Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

The six Italian models remain behind as we packed up and moved on to Madrid. Here everything is location shooting causing us to range far afield sometimes traveling for several hours to go spend an hour or two shooting a half dozen outfits apiece. Here we have picked up two Spanish models so there are four of us. Unfortunately we don’t speak Spanish and they don’t speak English so Tanner and Kaitlyn do all the talking during the sessions.

 © 2010 by Lilith Langtree & Rénae Dáºmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the work’s Owner (copyright holder), with the exception of the private and non-commercial viewing by the reader who is also the end purchaser. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this story are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. Any and all images which may be shown within this work are taken through license under Corel with the exception of the title image which is Photo Credit to Irina Sheik. No affiliations, involvement or gender assignations through the use of these or any images of the subject or subjects contained within those posted images is to be implied, intended or inferred.
An Aldoennetti & Langtree Original.

I’ve been thinking (it seems I’m doing that a lot lately... even when I’m asleep). As I mentioned, I’ve been thinking... I know, so what’s new? These thoughts are. They’re about the clothing we are modeling. I’ve noticed at each city there have been a few things which have remained the same or nearly the same but with some subtle differences which I suppose are culture oriented. Things about which I had never given any thought before. Skirt suit lapels and cuffs or the lack thereof; some subtle changes to the actual shaping of the clothing. How both they and the blazers and skirts seem to change in style slightly dependent upon the country.

Then too, there are some styles which seem to be ‘locked’ into a country and seldom appear in the others. I suppose if I wanted to appear Spanish or Italian all I would need to do is learn the language and adopt the clothing and hair styles of that country and I would be accepted in another as having probably originated in my ‘adopted’ country.

The few clothing items which I was allowed to retain are country specific due to these subtle differences. I think I shall try to see if this holds true when we go to London. I give it some thought and determine that even in the United States some women are thought of as ‘exotic’ and foreign simply because of their manner of dress and the accent in their speech. I wonder if this is part of how spies blend into the countries to which they have gone? I need to give this some more thought, perhaps I’ll speak with Tanner about it.

Once again we drive some distance for a few of our location shoots and Tanner explained some time ago that he wants me taking a lot of photos at every location to keep up my ‘Fashionable Photographer’ guise. I’m just as happy since many will go into my scrapbook. This is getting to be fun. I’m a spy. Well... almost.

Who would have thought as I was growing up that I would be spying? Then I have another thought, there were times when I wondered if I would even be allowed to grow up. Now I not only need to address that but decide how I may become the boy I’m supposed to be. Duh, I forgot. I can’t be the boy I’m supposed to be because I can’t have any children. That sucks big time. Of course Dad would be overjoyed to hear that little tidbit. More of me running around in the world is something that would have him up in arms. Why does that hurt so much?

“Katrina! Wake up, you’re up.”

I look around confused for a moment then suddenly rush over to perform like the trained seal I am, turning and posing on cue. If they want me to start barking or playing the horns they’ll have another think coming.

“Hold your camera up like you are taking a picture,” So I do, of Tanner taking my picture.

“No, that blocks your face and the front of the dress too much. Just hold the camera up at an angle like you’re trying to decide what to shoot next.”

Don’t give me a gun and ask me to do the same thing.

I lower the camera then hold it in one hand as I look into the distance finally seeing something I would like to photograph and as soon as the next request comes for me to change position again I bring up my camera and zoom on the person taking three rapid photos before lowering the camera and assuming the pose requested. Pam meanwhile has been taking photographs of her own.

“Ladies, could I get a little cooperation here?”

We looked at each other then back at Tanner before nearly simultaneously saying, “No,” then we began laughing as he was shaking his head before suddenly snapping his camera up and taking five or six photos of the two of us laughing.

“That was great. Could the two of you stand over by the fountain?”

We do a provocative runway walk toward the fountain which has Tanner scurrying ahead of us in order to be in position to snap pics as we approach the fountain itself. We can hear the ‘click, click, click, click, click...’ of his camera which is capable of some pretty fast high definition photography. It can even do several minutes of high definition movie if it doesn’t have many still photos already in memory. It is capable of even more if it can download to a computer on the fly. If he was going to do full motion photography like he did that first day I walked on a runway then he would put a special card in the camera instead of a memory card so the camera could download to the notebook rapidly in real time.

