The Changeling – the Switch – Pt 6

The Changeling -- The Switch -- Pt 6 - The Forbidden Zone

Playing a part in my investigation of the Puzzle Palace's flagship webcast strip game was a very different experience than I had previously encountered in journalism. I was blessed by coaching from my look -- alike, the real Maggie Dowd who, as we sat butt -- to -- butt on a splintery bench in a raunchy roadside gym trading punches in the ring, hatched the plan for me to assume her identity to run the investigation into TPP. "It's perfect," the real Maggie assured me, "Taking up residence in my house, you don't have to worry as you scream out ecstatically `Jim, fuck me,' when you're at home with your husband James."

In my daily life, once I crept away from my own house, playing a role convincingly means that you are aware you are always subject to being observed, but playing the part also requires proper preparation and the right costume. The security conscious Puzzle Palace had proven impenetrable to many investigative reporters who preceded me. My cover story was nearly perfect. I acquired an identity of Maggie Dowd a doppelganger, a lookalike so close she could have been my twin. Along with it I had the necessary props, her car, her clothes, her house even her husband Jim, a bit of an artist who attracted interest from the Puzzle Palace and was hired in night maintenance while I worked laundry.

Laundry brought me to every part of TPP glass and steel tower, but that didn't make my task of ferreting out whatever truth there was to find any easier. To enter through the service entrance's female locker room, I had to disrobe, shower and dress in a white frock and sneakers. All the support staff had particular uniforms, even the writers and researchers. Anything or anyone out of place could be identified quickly. I was reminded of the real Maggie Dowd's favorite expression about undercover work, as she'd lean back on the ricket bench allowing her towel to fall away from her body presenting succulent breasts and a neatly trimmed pubis, "An undercover agent must be a perfect actress and like a chameleon able to change her spots with the background."

"Come to TPP to reach the stage!" My partner on the laundry detail declared as we sat on the bench in TPP's locker with our clothes piled up in a wire box, "Occasionally, they film a shower scene; you get paid extra for a `walk -- on,' a nude scene, if they use it for other than jerking themselves off. So much for the sign on the door: FORBIDDEN ZONE FEMALE EMPLOYEES ONLY."

The real Maggie Dowd's husband Jim and I would ride to work at The Puzzle Palace together usually in Maggie's car. Sometimes, we chatted about the job. My final night on laundry, Jim told me that "Mr Erickson, The CEO of the Puzzle Palace, asked for sample sketches to see if I'm ready for the art and design department." Jim sounded hopeful. His eyes lit up with my encouragement.

The real Maggie never rated Jim's talents very highly. Asking me to soap her back in the roadside gym's rusty showers, the real Maggie arched her back as she spoke of intimacies with her husband Jim, "Harmless," Maggie declared, "I could pose nude for hours for him and I still had to attack him to get six inches out of him for my trouble shivering with the windows open to get my tits to go erect." Bending over to touch her toes, inviting me to scrub her tush, the real Maggie observed, "Jim for all his love of painting nudes has to be prompted to revv up those twin engines to do battle in the sheets."

Roaming the bright waxed floors of The Puzzle Palace, one might think, would give me access to whatever hidden secret TPP's glass and silver tower held. I was never out of sight of my partner for very long. After a week or so of lugging laundry carts around, a chance encounter with Adrienne the star of the show resulted in am invitation to join Adrienne in The Puzzle Palace's private gym on Friday morning at 6AM, the end of my shift. I was tired but urged on by my partner on the laundry detail, I made the date.

When I entered the gym's female locker room, Adrienne in her silver robe and mesh stockings was already waiting on the bench. "You're tired after your shift," Adrienne said, "how `bout we get ready and splash around in the pool and then lie around and chat." As she swirled to let her robe fly off her and reveal her luscious breasts and neatly trimmed triangle of golden hair, my heart skipped a beat. What man or woman could not want her!

"Hurry get undressed. No need to be piqued," Adrienne commanded, "We keep separate locker rooms for each sex. The gals won't offer a critique; we leave it to the guys out in the gym to judge your physique." I felt an electric charge go through me when Adrienne grabbed me by the shoulder to lead me into the gym. My nipples went erect. "Good news, Dearie, the studio may have a new job for you, more appropriate to your talents and perhaps occasionally a very small role to test you on camera. This could be your debut."

