Chapter 64 Chevy
Chevy
Anja had consumed over a dozen oysters and nearly a whole bottle of champagne. She’d stopped talking in the third person and to my surprise had even called for a cigar.
“They have the good shit here. Cubans!”
I’d smoked a cigar or two in my lifetime, but they were always very slim, very delicate, very ladylike. Not Anja, she was stomping with the big boys.
“So,” she said, after taking a few puffs of her cigar, “how about if I make you an indecent proposal?”
“How about it?” I said loosely. Oh, did I forget to mention that I had also gone through a bottle of champagne and was now sipping on some very smooth cognac at the time?
My head was light, the weather warm, and the bartender had made it his business to give me the eye as he cleared some glasses away from a nearby table.
I was feeling no pain.
Anja laughed naughtily before her eyes narrowed, then her face turned serious as she leaned in and said, “I want to fuck you, Chevanese Cambridge.”
That wasn’t something I was expecting. I felt my buzz begin to slip. “Wha-what did you say?”
Anja got up and pulled her chair around the table so that she was almost in my face. “I said I wanted to fuck you,” she repeated, her hot smoky breath singeing my earlobe.
I made a face and looked at the empty bottles of champagne on the table. Surely she was drunk out of her skull.
“I’m straight,” I said brightly, turning to face her.
“Yeah, well, so am I,” she said, and winked. Her hand was slowly stroking my thigh. “I’m not looking for some free pussy; I’m willing to give you an opportunity to live like me for one week, if you let me…” She trailed off, and I could see that she was staring hungrily at my crotch.
Bells were going off in my head.
“What exactly do you mean, ‘to live like you’?” I ventured.
Anja smiled. “Well, let’s put it this way, you want to have your own television show, right?”
I nodded my head.
“I’ll let you sit in as my replacement for one week.”
I mulled over the idea. That really wasn’t enough for me to spread my legs for a bitch and break umpteen years of heterosexual behavior, now was it?
“What else?” I pressed.
Anja sat back. “Oh, you know how to handle yourself. I like that in a woman,” she purred, and then licked her lips. I shivered but kept my composure.
“How does five thousand dollars cash sound? Plus, you’ll get to live in one of my homes and I’ll give you access to my um…Nordstrom account.”
My eyes popped.
“You’re shitting me, right?”
“Not at all,” Anja said, and her hand was suddenly on my shoulder, eagerly massaging it.
I twisted my mouth. The last time I’d agreed to use my body to make money, I almost landed in jail. I didn’t know about this.
“Who’s to say you’ll do all of these things if I give myself to you?” I said, finishing the cognac and calling for another, my mind already made up.
“I have a contract and my notary public here,” she said, leaning in and stealing a lick off of my shoulder. I saw a couple across the dining room point and giggle.
“Stop it,” I hissed, moving my chair away from hers.
“Look-See,” Anja began. “I gotta have you.”
So this was really what a Look-See was all about, I thought as the waiter set a fresh snifter of cognac down before me.
“Okay, okay,” I agreed when my buzz had returned and I realized I would probably never have this opportunity again.
Anja snapped her fingers, and out of nowhere appeared the geisha woman, contract in hand. “This is my mother,” Anja said as she gently stroked the woman’s face.
“Oh,” I responded flatly.
Nothing after that would ever surprise me. If George W. Bush himself, sporting a pointed tail and dressed in a red cape, had suddenly walked across the floor and introduced himself as the devil, I wouldn’t have even blinked an eye in disbelief.
“Sign here, initial there, and there, and sign here,” Anja said, then her mother stamped the document and added her own signature before giving me a carbon copy and scampering off again.
“Well then, shall we?” Anja said.
“Um, yeah, but can I get that bottle of cognac to go?” I asked as I stood up.
***
We agreed that she would meet me in my cottage at midnight. I took a shower, shaved my legs, clipped the hair around my vagina, and then thought I must be mad, because I was preparing myself the way I would for a dude!
I was nervous as hell, even after all the cognac. At ten to midnight, I started to get dressed and go over to her suite to call the whole thing off, but just when I began to open the door, I saw through the crack that she was coming up the stairs!
I closed the door, and, hopping on the bed, I wiggled out of the skirt and blouse I’d thrown on and then lay there, stiff as a board, in nothing but a thong.
Like I said, I’d been preparing as if I were about to get some dick, so I had lit some candles and placed them strategically around my cottage.
“Hello, hello,” Anja called when she stepped into the room.
“Hi,” I said, my voice cracking.
Anja came to stand over me. “Why so uptight?” she said before she leaned down and pressed her lips against mine.
“I’m not uptight,” I lied as I lay there, my arms by my sides, my legs crossed tightly.
“Don’t worry, darling,” she cooed. “You’re really going to enjoy this.”
I closed my eyes when she started rolling up the dress. I didn’t want to look at her pussy and lose my dinner. She was humming. I didn’t recognize the tune. But I thought it might be from a horror flick.
When I decided I would peek, she was standing there in nothing but a full-body girdle. I almost laughed out loud. Anja the Anaconda wore a girdle!
“Are you ready?” she said, her voice huskier than I’d ever heard it.
“Uh-hmm,” I said.
Anja turned her back to me and slowly, seductively, began pulling one strap down and then the other. Her back was tight and her shoulders broad. She had the body of an athlete.
Anja tugged and tugged and then bent over and stepped out of the girdle. She had a rock-hard ass, and I wondered how I could get mine that way.
“Are you ready?” she purred.
I wasn’t, so I said nothing and closed my eyes just as she was making a slow, dramatic turn toward me.
As I lay there waiting to feel her hands on me, I remembered a saying my grandmother was always fond of: “Y’all will know I’ve gone and lost my whole mind when you see me giving my money to a man or laying down with a woman!”
From the situation I’d found myself in, I assumed I’d lost at least half of my mind.
“Open your eyes, Chevy.” Anja’s voice filtered through my thoughts.
I took a deep breath, then slowly opened my eyes and found myself staring at at least ten inches of 100 percent prime FDA cock!
Anja wasn’t an Anja at all!
Anja was a man!