CHAPTER 7
“Who the hell are you?”

What a lovely welcome.

“Diane Owens. I’m on secondment here”

“Ah! The fresh meat! Kettle’s over there; white, two sugars for me”

As Camille Jean Laignaux adapts to her strange new world, Sally has questions that aren't getting answered while Camille connects with her dad and long lost family.

Copyright © 2017 by AuP reviner

I was slightly fearful when I was ushered into the presence of the President. All the Secret Service and White House Officials were very standoffish or downright rude towards me from the moment I’d arrived at Camp David. Despite the summons coming from the man himself, they treated me with an attitude that was in my opinion insulting. They made it clear that I was not very welcome. I guessed that with the pending inauguration they had their hands full.

“Please come on in and take a seat,” he replied in his distinctive New England accent.

In the living room
Underneath the beautiful tree
In the pale glow of the late Christmas afternoon turned night
My brother is wearing a tutu

He squeals and leaps
As he stretches at the barre we got him
The joy from the morning pasted on his face
Fourteen years old
But a little girl still

His beauty is pure
His excitement over his gifts true
His wig, a shield from those who would intrude
His Sephora gift card, a weapon
No goddess ever better armed

A modern twist on a classic story
[At a house in a more fashionable part of Washington DC]

“We are going to the President’s Inauguration Ball next week. I saw we, but naturally a non-entity like yourself won’t be going of course but we will make sure that you don’t sit down while we are out,” said my sister Sapphire with a smirk on her face.

I'm confused. Well, more than I usually am, and that's a bad sign. I need Identity, I need a Label to pin my hopes and dreams to. I thought I was a Transvestite, but lately I have found out that is too clinical a word and I shouldn't use it. So I tried being a TV but the rabbit ears kept falling off my head and the satellite dish was just unbearable.

Well, I had admitted that I liked being a girl at times, but that I liked being a boy when I was with Sandy. My project, or maybe my performance was no secret, and most of my friends and acquaintances thought it was funny. On the other hand, a few people thought it was perverted, and made no secret of that.

I was even hit on by a few boys who admitted that they were gay, as if my cross dressing in some way made me gay. I gently corrected their misapprehensions. What was more interesting were the number of girls who hit on me. They made it clear that they wanted me as a girlfriend, since I looked sexy as a girl, and I had my male parts. I told them that I already had a girlfriend.

To everyone, I made it plain that my motivation to wear a dress had nothing to do with sex or my gender; I was motivated by getting an ‘A’ on my project.

“Yeah, but you seemed to be enjoying wearing a dress and acting like a girl. Way too much for just an ‘A’ it seems to me,” one of my male friends said.

“Well,” I responded, “I thought it best to act the part as well as I could. I always want to do my best.”

“Yeah,” he replied, “but you make one sexy chick. If I didn’t know better, I’d ask you out.”

This publication is an ongoing continuation of the story by Reuxin called "Suhara of Curses". It picks up immediately after the events of the last chapter of Reuxin's story, and uses their world and characters, along with some world building I've done. Please read the original publication before you read this one otherwise you won't know what is going on!

Thank you for reading! Enjoy :D

Chapter 49 - A New Beginning

Dear Mr. Sears,

I know that it may seem strange for me to be writing you, after all you've been dead for many years, but my friends at the Psychic Network tell me that this may be the only way I'll attract the attention of the store you left behind.

CHAPTER 6
It wasn’t easy. A simple thing to say, but emphatically true. I wasn’t just trying to read, inwardly digest and retain such things as a shedload of criminal law, statute, call it what you will, as well as the serried hierarchy of what felt like a cross between some sort of monastic order, but deal with all sorts of fitness testing and ‘safety’ training.