Chapter 23

Untangling his long, manicured fingers from the bedsheets, Calvin groaned as the morning light came in through the thin blinds of his dingy apartment. The placement of the singular window meant the natural light came in by the refrigerator and small table that served as his kitchen. Sitting up he groaned despite his youth. At twenty seven, he shouldn't be in pain from sleeping wrong. Clara was supposed to be twenty two, but the few years wouldn't make this much of a difference. Still his body aching, it was stiff and not in a fun way.

The throbbing was a reminder that he had actually fallen asleep curled into a ball while wearing a corset, a French maid costume, and five-inch stilettos. “Pathetic.” He said only feeling worse at the sound of the breathy whisper escaping his puffy lips despite him not actively trying to sound female. It was good in the sense that it lowered the odds of outing himself by accident but sounding like a female without trying was not exactly a life goal. The rains of his dream, mostly centered around him getting his yacht, but at the same time being Clara on it and a servant instead of the owner.

Grimacing he slowly shook his head to help clear it of the cob webs. Squeezing his eyes light he stretched slightly before peaking with one eye as he turned to look at the small amount of counter space.”I ordered my first day here… “¡Chingados!“ Not for the first time since waking, he paused for a brief moment. He had meant to just yell the word fuck, but stead it came out in Spanish like the vocabulary lessons were infecting him. He then slipped one foot from his heels one at a time. He had just put them on the bed next to his feet but in frustration he kicked them to the floor with a clatter.

His feet were sore, but not nearly as much as they should have been, a terrifying realization that his body was adapting to the torture. Peeling off the costume and unlacing the corset, he caught a glimpse of himself in the small makeup mirror on the dresser before he craned his neck to the bathroom mirror just able to see himself and both liking the way he looked and hating it. The view was nice but it should be it was… him but it was.. The heavy practically mafic enhanced saline breasts swayed with his movements, his honey-toned skin still freshly smooth and hairless. A condition that could become permanent if he kept going to the appointments. Laser hair removal wasn't an activity he would have picked, but I did get the point of how much it was saving him from cutting away his hair… Shaving away an aspect of his maleness almost daily was easier on his psyche. He looked exactly like the submissive, bimbo servant from his yacht dream or so he thought it becoming less and less clear by the second., and it made his stomach churn with a sickening mix of dread and sickening undeniable arousal. It all joined his biological need to pee.

"Just a job," he muttered, a few times before continuing on to the manta on who Clara was supposed to be. He didn't need to think to do it but still he forced his vocal cords to adopt Clara's breathy, feminine pitch while he spoke with a smile on his face and reflected in his voice. It didn't exactly bring him peace so he moved on to stating his goals though it should have sounded odder than it did or so he thought since he continued to speak as Clara. "Find the thief. Get rich… Buy the yacht. Fire Sidney. In that order!" Firing the head of security would go higher on the list but the idea of firing the man on that very ship with Moriah cuddling into his side just sounded too good.

Getting up, leaving the dress on the bed and heels on the floor where he kicked them he went to the bathroom, peeling down the panties to knee level as he sat to pee. Not considering how he chose to pee when here alone. The mantra felt less forced but at the same time just as hollow. The line between Calvin Bennent, the successful hotel tycoon, and Clara Bent, the demure junior maid, was blurring in a way that terrified him.

An hour later, he was showered, moisturized, tucked, compressed, and zipped and using a hanger for assistance zipped into a dress/ Today for the part at Ana’s he wore a pale blue dress that was almost white. It had what he now knew was called a bandeau neckline. Meaning it went straight across his chest over his bust line without dipping. The skirt of the dress was flared with pleats and came down to just about knee length. Not much of a fan of seeing his shoulders exposed, he paired the dress with a long-sleeved bolero-style cardigan that tied together at the center of his chest.

“Hmm…” He annoyingly hummed holding a pair of four inch light blue stiletto sandals. ‘Did she buy shoes just for this one dress? Not like I’m going to buy more.’ He thought, pausing mid stride to reconsider. His paycheck was shit but a trip to buy some slacks or even jeans, not that he often wore jeans much before all this wouldn’t exactly be a waste of money or so he reasoned sitting down in one of the wooden chairs to buckle on the shoes. Standing he pumped one foot back to adjust the back strap before finishing the outfit. ‘Earrings… not dressed till they are at least one…’ A saying he recalled his mother saying more than once growing up. He then added an ornate blue and gold statement necklace with multiple dangling teardrop-shaped pieces, lastly he also put on a simple gold plated thin bangle bracelet on his right wrist that looked way too thin.

