Jaci Stone

"Kaitlyn can wait," I growled. "I'm getting a woody and you want to take off."

"I'm sorry, Jaci." Gabrielle knelt down to pick up her duffel bag. "Maybe Monday?"

"Yeah, Monday of next year," I sighed. "Bye, wife."

"Bye."

Not even a kiss goodbye.

Jacking off was novel to me. Before last night, I hadn't had a serious hard-on for over a year. I located and washed the tubular masturbator I owned and slipped it over my now erect cock. It didn't take long for my cum to start shooting out the other end, and I caught some for a taste test. Peaches. No wonder Marcie wanted to swallow.

Marcie and I had bareback sex last night. I knew I was clean, and she had sworn that she was clean as I had reached to get a condom from my clutch. Marcie had not said she was taking birth control. Francine had implied that Marci was trying to have a child of her own and had come armed with erection pills. Pills. Was she planning on having sex with two guys last night to increase her chances? I could probably find out if I wanted. I took a walk around the house, tending my flower garden where it needed tending. My garage was empty, reminding me that I still couldn't go plant anything because my truck was in the shop.

Monday, I said to myself. Rebuilding the engine was going to cost about as much as going to buy another used truck, but I had chosen the rebuilding route. Chuck the truck had been with me for my first drive through Los Angeles, so I wanted to keep him around as long as I could. Hopefully the check from my temp job would cover the rest of the cost.

The moping continued into the evening, giving me a choice of going out or curling up with a book and a beer. I chose the going out part, I needed to go out. Marcie had been really familiar with the layout of the club, almost as if she were a regular. That would work, only this time Gabrielle would pay the cover.

I took a real shower, with soap and shampoo, shaving because I felt like it. I tucked my cock back and taped it into place. My favorite black dress was hiding in the back of my closet, and it didn't need any work to make it wearable.

Pausing for a moment, I slipped the dress on, checking the alignment before I zipped it up completely . My makeup was light and hair was basic. I might have people fighting over me tonight, but I just wanted to catch one set of eyes.

My phone remembered where the club was, the taxi driver didn't mind the tip I left him with Gabrielle's card. A woman going into a club by herself was dangerous, doubly so for a transgender like myself, but I could handle it. The line monitor waved me toward the VIP door, the bouncer there refusing my offer of a cover.

The bartender didn't want to take my money either, but I told her if the drink was on the house, I'd announce it to the entire club. She took the card I handed her, sliding the glass of whiskey across the bar with the other hand.

My waitress was a bit more forthcoming. She told me that Marcie had tagged me with VIP status last night. Since there were only nine VIPs, it was easy to remember our faces.

Marci came bounding into the club at ten minutes before zero hour, towing along a young woman with the exact same hair. They stopped at the bar, then came up to my level. After looking around, both of them came toward my table...and walked right past me. I had tried making eye contact with Marcie, but she looked right through me. What was going on?

The torture only lasted a few minutes, then they went bounding out onto the dance floor. I finished my drink with a sigh, then decided to give up and go home. On the way out, a leggy brunette about my height snagged ahold of my arm and asked me to dance. I told her that I was hungry, so she agreed to take me out for dinner.

Leigh led me out to her car, pulling open the back door and waving me inside. She wanted to be the leader tonight, that was okay with me. Her driver deposited us at a very normal looking building downtown. Inside the building was another story. The interior was brilliantly designed, eyes for sight lines to ensure that you couldn't see the occupants of adjoining dining areas without actually being in front of that table.

We followed the hostess to a table, and she handed Leigh the menus before she strutted off. Leigh seated me, then herself, but didn't hand me a menu. Was she going to order for me? I decided that I wouldn't mind that either.

The order was given to the waitress in rapid-fire Russian. My father had told me once that there were three versions of the Russian language: The first was Tourist, the second was Native, and the third was Poet. My Father had had an actual poet teach me that language, one of the many perks of being the child of a military spook. Leigh was pleasantly surprised when I recited a poem by Pushkin, my favorite Russian poet, responding with another.

