Pick-Up Line
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2000

Lou enters a bar, meets Sarah and says...

Pick-Up Line
By Ellie Dauber
Copyright 2000

I always loved the bar in the Chapman Hotel.

The hotel was right at the edge of the big office complex north of town, convenient for visiting big shots or for staff on temporary assignment. Then they build the conference center next to the hotel. Nothing fancy, but just right for trade shows and the like.

What did that have to do with the bar?

It meant that it was the stop of choice for anybody leaving the office complex in need of a drink or in town for a conference, thirsty, and unsure where to go. The place was always full of secretaries and professional types of both sexes looking to relax, and, sometimes, looking for somebody to relax with. Since I also like to relax, especially with somebody else, that made it prime "hunting grounds" for me.

I saw the woman sitting alone at the bar, nursing a drink. Her hair was a reddish blonde, flowing off her shoulders and down her back. She wore one of those flouncy white peasant blouses, with the top two buttons undone to show a really nice cleavage, and a navy skirt that was tight enough to show off her splendid figure without being slutty. It wasn't very long either; even sitting, it was well above the knee. Her waist was narrow, but her hips were wide with a tight, nicely rounded ass. Her legs were curled around the high barstool and, to quote the phrase, "went all the way up to her neck".

I motioned for Jack, the bartender, to come over. "Who's the lady," I said pointing at my target.

"Sarah, Sarah Mather. She owns a consulting firm of some sort. Class, definite class."

"She seeing anybody I should know about?"

"Nope. She comes here once and a while; sometimes alone, sometimes with a girl friend. I don't think she's gay, though. I've seen her leave with a guy more than once."

I handed him the ten I'd held in my fingers. "Okay, I'm going over there. When you take my order, ask me if I'd heard any good jokes."

He nodded, and I walked over and sat down on a stool two stools away from where Ms. Mather was sitting. It was close enough to strike up a conversation, but not an obvious pick-up.

Jack came over. "Hi, Mr. Prescott."

"Hi, Jack. Seven and seven, please."

"Right. Hey, you hear any good jokes lately?"

"A guy goes into a bar and sees this woman in a really tight pants suit. He's curious, so he goes over and says, 'Excuse me, but how do you get into those pants?' and she says --"

"That joke is older than this building," the woman interrupted. Jack retreated to get my drink.

Now the whole idea of telling the joke is to get a reaction from the target, so you can start a conversation. I hadn't gotten the reaction that I wanted, but it was a start. I decided to go with it.

"It was the only joke I could think of at the moment."

"Your sense of humor is as creative as your pick-up technique. I saw you watching me over at the far side of the bar. I should be insulted that you tried something so trite. I might even think about just insulting you and walking away."

"But --"

"But instead, I've decided to teach you a little lesson. Come on, I keep a room here at the hotel." She turned and started towards the door.

I tossed Jack a five to pay for the drink and gave him a "thumbs up". Then I turned and followed her out of the bar humming "Hooked on Teacher" under my breath.

* * * * *

Her room was on the twelfth floor. It was more of a mini-suite, actually, a fair sized living room with an adjoining bedroom. There was even a wet bar with a small, built in refrigerator. It also must have doubled as her office, since I saw a box full of files next to a laptop PC on what looked like a dining room table over in one corner.

"Make yourself a drink," she said. "I'm going to get something out of the other room." She disappeared into the bedroom. To slip into something more comfortable, I hoped.

In the meantime, I took a look at the bottles by the bar. I poured myself two fingers of 12-year old Jim Beam and called after her, "Would you like something?"

"No, thanks," she said coming out of the bedroom. She hadn't changed, merely tossed some sort of a bathrobe over her dress. She was wrapping it shut around her as she came out. The robe was a deep green with yellow and red symbols of some sort on it. It looked great on her, bringing out the red of her hair.

I started towards the couch. She looked at me oddly and made some sort of gesture with her hands. Suddenly, I just wanted to stand where I was. 'Weird,' I thought and sipped some of the Jim Beam.

She looked at me and frowned. "I've really had it with clowns like you who think a handsome face and some corny line are enough to get any woman into bed with them. I spent the day with several of my clients over at the complex. And, you know what, there wasn't a single office where some idiot pretty boy didn't try something like you just pulled in the bar."

I took another sip of my drink. For some reason, her rant didn't bother me. Nothing bothered me. I just wanted to stand where I was for a while. Even the fact that I was enjoying just standing there listening to her didn't bother me.

It should have.

