Angeles, two weeks later
Tasha finished applying the prosthetic nose. Damon was standing behind her
watching the process with interest, and Marco was on video chat, watching from his kitchen in Chicago.
Standing back she looked at each of them in turn. “What do you think?”
“You look different,” Damon said after a moment.
“That’s the point.”
Tasha had added brown lowlight hairpieces, turning her normally pale gold hair
golden brown. She wore a prosthetic over her distinctively narrow nose. Small pads inside her cheeks rounded her face.
“You’re still pretty,” Marco said. “Before you were beautiful. Now you’re cute.”
“Thank you.” She added brown contacts, completing the transformation. “How
long do I have?” she asked Damon.
“Twenty minutes.”
He was already dressed in a tux and ready for the Founding Families Gala at the
Los Angeles Public Library. It was an important networking event for his career, and for the first time, he’d be taking a date.
Tasha put on a padded bra, going from a B to D cup, then slipped on a
conservative evening gown.
When she was dressed, she turned to face Damon.
“Mr. Corzo,” she held out a hand. “I’m Emma Wilson. It’s nice to meet you.”
Damon smiled and seemed to relax. “Emma. It’s nice to meet you. Please, call
me Damon.”
“Thank you, Damon.”
They said goodbye to Marco and then left Damon’s townhouse in Mar Vista,
headed for downtown L.A. On the way there, Tasha quizzed him.
“What’s my name?”
“Emma Wilson.”
“How did we meet?”
“We met at a coffee shop when I was in law school. I saw the Peace Corps
sticker on your bag and started talking to you because my parents were planning on joining.”
“And what do I do?”
“You’re an agricultural engineer. You were born in Africa while your parents were
on a humanitarian mission—that’s why you don’t have a birth certificate or driver’s license. You’ve lived all over the world and have only recently come back to the U.S.”
“Perfect. How long have we been seeing each other?”
“Off and on for years. We were never serious because you travel so much.
You’ve been in Haiti for the past nine months.”
“And now that I’m moving back to the U.S. permanently?”
“We’ve decided to try for a serious relationship.”
Tasha laid her hand on Damon’s arm. His voice had become increasingly grim as
he repeated the information.
“Damon, it’s going to be okay.”
“Have I mentioned that I hate this plan?”
“I know. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” She looked out the window at the
palm trees. “I wish you’d be paired with someone who could be a part of your life.”
“Tasha…Emma…That’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I’m just worried this won’t
work.”
“It might not if you’re tense and acting like you don’t want me to be there.”
“I’ll relax.” He zoomed onto the freeway and merged into the late afternoon traffic.
“I’ll help you relax.” Tasha reached for his pants.
“You shouldn’t…we’ll crash…” Damon moaned as she bent and licked the tip of
his cock, which she’d freed from his slacks. It swelled in her hand.
“Watch the road,” she whispered.
Damon was relaxed and smiling by the time they pulled up to the valet stand.
Tasha waited for him to come around and help her out, then clung to his arm as
they climbed the steps.
“Damon, good to see you.” An older gentleman with glasses and thinning hair
beckoned Damon over. “Judge McKinney is here, I’d like to introduce you. And who’s this?”
“Bruce, this is Emma, Emma Wilson.”
“Emma, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bruce was clearly surprised to see her.
“And you, Bruce. I’m delighted that I’m finally going to get to meet some of
Damon’s colleagues.” She smiled graciously, then looked up at Damon. “Honey, I don’t want to keep you from
Tasha finished applying the prosthetic nose. Damon was standing behind her
watching the process with interest, and Marco was on video chat, watching from his kitchen in Chicago.
Standing back she looked at each of them in turn. “What do you think?”
“You look different,” Damon said after a moment.
“That’s the point.”
Tasha had added brown lowlight hairpieces, turning her normally pale gold hair
golden brown. She wore a prosthetic over her distinctively narrow nose. Small pads inside her cheeks rounded her face.
“You’re still pretty,” Marco said. “Before you were beautiful. Now you’re cute.”
“Thank you.” She added brown contacts, completing the transformation. “How
long do I have?” she asked Damon.
“Twenty minutes.”
He was already dressed in a tux and ready for the Founding Families Gala at the
Los Angeles Public Library. It was an important networking event for his career, and for the first time, he’d be taking a date.
Tasha put on a padded bra, going from a B to D cup, then slipped on a
conservative evening gown.
When she was dressed, she turned to face Damon.
“Mr. Corzo,” she held out a hand. “I’m Emma Wilson. It’s nice to meet you.”
Damon smiled and seemed to relax. “Emma. It’s nice to meet you. Please, call
me Damon.”
“Thank you, Damon.”
They said goodbye to Marco and then left Damon’s townhouse in Mar Vista,
headed for downtown L.A. On the way there, Tasha quizzed him.
“What’s my name?”
“Emma Wilson.”
“How did we meet?”
“We met at a coffee shop when I was in law school. I saw the Peace Corps
sticker on your bag and started talking to you because my parents were planning on joining.”
“And what do I do?”
“You’re an agricultural engineer. You were born in Africa while your parents were
on a humanitarian mission—that’s why you don’t have a birth certificate or driver’s license. You’ve lived all over the world and have only recently come back to the U.S.”
“Perfect. How long have we been seeing each other?”
“Off and on for years. We were never serious because you travel so much.
You’ve been in Haiti for the past nine months.”
“And now that I’m moving back to the U.S. permanently?”
“We’ve decided to try for a serious relationship.”
Tasha laid her hand on Damon’s arm. His voice had become increasingly grim as
he repeated the information.
“Damon, it’s going to be okay.”
“Have I mentioned that I hate this plan?”
“I know. I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” She looked out the window at the
palm trees. “I wish you’d be paired with someone who could be a part of your life.”
“Tasha…Emma…That’s not what I meant.” He sighed. “I’m just worried this won’t
work.”
“It might not if you’re tense and acting like you don’t want me to be there.”
“I’ll relax.” He zoomed onto the freeway and merged into the late afternoon traffic.
“I’ll help you relax.” Tasha reached for his pants.
“You shouldn’t…we’ll crash…” Damon moaned as she bent and licked the tip of
his cock, which she’d freed from his slacks. It swelled in her hand.
“Watch the road,” she whispered.
Damon was relaxed and smiling by the time they pulled up to the valet stand.
Tasha waited for him to come around and help her out, then clung to his arm as
they climbed the steps.
“Damon, good to see you.” An older gentleman with glasses and thinning hair
beckoned Damon over. “Judge McKinney is here, I’d like to introduce you. And who’s this?”
“Bruce, this is Emma, Emma Wilson.”
“Emma, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Bruce was clearly surprised to see her.
“And you, Bruce. I’m delighted that I’m finally going to get to meet some of
Damon’s colleagues.” She smiled graciously, then looked up at Damon. “Honey, I don’t want to keep you from
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