Chapter 1

"No, there is no fecking way, I am absolutely not a prostitute!"

At least that is what I kept repeating to myself as I rode up the elevator the penthouse suite with this "la di da" guy from France. His English was not too good but he sure knew how to lay a kiss on a girl.

He told me somewhat noisily in the bar that his name was Alphonse and he was the "Crown Duke of something and in line for something somewhere". I have to admit I wasn't listening too close because I could see the house dick had his eagle eye on me and he was not scoping out my boobs. I would lay even odds the little prick was a little limp wristed if you catch my drift.

Anyhow, one thing led to another and here I was riding up to get my ass screwed off by this French guy with his hands all over my ass. And I mean, "all over". I was here as a favor to my friend, Gloria Hightower, who was an actual prostitute and proclaimed it proudly at all the school reunions. I was an unsuccessful actress with scant credits to my name and some blisters on my tail from bouncing on too many casting director's sofas.

Apparently he had already paid $1,000 into Gloria's retirement fund and wanted the goods delivered immediately. I considered admitting I was not Gloria the renowned "call girl" of international fame but I figured it would get her in a lot of trouble with her boss who was reputed to deal harshly with his "girls" causing customer dissatisfaction.

The only reason I was following through on Gloria's obligation was that the guy was pretty decent looking even if a little inebriated. OK, OK, the dude was drunk as a skunk. Well, that, and the fact that I had not gotten laid since my Ziggy got nicked with some seriously false passports at the airport. Ever since the 9-11 debacle, they really frowned at airport shenanigans even those of an innocent money-making variety. Ziggy was in for some hard time in a hard place. I was the true victim as I was the one deprived of my pussy-itch scratching partner of the past several years.

When we got to the guy's room, I had to do everything. I opened the door. I undressed him. I even put on the condom. That actually was lots of fun because his dick was rock hard and almost too big for the condom. I lubed him up with the stuff I always keep in my purse.

Yeah, I'm an optimist.

Since he was too drunk to maneuver much, I just hopped onboard his cock and started to ride it with long-deprived enthusiasm. I loved the way he stretched me so much. Ziggy's cock was kind of on the small size but he was a very tender and caring lover.

I was just rounding the last turn and keeping real tight to the rail. The homestretch was right ahead and I could see the finish line. My panting probably was disturbing the guests on both side of this room but I didn't care. This orgasm was all mine. I deserved it. I had worked for it.

Suddenly, the room disappeared.

I thought for an instant it was the flash of a blinding orgasm but it was actually the obliteration of an entire floor of the Plaza hotel by a remotely triggered device.

This Alphonse guy was a big fat juicy target and I was squatting on his cock when he got wiped.

I opened my eyes and all I could see was shades of white on white. I never liked white and hated all the white cars that filled the roads with lack of color.

A voice murmured close to my ear.

"Miss? Miss? Oh, my, this is a conundrum! I say, Miss."

The last word was almost shouted and startled me from my languid daydreams. I knew that I was on the verge of a fantastic orgasm but could not quite get there for some reason. The little guy with the glasses was shaking a handful of papers in my face and was so upset; he hopped about in severe agitation.

"Yeah, what's the problem, fella? Did I step on your crank?"

I had to snigger at my own cleverness.

"My dear young lady, you must never, I repeat, never, address an Angel of the Lord in that manner. "Cranks" are not a topic of discussion up here!"

This guy was obviously kooked.

"Our records indicate you are one Mabel Mahoney and yet your documents are for a Miss Gloria Hightower. To make matters worse, most of your retrievable DNA is for his highness The Archduke Alfonse heir to the civilized Christian world and several missionary territories."

She looked at the loony with a puzzled face.

"Wait, I can explain, I was just using Gloria's stuff to fill-in for her with the Alfonse guy. This Alfonse and me, I guess you could say we were "hooked together" at the time of the explosion."

The short blue-eyed man gave her a sharp glance.

"The bottom line, Miss Mahoney is that you are not eligible to enter either Heaven or Purgatory or even

Limbo with this kind of discrepancy. In fact, the heavy concentration of Alphonse DNA makes you a good candidate for "Lucifer Land". We don't like to use the H word here."

For the first time, Mabel looked down and saw that "her" body was identical to Alfonse's and that "she" was most definitely a man. That was real easy to figure out because if you got a nine inch cock you are a male regardless of what your brain is telling you.

"What the Feck? What did you guys do to me? I ain't no guy. Where the feck are my tits?"

The little man sniffed as if there were a bad smell in the white vacuum.

"I must insist you watch your language, my dear. Oh, I guess I should say, Sir."

Mabel was shaking with indignation.

"This is definitely not funny, Mister. I want my body back and I want it back now."

The funny little man shook his head from side to side and clicked his tongue in disapproval.

"I am afraid it is already decided. You must go back and be Alfonse until you have a female regard you with true love and undying devotion. Once you have accomplished that, we can send Alphonse to his destination and you may assume a position in Heaven suitable for your total happiness. If you are unsuccessful, you will remain as Alfonse until the grave."