New Years Eve: Party time
André Trudeau’s home was an impressive, stately residence. As Jean-Michel and I walked up the steps he asked “Are you ready for this?” for the tenth time.
“I can do this. Don’t I look like arm candy?” I had worn a form fitting black dress. It had a “halter tie top” that really put my boobs on display.
“You look great; I just worry about you fitting in.” He says.
At the door I wrap my arm around his. “Stop worrying. Tonight I’m just one of the girls.”
The house was huge. There was a live band, servers walking around with trays of food and drink, and plenty of guests.
“Mr. Trudeau’s parties are always a social event. Guests include minor celebrities, politicians and of course people in Mr. Trudeau’s employ.” Jean-Michel tells me.
“Would you like a drink?” He asked.
“I would love a drink baby.” I give him a little grin.
“I’ll be right back.”
No sooner than Jean-Michel walked away than I hear “Ashlyn?” from nearby. I turn and see an attractive dark haired woman approaching me. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and had a lovely face with high cheekbones and large expressive brown eyes--which were wide with surprise. She was tallish and had a curvy, let elegant figure which was well on display in what looked like a very expensive black dress. She had a classic, sumptuous air about her.
“Oh my god. It is you.” She rushes over and hugs me. It had to be the real Elizabeth.
“Marie—Liz—Stop it. We shouldn’t act like we know each other!” I whisper strongly in her ear. “Besides, you know I’m not really Ashlyn.”
She lets go, and steps back. “I know.” She says sadly. “I was just so happy to see someone familiar. I’ve missed you…her.”
She shakes her head in disbelief. “You look just like her.”
Jean-Michel walks up and hands me a drink. “Hello Marie, I see you’ve met my date, Ashlyn Shelley. She’s come up from Boston.”
“She’s a pretty girl, Jean-Michel, too pretty for you.” Liz smiles at Jean-Michel. “I would like something to drink also. Would you mind getting me something?”
Jean-Michel gives Liz a look and then me. “You two will be okay while I am gone?”
“We girls will be fine.” Liz tells him. She turns to me. “So tell me about yourself Ashlyn. Tell me about Boston.”
I tell her all about myself—I just left out anything about not really being Ashlyn.
“I have a good friend Elizabeth, she going through something right now. She trying to balances a long term boyfriend and a lover on the side. It’s been difficult for her, but she seems to be pulling it off.” I’m a little bitter as I say this. I don’t like the position Liz has put Art.
Liz looks past me and puts a hand on my arm. “Please, don’t mention that to Jean-Michel.” Her face was pleading.
I was slightly surprised. “Okay Marie.”
Before I could find out why, Jean-Michel returned with a drink for Liz. “Sorry it took so long, people kept stopping me to ask me about my date.”
Liz made a face. “Some things never change.” She said under her breath.
I hear someone nearby exclaim something in French. I didn’t understand much, just the name “Marie!” We all turn to see a middle-aged man. He wore a snazzy, expensive suit, and I could tell he dyed his beard. He was enough of a physical presence to be personally intimidating; he gave me a dangerous vibe.
Liz turned and said something to him in French—and even though I didn’t speak French, I could tell from body language she was struggling.
“Come on Liz,” I could hear Jean-Michel speak under his breath, “You’ve had the French classes.”
“Marie” finally gets out whatever she was trying to say, and then there is an awkward pause as André Trudeau looked me over.
Jean-Michel jumps forward and shakes the man’s hand. They exchange a few words in fluent French. Jean-Michel didn’t seem to be having the same issues as Marie.
“Ashlyn, this is André Trudeau, the man who is giving this party.” Jean-Michel says to me.
Showtime. I give him a big smile. “Is this your home? This is a beautiful place.” I gushed.
André gives me a tight lipped smile. “You’ve been holding out on us Jean-Michel, Ashlyn is very beautiful.” He spoke in with a thick French accent. He stuck his hand out towards me. I thought for a moment he wanted to shake my hand, so I reciprocated. I was wrong. He took my hand leaned over and kissed it. It made my skin crawl. Worse, he didn’t let my hand go. He placed his other hand on top of my hand—it was subtle, and passive aggressive, but it was some kind of message: you are within my power.
I’ve only known this guy for a minute, and we barely spoken, but he seriously gave me the creeps.
We make small talk for several minutes. He held my hand the entire time.
“André,” Liz asked, “Would you mind if Ashlyn went into the library? I would like to show her some of the photographic prints you have in there.”
“You have an interest in photography?” He eyes me.
“Yes. I just got a new camera for Christmas. I’m struggling with it though—it’s soooo complicated.” I smile at him again.
He pats the back of my hand. “I normally don’t let people into the library, but I’ll make an exception this time.”
He turns to Jean-Michel. “Not you. Just the ladies. I have some people I want you to meet.”
André kissed my hand again. “I need to circulate through the crowd. I hope to see you later. Jean-Michel, you are with me.”