As the door opened, the silliest, yet, most obvious question came to mind, "What do starlets do, when they're on their period?"

Hugging me Adrienne responded, "Competing for a spot on a sanitary napkin commercial."

As we approached the door, I took a deep breath, reminding myself aloud, "gymnasium originally meant place of being naked."

"The purpose of nudity in the gym is to promote equality." Adrienne explained as we opened the door onto a scene of naked bare round butted beauties clustered around Mr Erickson. "In the full skin, we're all kindred."

Looking over the revue of swirling curves, dangling breasts and rounded butts I quipped, "Still, some are more equal than others."

"On and off stage, clothing indicates status. Here in the gym we are equal." Lifting her head to scan the gym, Adrienne quipped, "Even so, out of the particular uniforms, you can tell all the wannabe starlets," commented Adrienne lying naked on her belly facing me at pool side, "they're the round butts crowding the studio execs."

After our dip in the pool, I, though tired, managed to struggle through mandatory exercises. Adrienne was encouraging. "No worse than anyone else, not one of whom reported in to the gym, after having worked an eight-hour shift."

Leading me up to the desk, Adrienne after retrieving her silver robe, ordered the naked clerk, "Hand her one too." To me, she said, "you're up for a promotion. You may even get a few speckles of spotlight."

I received the same thigh black high stockings and heels that Adrienne wore back stage and was escorted up to Mr Erickson's office where he advised me that Adrienne, who had taken up a seat behind me in his office, had requested me as her personal secretary. "That's a weighty recommendation."

"I think Maggie's able," declared Adrienne, "She had the good sense not to ask why the silver robe comes without panties."

"To keep the audience guessing what lies underneath," I replied.

"The hours are 6AM to 2PM, except when we're shooting. Then it might go later. You and your husband--Jerry--no--John--no James," Mr Erickson looked down at the personnel files, "Oh, Jim usually come to work together. Will this present any problems---in your home life?"

I thought of my home life with Jim. Yes, we rode to work together. We even chatted during the ride, but he generally kept to his room as agreed upon. Split shifts would take one set of eyes off me for enough hours so that I could break away unnoticed to my own house and real husband.

When I shook my head, Erickson firmly stated, "Good, you start Monday in your new job. The promotion is considerable as is our trust," Mr Erikson was emphatic. "You'll wear the typical researcher's garb brown vest over a blouse and dungarees. You will be allowed to carry a notebook. Any questions?"

"I'd prefer to wear a dungaree jumper to the dungarees the researchers wear," I replied, "to give a more feminine appearance. It's casual looking but more appropriate to a secretarial position. Also on days Adrienne is working as a nurse, I'd like to wear medical scrubs. It'd present more of an official image in the medical office."

Mr Erickson looked up at Adrienne before he acceded to my requests.

"Anything else?" Mr Erickson asked.

"I'd like my on -- duty costumes stored upstairs in the Medical Office," I daringly made additional requests, "and that I be issued the silver robe upon entering through the gym."

Again, Mr Erickson looked up to Adrienne before he approved. "You understand that in your new job you may be called upon to act as a judge in the webcast, an extra in some of the skits, a filler in the live audience if we need one, and a personal companion to Adrienne when she goes on tour or some of her vacations that we choose to film for promotional spots in the webcasts. Is this a problem--for your domestic situation?"

I shook my head. James would understand; Jim shouldn't care. Occasionally, at home--Maggie's home, Jim and I ate together. A little conversation passed between us in the car. Even after the erotic medical exam, to my pleasant surprise Jim didn't expect sex from me.

At home, Maggie's home, Jim'd dress himself up in his special garb, an artist`s smock, sometimes he'd even sport a beret, ritually sharpening his pencils to start sketching. Busy working on his sketches trying to get into the Puzzle Palace's arts department, Jim paid me little mind. Occasionally, I expressed polite interest, but he was so focused on his task that I did not pursue the matter.

We have one additional request from you," Erickson talked tough, "Adrienne and some of the other ladies might like training in boxing." Erickson looked down at my personnel file. "You were the women's featherweight champ in the Army. You still hold a membership card in a private gym. Do you think you can teach boxing?"

"It might conflict with the Puzzle Palace's policy of promoting equality in the gym through nudity." I replied, "In addition to head gear, women should wear chest protectors and pelvic guards, both should be padded, the top with a sports bra. Without the right equipment, I could hand you a bloody mess, not suitable for the camera."

