Secret Identity, Part 2

    This fictional account contains adult language and themes. If such
language and themes offend you, please do not read further. Copyright 1998 by
SSTORYMAN. All rights reserved. Permission is granted to reproduce this story
in any form and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no
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reproducing it.

    SECRET IDENTITY

    2. The Transformation.

    Claire looked out her front window. On the drive home she mulled over her
talk with Liz. Part of her wanted to forget it. But another part was excited.
She was miserable. She'd accomplished her professional objectives, but they
were hollow. She had no friends, other than boring professional colleagues.
Liz's suggestions deserved serious consideration.

    She had two follow-up questions. First, could she compartmentalize her
life like Liz described? Could she exist as two different people, one the good
doctor who sees patients and is generally respectable by day, and the other a
rebel who parties by night? She didn't know.

    The second question was harder. Did she want to be bad? After all, her
whole life was built on being a good girl, one who never got into trouble, who
never broke the rules, who never disappointed expectations. She sighed. The
answer to this was a fervent yes. She wanted to be like Liz. To be precise,
she needed to. She had no experience being bad, and wasn't sure how to start,
but she had to find out. The way she lived didn't make her happy. She wanted
to be happy.

    Where to begin? She'd never build a social life through the office or the
hospital. Her medical colleagues at the office were married older men. The new
doctor, Karen Adams, just started. She seemed serious, not a partying type.
She couldn't build a social life with her coworkers. They wouldn't approve of
the 'bad girl' image Claire wanted. To compartmentalize her life and build a
secret identity, she needed help from somewhere else. Where?

    As she pondered this, she glanced at the new contact lens case on the
table. She'd picked them up on the way home. She was to wear them no more than
six hours a day at first. "I'll wear them only in the evenings, the first
component of my new image," she decided. She laughed thinking about Supergirl,
her childhood hero. "Supergirl had a secret identity, and so will I. I'll wear
my glasses during the day," she resolved. "But I'll wear contacts when I want
to be bad. It'll be part of my new secret identity." The simple idea seemed to
encourage her.

    Contacts were a start. But Liz had other suggestions, too. Changing her
damn hair would be a second step in creating a new, secret identity. God, she
hated her hair! It was so plain. But that could change. Could Maya Wilson, the
girl who did her hair, see her this afternoon? She dialed Maya's number and
waited.


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    "Wow, Claire. That's quite a story. You want to create a new image, a new
identity, to transform yourself into a party girl? I'm flattered you'd share
this with me. I mean, God, I only cut your damn hair. You hardly know me."

    Maya Wilson sat across from Claire in her cubicle. Claire had told Maya
about her discussion with Liz, about her desire to completely change her
image. Maya had been cutting Claire's hair for a long time, but this was the
most personal conversation they'd ever had.

    "I don't know who else to talk to, Maya," Claire replied. "The people at
my office won't help. I don't want them involved because they won't approve. I
need a new image for a new evening persona, a girl who parties. I want to
change into a woman who raises hell and gets men to go to bed with her. God,
I'm so tired of being lonely. I want to have fun before I die. My parents'
death convinced me I need to change. Any ideas, in addition to solving my hair
problem, will be great." She paused. "Maya, you look like someone who knows
how to have a good time," she added optimistically.

    Maya frowned as she considered this. She was about 25, five foot six,
slender and cute as a button. Her father was Caucasian but her mother was
Hawaiian. Her mother's family provided her somewhat unusual first name. Her
features were Asian, and beautiful. Maya's fair complexion perfectly
complemented her long, black hair, which fell back over her shoulders and
across her firm, oversized breasts. Her clothes were tight and stylishly
revealing. Facial makeup was expertly applied. Claire liked her the same way
she admired Liz. Maya was a real beauty, and looked like a woman of the
world.

    "I'm no prude," Maya admitted with a sweet smile. "I play hard," she
added. "I know how to have a good time. I get out a lot. I'm not sure I'm a
'bad girl,' but I'm not ready to settle down, if that's what you mean."