We exchanged barbs and life history, and she seemed rather surprised that I wasn't working as a negotiator. I admitted to Leigh that I was happy where I was, and she called bullshit on me. The car we went out to was different than the one we arrived in, it was a coupe without a driver. Leigh went and stood by the passenger door to signal me that it was my turn to drive the night.

Leigh's home was a condo in Downtown L.A., making me glad I didn't have to foot the bill for a hotel. I gingerly parked her Maz in the designated spot and went around the car to open her door. The view she had of downtown was mesmerizing, so much so that Leigh had to remind me that we could enjoy that later. Leigh admitted that she wasn't expecting to entertain a pecker that evening, but I assured her I had protection. My face fell when I went to roll the condom down my cock and it split open. When I went to reach for another, Leigh snatched my clutch and whipped it across the room, tackling me before I could object.

My little black dress became my little black rags under her ferocity, my panties next. She hiked up her dress and had me inside her in a blink, saying that we had the safe sex problem solved. Then she changed from the growling tigress to a mewling little kitten as she rode me. Since turnabout is always fair play in the bedroom, I reached up to the collar of her dress and ripped it down the center. She wasn't wearing a bra, the dress had been tight in the chest so she really didn't need one.

Pinching her nipples caused her to freeze. I could feel her vagina squeezing and releasing my cock. Leigh started moving again, tightening her insides as I rolled her hard nipples between my thumb and forefinger. I felt the twitch of an impending orgasm behind my balls, and Leigh could sense it too. She arched her back, pushing her pubic bone down on my cock, dragging her clit along the length of my shaft. She started growling, pushing so hard on the down strokes that I thought I was hurting her. She let out wail after wail of satisfaction, pulling me high with her as her touch set my skin on fire. Her hands clawed at my chest as if she were trying to yank my breasts bigger. Her body collapsed onto me, her lips finding my neck and sucking hard.

"You can't give me a hickey," I said after a minute.

Leigh pulled her lips off my neck. "I'm sure your wife won't mind."

"I can't get hickeys or tattoos. They don't keep."

Leigh sat up, I could feel my cum oozing down my shaft. She climbed off me and slipped off the bed. "I knew you were special, Jaci, I just didn't know how special until just now."

***

In the morning, I was gathering the stuff that had flown out of my clutch when Leigh had thrown it across the room when I found a digital passbook. At first I thought it might belong to Leigh, but the screen reacted to my thumb. The screen showed my name and three transactions. The first was a deposit for five hundred fifty thousand dollars. The second was a debit to Califf for twenty-five thousand dollars with the memo reading: 'VIP Membership.' The third was a debit to Pareesol for the same thing at the same price.

Holy shit.

I wouldn't pay five hundred dollars for a membership to any three or four clubs, let alone twenty-five thousand dollars for just one. Was this Francine's way of trying to hold me to her deal even though I hadn't agreed to it? I slipped the passbook into my purse, I'd deal with that shit later.

Leigh and I had breakfast at a regular restaurant, a place I was comfortable being me. There were families with children there, so we voluntarily kept our PDA under wraps. I caught some of the husbands sneaking looks at us, along with the wives who didn't look happy that their husbands were doing so.

One teenage girl came up to Leigh and asked for an autograph and a picture. Leigh agreed, quickly sending the young lady on her way lest more people do the same.

When we had been talking about our jobs, Leigh had been vague as to what her place was in the Hollywood pecking order. I didn't mind, the last movie I had really paid attention to was probably released when she was still in diapers.

She led me to a theater which was doing an early showing of her latest movie. Leigh asked me afterward what I thought, and was offended when I told her it was 'all right.' I reminded her that my experience with recent movies was limited, and I hadn't walked out on it, so that was a plus.

When we got back to her condo, Leigh hinted about watching another of her movies. I declined, electing instead for my newly rediscovered favorite form of entertainment.

That evening Leigh took me to a party at a house out in Wavecrest. She started introducing me around, and I saw that all the other guests were women. When Leigh vanished from my side, I migrated to the edge of the patio, studying the women and how they moved and interacted.

