Start your story with, "Even before I opened the
letter, I knew what it was going to say..."
Approx.
2,754 words
The
Letter
©2003
by W. E. Lopez
Even before I opened the letter, I knew what it was going to
say. I’ve received dozens before, with
pictures of Ed McMahon and Dick Clark just under the logo from Publisher’s
Clearing House. Junk! What a waste of paper! This one, however, was different and I’ve
read it a dozen times. The return
address read Sweepstakes Selection
Committee, and it began “Congratulations
on your winning entry. We are pleased to
announce your selection to receive our prize for the fifth runner-up,
ONE-MILLION, TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!
“As you know, Publishers Clearing House depends upon
promotional spots featuring our winners.
We would like to invite you to spend three nights and four days in
fabulous
“Congratulations, MS Delight,” Patricia said. Yeah, I know it’s a silly sounding name, but
could you come up with something better than Synful
Delight for a stripper? “Welcome to the
PCH winner’s family. We have tentatively
scheduled our photo shoot for July 17th, that’s only twelve days away. Will you be available?”
I said I would and she began taking the information needed
to book my hotel reservations at the Venetian and first class tickets aboard
Pacific Air, from San Jose to Las Vegas, and that was how I came to be drinking
champagne in a first class seat with a landing in Las Vegas only twenty-five
minutes ahead of me. There were two
other women in first class, rich bitches on the downhill side of fifty with too
much jewelry and makeup that would have made Tammy Faye look conservative. The male travelers were a mix of business men
traveling at company expense and wealthy men looking for a good time in
Should I take the opportunity to arrange a dalliance with
one of these gentlemen? I decided not
to, not before learning about the photo shoot tomorrow. I certainly didn’t want to appear with my
eyes swollen and blood-shot. Instead I
fantasized about the prize money and the after-tax income if properly invested
in tax free munis for security, and second-trust
mortgages for high yield. I estimated a
monthly net of at least eight thousand for the rest of my life, and taking off
my clothes only when I wished to. No
more lap dances and letting drunken salesmen cop a feel just for tip money.
The descent into Vegas was routine, one that I had made many
times when allowing a client to rent my time for a few days away from his
wife. Getting time off from my boss was
never difficult; he was never short of T&A to fill out the daily schedule. The tires screeched with hardly a jar and we
were rolling up to the terminal in short order.
As soon as we pulled to a stop I headed for the exit with only my
handbag, having checked two traveling bags before we departed.
I am never amazed at the way men get out of the way when
they see a lovely pair of boobs headed down the aisle. It’s almost as though they are intimidated,
having been raised from birth to obey the TGIF rule; the other one that means “Tits go in Front.” They practically fall over their feet to
let a lady pass.
If you’ve never been to McCarran International, you’re in
for a treat when you leave the departure gate and step aboard the slide-walk
that takes you to baggage claim. I
always put my hand on the rail and strike a provocative pose, then chuckle to
myself when passing wives catch their husbands admiring my cleavage. “Give
it a break, babe. If you’d pay more
attention to him at home, he wouldn’t give me a second glance!”
When I reached the end of the slide-walk I saw the female
chauffeur holding a placard with my name upon it. I guess she recognized me right off, “MS
Delight? I’m Charley Sawyer. PCH sent me to greet you and drive you to the
Venetian; I’ll also pick you up at seven tomorrow morning.”
Charley wore a black suit with long pants and low
heels. I guess they were more suitable
for driving. She had an extremely close
hair cut and I wondered if she preferred right-hand drive or worked both sides
of the street. It’s none of my business,
live and let live I always say.
“Oh, my God!” I
said. “You mean people actually get up
at seven in the morning in this town?”
Charley chuckled.
“Actually, most of them are just going to bed after a night of revelry,
except for the locals who have to be at work by eight. The weather will probably get up to 108
degrees tomorrow, and Reynaldo, he’s our photographer, wants to take as many
pictures as possible before your hair style begins to melt. Can I help you get your bags?” she asked.
“That would be nice,” I said as she led me toward the
baggage claim. Airlines never seem to
get the luggage to arrive simultaneously with the passengers, so we spent ten
minutes waiting for my bags and making small talk. When they arrived, Charley grabbed them for
me and we headed to the exit. Her limo
was just across from the curb and she politely seated me then put my bags in
the trunk.
Dropping me at the Venetian, she handed my bags to the
porter and reminded me she would be here at seven sharp to collect me for the
photo shoot. “I’ll ask the front desk to
give me a wake up call,” I assured her.
The Venetian was new to me, I had never been there before,
and I was amazed at the expanse of it.
You can go to
That evening I played a few hands of black-jack and let a
nice gentleman pick me up and treat me to the show. Take it from the voice of experience ladies,
choose them over sixty. They’re probably
on medication for high blood pressure and can’t get it up, but they are
grateful as hell to be seen with a nifty piece of eye-candy on their arm. George
was an absolute gentleman and didn’t whine or pout when we left the showroom at
In my room I swallowed the half a dozen medications my
doctor prescribes, no recreational drugs for MS. Synful
Delight, thank you. After a relaxing
bubble-bath I crawled between the silk sheets and didn’t stir until that
confounded telephone woke me.
After a session with my tooth brush, a quick shower, an
interlude with my blow dryer, more pills and the inevitable war paint, I
decided I was ready to cope with the world.
I knew it would be hot, so I chose a print rayon blouse that was not
quite transparent, and pulled stretch slacks over my panty-hose, then added
faux glass slippers and a silver elastic belt to complete my ensemble. Advertising shoot or not, I could never
pretend to be MS. Prim and Proper.
Seven in the morning is a little early for most tourists in
“Good morning, MS. Delight,” she said. “I hope you had a quiet night?”
“I was chaste as a nun, Charley, but I certainly hope to
have more fun this evening.”