"I went into the bar tonight to just relax for a bit before I had to come up to my room and get ready for tomorrow's meetings. Just spend a little time with people. Then you hit on me with that stupid line." She really had a full head of steam now. If it hadn't been so pleasant just to stand where I was standing, I would have left.

"Well, pretty boy, you're going to pay for all those idiots who tried something today. What's your name, by the way?"

"Lou, Lou Prescott." I finished the drink and set the glass down on the floor next to me. It would have been too much trouble to move anyplace else just to set it down.

"Nice name. Only, you won't be answering to it for the rest of the evening. Incidentally, I'm Sarah Mather."

"What are you talking about?"

"You'll see, honey." She made another, much more elaborate gesture with her hands and mumbled something in a language that sounded a little like Welsh.

All of a sudden, my body began to tingle all over, like an electric current was going through it. I noticed that the room seemed to be getting bigger. Then, so were my clothes. I felt them getting baggier on me. Then something tickled my ears and the back of my neck. It felt like I had hair there. It was weird, but I somehow didn't feel the urge to look at myself and see what was happening.

By this time my pants had gotten so loose at the waist that they began to slide down. They'd have dropped to the ground, but something stopped them. My hips somehow got wide enough that the pants couldn't slide past. My shirt was loose, too, but now I felt something pressing against it. My chest felt fully, kind of sensitive, and it seemed to be pushing against the shirt.

Then as suddenly as it had started, the tingling passed. I was curious to see what had happened, but not curious enough to actually look.

"Why don't you walk over to the mirror," Sarah said with a pleasant smile. She hadn't put any emphasis on the idea, but it seemed like a command.

There was a large mirror mounted on a wall near the bar. As I walked over to it, I noticed that my reflection didn't look right. I should have seen Lou Prescott, thirty-two year old ex-jock, six foot two with curly brown hair and a killer smile. Instead, it looked like Sarah's kid sister was wearing my suit, a pretty girl in her early twenties; about five foot five with golden blonde hair running halfway down her back.

Sarah joined me as I stared at the image -- my image. I was the girl.

"Pretty, isn't she?" Sarah said. "Even without any make-up and in those ridiculous clothes. You look fabulous, Lucy."

"Lucy?" My voice was much higher, a soprano squeak that sounded like a little girl.

"Yes. You're my cousin, Lucy Mather now. At least that's the only name you can answer to."

"No! I'm not Lucy Mather! I'm not a girl. I'm a girl! I mean -- I'm a girl! I'm Lou-cy P-P-Pa-Mather!" I all but spit out the last name in frustration. What had she done? How was it possible?

"It's possible because I'm a witch -- and, yes, I just read your mind." She looked me up and down. "Now let's do something about those clothes." She made another gesture and spoke a few more of those strange words.

I felt my clothes moving across my body again. This time I was looking in a mirror, so I could see what was happening.

My navy suit jacket grew lighter in color, turning baby blue. At the same time, the material softened so that it became a sweater, a girl's sweater. My shirtsleeves retreated up into the sweater. I felt them moving up my arms until they disappeared as my cotton shirt transformed into a woman's silk blouse. The collar also disappeared, as did the top two buttons. My necktie shrank down into a gold chain with a little heart-shaped locket at the end. The locket settled down into what I suddenly realized was my very attractive cleavage. I felt a rippling of material under the shirt as my T-shirt transformed into a lacy bra. A thought popped into my head. I needed a bra with my new 38-D breasts.

I couldn't see below my knees in the mirror, but I watched when my pants rose up my legs to become a pair of shorts. They looked good on my wide, feminine hips. Then the shorts merged into a tube of material that became a mini-skirt some five or six inches above the knees. I saw my socks grow up my legs as if chasing after the pants. They grew up past the hem of my skirt and merged at my hips becoming a pair of sheer pantyhose. Then I seemed to grow taller.

Sarah saw the confused look in my eyes as I grew. "You're wearing three-inch high heels now, Lucy."

I was done now. No! Something seemed to be happening to my face. I saw my lips darken as lipstick suddenly appeared on them. I felt blusher on my cheeks. I blinked my eyes in surprise and discovered mascara and a pale blue eyeliner on those same eyes. The girl in the mirror looked sweet and sexy and very innocent. She would draw men the way bees draw honey.

"A very good analogy, Lucy." Sarah had read my mind again. "But maybe a little too clever for a sweet young thing like you."

I stared at myself in the mirror uncertain what would happen next.

"All right, cousin, dear." Sarah smiled like a cat might smile while it was playing with a mouse. "Here’s what happens now. You're going back down to the bar, and you’re going to stay there the rest of the evening no matter how much you want to leave. You’ll get to feel what it's like to be hit on all evening."

