Fuck normal, time to scheme

I wouldn't say I got back to normal, but I _did _manage to disentangle myself from the character I was while I was with Julia. I accomplished that by immersing myself in another role – Rayanne's beard.

I wasn't going to get her in my bed until the next day, but I would have to lay some groundwork. I did a little research on her, her family, and her story. I thought through some ideas of how to use it all to my advantage, both in bed and in life. By late afternoon, a plan was forming. The great thing about my app-derived power was that if things didn't go as planned, I could always just command my girls to do what I wanted. But I would rather plant seeds that would lead them to make the choices I wanted without me having to directly command them. I think for me, a lot of this weekend was about the fun of playing a game. A game with lives and futures at stake and little to no risk for me, but a game all the same.

I first found Sandra, who was in the guest room at my desk, doing work for her job. “How goes it?” I asked.

“Good,” she chirped, then stretched her arms up, leaned back and rested her head against my belly. “I've just finished yesterday's work. If I have enough time tonight and tomorrow, I won't need to go in on Monday and we can spend it the way you planned.

I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “You're amazing,” I told her. Then I updated her on my status with some of the girls. Jenna needed to be in my bed that night, and Sandra the next night. Otherwise, the rest could play out in any order, as long as Inez had to wait until Sunday. “But no pressure,” I assured her. “These things have been working themselves out most of the time.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say that,” she corrected me. “Just because you didn't see the hands at work behind the scenes doesn't mean they weren't hard at work.”

I smiled. “Like I already said, babe, you are amazing.”

Finally, I informed her that I would be taking Rayanne out for a few hours and that it was important.

“A dinner date?” she pouted.

“A serious conversation that requires privacy... and which requires that we be seen in public, which is going to be happening more and more. And yes, we'll get dinner while we're out. But when I come back, I should probably spend time with girl number... which is it?”

“Number nine,” she answered, shaking her head in wonder.

“God help me,” I joked.

“God help us all,” Sandra teased back.

I went off to find Rayanne. I was stopped in the hallway by Inez, who asked to speak with me privately. “Not right now,” I said dismissively. “I have someone else I need to speak with urgently.” Inez sighed in frustration and stomped her foot before walking away. I walked past the kitchen table and saw Misty was looking at baby clothes online. I smirked knowingly. I had assigned her a little case of baby fever for the weekend. Looking around and scanning the apartment, I finally spotted Rayanne. She was on my recliner, but upside-down. Her feet were in the air and her head dangled over the edge of the seat. She had a book in her hand, and while it was upside down to us, it would have looked correct to her.

“Hey,” I said, gently kicking the chair to get her attention. “We need to talk.” It's harder to read facial expressions upside-down, but Rayanne was annoyed and confused, clearly enough. “Walk with me,” I commanded. She quickly complied, slipping on her shoes and joining me at the door.

“Favorite food?” I asked.

“Korean,” she shrugged. We made our way to the nearest Korean BBQ and settled in for a meal. Not a word had passed between us other than where to eat. Rayanne was waiting for me to explain myself, I guess.

“So, tell me about this thing with your parents and their trust fund,” I said, once we had ordered our food.

Rayanne proceeded to give me just the basics, scarcely more than she had already told us when drinking last night. Huge trust fund, hers when she turns 25, redirected 100% to her parents' favorite charities if she was living a gay lifestyle. Once she was done, I ordered her, “Rayanne, answer all my questions honestly and clearly. Now, how did your parents explain to you their 'morality clause?'”

“They didn't,” she answered, which surprised me. Seeing the look on confusion on my face, Rayanne smiled. I really liked her smile. Honestly, it was hard for me to stop looking at her eyes, which were a stunningly bright blue. But when she smiled, hoo boy, I was in trouble.

Seeing as no further explanation was forthcoming, I commanded, “Explain.”

“A paralegal at their lawyer's office tipped me off.”

"Sounds dicey. Unethical, maybe,” I prodded.

“A paralegal who is... very sympathetic to my life choices,” she explained. “And who is equally frustrated by the political and social leanings of his employer. Willing to risk his position in order to do the right thing. If anything happens to him for helping me become well-off, he'll be cared for.”

Ah, OK. A gay person at the office. Made sense. “And how much money are we talking about here?”

“Stupid money,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I don't know exactly, but in the high eight or low nine figures. Worth compromising my dignity for a few years, I'm convinced.”

“Yeah, I would agree,” I said, stunned. That was more than I had been thinking. “And tell me, how specific is this morality clause? Do you have to be married to a guy? What if you're just dating? If you're sleeping with him but not married, does that violate the clause?”

She laughed. “No, not married. I don't even have to be dating. But they need to be convinced I'm not living a 'morally or sexually deviant lifestyle.' Of course, it's up to them and their lawyer to define that. And my source says that in conversation at least, they're all agreed that me still being single just confirms that I'm gay. In their mind, sleeping with a guy is more natural, and therefore it's OK, even if we're not married.”