Even so his camera can hold a LOT of photos but his computer accepts many thousands and acts like it doesn’t even know they are there. At least my little notebook shows that the empty space on the hard drive is diminishing with each download I make from my camera. I suppose sometime soon I will need to move all those photos to a disk (or two) for safe keeping so I may make room for more. The last time I checked I still have one hundred forty-seven GB available down from a hundred fifty-five. I suppose that’s good.

That suddenly brings another thought to the forefront of what has been posing as my mind. My notebook came from the same people as the camera... so what did they do to it besides add the image software? Never mind, I don’t think I want to know. At least, not right now. I’ll wait until sometime when I’m good and angry at them.

I’m suddenly struck by another thought. I know, enough already. But this one is really weird. I mean... I know Dad’s the heavy in my life. Well... along with the ‘good’ Reverend. And Tanner is sort of a spy. I guess he’s a spy anyway. I mean, he and his buddies never answer a question directly and basically sit in the background without bringing a lot of attention to themselves while they are doing whatever it is they are doing. After all, how many people do you know who have a shooting range in their basement? You do? You’re kidding, right? Don’t confuse me; nobody knows someone who has a shooting range in their basement! Okay, then, what about digital cameras which are really high definition super picture thing-a-ma-jiggies? I think I can safely assign Tanner a better than seventy percent possibility of being some kind of spy.

Now with both of the above revelations then where does that leave me? This is where my thoughts became a bit weird. I’m a guy... but here I am these last four to six weeks running around in skirts and dresses and answering to a girl’s name. Well, I’m answering to my name but I changed it to a girl’s name and I have ID and a passport in that name. Is that sick or what? Back to the question anyway. What does that make me but the comic relief of the story? So granting that, then where’s the writer or group of writers of this little farce?

I mean they have to be around here somewhere so they know what to write don’t they? I should be able to see them at some point in time. This stuff doesn’t just happen to people in real life does it? I mean, this can’t really be happening to me. I’m just going to wake up and discover it’s all been some kind of a weird dream and I’m going to be a normal looking guy and everything is going to be normal. No broken bones, no getting pounded all the time and no skirts and dresses. Come on wake up. Please? Katrina, wake up. Hey, come on, wake up...

“...Katrina, will you pay attention? Hey, wake up over there! What’s the matter with you today?”

I look around and once again discover my little nightmare/dream/whatever is still blazing away in all it’s totally illogical and vividly technicolour glory.
~O~

Tanner repeated his instructions and I did my best to follow them, glancing at Pam who seems a bit worried, presumably about my lapses of attention.
We finished this shoot, made longer by my departures from whatever this is, and once again packed everything into the hired bus so we can ride back to the Madrid hotel.

On the way back I’m again preoccupied with thoughts about my life past, present and future. Who am I? What am I? You know, all the usual trivia. A few small thoughts tickle my funny bone from time to time before settling into darker memories and musings. The three hour ride brings no answers but at least it has sharpened my questions... or at least my most important question. What am I? Who has taken a back seat to What. I may change my name to fit the What but I can’t so easily change the What to fit the Who.

It seems to me that I have two choices. I may be a boy which looks like a girl in which case the joke is on everyone; or, I may be a girl who really is a boy in which case the joke is on me and whatever doctor happens to be examining me.

Being either a boy or a girl is out of the question because the DNA and external organs, which when considered with the rest of my body and it’s internal organs manages to argue in opposite directions. If I use my past life as my source of inspiration then I’m a boy because that is the way I was raised. But, if I use my past life as my inspiration then I am a girl since that is way I look and the way I would likely receive the fewest beatings in the future. I’m screwed no matter which way I go.

As I see it, the best thing that is happening at the moment is the money. I will earn enough if I continue to do this that I will be able to afford completing whichever way I finally decide to go. The downside? Once there, there will be no turning back. Therefore, I must make the correct choice and go with it for the rest of my life. I guess that means I should be a boy or maybe a girl. That’s what I like about thinking... positive and definitive answers - - - maybe I should be a spy. I laugh again, I wonder if spies are gender non-specific?

I wonder if this is what people mean when they say they are in information overload? I manage to while away the ride back to the hotel while resolving absolutely nothing.

