Sexual Content
Final Stand
"It seems that you are a claimed woman," the director said early the next day as he met her at the wardrobe trailer. "Any troubles getting up today?" Raina grinned happily and squealed her excitement. Villeneuve laughed at her restraint and pulled her into a hug. "I know that this is exciting news, but I expect you to be focused on your stunt work today, understand?" The girl nodded rapidly, still grinning like a madwoman. "You are so expressive! No wonder acting suits you so well. Joseph will meet you by the stunt cars for your scenes today with Keanu. Don't forget to leave your ring and necklace in your trailer."
"I won't, Denis," she nodded, rushing into the trailer to get changed.
"You are a lucky man," Denis mentioned to the man standing next to him. "Lorraine is quite taken with you."
"Lorraine is quite a woman," Tyr responded. "I am a lucky man." The two looked at each other, each understanding what the other wasn't saying.
While Raina was having yet another grueling day of reviewing fight moves for her scenes and Keanu was answering embarrassing questions about his relationship with Raina for the press, Greg decided to rally. He had very little support - even less than he had when he'd decided to ruin the little bimbo's life - but he was determined to have Tyr back in his life. The fact that his love hadn't signed a restraining order against him gave him hope. That uppity bitch hadn't won yet. He still had time to win his chocolate angel before he made the biggest mistake of his life.
Oh, that interview last night had hurt. Seeing that gorgeous ring that should have been his on that hussy's finger made him desperate. Greg was convinced that he and Tyr would be together in the end. Together in a place where Lorraine Rutherford was a distant, unpleasant memory. With his happily ever after in mind, the man was just able to scrounge up the money for a plane ticket to Montréal. Who cared that it was a third of the money he'd saved up for his plastic surgery? Once he had Tyr, the millionaire would happily fund his new body. He plotted his rival's downfall and dreamed of his love all through the six-hour flight, barely noticing the stares he was garnering with his appearance.
When he landed, he got a cab and checked into the hotel the couple was staying at, announcing publicly that he was going to sue Raina for assault and emotional distress. He tried his best to get the staff to let him into Tyr's room, but no one was interested in his money or his cause. Bastards! Dressed in his most sexy outfit, he sauntered up to the evening concierge desk operator, ready to plead his case.
"All I'm asking is a chance to surprise my lover by being in his hotel room when he gets back here! It would be so romantic! I don't think that's too much to ask of-"
"Mr. Gordon. As my coworker explained to you earlier today, it is not our policy to let our clients into other client's rooms," Rachel said with more patience than she felt for the trailer trash in front of her. The man was wearing way too much makeup and a cloying amount of feminine perfume. It wasn't enough to cover the body odor of a man that obviously hadn't showered in days. The fire engine red pleather jumpsuit he was wearing needed censor bars! It was so skin tight and there were sweat stains at the armpit and crotch areas from the thick summer air. The woman had never seen such a disgusting-looking person in her life. And she'd shopped in Walmart on Black Friday in the South!
"I'm willing to pay for any… inconvenience," he pouted, pushing three hundred dollars in crumpled bills across the counter to her. Rachel's lip curled at the bribe, refusing to touch the money.
"Look, Mr. Gordon. Even if I didn't know exactly who you are and what you're trying to do, the movie scenario of hiding in the… He's not even your ex… Hiding in the potential boyfriend's room and jumping out naked to surprise him usually leads to litigation and several people being fired. We do not endorse it. We do not condone it. We do not do it. Ever. And should you continue to harass the staff about it, you will be forcibly removed from this establishment. You will just have to be satisfied with surprising Mr. Anasazi in front of the hotel when he returns from his day with Ms. Rutherford."
"He's with that horrible Jezebel?" Greg shouted furiously. Rachel gave him an even stare until he calmed himself down.
"Whether Mr. Anasazi is out with his fiancée or not is none of your concern, Mr. Gordon."
"It's 'Miss', dammit! It's Miss Chantelle Gordon!"
"That's not what your drivers' license says," Rachel said smugly. "It identifies you as male and your name as Gregory Roger Gordon. Until you change your name and your identification papers-"
"You're on her side, aren't you?" Greg accused, hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"I don't have to be on anyone's 'side' to enforce hotel policy," Rachel said forcefully. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave this desk, Mr. Gordon, and take this money with you. I have other clients with concerns that I need to address." Greg tried to out-stare the woman, but she merely glared at him until he gathered his crumpled, sweaty bills and went outside to wait for his boyfriend, his black heels loudly clicking as he walked away over the marble floors.
"So rude," he growled as yet another child pointed at him and burst into tears. In the last three hours since he'd settled on the front steps of the hotel in the blistering hot summer day, several of the passers-by had reconsidered using the hotel. Children shrieked upon seeing him, women had similar looks of disgust and unbridled fascination that he remembered from that whore Tyr was dating; clearly, she'd been in this country too long. But what hurt his pride the most was that the men were actively avoiding eye contact. Most were shaking their heads and leading their loved ones away from him. Not one approached him or even winked. What was wrong with these people? He was quite the catch in… Well, maybe people didn't understand him and his fashion sense in Granite either. He just needed to find his people. He'd have all the time in the world to discover them once this lawsuit was out of the way and Tyr was his at last.