    "That's exactly what I mean," Claire agreed eagerly. "I've spent my whole
life being 'settled down.' I'm fuckin' tired of it. Excuse my language, but I
want to learn to be a bad girl. I can't do it looking like this." She threw up
her hands for emphasis, indicating her whole person.

    Maya frowned again. She was adorable each time she turned down the corners
of her perfect mouth and formed a frown. "You're my last appointment today,"
she announced. "We could go shopping after I finish your hair. I don't have
plans 'til eight. I've got time, and ideas, too." She smiled. "You're good
looking, Claire. You have a nice figure and a pretty face. And you look much
better without glasses." She gave a naughty smirk. "You're a respectable
doctor by day, but we can turn you into a real vixen by night."

    "That'd be so cool," Claire grinned enthusiastically. "Maya, you're
wonderful." She spontaneously clasped Maya's slender hands. "It might be dumb
to want to be someone else, someone different by night. But I have to try."

    Maya smiled. Her face was equally adorable when she grinned. "Remaking
people is what beauticians do," she nodded. "That's why I like my job. We'll
get you new hair, new clothes and a whole new attitude. Baby, when I'm done,
even your sister won't recognize you." She took a deep breath. "Let's get
started. Now, about that hair. I've got a few suggestions ...."


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    Claire looked again in her Lexus' rear view mirror. The two women were
waiting for a red light. She still couldn't believe her eyes. She'd been
completely transformed over the last few hours. Gone were her miserable long,
straight, mousy brown locks, replaced by a new deep, dark brown head of curly
hair. Because of Claire's desire for versatility, Maya styled it so be pulled
up in a ponytail or bun during the day for a conservative look. Tonight,
however, the hair bounced in all its newfound glory. She loved it! In her ears
were two silver posts, earrings filling holes in her newly pierced ears.
Eventually she'd get fancier ones. Hoops might be best for evening wear, but
the small posts were necessary 'til her ears healed. They looked nice. 

    She wore a new outfit, one of three they picked out at the mall. Her
blouse was skin-tight and sleeveless, accenting both her breasts and her flat
stomach. Maya said Claire's breasts, or "boobs" as she called them, were too
good to hide. Claire'd never worn a top like that, but it looked better than
she expected. Her tight khaki slacks accented the curve of her hips. Her neck
sported a new gold necklace. She wore hoop bracelets on her left wrist, and
gold rings on four different fingers. Claire felt (and looked) like a new
woman.

    "Maya, I'm so happy," she bubbled. "I hardly look like Claire Davis."

    "That's the point," Maya replied. She wore her same tight, stylish blouse
and pants. Both girls were dressed to kill. "If I may say so, your new
hairstyle looks fucking great! That hair color is good on you. And the outfit
is bitching, girl. You look good enough to eat." She released a wanton laugh.
"I mean that as a serious complement."

    "Thanks," Claire nodded as the red light changed. "Where to now?"

    Maya glanced at her watch. "We've got a little time. I want to stop at one
more store on Fifth Avenue. They have stuff that will look fabulous on you.
But, could I ask a favor first?"

    "Sure, anything," Claire said happily. "What is it?"

    "I don't want to offend you. I know you're a doctor. But I was wondering
.... I mean .... Oh, shit! I'll just say it. Could we stop somewhere so I can
smoke a quick cigarette?"

    Claire smiled, but not the disapproving smile of a doctor. "Sure." Her
voice had a pleasant tone. "I didn't know you smoked, Maya. How long have you
been a smoker?"

    Maya looked embarrassed. "I've been smoking since I was 16. You don't have
to tell me. It's a nasty habit. I should quit. I guess I just don't want to
bad enough. Someday I will."

    "It _is_ a nasty habit," Claire nodded serenely. "But that's okay. No
problem. I don't mind. We'll stop for coffee and you can smoke. How about the
Denny's down the street?"