She was suddenly holding a purse. She handed it to me, and I was compelled to put the strap over my shoulder. "Please don't make me do this," I said, tears welling up in my eyes.

"Oh, don't cry, Lucy. You'll ruin your make-up." I blinked as the tears seemed to vanish from my eyes." She opened the door. "Now you go downstairs and see how the other half lives." I slowly walked out -- I really had no choice in the matter. I fought it, but my body was mostly doing what she told it to, not what I told it to. She either read my mind or my body language because she added, "and, Lucy, you perk up and be sure to smile for all the nice men you're going to be meeting." afterthought, she added.

I straightened and walked chest out stomach in (which must have looked really great considering my new figure) to the elevator. I pressed the button. While I waited, I looked at myself in the mirrored doors. I saw a pretty blonde in her early twenties, eyes slightly closed and with a sexy little smile on her face.

The part of my mind that was still male felt a rush of lust, but my newly female body betrayed me. Instead of the old familiar hardness in my groin, I felt a hardening in my nipples. My groin felt warm, and a little moist, and -- no! . -- a little empty. Dammit, I was arousing myself, but as a female. This was the last thing I needed when I was going into that bar. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and let it out slowly to try to calm myself.

Unfortunately, just as I did that, the elevator doors opened. The three guys inside suddenly saw what they could only think was an attractive young woman eyes closed and sighing at them. They all went into testosterone overload, smiling and stepping back as I got on the elevator.

To make matters worse, my "programming" took over. I smiled at the one closest to the buttons for the floors and said, "I'm going down" in that squeaky new voice of mine. That got me another smile, as three pairs of men's slacks suddenly got considerably tighter at the top of their inseams.

They spent the rest of the elevator ride staring at me, my legs, my breasts, my ass. One even looked at my face for just a little bit. Inside I was screaming, but my body never showed it. I stood there letting them look at me, feeling their lust as a warmth in my body. It was like being under a sunlamp.

"Don’t I know you from someplace," one of them said eventually. I felt myself purse my lips as if thinking. I stared at his face for a minute, and then my eyes trailed down his body, stopping at the bulge just below his waist. I smiled and licked my lips as I looked back up. "No, I’m sorry, nothing about you seems familiar." Then I smiled and added, "Yet." Damn, I was flirting back.

Just then, the elevator doors opened onto the lobby. "Bye, boys," I said and walked out of the elevator and towards the bar. The three of them lagged behind, but I could still feel their eyes on me. I started walking with more and more of a sway of the hips, a strut to my walk, until I might as well have been a stripper on a runway.

I kept going with that exaggerated walk once I reached the bar. As I walked over to get a drink, it seemed to me as if everything stopped, and everybody was looking at me. If it had been a movie, a spotlight would have followed me across the bar while somebody played low sexy jazz riffs on a trumpet.

I reached the bar not far from where Jack was standing and sat down on a stool. "What’ll you have, ma’am?"

"Whatever it is, Jack, put it on my tab." A tall man in his mid thirties was suddenly standing next to me. He had close-cropped sandy brown hair and a neat little mustache. He smiled and said, "A pleasure to meet a lady as pretty as yourself, ma’am." He had a soft Texas drawl that didn’t quite match the expensive Italian suit he was wearing. "I’m Pete Nelson."

"White wine, please," I said with a smile I didn’t want on my face. I hated white wine. It was a woman’s drink, but, thanks to Sarah, I was a woman just then. "Lucy Mather," I said.

Pete hung in for about twenty minutes plying me with wine and trying to impress me with stories about his electronics firm in Dallas. When he saw that he wasn’t making any sort of progress, he smiled wanly and headed down the bar to try his luck on a redhead who had just come in.

Sam Epstein, an accountant I knew, tried next. Sam was a good guy, and I kind of felt sorry for him. He used an even lamer joke than I had with Sarah; the old "If I told you that you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?" gag. In spite of myself, I giggled when he said it. I had the sort of high, breathy giggle that immediately turned guys on. He tried and tried, but he couldn’t get a rise out of me.

I got a rise out of him, though. I could see it in his pants.

It was like that the rest of the evening. A guy would come over and hit me with some dumb line. He’d spend a while buying me drinks and trying to get me interested. I’d respond, maybe even flirt a little, but, somehow, every one of them would give up after a while and leave.

And each time, somebody new would take his place a minute or two later. The only good thing about it was that I didn’t seem to be affected by all the alcohol I was drinking. I might have enjoyed all that drinking without getting drunk, but getting changed into a magnet for dumb pick-up lines seemed like too high a price for the privilege.