“Well that's just... weird. Silly. Arbitrary. I'm not sure I know the right word.”

“It's all that and more. But the thing about people with money to burn is that they want to use it to control people, to shape them into something that suits their ideas.” Ouch. That struck a little close to home. It wasn't money, but my power had made me guilty of the same thing. “So that's how I got to this point,” she concluded. “I need a convincing beard to play the part until my parents and anyone else necessary is persuaded that I'm straight as an arrow.”

“So you just need someone to introduce to them and act like a boyfriend?” I asked.

“Yes and no,” she frowned. “I'm pretty sure a simple meet and greet won't cut it. In fact, I've started to suspect I'm being watched now and then. A private detective shadowing me and chronicling my habits, that sort of thing. I stopped going to any LGBT hangouts. I stopped going on dates. I distanced myself from most of my friends. I long ago scrubbed my social media...” She sighed and looked sadly into the distance. “I feel like a fraud, but then I think of how much good I could do with that money.”

“So you're like, going undercover to steal the enemy's weapon.”

Rayanne smirked and wagged her head. “I don't think of my parents as my enemies. Damn, it's hard to explain the... the complicated dynamic.”

Our food had arrived and we were starting to focus on eating. I urged Rayanne to tell me more about her family, her childhood, her coming out, and her dreams for the future. Once the meal was winding down, I broached a different topic.

“So you said you were bi, but not really. Help me understand that.”

“I don't know,” she began. “There's probably a better word for it, but I'm not so much attracted to a person's gender as I am to the person. I'm sexually attracted to people that I really like. And for the most part, that's been women. Men don't gross me out, but they don't automatically get my motor running, either. I can enjoy sex with a guy, but only if I really find the guy to be a good person. You could say I'm more attracted to souls than to bodies. And, to be honest, it's been a long time - if ever - since I met a guy that checks that box. No offense.”

I processed this information while planning out next steps. Rayanne didn't seem to mind the silence. She was slurping down the small bowl of ice cream that followed the meal and was paying me little mind. I paid the bill and we got up to walk back to my place. As we walked, I set my plan in motion.

“Rayanne, you will be receptive to my ideas and suggestions on this topic.” With that command in place, I proceeded. “The problem, as I see it, is that you're asking a lot of this beard. You said he'll get a cut. How much are we talking?”

“I was thinking about 5%” she answered, which was very generous.

“OK, but also, have you considered how hard this will be to pull off?”

“I think so. I'm quite worried about that, actually.”

“Well, Rayanne, I think I should be your beard. I think together we can convince your parents that we're a real couple.”

She was quiet a moment, minding her steps. Then she spoke. “I think that's a good idea.”

“But, Rayanne, it's going to take a lot of work. I mean... consider that at any point, they might be watching you. Watching us.” I reached my hand over and gently took her hand in mine. She flinched, but **** herself to relax and act natural. “We'd have to maintain the illusion whenever we're together. And at some point, I'll probably have to meet them, which means we'd have to be so comfortable with each other that they believe we are a real couple. We can't have you looking awkward or distant. You have to look and act affectionate. Look and act like with are comfortable and familiar with each other's body. Act like you desire me the way I desire you. We'll have to practice interacting at a much deeper level of intimacy than what we would show others, because they will be able to sense if what they're seeing is all there is to it, or if it's just the tip of the iceberg. We have to make sure there's a lot more to the iceberg than anyone sees. Do you get what I'm saying?”

It was a weak argument, I knew. That's why I told her to be receptive to it. I didn't think it would be persuasive on its own. But it was necessary groundwork to justify everything that would follow. “Yeah,” she said glumly. “I get it. And I think you're right. There has to be real intimacy, not fake. And the roots for that go beyond what we can pretend.”

“Right,” I nodded, giving her hand a little squeeze. We were arriving at my building. “I'll give you some time to think about it, OK? Time to get mentally ready. We can start tomorrow, how's that?”

Rayanne nodded. An idea occurred to me. A way to kill two birds with one stone.

“It's hard for you, isn't it? Cutting yourself off from women. How long has it been?”

A little moisture gleamed in the corner of her eye as we waited for the elevator. “A year and a half.”

“Do you miss a woman's touch?” I asked softly.

She nodded and sniffled. The elevator doors opened and we rode up to my floor in silence.

“Well, Rayanne, I have a little present for you tonight.” She looked at me curiously. We walked up to my door, and before I opened it, I said, “Go back to my bedroom and wash up. Sit in the chair, not on the bed, and I'll be back in a little bit, OK?” She narrowed her eyes and looked at me skeptically, but nevertheless she nodded. We entered the apartment and parted ways.