1. Chrissie Chapter 4


    Date: 1/5/2024, Categories: Cross-dressing, Author: cwcobblestone 

    ... hard-working little thing.”

A tear snaked down my cheek. “T-thank you so much, Mrs. Martin. Thank you, sir. I’m happy to be serving you. I really am.”

Karl clucked his tongue. “One big happy family. Now, I’m starting to get the munchies; how ‘bout you whip us up some bacon and eggs right quick, sissy?”

“Oh, yes, sir, coming right up, sir.” I literally ran to the kitchen. Rebecca giggled at my enthusiasm.

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Karl drove us to the dealership in my Mercedes, with Rebecca riding shotgun and me hunched in the backseat, my ears on fire from the Bose system blasting 105.3 FM, the Young Country station, at full volume.

He pulled into Bob Baxter’s Friendly Ford and made a beeline for the row of F-350s. Karl and Rebecca strolled through the lot holding hands and gawking at trucks while I followed behind them. Within minutes, a salesman appeared.

“Hey, guys, that’s a nice one, huh?” he nodded at a red F-350 that had attracted Karl’s eye.

“Real nice.” Karl kicked the tire. “Can I take ‘er for a spin?”

“Sure, follow me,” the salesman said, and we trailed him to the office, where he copied Karl’s driver’s license before handing him the key.

“Sweeeet,” Karl said, sounding like a middle-schooler as he gamboled out of the office toward the truck, leaving Rebecca and me trailing behind.

“Come on, baby,” he called over his shoulder. “Hop in.”

She slipped into the passenger seat, and Karl pulled out of the ...
    ... lot.

The salesman smiled. “You guys all friends?”

“Uh … yeah.” I crammed my hands in my pockets and pretended to read the sticker on a car window, sending a wordless signal to this greaseball that I wasn’t interested in further conversation. My head was pounding from the pressure of the situation; at some point I was going to have to explain that I was the one who’d be paying for the truck my companion clearly planned to drive, and all morning I’d been racking my brain concocting possible cover stories.

I’d considered the obvious options; I could say I was Karl’s brother or uncle, and that this was a birthday present; or that I’d lost a bet. But I hadn’t yet discussed the matter with Karl, and I was scared the immature sonofabitch might go ahead and tell the salesman the truth — that I was the couple’s rich slave who was buying them each a vehicle.

Despite all my teeth-gnashing, the subject never came up. When Karl told the salesman he’d take the truck, the man asked how he’d be paying and my master pointed at me. I simply said, “I’ll be taking care of it,” and the greasy guy in the tan suit, knowing he had a for-sure pending sale and reading my mood, shut the fuck up and stopped asking personal questions.

After getting the financial issues squared away, securing the plates and setting up the insurance payments through my checking account, Karl drove his new toy out of the dealership. Rebecca took the wheel of my Mercedes while I sat beside her; she didn’t want to ...
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