"Fair enough," Mr Erikson rose to end the meeting. "See you Monday morning 6AM in the gym."

"With my promotion, I'm, of course, excused from laundry Friday night." I insisted.

With a sigh, Mr Erickson, leaning over his desk, consented. "Are you going to beat me up any further?"

"Only if you fail to order the right boxing equipment," I replied.

I started to rise when Mr Ericksen called after me, "One last thing, Ms Dowd."

Adrienne smiled when I quipped, "there's always a catch."

Mr Ericksen continued, "I usually hold meetings with staff down in the gym, a clothing -- free area. You're new. I decided to make this more or less formal. Is that a problem?"

Adrienne spoke for me, "I've already explained TPP's policy on the natural state. Nudity promotes openness, candor, and lack of concealment. If that's all, I'm going to show Maggie the power of the silver robe."

In the elevator returning to the Palace gym's locker room, I received a hug from Adrienne. The silver robes were open enough to feel the warmth of her body. I was on an adrenaline surge, an egotistical high. Adrienne's enthusiasm supercharged my elevated sense of omnipotence.

"Well done," Adrienne complimented me as she adjusted my robe, "now for your first public appearance. We're going to walk in these robes across the first floor past the audience filing in for today's shoot of the webcast. Walk behind me. Wave and smile."

TPP patrons clapped. A few asked for Adrienne's autograph. Adrienne pointed to me. Get Maggie's, I expect great things from her."

After Adrienne returned me to the gym's locker room, she apologized for forgetting that Jim went off shift at 6AM and took the car home. "I'd drive you, but I have a few outtakes for that contest we filmed, a couple of days ago." She paused and held a finger to her temple. "No, I'll call up to Erickson to have a company limousine take you home." Playfully, she tickled me. "Wouldn't that shock your husband?"

"It might give him a heart attack," I teased her. "He's still recovering from that rub down I gave him in the medical office."

When I arrived home--at Maggie's house two bus rides later and a side trip strolling through the mall to calm the surge of radiating energy, it was early afternoon. I was still in an ionized state.

As I sashayed through the mall, I could feel the pulsating swell rising within me. I desperately wanted to be with my husband James, but this was not advisable, right now. Otherwise I didn't trust myself. I couldn't. I was caught in a frenzy of over -- exultation by my own accomplishment.

I wanted to call my editor. In my super -- animated condition, even she would do, but contact at this time was not wise. A few intense private minutes with Adrienne might have been inviting, but would have complicated a working relationship. Ultimately, my relationship with the Puzzle Palace would end in betrayal; a betrayal of intimacy would add unnecessary complications. Jim, I pondered, the real Maggie's husband... I was terrified at the idea.

At home--Maggie's home, Jim was still up in his artists smock standing in his room before a blank easel. When he noticed me standing there, he shook his head. My ebullience matched his depression. "My congratulations," he spoke slowly with a haggard look. "I was informed. And," Jim gave me a sheepish look, "perhaps in consequence," he gritted his teeth, "I have been given a chance at the art department. But I have no guarantee, only a test, a trial."

"What can I do to help?" I remained still so electrified that I felt I could do anything. I simply wanted to ignite the pent -- up energy boiling up within me into one great apocalyptic burst.

"I'm to draft a promotional portrait for you." He lowered his head. "I've been looking at some material--I have here." With a smirk, Jim, studying some rough pencil sketches, complained, "I can't come up a theme."

Standing on tippy toes to gaze at the pencil drafts, I suggested, "How about revisiting the classics, Birth of Venus?"

I admit I was extremely daring but my exaltation was in overdrive. I raised his head and stroked his hair. I whispered in his ear, "What you need is inspiration to see the Love Goddess herself in your mind`s eye."

I sat him on the bed and slowly unlaced his shoes and reached under his smock to feel his hairy chest. Passively, he lifted his rear end so that I could yank off his black slacks and leaned forward so that I could pull off the smock. I stood up and undressed in front of him. His eyes were riveted on my breasts. "Remember," I teased him, standing bare breasted in my thong, "no bite marks." I cupped my breasts with my hands. "I may end up on camera."

Dropping the thong and leaning over his body, I tantalized him. "There are some rules. This is for inspirational purposes only. You only go in as far as I say. Beyond that lies the forbidden zone. You come only if I say you can. Understood?"

