, looking calm and collected.

His eyes returned to the girl. She smiled, and warmth seemed to radiate outwards from her. Jon, feeling his loins stirring, shifted uncomfortably.

“Ah, Peter and Katherine Marriott?” he stammered.

“Katie,” said Rob, his voice all husky and sultry.

“Katie,” he repeated, mesmerised by her crystal blue eyes.

“Please call me Katie, it is less stuffy.”

“Katie,” he said, feeling foolish for repeating it again.

Pru smiled and had to glance away. Rob was going straight for the jugular, or rather the penis. He was at his most outrageous, flirting and showing his very obvious cleavage at every opportunity.

Jon did his best. He welcomed them to the company, arranging for two junior clerks to show them to their new departments after the documentation formalities were complete. However, it had to be said, his mind was not on the job at hand. His one regret was that she was to be working in a department with which he seldom had contact. Only on those rare occasions when he was dealing with persons with no English would he consider calling on their services.

He watched the girl walk away, unable to take his gaze from her wonderful buttocks. He had to go to the lavatory and masturbate, as such was the effect she'd had on him.

“You're a tart!” Pru hissed at her brother as they entered the lift with two girls instructed to take them to their respective departments.

“He didn't check the papers,” he whispered back, and Pru had to concede the point. Under normal circumstances, the HR manager would scrupulously check and scrutinise all documentation. Jon had simply transferred all the details without question.

Pru and her guide exited the elevator when it stopped at the twelfth floor, leaving Rob and the other girl to go on upwards. Rob smiled at the girl.

“Have you worked here long?” he asked.

“No Miss, just a few weeks.”

“What's with this ‘Miss' shit? My name's Katie.”

The girl smiled uncertainly.

“I'm Amy Johnson. We're not meant to call you by your first name.”

“Why not? It's not the army.”

“Mr Hatton believes that an organisation has to have levels of attainment, and that certain distinctions are necessary to give those below targets to strive for.”

“What utter bollocks, who's this Hatton character?”

“He's the senior M D, Miss.”

“Stuff him, I'm Katie, okay Amy?”

Amy smiled, a little broader this time.

“Thanks, Katie. I don't think you'll fit in with Mr Hatton's ideas.”

“Well, if Mr Hatton doesn't fit in with me, he'll just have to go!”

The girl laughed this time, ceasing abruptly as the elevator stopped and the door opened. Amy led the way down to a large office with several people working in compartmentalised cubicles.

A larger area at the end had a huge desk and behind the desk sat a middle-aged man with a receding hairline and slight paunch. Ronald McMillan had been headhunted for the company from an independent translators company based in Brussels. Having worked in the business for many years, he recognised a good deal when presented with one. He'd set up the department in just five months, and Katherine Marriott was his latest acquisition.

A mutual business associate in Italy recommended her to him. Georges Lassard, their representative in Paris had arranged a meeting with her and strongly recommended her to him. He'd accepted and offered her a job. It was coincidence, but her brother was offered a job with the legal department, on another recommendation by the original associate.

Amy left with a quick smile at the smart Miss Marriott.

“Miss Marriott, welcome to Tremaine. You come highly recommended,” he said, shaking her finely manicured hand. He was mildly surprised by her firm handshake, somehow doubting that someone as attractive as she was could possibly have any strength.

“Thanks for the welcome. I'm sure I can pay my way.”

Ronald took her to meet the others in the department, and showed her to her compartment.

“These look frightful, but actually you will need the privacy. With all the translation and interpreting we have to do, we do need some privacy.”

“We do interpreting from here?” she asked.

“Oh yes. We have hot lines coming straight in from wherever our chaps and chapesses are. We even have videophones and live web-cams for special jobs. There are three special video conferencing suites, whereby we can sit in on conferences involving as many as they have equipment. We never really need go anywhere.”

“Impressive,” said Rob, actually impressed for a change.

“So, what's your speciality, apart from looking amazing?” asked Ronald, appreciating this remarkably attractive girl.

“Actually, I specialise in the one to one situation,” ‘Katie' said, making Ronald feel rather warm all of a sudden.

“Actually, I'm better in the spontaneous interpreting situation, I get rather bored with endless tracts of translation. Give me an unrehearsed job any day.”

They talked techniques and languages for a while, and Ronald was more than impressed with both her attitude and apparent ability. He asked her to listen to a couple of tapes and translate as they ran. She managed French, Italian and Arabic all very easily. When she told him of the languages she could speak fluently, and then those she had a good working knowledge of, he was doubly impressed.

After an hour, she was allowed to settle into her cubicle, arranging whatever equipment she required from the stationary and computer supplies.

Meanwhile, a few floors below her, Peter Marriott was settling into the legal department. His function was to scrutinise legal contracts and other documents with a view to ascertaining company liability and responsibility in each one. He reported to the company lawyers who worked in the same office, but as he specialised in international law, his knowledge seemed to be greater than theirs in certain areas.

They met for lunch in the executive (class three) dining room. Top management were class one, departmental bosses were class two, they were class three, and then there was the canteen for the rest.

“Well, what's your lot like?” Pru asked.

“Okay. Ronald is my boss, and I think the only one. He's a big softy, good at organising things, but not frightfully good as a people person. It's a good department as far as technology goes. I haven't met many of the others yet. How about you?”

“The lawyers are okay, a bit ignorant about certain aspects of international law, but it's a new department, so we're all learning together. I have a free rein and just have to check through documents and pass them on to the lawyers for final approval.”

“Dull, you mean?”

Pru smiled.

“Absolutely, but it's not as if it's for very long.”

“I wish we knew what we were doing here, it's not like him to keep us in the dark for as long as this.”

“Patience, dear girl,” said Pru as a couple of young men approached the table.