"You shouldn't be here," a woman said from behind me.

I turned to face her. "Why is that?"

"Because men are not welcome here," she hissed.

"I was invited here, not once but twice," I said.

"Leigh brought you here, the trustee didn't have any choice but to invite you inside," she countered.

Trustee. That's an interesting word. Where had I heard that before?

I remembered.

When I was just a young woman, although my father didn't like calling me that at the time, I had travelled with my dad for his job. He was an Intelligence Officer, or S-2, for SACEUR, so I saw a lot of Europe. One of his long stations had been in Wurzburg working with the Army Cavalry units stationed there. Field deployments were part of his job, so I had a lot of time to wander. He did remind me to do my studies, warning that fathers took their daughters across their knees just as often as they did their sons.

The German language was fascinating to me. They had a tendency to lump words together so einbahnstrasse meant 'one-way-street.' I loved it. I was done with the recommended studies for the day, so I went out to explore the town and practice my skills 'on the economy' as it were. I was enjoying a Swiss chocolate bar while wandering around the edge of town when I came across this huge Gothic Cathedral. It was an old building, designed back in the days when you either came to church or they put your head on one of the spikes sported by the iron fence surrounding said church.

My attention was drawn to three women who were exiting the side of the church. There was no obvious door there, the opening just appeared and disappeared. I thought it an illusion, so I waited for them to leave my line of sight before I went to examine the wall. Sure enough, there was no apparent door there, it was hidden among the stonework. It took a minute to deduce where the latch was, and another minute to figure out how to use it.

I was rewarded with a humming noise as the door just appeared in the wall. Being both teenager and rebel, I stepped through the opening. When it closed behind me, I was in the dark. There was no light switch near the door, so I took to feeling along the walls until the lights came on around me. I couldn't discern fixtures and bulbs, but there was light to help me explore.

The hall I was in didn't have any openings, door or arch, and was rather small for three women to just be hanging out in. It dawned on me that any openings were disguised as the exterior door had been. I again felt along the stone walls and was just about to give up hope when another opening appeared. There were books in this new room, dozens of them, and all of them old.

Who were those women? What had they been doing, checking out books from a hidden library? What books... There was no dust in the room at all. The books were extremely old, the room even older, but there was no dust. There was no humidity, no dampness that I would normally associate with an old building made of not laid but stacked stone. What was this place?

I grabbed the nearest book, it was a heavy thing with a metal cover. The cover was locked, but that didn't take long to defeat. The title was almost bland; 'Guardians.' There weren't all that many pages, so I read it from cover to cover.

Invitation. Trustee.

A trustee was a guardian appointed to provide entrance to people not specifically invited into a dwelling. The woman at the front door had been hesitant to let us in, but Leigh had cleared her throat and she had said: 'Please come in.' I had initially felt pushed away from the house until the trustee had said those words. It was an invitation. The house was protected by a spell. Spells meant magic.

Suddenly it dawned on me that this whole group was a gathering of witches, it could be nothing else. I used to think that gatherings of witches would be old crones huddled around a cauldron of boiling oil. This place was different, this place screamed 'wealth,' more loudly than even Marci's house in The Hills.

The books I had read outlined the very specific rite of invitation. I knew that magic was real, I didn't know it was surrounding me until just now. If my invitation was revoked, would some hidden hand drag me to the edge of the property? I decided to find out. "Are you going to revoke my invitation?" I asked.

"It is not my place," she admitted. "But better you go before Mistress gets here and removes you herself."

That was actually a challenge. My teenage years were long gone, but my sense of rebellion had just reawakened and was dusting itself off. "I'll stick around, my date has business here."

As she walked away, I gave her a brief once-over and decided that she was on the sunny side of twenty. With my newfound discovery in mind, I turned around to look at the rest of the women there. I had never been accused of looking old. My driver's licence had been asked for a lot over the years, mostly because I didn't look like I was pushing fifty years of age.

The other women at the gathering could be the same way. The book on 'natural immortality' had been quite enlightening. Was that kind of magic used, or was it earned? Leigh had come out onto the patio and was scanning the crowd for me. I waved at her, and she made a beeline for me. "Now you know why I brought you here," she said.