Grabbing his tan purse from the small kitchen table, Calvin took a deep breath or deep as he could with the corset on, its stiff compression feeling much more supportive now and took a few steps to the bathroom to check his appearance. Raising a hand to his mouth, his thumb brushing against his plump, perpetually colored overly puffy lips. They looked so different than how they should look but thanks to the passage of time the work from the salon that weekly helped him maintain his look the semi-permanent dye looked down right normal. ‘That torturous salon ensures my mouth always looks perfect… I shouldn't have lips that are just begging for something to be between them!’

His hand dropped lower, his lilac-painted acrylics coming to rest on the knot of the cardigan. The fabric was tied, nestled right at the base between his breasts. Pressing his fingers against the knot a sudden wave of wrongness washed over him. Eyes widening he slid his fingers gently over one breast and pressed a little harder, his mind expecting to feel the solid, for some reason despite what he knew was there. No flat plane of his own pectoral muscle, the masculine… at least not feminine chest he had lived with for twenty-seven years. Instead, the nails of his fingers sank into the soft, yielding flesh, pressing it more into the underwire bra he wore.

His stomach dropped and turned like it was trying out for the high wire act at the circus. It was like he was in a freefall. The pretty latino girl staring back at him in the mirror with her dark, slightly curled hair, statement necklace, and flared dress was not him. Yet he could physically feel the oppressive weight of her chest pulling on his ribs. It was a visceral, panic-inducing disconnect, like his brain was misfiring. Squeezing his eyes shut tightly so he didn't have to look at her , he stumbled backwards till his back hit the wall, him missing the open door way in his panic. Once his back hit the unyielding surface he slid down to his ass, his legs outstretched on the floor he felt much like he had before falling asleep the night before ready to cry till he had nothing more to give.

Eyes full of tears, then already starting to streak down his face he slapped his open palm to the side to cause the plastic door of the shower to rattle. “I’m not some emotional girl I’m fucking Calvin David Bennent!” He said with force but it was quickly followed by a whimper, him knowing he can’t break down like this. ‘I was… I am getting used to seeing her in the mirror, why am I losing it?!’ Going out to a party was so far outside of his comfort zone. Being in his hotel as Clara was nerve racking but it was still his domain and once the worry of being recognized, being outed faded so did most of that anxiety but this was different. ""I believe in manicures, I believe in overdressing, I believe in pink, I believe in primping at leisure…” He started his voice sounding a bit more chipper by the second.”

Standing back up he wobbled on his heels momentarily, something that happened rarely now. He gripped the sink with both hands, leaning so close to the mirror his nose almost touched the mirror. "Just a job," he whispered, his voice catching in that breathy, feminine pitch that only made the sickening feeling worse.

Forcing his eyes to stay open, he swallowed down the bile rising in his throat. He smiled to himself and used both hands, placing the back of his palms under his chin in what he assumed looked cute and made a kissy face to the mirror before turning to head out the door.

The commute was what it always was, an exercise in sheer misery. As Clara, he didn't have a car, which meant Calvin had to walk one block to the bus stop in the stiletto sandals. They were better than others he wore but still a little higher than his work eels… a thing he didn’t think should exist. The thin straps dug lightly into his skin with every step, his ankles were at least steady instead of wobbling on the uneven concrete. By the time he actually boarded the crowded city bus, his feet weren’t exactly happy but not as bad as it had been. . He found a plastic seat near the back, crossing his legs tightly at the knee to prevent the flared skirt of his dress from riding up too high, hyper-aware of the lingering glances from a pair of men across the aisle. He spent the entire thirty-minute ride staring down at his foot on the crossed leg turning and bouncing the shoe and thinking how white for polish might go better with the footwear. By the second stop he cursed himself for the thought of changing nail polish to fit an outfit. Not wanting to blame himself, his ire had him silently cursing Moriah, Sidney, and the phantom embezzler who had put him in this position.

By the time he finally navigated his way off the bus and into Ana’s neighborhood, the sun was high in the sky. Moving down the street he turned to walk down the sidewalk in a neighborhood and before he knew it he could hear the thumping bass of reggaeton music that guided him the last half-block to a modest, brightly lit house but even without the music he would have known where the party was.

The front door was propped open, spilling light and laughter out into the warm California air. Taking a deep breath, he pressed one palm to his left breast and pressed in slightly to center the heavy chest, Calvin forced the bright, vacant smile of Clara Diane Bent onto his face and stepped inside.