    "Great," Maya sighed with obvious relief. "I haven't had a cigarette for
hours. I get crazy when I go too long without nicotine. I'm sorry, but it's
getting pretty urgent. I won't make it to another store unless I smoke
first."

    "Don't worry," Claire said, still smiling. "I don't mind." She pulled the
Lexus into Denny's parking lot. They entered the restaurant without further
discussion. Maya asked for a table in the smoking section. She looked more
desperate every minute.

    The young hostess gave Maya and Claire a knowing smile when Maya asked for
the smoking section. She seemed to sense and appreciate the Hawaiian girl's
desperation. "No problem," the hostess beamed with an understanding wink.
"Right this way."

    As they walked to the table, Claire felt the eyes of the male customers
follow them across the room. She smiled. They did look like two women in
search of trouble! The realization of being watched excited her. Wetness began
to develop in her crotch. She purposely wiggled her hips as she sauntered to
the table following the hostess. 

    The smoking section wasn't crowded. The dinner crowd had dissipated. Only
a few stragglers remained. From her purse Maya removed a pack of cigarettes
and a lighter. The white package with gold trim read "Marlboro Lights 100's."
With interest Claire watched Maya confidently place a cigarette between her
cherry lips.

    Maya was oblivious, but Claire noticed the interest of men at nearby
tables turn into stares as the cigarette reached her friend's mouth. Maya
flicked her lighter and let the flame touch the cylinder's tip. Her puffy
cheeks drew in, and the end of her cigarette flared as smoke drifted from it.
Maya's first pull was concentrated, deliberate and relished. She inhaled,
keeping the smoke inside her lungs before exhaling. Prior to breathing it back
out, Maya re-inserted the cigarette back into her waiting mouth. Again her
bright red lips accepted the all-white cigarette eagerly, firmly wrapping
themselves around it, pulling it back slightly as her cheeks hollowed once
more. A second time the tip flared and crackled. Maya's suction pulled another
large volume of smoke into her mouth and eventually down into her lungs.

    "Oh, God," Maya finally moaned, almost involuntarily. She began to speak,
and bursts of blue-gray smoke cascaded from her cherry red lips. "Thanks,
Claire. I'm sorry to do this to you. But after smoking every day for ten
years, I go insane if I go too long without nicotine."

    Claire stared. The smoky haze encircled Maya's pretty face. "Do you enjoy
smoking, Maya?" she asked softly. "It looks like you do."

    Maya frowned. It was the same adorable, little frown. "Look, Claire, you
don't have to tell me I should quit," she said, the corners of her mouth
inverted. "I know I should."

    Claire smiled benevolently. "I wasn't asking if you know you should quit,
Maya. I'm sure you do. I'm merely asking if you enjoy smoking. That's a
different question."

    "Oh, yeah, I guess so," she answered reluctantly. Then she blushed and
smiled, cocking her wrist and holding the burning cigarette high in the air.
For the first time, she noticed the admiring gazes of her audience. 

    "Why the hell am I apologizing? Who am I kidding? Yeah, I love to smoke. I
shouldn't, but I do." She took another long drag and inhaled. She tipped her
head ever so slightly and directed a plume of smoke toward the ceiling in a
thin stream. It was as if she was intentionally putting on a show.

    "I'd smoke all the time, if it wasn't bad for me," she admitted. Sensing
Claire wasn't about to lecture her, she spoke with more candor. "It's probably
a good thing I can't smoke inside the salon any longer. As it is, I smoke over
a pack a day. It would be more if they still let me smoke at work."

    "Interesting," Claire admitted. "This morning I found out my sister
smokes. At first I was horrified, but she made an interesting case. She says
smoking has become a statement of non-conformity, a sign of protest against
today's politically correct milieu. Do you agree?"