"No, I don't."

"You should meet others of your kind, Jaci," Leigh whispered. "My goddess, you're more powerful a magician than most of the women here."

"Witches," I whispered.

"If you feel you must call us that, then yes."

"What do you feel that I must call you?"

"We prefer the term 'wiccan' as opposed to 'witch.'"

"Then why didn't you just correct me? What changed at Pareesol?"

"I don't know if I should say," Leigh hedged. "I brought you here so that you could talk to the elders."

"Of your coven?" I asked.

"Yes."

Leigh wanted me to join their coven, there wasn't any other explanation. I didn't want to join any coven, to be bound by rules and regulations and a hierarchy. The books I had read didn't really go into details on what happened to the non-conformers. 'Excommunicated' could mean that people hunted you down and took your head. "I'd like to leave," I said.

"Why?"

"If you knew me as well as I thought you did, you would know that I'm a rebel, Leigh. I don't conform to rules or regulations. You have to ask to enter a coven, Leigh. I'm not asking to join, I'm asking to leave."

Leigh nodded. "Very well. I can only transport you to the town limits, from there you're on your own."

The conversation between the others on the patio had ended when I had asked to leave. I followed Leigh through the crowd and to her car. She stopped at the limits to the town, and got out when I did. "This is goodbye, Leigh. I'm guessing we won't see each other again?"

"It goes a little farther than that, Jaci. You've obviously read the rules, so you know what you have to say now."

I did, and it broke my heart. "Leigh Landreau. I don't know you, you don't know me."

"If you are still around L.A. in a few years, don't be surprised if some little girl comes up and calls you 'mom.' I won't know you from here on out, but our daughter certainly will."

Shit. Double shit.

***

I decided that Gabrielle didn't need to know about Leigh. She had been so set on having a child with me that finding out another woman was having my baby would be too much. If I was able to get Leigh pregnant, then chances were that I could get my wife pregnant as well, so I'd try that.

The cab took almost an hour to get to me, and another forty to get home. Since I had been way out in the boonies, I got to pay the premium rate on mileage. I didn't know what to do for the rest of the night, but moping sounded pretty damn good.

The digital passbook that Francine had set up presented a problem. The device itself was basically a wallet which could be used pretty much anywhere that had a digital payment interface. If I presented it in a store, I waved it at a reader and authorized the purchase. Most automated tellers would recognize the passbook and smile, spitting out whatever cash my heart desired.

Gabrielle wouldn't know about that account, that would be my secret. The last year had been littered with fights over money and all of a sudden having a large amount would cause friction. Francine Talbot had given me a half-million dollars to leave Marcie alone. My affair with her could have just been written off as a one-night stand, and the way I had been deposited back in my house, I would have left her alone for nothing.

A little digging into the device showed that the account wasn't fully mine. It was just an expense account which had been funded by Francine but put in my name. I didn't know what to do about it. I wasn't going to just throw it away, I wasn't a total fool. I would be a fool to start spending the money before I knew what strings were attached to it.

My phone buzzed, it was a message telling me that the account I shared with Gabrielle was just overdrawn. Great. When the temp agency direct-deposited my check, part of that money would be taken to pay the overdrafts and the resulting fees, and I wouldn't have enough to get my truck out of the mechanic's clutches.

Another buzz signalled the instant apology from Gabrielle and the excuse for it. Kaitlynn was a lawyer and pretty rich, but Gabrielle just had to pay for her own things. Mad and forgetting totally about the half-million dollars sitting beside me on the couch, I sent a gruff message back to her. I went into great detail on how I wouldn't be able to pick up my truck again, and would have to spend another week behind a desk so I could afford it.

She sent back a crying emoticon and I sighed and told her goodnight. I went into the bedroom and sat my phone on the nightstand. I plugged it in, the second cord going into the passbook. All of a sudden my anger melted away. I wouldn't have to sit behind a desk tomorrow, I was going to plant something, hell with the strings.