"¡Clara! ¡Mi flaquita hermosa!" He heard called out, the voice of Ana roared over the music as he heard her call him “my beautiful skinny girl!”

Ana practically materialized out of the crowd, wearing a tight, off-the-shoulder brown floral dress that showed off her curves. As he took a second to look over her curves and her dress and how she got to wear what looked like much more comfortable footwear with her leather crisscrossed woven together strap sandals he found her throwing her arms around his neck, kissing him on the cheek. The action caused him to stumble slightly in his heels, his hands coming up to awkwardly pat Ana’s back. Their chests pressing against one another in such a tight embrace was not a feeling he was ready for.

"Hi, Ana. Thanks for inviting me," he managed, pitching his voice into that soft, breathy alto.

"Of course! Come, get a drink. You look amazing, by the way. Rather elegant for my birthday" Ana said, looping her arm through his and dragging him toward a makeshift bar in the kitchen. The small home was packed. People were dancing, shouting over the music in rapid-fire Spanish that he couldn’t follow and drinking heavily. Calvin felt entirely out of his depth. He was used to being at small intimate dinner parties or slipping in to rub elbows at corporate galas at his hotel and VIP men's club lounges, not cramming into a sweaty living room with his housekeeping staff.

“Did you say it was your birthday!?” He asked as Ana handed him a plastic cup filled with something pink and intensely alcoholic. “And.. umm I wasn’t trying to be elegant, I just believe in overdressing.”

“Sí, but it is no big deal.” Ana said, responding to the question.

“No big deal!?” Calvin heard a deep booming voice say as a tall man that Cal could objectively call handsome with his thick dark hair and a confident smirk slid into the space beside them.”No, no, no no. Ana María! This is our day and your party. How can you say it is no big deal when you made sure we all knew it was your birthday month and day off at your party? It is now no big deal!?” The man gestured with practically every word.

Raising an eyebrow Cal took a sip of the drink, finding it was sweet and alcoholic the exact kind of thing he could use to make it through the party. Leaning in close, pas the stranger Calvin repeated the name he heard the man say. Ana María?”

Hearing the question Ana raised her index finger slightly in the air to her left. “Ana.” She said moving the finger to point to the right. “María or Ana for short, not to confuse the gringos at work.”

Snapping his fingers the man spoke up to talk over the music. "Sis, you didn't tell me you were hiding supermodels at that hotel of yours," the man said, his dark eyes raking brazenly over Calvin's body. The gaze lingered at Calvin's cleavage that the tied sweating seemed to practically draw the man's eyeline to, before slowly dragging their way down his body then back up to his face.

Being looked at like a present the man wanted to open caused Cal’s stomach to recoil. It was the exact same look he gave women at bars or just in general. To be on the receiving end of it made his skin crawl with a mixture of disgust and terrifying vulnerability.

"Down, boy," Ana laughed, swatting the man's chest. "Clara, this is my brother, Mateo. Mateo, be a gentleman for once. Clara is my friend, a dreamer and is a good girl." The hispanic birthday girl said, tilting her head from left to right with each descriptive word to describe his feminine alter ego.

Using one hand to make an open palmed pushing motion like to say pump your brakes. "I'm always a gentleman," Mateo purred, stepping closer. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing the gold bangle on Calvin's wrist. "It's a pleasure, Clara. Ana talks about her time at work but her keeping you a secret does this world no justice."

Calvin’s jaw tightened. He wanted to punch or at least slap the man’s hand away and tell him to fuck off. Instead. He just stood there as he felt a one handed hug and a kiss on his cheek. Shame filling him, a blush coming to his cheeks from embarrassment and that overwhelming shame, he lowered his thick eyelashes, offering a shy, tight-lipped smile. "Nice to meet you, Mateo."

"So, what does a beautiful girl like you do when she's not making beds?" Mateo asked, leaning in close enough that Calvin could smell the man’s cologne and the scent of tequila. “Perhaps you could show me how to properly make my bed?”

Calvin’s skin crawled, touching his cheek where he had been kissed, the blush on his cheek only grew. The sheer audacity of the line, combined with the kiss and Mateo leaning in so close, sent a spike of pure panic through his system. He needed to get away, to put distance between them, but as he shifted his weight, his stiletto caught awkwardly on the edge of the kitchen mat.

Stumbling, his hands flew up to catch his balance, the plastic cup in his grasp tipped forward. A wave of the sticky, intensely pink alcohol sloshed directly over the rim and splashed right onto the center of Mateo’s dress shirt.