I lay atop him and used my hand to guide the shaft of his penis to rub against me before he arched his back to send it sailing inside me. I quickly brought myself to a seated position. We wrestled on the bed and onto the floor where he curled me like a pretzel and tried to take me from behind. I gasped for air and threw him off me. He rose shocked, hands at his side. Did he think I wanted to stop?

I pushed him onto the bed. He fell like a propped -- up poster board. Grasping his swollen penis, I used my hand as a pipe adapter to allow only shallow entry. When all my bottled up nervous energy was sapped, I collapsed and rolled off him over onto my back, fast asleep. As I drifted off to sleep, a warm ooze trickled down my inner thighs.

The sun was low in the sky when I awoke, naked on the bed with my arms stretched over my head. Jim was standing naked behind his easel working feverishly with his pencils. The window was open behind him. Cool air was billowing in. I involuntarily stretched. "Hold that position, just as you are right now," Jim ordered. To my complaint of the chill, he promised to complete the preliminary sketch in just a few minutes. When he laid aside his pen, he snapped a quick picture with his cell phone. "I need to record your exact position for the watercolor--when you pose for the watercolor, based upon the sketch."

As I lie still as directed resisting the temptation to cover my breasts against the chill, I took note, "This is the first time I've seen you draw without putting on that elaborate costume of yours, grey smock, black trousers and a beret."

"Inspiration, I discovered, this afternoon doesn't need a particular habit." Jim spoke but his attention was on every detail in his sketch.

"You haven't slept," I reminded Jim, "you're due in work in a few hours and you want to work again without sleep through Saturday?" Rising and taking a blanket for cover, I stood with Jim behind the easel to inspect the sketch. There I was in the persona of Venus standing on a star fish floating on the sea, hands over my head as if in a dance. On my left, a woman in a flowing gown was running up to me with a robe. On my right, another female figure pursed her lips to kiss my cheek. At the horizon was the rising sun.

"Artists must move with the inspiration," Jim confidently replied, "Look at the sun in the sketch, carefully. I'm trying to make it into the éclat of the overhead surgical lamp in the medical office."

"Today, you needed your batteries recharged." I playfully grabbed his testicles, "I infused you with an invincible, creative energy to begin your sketch. I can't promise I'll be able to manage such a challenge on command." I smiled. "I'm off tonight. I'm going boxing at the gym in the early morning. Perhaps if I lay some guy out on the mat, I might be hyper -- charged up enough to lend a hand." I squeezed his penis. He gave me a sly smile. I turned and headed for the shower in my--Maggie's room covered in the blanket.

I was back to sleep in seconds. I didn't hear Jim leave for work. My alarm clock woke me at 2AM. I was off to the--my gym, the one in the storefront--in Maggie's car. The attendant barely looked up from his paper as he logged me in. "Haven't seen you in a while, new job?"

Pleading that I left my cell phone at home, I was given permission to call my `cousin' who was supposed to meet me. I placed a call--to my husband James. I looked around there were four or five guys working out on the mats. No one was paying attention. I dialed the number. When James answered, I merely said, "Tomorrow, James, early."

As I strode to the female lockers in the back of my storefront gym, I received some challenges from the small knot of early risers out for exercise. "Maggie, we missed you. Where've you been, darling?'" I waved and smiled as I slid behind the door into the forbidden zone.

One by one I received challengers from each of the guys, as I worked the heavy cylindrical punishing bag. I picked the smallest man and promised him that if we worked out together and shadow boxed for awhile then we'd face each other in the ring on Sunday. "I'm out of practice. Besides," I lightly taped his jaw with a gloved fist, "I need my cousin here to pick up the pieces after you pound me into the mat."

I left my gym just after six am and drove around seemingly aimlessly. I was looking for a place I could stash Maggie's car near enough to my own house so that I could walk home--to my house. I noticed a senior citizen complex, partially hidden by a grove of woods. The gate was unmanned. There was ample guest parking. No one was stirring in the early hours. After dark, it'd likely be the same.

At Maggie's house, Jim was back from work. His eyes were open unnaturally wide; he seemed caught between starry-eyed and transfixed. "I'm ready for the watercolor," he declared in an otherworldly dreamy tone, "I only need a boost of inspiration."