Keanu gawked at him when the actor arrived around eight that night. The reporters that had actively avoided Greg, swarmed the handsome actor to his chagrin.
"Hey, aren't you that confused cross-dresser that thinks Tyr's his man?"
"I am Tyr Anasazi's one true love," Greg drew himself up to his full five-foot-six height and sauntered over to the actor. Keanu shuddered as he approached. "What's your problem?"
"I'm wondering how you expect to win Tyr over when you can't seem to decide if you're a man or a woman. The bushy beard and sad attempt at a handlebar mustache say 'male' but the perfume, wig, caked-on makeup, and grossly inappropriate jumpsuit that you've somehow stuffed yourself in to say that you want to be a woman. Pick a side." The reporters sniggered and continued to record this confrontation.
"You… You're lucky that I'm not here for you," Greg said, covering his sweat-slicked man-boobs and trying not to feel humiliation at the man's words.
"Is that why you dragged me into your little war with Raina? She's my friend and you tried to depict us as lovers, something that I don't appreciate at all. I already have a wonderful woman." Greg stared into the stern, unforgiving face of his new enemy and saw no chance of winning him over. Instead, he decided to redirect the fight.
"Where is that little trollop? Off attempting to seduce my man, no doubt."
"The other way around most likely," Keanu laughed. "Lorraine is quite a shy thing according to her fiancé. As for where the happy couple is, I believe Tyr took her on a date tonight. He wanted her to have other memories of this fair city besides the hotel pool, gym, and room service."
"That… That's…"
"Save your breath, Gregory. If need be, I will take out a restraining order against you. No one wants you here and you are not going to get what you want this way. You're not going to get what you want at all. You might as well go back to where you came from."
"You're not the boss of me," Greg said angrily. Keanu raised an eyebrow at the juvenile outburst.
"Spoken like a mature adult," he smirked before heading into the hotel.
Greg stomped after him, rolling his ankle halfway up the stairs. Keanu turned in time to watch the nasty-looking crossdresser tumble down the stairs, his jumpsuit bursting open at the seams to show the world that he was wearing nothing but body glitter under it. Several of the pedestrians screamed or laughed at his public humiliation. Greg struggled to cover his manhood, kicking off his heels to sprint into the hotel. All he could think of was Tyr seeing him at his lowest point like that.
He wasn't fast enough though. Within minutes of his retreat, he was the subject of several mocking YouTube videos. The male broke into tears, sobbing loudly in the privacy of his own room as he paced and threw things. How the hell was he going to win over his love with videos like that on the net? Images of pushing Little Raina down the stairs entered his mind but were just as quickly dismissed. The greedy harlot would definitely sue if he did that. Not to mention what Tyr would do if his precious, perfect little pixie was hurt.
"Why can't he just…" Greg left the question unasked, suddenly not so sure that he was going to get his happy ending. Tyr was a meticulous metrosexual male. There was no way he would let himself be seen with a slovenly man like him. And no matter how much he wished otherwise, the videos proved that he was still a man. Tyr would never date a man. So, where did that leave him? He could go back to Granite and work on his operations, but he'd just spent a lot of that money on his first-class, one-way plane ticket! Plus, the thought of being with someone else nauseated him. If he left, Raina won. But if he stayed, Raina would likely sue and she would still win. There was no solution!
You could walk away. Just start over somewhere new, a little voice in the back of his mind piped up. The male took an honest look at himself and his lip curled. He looked gross. What's worse, he looked fake. Tyr would never be associated with a faker. Suddenly furious with himself for not seeing it earlier, he ripped his wig off. Ignoring his own short, matted, and tangled brown hair, he grabbed blindly behind him for a washcloth to scrub all the makeup off of his face. Greg never stopped looking into his dripping eyes as he got all of the makeup off of his face and neck. After that was done, he pulled out his razor and shaved off his beard and mustache. On a roll now, he jumped in the shower and scrubbed the body glitter off of him before dealing with the tangled mess that was his hair. Now clad only in a towel, he called room service to have the in-house tailor come to his room. Two people came to his door a half hour later. A small woman with disheveled, mousy hair that somehow worked for her and an ogre of a man with manicured hands.
Greg spent the rest of his plastic surgery money on a new wardrobe for himself, one that definitely screamed 'identify as male' to the world. Comfortable pants and shirts for his pudgy form with boxers and regular shoes that fit. No more small heels that left blisters on his toes for him! Looking around at the mess he had made of his room, he felt bad. Just not bad enough to fix it. The man dumped his bags and removed all the clip-on earrings, bangles, and necklaces from his suitcases. He unloaded all his feminine clothing and packed up his new wardrobe instead. He had decided at last; he would check out of the hotel and take a flight to a brand new place. There was nothing left for him in Granite. He'd sold his house and truck weeks ago in anticipation of moving in with Tyr once the dust had settled and Lorraine was a distant memory. Damn, what a fool he'd been! There was nothing to tie him to that small-minded place. It was time for a clean break from this obsession of his.