"Oh, shit!" Mateo hissed, jumping back as the cold liquid soaked through the fabric, clinging to his torso.

Panic filling him, Calvin, only reacted, not thinking."I…I… I’m so sorry!" Calvin squeaked, his voice pitching high in shock.

Mateo held the soaked fabric away from his skin, shaking his head with a rueful chuckle. "Well, that's one way to cool me down." Without missing a beat, his hands went to his buttons. "Good thing it's hot in here."

Half pointing in the air with a slightly curled index finger, Ana teetered her finger between her brother and friend taking in how much Clara was blushing.

Before Calvin could look away, Mateo pulled the ruined shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Frozen, Cal’s eyes involuntarily were drawn to the man's exposed torso. Mateo wasn't some hulking bodybuilder like Sidney, or at least what Sid’s body promised he once looked like but Mateo was undeniably fit. Lean, defined abdominal muscles gave way to a broad, dark hair covered chest.

"Here, let me..." Calvin stammered, his mind short-circuiting. Acting on pure, panicked instinct, he spun around and snatched a damp dish rag off the kitchen counter behind them. Turning back he immediately started dabbing at the splashes of pink liquor that had made it onto Mateo's stomach and chest through his shirt. But the moment Calvin’s hand made contact, his brain came to a screeching halt.

The disguised man’s lilac acrylics rested starkly against Mateo’s tanned, hard pectoral muscle. He could feel the warmth radiating off the man's skin, the thrum of his heartbeat. His mind trying to reboot, Cal didn’t move his eyes on his hand that looked all too delicate then to meet the man's dark brown eyes.The reality of his delicate, manicured hand resting intimately on another man's bare chest hit Calvin like a freight train.

Mateo and Ana watched Clara stand there, her hand on his chest. Her frozen in place with her mouth slightly open, her wide, mascara-heavy eyes staring into his eyes. Taking in the beautiful, dark-haired girl standing frozen in front of him, biting her lip and staring at him in return with her wide eyes. He put one hand on her hip taking a deep breath, him just enjoying the gentle weight of her hand lingering against him, it was easy for Mateo to have a confident smirk return to his face.

With his sister's friend in what looked like unadulterated awe, Mateo leaned forward, his smirk only growing in size. "Like what you feel, princesa?" Mateo murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Calvin’s gaze had been drifting as his mind reeled before snapped up, locking onto Mateo's dark eyes, this time he was actually able to grasp what he was seeing. The party's music came roaring back to his attention. It along with so much had faded in that moment, yet he felt trapped like a deer in headlights. Unable to speak, Calvin for some reason bit his bottom lip.

With Clara looking so demure,unmoving from his personal space and her hand lingering on his chest while his was on her hip was an invitation Mateo had ever seen one. Reached up, he gently cupped the side of Clara’s soft cheek. His gaze dropped to her pouty lips. He was inches away, the scent of his cologne filling Calvin's senses as he closed in for the kiss.

As her brother made his move, Ana yanked the dish cloth from Clara's hand and tossed it in a way that it draped over his face. “Not so fast Romeo. I'm not going to have the two of you start dating just before you leave town. Clara doesn't need your drama. Trust me girl. He is cute, but he is trouble you do not want.

Taking a step back Mateo pulled the rag from his face and tried to school his expression instead of blowing up at his sister. Laughing it off like it was a joke, he wiped his chest off before giving his sister a smug smirk and rolling his head to look back at Clara. “My sister, she teases, but if I were Romeo, I would have you as my Juliet.

Finally breaking free of the moment's momentum, Cal swiveled his head around, looking for an escape.

“To answer your question.” Ana said, moving to her brother's side and hip bumping him. “She works her but off like the rest of the staff.”

Wanting the conversation to end and get another drink, Cal shifted in place, incredibly happy for Ana’s intervention. "Oh, you know. Just... trying to get by," Calvin lied, wishing he could take a sip of the overly sweet drink to avoid having to talk.

Picking up his shirt, Mateo tossed it over one shoulder before responding to Clara and all but ignoring his sister. "I respect that. Hustle is important," Mateo said, puffing his chest out slightly. "I'm actually about to make some big moves myself. I’m putting together a new business venture out east. Miami, maybe New York. Import, logistics... the kind of thing that takes real capital. I'm just here visiting Ana Maria, my older… much older sister. before finalizing some investments."

Finances, the logistics behind them, that was Calvin’s world and sounded like a much better topic of Clara Diane Bent. “Entrepreneurship, I can understand that. What is your big idea?”