Once the train was in motion and we were securely locked in her private train, she would change into male clothes. From then on, I was to pretend my client was a man, which brought out a hereto-undiscovered part of my profession. Acting. She would run her fingers through my hair, gently unpinning it as I pretended to be a terrified bride on her wedding night. She wore a phallus strapped under her breaches and some nights she would take the fantasy to its longest form. Those nights it could take hours before she gently pressed the phallus into my ‘virgin’ passage, as I shuddered in ‘horror’ and wept my fate or moan in ecstasy, depending on her wishes. Other nights she would press me onto my back or belly and take me roughly, with few if any preliminaries. A few special nights she would order me to strip and dance for her, dressed as a harem girl. These were always interesting, since my training did not include this form of dancing and the waltz tutor Eleanor hired had probably never. Then all hell broke loose as she expelled that breath in a primal scream of terror, her eyes wide and sightless. The scream was agonized and impossibly loud. It shook him to his core and he tried to step back, but her hand gripped his like iron.First one and then two more nurses dashed into the room, shouting questions—asking him what he'd done. They didn't wait for any answers, ignoring him, while they dealt with Lacey's terrified form, which appeared to be in the throes of a grand mal seizure. She screamed again, and a nurse barked an order. A syringe appeared and was thrust into the arm another nurse was holding down, all her weight pressing it into the bed.Lacey's eyes cleared, for an instant, and her head swiveled, stark questions in her eyes. They slid past Bob and then came back to lock on him. Then, as suddenly as it had all begun, her body went limp, and her eyes closed, and she was asleep again.The nurses were standing and panting, as a doctor entered the room. His flow of.
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