"Goodbye, Chantelle," he whispered as he closed his room door.
Once he was in the lobby, he sat unobtrusively to wait for that one last glimpse of his love. He knew that he shouldn't, but considering the enormity of what he was about to do, he needed to see his chocolate angel one last time. The couple came in at ten-fifteen, holding each other close and laughing at some joke. Greg pushed down the familiar jealousy and really looked at them. Tyr Anasazi was dressed in simple jeans and a shirt combo that somehow emphasized his muscular body. He looked content and indulgent with that no-good… Lorraine.
She wore a flowing, floor-length dress that made him think of a fairy princess, especially with her hair in that 'I Dream of Jeannie' style. She was snuggled against his chocolate angel, humming and looking tired but content. The two had a definite 'opposites attract' vibe to them; the girl was so tiny and cute compared to the demigod she was standing next to. The acoustics of the lobby was such that he could make out what the two were saying at this time of night. The actor got a text from someone it looked like. He tapped the link in it and suddenly burst out laughing. He showed it to his companion who looked horrified instead of laughing along with him.
"That's not funny," she said forcefully, starting to look angry.
"Oh, come on, Sunshine. You have to admit, he got what he deserved."
"No one deserves to be humiliated like that. I've been humiliated like that in front of a crowd before and thank God there were no cameras around to record it!" With that, the girl pushed away from her fiancé and headed for the elevator. Tyr caught up with her pretty quickly.
"You've fallen like a lardass while wearing-"
"No, but I have been publicly called out by someone I admired in front of a booing, angry crowd and stripped of my right to do what I love to do while people I thought were my friends cheered the decision. It's the kind of humiliation that makes you close your eyes and pray that it's just a nightmare, or that it's all in your head. But the spitting and the taunting continue through the prayer, and you realize that this is your life now. So, no. I don't find it funny that he was humiliated like that! I don't find it funny at all!" The girl pushed the button for the elevator and turned around to face her shocked and outraged fiancé, tears in her eyes for a man who was hell-bent on seeing her lose her love.
Greg was shocked at her empathy. In that moment when he'd exposed himself to the world in front of the cameras, he'd fervently prayed that it was just his imagination. And he wasn't even a Christian! It was good to know that someone could relate, though the part about being spat on was disturbing in and of itself. Looking around the lobby, the man noticed that people were recording her reaction to the news. It would likely be all over the internet in a matter of minutes. He watched in defeat as Tyr folded his crying woman in his arms, holding her close until the storm of what was no doubt bad memories passed.
"I'm sorry, Sweetness. Looking at it from that perspective, I can see that it isn't funny at all. Please don't cry, my love. I'm here now…" He kissed her gently and the former crossdresser couldn't help turning away from the tender display. It just wasn't meant to be. Instead of torturing himself with something he could never have, he gathered his suitcases. The plan was to check out and head to the airport. He'd then ask for a ticket to anywhere in the US that left immediately.
He felt like a tumbleweed, he could blow anywhere the wind took him. The elevator dinged and he couldn't resist taking one last look at the couple. He was therefore surprised to see Tyr glaring at him as the doors closed. Lorraine was resting her head on his chest and looking at her engagement ring, so she missed it. What did it mean that even with his new resolve, that intense look seared right through him? Determined not to think about it, he broke eye contact with the man and brought his things to the concierge.
"I'm checking out. Room 1408."
Rachel did a double take. "Mr. Gordon?" The man couldn't help his smirk that she was no longer looking down her pointed nose at him.
"Yes. I've decided to walk away. This will be the last anyone ever sees of me."
"Oh! Well, I'm glad you have come to your senses. Let me just bring up your bill. And might I say that I like the new outfit. No one would recognize you now." She immediately brought up his bill, sending someone to check out his room for damage.
"Yes, your tailors are very good at their jobs." They waited after that exchange for the bellhop to return with news of the room.
"The room's been trashed, but no permanent damage beyond a broken light bulb on one of the lamps," Michael murmured as he reported on his findings. "I see you left that alter ego of yours in that room as well. Good call. A trash removal fee ought to be applied to his bill."
"Thank you, Michael," Rachel said, adding the appropriate fees to the bill. She then read him the total and was surprised when he put it all on a credit card, along with a generous tip.
"For opening my eyes," he said firmly, gathering his things.
"Mr. Gordon, would you like me to call you a cab?"
"I would appreciate that."
The last anyone saw of the man was him politely asking for a ticket with an immediate departure. People didn't recognize him in his new clothes and the help desk simply assumed that he was someone who had the same name as the buffoon who had literally exposed himself to the cameras after getting into a fight with an A-list actor.