Jean-Michel gives me a nervous look. “I’ll be fine.” I tell him. André had finally let go of me, so turn to Jean-Michel and gave him a passionate kiss. I was hoping it might help convince André that he had no concerns about “Marie” and Jean-Michel.
It was the fourth time I had kissed Jean-Michel. Damned if I didn’t enjoy it too.
“Go do your thing; I’ll catch up with you. Don’t forget you owe me a dance.” I tried to sound seductive.
Liz and I immediately made our way to the library. She pulled the large rolling library door closed. “We can talk in here.” She announced.
She walks over and gives me a hug. “Thank you for coming. You have no idea what hearing about home does for me.”
“No problem. I’m glad I could come.”
She lets me go and we take some chairs near the fireplace. “Are you sure you were a guy before? That kiss was kind of hot.”
I shrug. “I’ve learned to improvise.” I hesitate, not knowing where to start. “How are you holding up Elizabeth?
“It’s been awful. I’m terrified of André. Being his mistress isn’t much better than being a whore…the things he makes me do…” She gathers herself. “Plus there’s the French thing. I took years of high school French, and for some reason I can’t seem to remember much of it.”
“How can André’s mistress be at his New Year’s Eve party? Shouldn’t you be a secret?”
“I came as the ‘date’ of one of André’s men.” Liz stated. “André likes to keep me close.”
I think we both felt we couldn’t be missing for very long so we talked quickly.
We discussed the pseudo plan to get everyone back to their bodies. I told her about Ashlyn’s desire to stay as Jean-Michel.
“She's really gotten into living Jean-Michel’s life. It's a side of her I'd never seen before.” Liz said.
“There is another problem with Ashlyn,” Liz adds. “The expensive car, the expensive condo and clothes—Jean-Michel wasn’t making enough money to afford all that stuff. I hear rumors that people in the organization wonder where Jean-Michel has gotten his windfall of cash. Jean-Michel wasn’t high enough in the organization to make that kind of money.”
“Could you talk to her?” She pleaded.
I said I would.
We discussed everything I knew about Art and his situation again. “What’s the reason we are keeping that from Jean-Michel?”
Liz sighed. “Shame. Selfishness. I’m afraid if Ashlyn—Jean-Michel—found out, I would be revealed to be the big hypocrite that I am, and she wouldn’t have anything to do with me. I don’t think I can survive this without her.”
“Why would Ashlyn care?”
“Because when we were roommates I gave her hell for her for the way she used men and threw them away.”
“And you think cheating on Ray would piss Ashlyn off.” I state.
“Yeah, something like that.” She admits.
We talked about other things for a while, but eventually we felt we couldn’t be away any longer. We returned to the party.
I found Jean-Michel off in a room with a bunch of guys smoking cigars.
I sexily walk into the room. “Are girls allowed in here? Or is this a guy’s only room?”
“We’ll make an exception.” I didn’t see who said it. I walk over to Jean-Michel and lean into him. “Hey baby, when are we going to dance? How about now? Don’t you want to dance with me?” I smile.
“Sorry gentlemen, if you will excuse me, the lady wants to dance.” Jean-Michel says to the group.
We danced and drank and had a really good time for the next couple of hours. Several times Jean-Michel would introduce me to different guests. A few times he conversed in French.
“Where did you learn French? Liz is dying.” The band was loud enough that I though it was safe to talk.
Jean-Michel grinned. “Liz took six years of French in junior high and high school while I was busy fucking the hockey team, most of them spoke French.”
I laughed. It was really funny to hear the manly Jean-Michel admit to fucking the hockey team.
Fifteen minutes until midnight the wait staff started handing out glasses of champagne.
We get to the last ten seconds and people start counting down.
“3! 2! 1!” the crowd yelled.
And for the fifth time I found myself kissing Jean-Michel. People were yelling and cheering, and champagne corks were popping—and we kept on kissing. Eventually we came up for air, but I found that I didn’t really want to stop. It was a scary feeling.
The party broke up pretty quickly after midnight. I got the feeling no one wanted to keep André up any later than he wanted.
We made sure to thank André for inviting us. He took my hand again, and kisses it again.
“You need to visit again. You seem to have a positive effect on Marie. I haven’t seen her this happy in quite a while.” He tells me.
In the car Jean-Michel turns to me, “You were amazing! You did great.”
“I’m just glad it’s over.” I was still thinking about that last kiss.
We get back to the condo and Jean-Michel puts on music again. Tonight it’s Ray Charles.
Jean-Michel walks up close and whispers “Are you alright? You seem upset.”
The first thing I had done getting back to the condo was to slip off my heels. I ended up looking up at him. My leap before I look nature took over and I reached up and pulled him down to me, kissing him again.
This time I could feel his hands traveling over my body. It felt good.
I suddenly come to my senses and I pull away from him. What was I doing?
Jean-Michel gets up close again. “What’s going on?”
“I’m confused, okay!” I quietly hiss at him. “I’m a man, damn it! I shouldn’t be having these thoughts!”
We stand there for a moment, Ray Charles singing away.
“Come with me.” Jean-Michel whispers.
He takes my hand. I resist.