Charley slid behind the wheel and pulled away from the
hotel, drove down the strip a block or two and turned onto Interstate 15. “Where are we headed?” I asked.
“Ever hear of
“Vaguely, I think, but I don’t know much about it. Is it far?”
“Not very, we’ll be there in less than an hour. Reynaldo has this idea of using the
magnificent scenery to promote ‘see
It struck me as unusual that a chauffer would be involved
with the planning in the advertising department, but perhaps she was a
full-time employee of PCH as I’m sure they do this sort of thing practically
year round.
“I don’t mean to sound mercenary, Charley, but I think there
was a mention of compensation when I agreed to this shoot? Money, I mean?”
“Of course, MS. Delight. We realize your time
is valuable and you will be paid; Mr. Brandis of the
accounting department will meet us at the shoot and present you with the check
as soon as Reynaldo says we’re done. You
can appreciate it would not be wise to pay the money before the actual
performance.”
“Naturally,” I agreed.
I didn’t mention that I had often gone to bed for money, and it was
extremely poor business to wait until after the performance before getting the
cash.
You know, driving in the
“Almost there?” I asked.
“Yes’m.” In less than half a mile, she pulled over at
a litter barrel where a white pickup was parked. Quickly the rear door opened and Larry slid
into the seat across from me.
“What the…? What’s
going on here, Larry? Why such a big
gun? Is that compensation for your other
short comings? And I do mean short!”
“Shut up you pervert.
It’s my turn to get even. You
robbed me of my manhood and turned me into a eunuch. Until I get rid of you, I’ll never be able to
have a relationship again. Charley loves
me anyway, and we’ll be married as soon as I can wash the stench and guilt of
you out of my life.”
I knew I was in deep shit now. Larry had been my live-in lover for a few
weeks last year, quite a toy for me.
Then he learned my secret and beat the crap out of me before he
left. I had to take off work for two
months, and even then I could only take the stage with the help of lots and
lots of Cover Girl to hide the
bruises and contusions.
“Did you really think I would never know or care? How could you expect any man, except another
pervert, to live with you?”
“You never seemed to object, Larry. Can Charley do it to you the way I
could? Do you explode with pleasure when
she brings you to orgasm?”
“Shut up, you bitch!
I can’t stand the sight of you or the thought of what we did!”
“It didn’t seem to bother you then, Larry. You were always quite pleased to have a
beautiful woman at your side and to show me off in front of other men.”
“Woman,hell! You were born a man and no quack with a knife
can make a woman out of you!”
“But you loved being with me, Larry, and loved making love
with me.”
“You disgust me, you bitch!
You’re a pervert, a faggot, and I can’t wait to be rid of you!” He glanced at the highway and shouted to
Charley, “There! Turn left right
there! Then stop when I tell you.”
Charley did as she was told and Larry let her drive away
from the road for nearly half a mile before stopping her. He motioned with the pistol, “Get out,
bitch. This is as far as you go. There’s an abandoned mine shaft just behind
those bushes and after I cut off those fake tits, you’re gonna
have a close up and personal view, from about 200 feet down!”
Charley got out of the car and opened the door on my
side. I had no choice but to slide out
as Larry was still pointing that gun at me.
“Do you really think this will make him better,
Charley? He was always lousy in bed
anyway, but he did make me feel good when we were out and other men were
admiring me.”
“I’ve always heard men say that no one can give oral sex
better than a queer, Synful—or whatever your real
name is. Perhaps it’s true, but you
didn’t stop to think about the psychological damage it would do to your
partner, knowing he was participating in a homosexual act.”
“There was no need for him to know, Charley. I’m not gay, I am psychologically a female,
and I’m medically transgendered too. I can do everything for Larry except give him
a child, and who wants a squalling brat anyway?”
“I do, and Larry and I will have a son as soon as he gets
rid of you. And it will be our son;
perhaps many children more, too.”
Okay, I can understand Larry being hurt knowing he’d been
screwing a former male, but I am a woman now, dammit! This dewy eyed kid really believed the ‘til death do us part’ crap, and she was
willing to assist in a murder to get what she wanted. I may be slightly amoral, and I don’t care if
she wants to have Larry, but I do draw the line at murder, especially my own!
Larry was sliding out of the back seat now and he extended
the gun well in front of him to maintain his balance. I couldn’t afford to let the opportunity pass
me by and struck quickly, connecting the ball of my right foot with his wrist,
sending the pistol flying. As soon as
the gun was out of the picture and I was prepared for another kick, I slammed
my left foot into the limo door and knocked Charley backwards where she struck
her head on the side of the car and slumped to the ground. Grabbing Larry’s arm, I jerked as hard as I
could, pulling him out of the limo where he went sprawling into the desert
sand.
Stripping my belt off I unlimbered the push-knife concealed
as a buckle and held it to Larry’s throat after rolling him over. “I guess you thought those karate lessons
were just a way for me to keep in shape, Larry, but I really was learning
self-defense. I guess there won’t be any
prize money now, will there? This was
all just a setup just to get me here so you could permanently erase me from
your life. Sorry, Larry, but I learned
to ‘be prepared’ years and years ago
when I was a Boy Scout.
“A push-knife has less than two inches of blade, Larry, but
how deep do you think I have to cut to sever your carotid artery? If I hit you in the abdomen, the muscles will
absorb the blow and the blade will penetrate to a depth of more than four
inches, Larry. What do you think about
that?
“You lured me out here to kill me, Larry, what do you think
I should do? Should I give you a quick
and clean death by cutting your throat?
Or should I dump you and Charley down that mine-shaft where you can hold
each other in your arms until you starve to death? What should it be, Larry?” A tiny blossom of red appeared at the tip of
my push-knife while I awaited his answer.