“I have a headache.” I tell Tan when he suggests we get together this evening to go over the photos we have taken during the day. I even skip supper and go early to bed.

The following morning I’m a mess but manage to pull myself together so I’m able to go out with everyone for the final morning’s photo shoots. We pack up and empty our hotel rooms putting our luggage into the hired bus along with everything else and after breakfast Tanner and Kaitlyn check us out of the hotel. Today goes much better for me than yesterday did. When Tanner suggests during the first shoot that we look at our photos as we are flying to London I readily agree. Sleep and food have helped me to become a little more mellow today. I wonder if I’ll ever get over the poundings and betrayals? I wonder if I’ll ever be able to decide who or what I am?

‘Gee Mommy, what’s that?’

‘That’s an object lesson dear. You don’t want to be like it.’

I need to stop thinking like this... it’s depressing.

Pam and I managed to take more photos today although not as many since we don’t have a great deal of time. I snapped a few as we were riding in the bus but don’t have great hopes for them turning out. The motion of the bus may be so fast as to ruin them. The more I think about it, the more that photo class interests me.

We arrived at the airport and unloaded everything, saying goodbye before the driver takes the Spanish girls back into the city proper so they can return home. Meanwhile we are checking into another airport again. This time it’s not so bad and we are quickly in the terminal lounge waiting for our plane. I snap a few photos here and, upon finding a power outlet, plug in my computer using the adapter then transfer my photos from my camera to my computer. Tan does the same for his and we begin looking at each others photos. The few of his which he wants to see on my viewing program he copies off his memory card into my computer and we call them up on the screen. His camera really does have some fantastic detail. It really does put my little camera to shame.

He seems satisfied with his photos and all those he has taken thus far for the client have been acceptable. I don’t see how he can miss since he takes so many. I’ll bet when he had to use film it was quite an expense.

“Tan, you really should consider continuing in this business. We could likely make it a great cover for your other work. We could also do documentaries or travel promotional works which would afford us the opportunity to go to other locations. Or perhaps travel programs. Things which the countries you need to go to would like to have accomplished. Of course there would always be some which wouldn’t work out but it’s something to think about. I’m willing to model or pose in the photos. I might even manage a few myself since they likely wouldn’t expect my scrapbook photos to be very important.”

“Do you realize what you’re saying, Katrina? It could be very dangerous.”

“As dangerous as living at home with my father for nearly seventeen years?”

“More.”

I pout, “More dangerous than dead? I’m fortunate to have lived this long.”

Our boarding call is heard and I shut down my notebook then stow it in it’s carry case along with the power supply. Ten minutes later we are on board and fifteen or so after that we are pushing back so we may taxi out and take off. As I am becoming an old hand at this I’m nearly napping as we roar down the runway and lift into the air.

Later, since Tan and I have already spent an hour looking at photos and really have little more we wish to do in that area, I go check Pam to learn if she needs to move photos from her camera to the computer.

“I’ll wait until we are in our hotel room. I’d like to take some more when we land and are on the way to the hotel.”

That comment puzzles me as I remember when we popped through Heathrow on the way to Paris that someone had commented to me that the flight back would be the same way with no time in London. Maybe I’m returning to the US ahead of everyone else. I go back to my seat and pull my ticket out of my purse going through it to check. It indicates I have five days in London and I’m fairly certain I was returning all the way on my former ticket which was converted so Elaine could return early.

“Tan? Do you have a moment?”

“Sure Kat. What’s up?”

“A mystery. Remember when we went through Heathrow on the way to Paris?”

“Yeah? So?”

“Well while I was gone looking around someone checked my ticket to see if I would have a chance to see something of London on the way back. They showed me on the ticket that I would not be staying over but would change planes and go straight back to the US.”

“Whoa. I’ll have to fix that as soon as we get to London. You need to stay with us while we’re there.”

“Tan, listen. That was my old ticket remember?”

“Old tick... Oh, yeah the one you cashed in so you could return early. Okay what does this ticket say?”

“I have a five day layover just like you want.”

“Great. So what’s the problem?”

“Why did my original ticket have me returning early if I was supposed to be staying with the rest of you?”

“No idea. It hardly matters now though, does it?”