    "Sure," Maya concurred, exhaling again. "Smoking is something of a
statement these days. It pisses off a lot of people. Of course," she smirked,
"not everybody's pissed." She glanced knowingly at the next table where two
men watched almost involuntarily. "But it does irritate most people. I
sometimes enjoy pissing them off. Like, when me and my friends are out and
some asshole complains. It's a kick to keep smoking and give 'em the finger. I
love telling them to mind their own damn business." She tapped some ashes into
the ashtray.

    "That's what Liz says." Claire looked thoughtfully at her friend. She
smoked quickly, returning the cigarette to her lips every fifteen seconds for
an allocation of nicotine, repeatedly loading smoke into her hungry lungs with
relish. Somehow, Maya's smoking didn't seem disgusting. It looked intriguing.
She looked neat with a cigarette in between her full, red lips. Her passion
was evident.

    "Maya," Claire asked with hesitation. "Would you mind if I tried one?" She
reached and picked up the pack of Marlboro Lights 100's, turning it in her
hand as she looked at it.

    Maya was in the midst of exhaling a mouth full of smoke. She almost
choked. "Don't make fun of me like that, Claire. I don't appreciate it," she
said sternly.

    "I'm not playing," said Claire sincerely. "I'm serious. I'd like to try a
cigarette."

    "What in God's name for? Are you crazy?"

    "No," she answered gently. "We agreed I'd create a new persona, a real bad
girl. The hair, the clothes and the jewelry are a great beginning. But what
could be more depraved than a girl who smokes? It's so bad it's perfect."

    Maya waited. She expected Claire to announce this strange request was a
joke. But no such declaration was forthcoming. 

    Claire tipped the pack of cigarettes in her hand and withdrew one of the
Marlboros. She sniffed it. "Not as bad as I expected," she smiled.

    Maya was bewildered. "Claire, this is stupid. It's one thing to change
your hair. It's another to get hooked on cigarettes. You don't want to wind up
like me, do you?"

    Again, the placid smile. In fact, at that moment, Claire wanted to be
exactly like Maya. "Maybe I do," she answered. "But I don't think I'd get
hooked. You see, Liz has been smoking for a year and isn't addicted. The
latest medical research says a small segment of the population has genes that
don't properly metabolize nicotine in tobacco smoke. They can't access the
'high.' When these people smoke, they're not at risk for addiction." She
smiled and held the unlit cigarette before her face. "Liz and I share the same
genes, Maya. We inherited 'em from the same parents. So if Liz isn't addicted,
I won't get addicted, either."

    Maya crushed her cigarette in the ashtray and took a sip of coffee. "Let
me get this straight. You're saying you could smoke for effect, just for the
fun of it, but not get hooked?"

    "Yes. Minimal amounts of tobacco smoke aren't much of a health risk. Hell,
I know doctors who smoke cigars for pleasure without a second thought. This
will be no different. I'll be able to stop and start as I please. But it will
be great for my new image."

    "You might be onto something," Maya admitted. She smiled. "How do I get
those damn genes? Maybe they'd help me quit."

    "I thought you liked smoking," Claire teased. "I thought you didn't want
to quit."

    Maya sighed. "You're right. I don't," she admitted. "I only tell people I
want to quit because they expect it. To be honest," she said, giving a tiny
shrug of her shoulders, "I doubt I ever will quit. I like smoking way too much
to stop."

    "Then teach _me_ how," Claire urged. "You don't want to quit, and I won't
have to. Show me what to do."

    Maya slowly and carefully explained the mechanics of smoking. With a
second cigarette, she demonstrated all aspects of smoking, how to light it and
how to puff and exhale. As she smoked the second cigarette, Maya inhaled. But
she warned Claire not to, suggesting maybe she shouldn't even try, just to be
safe.

    "Nonsense," Claire asserted confidently. "Real smokers inhale. The new,
bad Claire must smoke like a real smoker. Show me how. I don't want to look
like a prude.."

    Maya followed with a quick lesson, carefully showing how to pull the smoke
into the lungs without coughing, and how to properly exhale. Claire
understood.