“Trust me; I want to show you something.” He insists.
He starts to lead me into the bedroom. I really resist then.
“I want you to come with me and stand in front of the big mirror in my bedroom.” He whispers. “Trust me.” He leans in and kisses me. I loose a little of my resolve, and allow him to lead me into the bedroom and in front of a big mirror.
He steps back. “What do you see?” He whispers.
“I see myself.” I say.
“And how would you describe yourself?” He asks, stepping closer.
Every since I had gotten over the shock of being turned into Ashlyn, I have spent a great deal of time gazing into mirrors. I never get tired of it.
“Beautiful.” I whisper, it seemed wrong to say that about myself. I was slightly ashamed.
Standing behind me, Jean-Michel kisses me on the neck. I watch it happen in the mirror, and feel it happen. It’s nice.
“A beautiful WOMAN.” He stresses.
He loosens the halter top, and the top of the dress falls away, revealing the black strapless bra I had worn underneath. He kisses my shoulders and slides the dress down; I am standing there in nothing but my bra and thong. His hands were touching me all over and it felt amazing, he knew how to touch this body.
“Am I right?” He asked.
In the mirror I watch him as he unhooks my bra, and because it was strapless, it falls away. Seeing my breasts is always a turn on. His hands began to caress the bottom of my breasts.
“Am I right?” He persists.
“YYYeeessss.” It was something between a sigh and a moan.
I could feel myself getting wet. Jean-Michel was hitting all the right buttons.
“Look at those breasts, the hair the hips—you are a sexy woman.” He whispers. “Wouldn’t you agree?”
I was so enjoying the image in the mirror.
My nipples were hard and pointing; his fingers start to lightly play with them. I gasp.
“Say it.” He pushed. “Say it.”
I didn’t understand why he was demanding I say it. It was confusing. I considered telling him to stop.
Then one of his hands found its way inside the thong. His fingers began to massage the area around my clitoris. It was a new level of pleasure. I realized then that I didn’t want to stop. I wanted more.
“I’m a sexy woman.” He wanted to hear it, and I needed him to keep doing what he was doing. “Don’t stop. Ohmigod. Please don’t stop.”
He slid the thong down my legs. I helped. I stepped one leg out, and then kicked the thong off the other.
Jean-Michel somehow got out of his clothes quickly and gracefully.
I didn’t need the mirror anymore. I turned to him and we kiss, our mouths and tongues exploring each other.
We fell into the bed.
“You want to be on top.” He says to me quietly. “I know your body—it will give you more control.”
He laid there on his back and I nervously crawled up on top of him. I slowly lower myself onto him. The sense of penetration was odd, but felt good. Oh so good.
“You set the pace. When you think you might be close, let me know.” He tells me.
I lean forward slightly, resting my hands on his chest, and start experimenting with movement. I found a spot and movement that really worked for me fairly quickly.
“Ohmigod!” I kept saying it over and over.
My boobs were bouncing up and down and my hair kept getting in my eyes and mouth.
“I’m close!” I yell. I could feel the orgasm coming. I recognized it from my experiments with masturbation.
Jean-Michel rolled us both over into a missionary style position.
“What are you?” He asked.
This was no time for head games. I wanted my orgasm. This little pause was making it slip away.
“A woman. A sexy woman, alright? Now finish me damn it!” I yelled at him.
We continue, and he picks up the pace. I wrap my legs around him.
I was close, so damn close.
“I’m cumming!” I yell, and I did. My whole body shook.
Moments later, Jean-Michel came too.
He rolls off me after we both catch our breath. We lay there in the afterglow for a while.
“I’m a mess.” I announce. “And I am lying in the wet spot.”
“One of the downsides of being a woman.” Jean-Michel teases.
“There are a few upsides.” I roll over and kiss him. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Twenty minutes later I was back in bed—and to my surprise Jean-Michel had changed the sheet. “I always hated the wet spot too.” He whispered.
I hadn’t bothered with clothes; I just crawled into bed next to him. We ended up spooning.
“When is your flight back?” He asked.
“I’m supposed to fly back tomorrow.” I answer. “But if you don’t mind, I thought I might push it back a day.” I turn to face him, and kiss him. “I was hoping you might show me a few more positions before I go.” I whisper.
“I’d like that.”
Jean-Michel didn’t have any business to take care of on New Year Day, so we stayed in and made good use of our time.
We have dinner before I leave the following day. I had been putting it off, but I finally asked Jean-Michel how he was affording his extravagant lifestyle. It didn’t go over very well. He told me to mind my own business. We didn’t say anything the entire drive to the airport. He gets out and puts my luggage on the sidewalk. I grab him as he walks by.
“I had a good time.” I say sincerely. “Thank you for showing me things.”
I kissed him. “Bye Jean-Michel.”
He kissed me back. “Goodbye Ashlyn.”
I wave as he drove away, turned and headed into the airport.
My first thought as I sat there waiting on my plane was “I need to get all this in the blog.” My second thought was “It’s going to be tough to face Art after this.”