“Tanner! Where did you get the original tickets? Who told you which tickets went to what people?”

“Emerson’s people... Ah... I think I see what you’re getting at. That would have had you returning five days ahead of the rest of us and you would have been without protection.”

“Exactly.”

Tan thinks about that for a bit, “Okay, I can have someone watch at the airport when your plane would have arrived to see if any of Emerson’s people are there waiting for you. I’ll also go have a little talk with Kaitlyn and see what her itinerary shows. She has been quite ‘up front’ with me during the tour. Elaine or Emerson may have had something planned. I’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you.”

Tanner exchanged seats with Pam which allowed the two of us to talk for a bit while Tanner and Kaitlyn had their little discussion. Tanner returned about the time the flight attendants were coming down the aisle preparing everything for our eventual landing.

“I’ll let you know everything after we land and get to our hotel. Just so you know though I think your suspicions were correct. At least partially so.”

~O~

We finally arrived at the hotel and after some adjustments to the occupancy of the various rooms, Pam and I were sharing a room once again. I wanted to speak with Tanner but he had made his way to a telephone and was making some sort of arrangements, he motioned to me to go ahead. I presumed that meant we would talk a little later.

Perhaps fifteen minutes or so passed before he was knocking at our door. When Pam answered it Tan came walking in which allowed the three of us to chat for a few minutes before he began to get down to business. I’m still thinking he has been placing us together all of the time so she may chaperone me. Perhaps not exactly in that capacity but indirectly.

When the conversation slowly flowed around to the difference in my original ticket and the lack of a reservation for me at this hotel Tan asked, “Kat, do you have any photos of Elaine? I’d like to take a look at them if you do.”

“I don’t know. I think so. Perhaps not alone but with others.”

“That’ll work. Pull out your computer and let’s have a look.”

Pam takes the hint, “Maybe I should go downstairs for a bit.”

Tan smiles at her, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you.”

“I was thinking of something along that line. It would be interesting to learn one day what sort of things you two really do.”

I look at her, “What I really do is model.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m a rocket scientist.” She goes out the door.

I turn to Tanner, “What did she mean by that? What have you been telling her about me?”

“I haven’t said a word.” He goes into his wronged little boy defense, “I can’t help it if she’s putting things together wrong.”

“Not much, you can’t.” I retort before giving him more of a benefit of a doubt, “Here are three photos of Elaine taken when I was getting pictures of some of the girls.”

Tanner looks at them and asks me to dump all three off onto a disk so he may send them to Washington. “I’ve asked them to send someone to see if either Elaine or Emerson arrive to meet you at the airport when the plane you would have been on arrives at JFK. By the way, Kaitlyn’s information about you indicates you are one of Emerson’s girls.”

“But that’s not true.”

“I know that. I informed Kaitlyn that you are under contract to me, not to Emerson. She has a copy of a contract in her computer which supposedly you signed with Emerson and I don’t have a copy here of the one you signed with me so right now it’s a case of he said, she said.”

“I have a copy of it. Just a moment.” I go and check my files pulling the contract, glancing at it quickly and handing it to Tanner. He looks it over and nods his head.

“I’m going to take this downstairs and have it copied.”

“Before you go I want to photograph it... every page.”

Tanner takes my camera and quickly shoots copies of the document then hands my camera back to me and accepts the disk with Elaine’s photos on it before he winks at me, kisses my cheek and goes out to have my contract copied. I don’t see Tan again until after supper and must remind him that I want my copy of the contract back. He promises to return it to me in the morning.

“Thank you, by the way. I was able to convince Kaitlyn that Emerson was trying to pull a fast one. The signature on his contract didn’t even come close to your own. She would like to talk with you about it and to see your identification to compare signatures but she knows the sort of games he is famous for and is leaning with me at the moment. I pointed out that I was also extremely unlikely to have my fiancee signed with someone else. That bought some points too.”

“So he really was trying to pull a fast one?”

“Looks like it. Just what ‘it’ happens to be is anyone’s guess at the moment but I doubt it would mean your virtue would remain intact.”

“Remind me to make him sing soprano when next we meet.”

“Now Kat. No antagonizing the clients.”

“What about antagonizing perverts?”

“I think I might grant you some leeway in that respect. Especially concerning Emerson.”