“Hi, we understand you've just joined the company, so we thought we'd come over and welcome you,” the taller one said to the siblings, although he was only looking at Katie.

‘Katie' smiled that smile of hers and oozed charm and sex.

“Yup, we started today. I'm Katie and this is my brother Peter. I'm in languages and he's joined the legal department.”

“I'm Hugh Crossman,” the taller one said. “I'm in marketing.”

“Gary Birch. Logistics.”

They shook hands. Pru had to keep from smiling too much, as the guys were falling over themselves to get close to her brother. ‘Katie' invited them to sit at their table. They almost fought over the seat next to her.

The lunch break ended, and the men left.

“You really are a dreadful tart!” Pru muttered.

“You're only jealous,” Rob replied.

“Yes, maybe, but it isn't natural.”

“Don't go there, Pru, I'm only too well aware it's not.”

They returned to their offices, and so began a routine that stretched into the next few days and then weeks. Brother and sister became settled and indeed, were very soon accepted as part of the furniture. In the legal department, Peter Marriott was considered a bit of a wizard in his field, and even the lawyers treated him with respect. So much so that the senior solicitor advised the young man to consider further qualifications to become a solicitor. He even offered him special facilities to study in company time, and to sponsor him through his articles.

Pru, lacking any direction to the contrary, accepted and found herself very busy indeed. The work wasn't hard, but the exam was a few months away, and she had a lot of ground to cover. The Harvard qualification was genuine, but she lacked experience and knowledge of English law.

Meanwhile, her brother, in the guise of the sexy Katie, was having a ball. Selected by many of the senior management to accompany them on business trips across Europe, he was rarely in the country for more than a few days at a time. Each man attempted to woo Katie and get her to go to bed with them, and each one went away disappointed, but ever hopeful.

‘Katie' never turned them down flat, she simply postponed their ardour.

At home, he spent most of his free time with Letty. They had grown very close over the weeks, and as the evening for the Spring Ball approached, Letty's excitement became infectious. She arranged a dinner part at her house for fourteen. It included, of course, Tony Fanshaw and the Marriotts, amongst others. Tony was disinclined to accept, believing that fancy dress parties were a trifle juvenile. However, when he realised that Peter and Katie were going, he changed his mind.

“What costume have you chosen, Pete?” he asked.

“Ah, that's supposed to be secret.”

“Don't be an arse, come on, which one?”

“Batman.”

“I have a suggestion.”

“What?”

“Be Robin to my Batman?”

Pru smiled. Any day, she thought.

“Why should I?”

“I wouldn't make a good Robin, and you've more his build.”

“Alright.”

So Tony changed Pru's plans, and, as it happened, they made a very good pair when they went down to the costume shop. Pru had to admit that Tony made a far better Batman than she ever would.

Tony had been conspicuous by his absence over the weeks since the Marriotts started work. He had to return to his farms and do some work for a change. In fact, he'd not been in touch at all, and Pru was feeling neglected, despite knowing that there was no reason for her to do so.

On the evening of the party, Tony phoned to say he was delayed, and Pru found herself fretting that he wasn't coming at all.

“Pru, calm down,” said Rob, as he squeezed into his Cat Woman outfit.

“I can't, I'm confused. It's as if he knows. Rob, and is testing me.”

“He doesn't know. Here, do me up, there's a love.”

Pru laced her brother into the suit. With his hip and bum padding, silicone boobs and tight lacing, he was real competition for Michelle Pfiffer.

“Wow, I hope I don't have to eat too much, otherwise there will be a serious rending of something, and I hope it'll be the costume and not me.”

“I can't believe the way you look. What the hell have you done with your dick?”

“Don't ask. I don't think the little sod will ever be the same again!”

“I thought that you might try to go as yourself. I'm pleased you're being sensible.”

Rob's smile alerted her to feel disquiet all of a sudden.

“Oh, Rob, what are you planning?”

“When I hired this, I asked how many other Cat Women are going to be there. It seems that I will be one of five or six. So, after the first hour, I'll sneak away, change into my other costume, and return to win the hand of fair Letty.”

“Oh Rob, you can't!”

“I can, and must. Pru, if I don't do this, and do it now, I will be stuck as Katie, and may never want to go back. I need to be me, at least for a while.”

Pru was silent. She agreed wholeheartedly that he needed to break from being female. However, she had serious reservations about doing so in such a public forum.

Rob nodded, seeing her agreement.

“Thanks, Sis, you know I have to do this?”

Pru nodded, giving Rob a hug.

Pru then changed and put on a long overcoat. Rob was wearing thigh length black PVC boots with six-inch stiletto heels. He looked simply gorgeous, and there was no one who would ever dream he was male. Even his cleavage, displayed by the suit to leave little for the imagination, seemed perfectly natural.

His hair, streaming our from under his mask, shone as a luxurious golden ray of sunshine.

“This fucking tail is going to piss me off,” he said, tripping over it for the third time going down the stairs.

Theresa watched them descend to the hall. Her eyes noted Rob's amazing shape. She arched an eyebrow.

“So, you've decided to stay like this?” she asked.

“No, I haven't. I may, but I have to know for certain.”

Theresa exchanged glances with Pru who shook her head.

“Bugger!” said Rob, dashing upstairs again, or as fast as his heels and tail allowed him to. He returned a few seconds later carrying a holdall.

Pru raised her eyebrows in silent query.

“My alternate costume,” he explained.

“Oh, and which hero are you going as?”

“Ah, that really is a surprise.”

“Your cab is here,” said Theresa. “You two have a lovely time, and don't do anything too silly.”

“We won't. At least I don't intend to,” Pru said, helping Rob put his coat on.



Go on to Chapter 8