* * * * *

It was about 1:40. I was being double-teamed by two jocks from the local college. They finally gave up and decided to spend the last twenty minutes before the bar closed to find more agreeable (make that "more bed-able") company. I sighed with relief. It was almost over.

"Excuse me, ma’am. I couldn’t help noticing you there, and I was wondering if I might talk to you for a bit."

I turned to see who was talking. He was in his late twenties, about average height with curly black hair. He was smiling. ‘A nice smile," I thought suddenly.

"I’m Harry, Harry D’Ambriso." He offered his hand.

"Hi, Harry. I’m Lucy Mather." I smiled and shook hands. He had a firm handshake. I felt a tingle in my breasts as he released my hand. It felt really… really nice.

The rest of those twenty minutes flew by. He was a computer consultant in from Chicago to discuss a new application his company was developing for one of the firms over in the complex. Only, he didn’t want to talk about computers. It was his first time in town, and he wanted to know what sights he should see while he was here. He knew something of the town and asked a bunch of questions, questions that always seemed to get back to the idea of what I -- which is to say -- Lucy Mather liked.

There was nothing really sexual about the conversation, but the tingling in my breasts kept going. It spread out through my body, especially down to my crotch. I had the same feeling down there that I’d had before, warm, a little wet, and empty. Very empty.

Jack came over and told us that he was closing up the place.

"Thank you for the conversation, Lucy," Harry said. "Could we continue it tomorrow night over dinner, say at that sushi place you recommended?"

I smiled my -- Lucy’s -- best smile. "We could continue it now; that is, if you have a room here at the hotel."

He smiled back. "I never refuse a lady." He took my hand in his and kissed it. He knew just the right way. He stared into my eyes as he raised my hand to his mouth. He opened his lips slightly and closed them around my knuckle, where my ring finger joined my hand. He pursed his lips and sucked for a moment, then licked the knuckle with the tip of his tongue before releasing it.

A shiver ran through my body. It wanted this man. It wanted him bad!

We walked hand in hand back to the elevator; my head resting on his shoulder, my body nestled up close to his.

* * * *

I awoke about 8 Am to the sound of a shower. Where was I? I looked around the hotel room. I remembered going up to a room with Sarah Mather and smiled. Then I remembered what she’d done to me. I glanced quickly down at my body, half expecting to see Lucy’s tits poking up under the blanket.

No. With a silent "Hallelujah!" I recognized my own very male body. I was Lou Prescott again.

And I was in a man’s bed.

I’d been intimate with this man, too. Intimate, hell, we’d screwed like a couple of rabbits. Harry knew all kinds of tricks, and he’d used every one. My nipples still felt a little sensitive, and I half expected that I’d be walking bowlegged for a while. I also had gotten far too familiar with what the phrase "multiple orgasm" really meant.

I smiled at that memory. The pleasure had been incredible, like nothing I’d ever felt as a man. I felt a new twinge down in my crotch, and I realized that I was giving myself one humongous hard-on thinking about it.

The shower stopped. Harry was going to come out and find a strange man with a hard-on lying naked in his bed. At best, he’d call the cops. At worse, he’d beat the living crap out of me.

A figure came out of the bathroom wrapping her hair in a towel. Yes, her hair. She had a second towel draped around her the way women do, from the breasts -- nice full breasts, too -- to down around her hips. She turned so that I could see her face. "Surprise, Lou."

"Sarah! But how -- what -- what happened to Harry?"

"I was Harry, Lou. I changed myself into a man the same way that I changed you into a woman."

"But why?"

"I thought that, after you spent the evening seeing all the wrong ways to approach a woman, you might learn something from seeing the right way."

"But -- you -- we --" I couldn’t finish.

"Had sex?" She smiled. No, she grinned. "Yes, and it was pretty good, too. Lucy was one horny woman."

"But I was Lucy!"

"Part of the spell; part of the lesson. Think of it as additional punishment for acting like a jerk, or you can think of it as a reward."

"I’m not sure what I want to think of it as."

"That will come with time. All wisdom does."

"And will I see you again?"

"Probably not. I’m not really interested in you except as somebody that I taught a lesson to."

"Well, at least that’s over. I don’t think I’ll ever try any sort of dumb line like that again."

"I hope not."

"Why? Why do you say that?"

"Because I didn’t end the spell that I cast on you, Lou. I just de-activated it. You try using a dumb pick-up line on any woman ever again, and it re-activates, and, Lou --" she paused for effect.

"Yeah?"

"I will know if the spell re-activates, and I will make very sure that you can’t find me to ever change you back."

The End