We Love Lucy

Luke stood in front of the mirror, painting his lips with the dark red color. He balanced precariously on the four-inch heels of his white pumps, his legs constrained by the tightness of the red leather skirt. He felt the weight of the heavy stuffing in his bra and the restriction of the belt around his waist.

"That's it, sweetie, make those lips stand out," called Vera Demanden from the couch. "Candy Apple is just the color for a lesbian slut like my beautiful Lucy Luvsnatch."

Luke shuddered to hear his new name...but did not stop his hand's movement over his lips. He couldn't. He was compelled to make himself look womanly and attractive. He was compelled to dress in this attention-getting fashion. What he didn't understand is why he was so compelled.

Three days ago, Luke had responded to his friends' dare to enter the notorious Club Lesbos and make a pass at the most attractive woman in the place. Scanning the place, he saw a wide range of options...from the butch-dykes in their flannel shirts and jeans to the retro pin-ups in A-line skirts and petticoats. Then his eyes fell upon the woman seated alone at a table, sipping a martini.

She was wearing an elegant suit...although it was leather. The jacket was nipped in tight over her satin blouse; the skirt clung to her curves and ended at the knee. Her legs, clad in black hose, were perched on black patent spike heels. If he had to choose, she was the woman he would hit on.

He walked over and sat without being asked. "Hey, babe," he began, "my name's Luke. Why's a doll like you hanging out with these lezzies? Bet I can thrill you better than they can."

Vera Demanden looked up at him with contempt. "You could try..." she sneered. "But I bet I can convince you otherwise."

"Yeah, how?" he challenged.

She leaned forward and stared into his eyes...her deep green orbs widening. "Like this...sink deep into my eyes...sink deep...sink deeper..."

Luke realized he couldn't look away, though he was not sure why. She reached across the table and passed her hand over his face. "Sleep..." she said, and Luke's chin collapsed to his chest.

"Can you hear me, Luke?" she asked.

"Yes..."

"Yes, Mistress Vera," she corrected him.

"Yes, Mistress Vera," he agreed.

"Good. Stand up and follow me." Luke rose from his chair and crossed to the door with her. Around them, the gathered women oohed and aahed their appreciation.

"Vera's got another one," the bartender said. "He'll be back...but we probably won't recognize him..."

TO BE CONTINUED

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