“Even though you’ve been trying to land his account for awhile? By the way, why are you so interested in his account? Is your agency interested in keeping tabs on him?”

“Kat, you’re entirely too smart for my own good. All I’ll say is ‘Tony’. Oh, If I stay in this business as a cover then we could branch into the things you mentioned. In that case I think we might be pretty busy and Emerson won’t be an 800 pound gorilla any more. When we get back, would you consider taking a few photography and cinematography courses at the farm? Of course you won’t be able to get away from some of their more mundane courses but we might investigate the possibility of working together in this business as well as growing into something more multinational than just the modeling business.”

“Would I get to ride horses?”

“I’ll ask Tony if they would get some in so you could go riding.”

“There might be others who would like to do that as well.”

“Possibly. Have you ever heard of Equestrian Events and Dressage?”

“Yes. The Lipizzaner Stallions.”

“Well, yes. That’s a part of it. The events occupy three parts; cross country, event jumping and Dressage or the finesse of control. These may be combined in various ways although in the Olympics they are usually separate parts of the events. In Europe it is also done that way but there are times when two or even all three may be combined into a single presentation. These are all derived from the long ago use of horses in war. The need to be capable of long endurance and to jump unexpected obstacles as well as form a shoulder to shoulder rank to press into the crowd of enemy infantry or to carry a sabre wielding soldier into the enemy’s midst to wreak havoc and then successfully escape again. It’s a long tradition and the horses are bred and trained specifically for that task. The sport today carries many of the requirements which were necessary to maintain life long ago. The moves and routines are still applicable. Some mounted police still use portions of the steps developed long ago.”

“So learning them could allow someone the use of a horse in a form of combat?”

“Not exactly, Kat. But in some circumstances the knowledge could prove beneficial to the rider if they are on a well trained horse that also understands the events.”

“They must be expensive. The horses I mean.”

“Usually. An unproven horse might go for less but that would depend upon the parentage and the ability of the young horse to accept training.”

“Some day if I could afford such a horse would that be another way we could get into a country in which the photography wouldn’t likely take us?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll ask Tony. It seems as though you are making plans for both of us to spend more time together...”

“Well...” I wiggle my engagement ring at him, “We are engaged, aren’t we? And I’m allowed to have other interests than just modeling and taking photographs, aren’t I?”

“I suppose. So you have decided to become a woman?”

“NO,” I say with a bit more force than I intended. “I haven’t made a choice. That’s still something which is difficult for me to grasp. I have valid arguments for each and neither.” I answer with some sadness as I turn away from him.

“Are you all right, Kat?

“Yes.”

“Then turn around and let me see your face.”

I raise my head and turn to let him look at me. No tears have flowed. They may be just under the surface but they’re not on my face. He pulls me gently to him and stands there holding me close. I lean my head down against him and let him hold me. What if I become a woman? Would he still want to hold me? Would I be the kind of person he would like and might we actually become married? Or is this all an act which he must promote since we are supposedly engaged? Then again do I even want that to happen? What if I want to become a woman but not be engaged to him? What if I want to become a male and have nothing to do with this engagement or dressing like a woman business? What am I? How do I make this decision?

“Tan, I need to be alone for a while. I’m sorry, I just need some time for myself. And while I happen to think of it, what have you heard about my camera?”

He grimaces before he answered, “Nothing yet, Kat. Tony’s still checking. See you in the morning?” He gives me a little kiss, pulling me to him and we kiss lips to lips. I grab a Kleenex and wipe my lipstick from his lips before opening the door to let him out.

“Goodnight, Tan. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He winks at me and walks out and down the hall as I close the door. My mind moves rapidly back into the contemplation which had begun while he was standing there holding me.

When I left home, emancipated to a degree because I couldn’t survive there; the short time I was living and working on my own as a male I was doing okay but still not doing all that well. Now here I am dressing as a female and pulling down big bucks. Well — medium bucks at any rate. This world is a wacky place. As a male who is disguised as a female, I’m doing okay. Better than okay, I’m making money which will allow me to act upon my final decision, whatever that might be. I pull out a coin and flip it... heads I’m a boy, tails I’m a girl... It comes up heads. What a stupid way to make such an important decision.

to be continued