    Maya finished the second cigarette, and immediately lit up a third. This
one she handed to Claire. "Go ahead and try it, girl, like I showed you," she
instructed. "Don't inhale yet, though. First get used to sucking on the
cigarette and blowing the smoke back out again."

    Claire looked at the burning cigarette in her right hand. The thrill of
what she was about to do once again caused her crotch to feel wet. She glanced
at the men at the next table. Now they were watched her, too. She smiled. 

    Meanwhile, Maya lit another cigarette of her own. "Go ahead, Claire," she
teased. "Let's see you smoke, baby."

    Lifting the cigarette to her lips, Claire gently puffed. The taste was
bitter, but not as harsh as she expected. She hated ambient smoke. But this
was completely different. Having the smoke inside her mouth wasn't bad. In
truth, it was almost enjoyable.

    Claire blew it out. Now she was excited. This wasn't as hard as she
thought! She hadn't mentioned it to Maya, but she'd experimented with smoking
once before. During her junior year in high school back in Springdale, Claire
had a friend who smoked. She urged Claire to try it. She did, although
secretly. Claire enjoyed experimenting with smoking at the time, but very soon
had decided that smoking was inconsistent with the image she'd worked so hard
to create. She probably smoked ten to fifteen cigarettes as a teenager, but
that was sixteen years earlier. However, the sensation wasn't completely
foreign. She successfully took six shallow puffs as her cigarette burned
down.

    "You're doing great," Maya said, with a suggestively lewd grin. "You _are_
a bad girl! I'm very impressed. How do you feel?"

    "I'm lightheaded," Claire allowed. "It's not bad. It's only the
pharmacological effects of nicotine." She smiled as she crushed her cigarette
in the ashtray. "See? I can be a bad girl! God, if my colleagues could only
see me! Claire Davis, M.D., dressed like a siren and smoking a goddamn
cigarette! They'd shit their pants!" She giggled. "To tell the truth, I like
it. I feel so ... I don't know, so evil or something. If being bad is this
much fun, I'm going to have a ball."

    Maya grinned. Once again, the smile was strangely lustful, almost
lecherous. Because she wasn't finished with her own cigarette, she continued
to smoke and talk. "No kidding, Claire, you look damn good holding a
cigarette," she said approvingly. "With the new hairstyle, you look hot,
sultry, untamed. You're a siren! At this rate, the new Claire Davis won't have
trouble attracting guys." She lowered her voice. "You noticed those guys over
there, didn't you?"

    "Yeah. What's going on with them?"

    "Some men are attracted to women who smoke. I don't know why. Maybe
smoking makes us seem more worldly, sophisticated, mysterious." She giggled.
"I always play with my smoke whenever a guy tries to pick me up. You know? No,
of course you don't. I take long, luxurious drags and show him drawn-out,
slow, enticing exhales. Like this." She took a last hit on her cigarette to
illustrate. She opened her mouth and let a large ball of smoke hang in the
air. Quickly, she snapped it down her throat. After it disappeared for a few
seconds, she offered an enticing, lascivious smile, and slowly dribbled the
inhaled smoke from her lips. She switched to her nostrils, and finally
finished the exhale through her mouth. "Like that," she laughed.

    Claire was impressed. This was more promising than she expected. She
wanted to learn how to do that. Smoking was going to be great for her nasty
girl image. She looked at her watch. It was seven thirty. "You're meeting some
friends at eight," she said eagerly. "Let's forget about more shopping. How
about if you take me with you? Let me hang out with you guys? What do you say?
Please?"

    Maya seemed uncertain. "I don't know, Claire," she began. "I'm meeting
three girlfriends for drinks. I usually stay out pretty late on Wednesdays. I
don't work until ten tomorrow morning. You probably have to get up early and
do hospital rounds or something."

    "I do, but I've had tons of sleep the last few days. I'll be fine. Do your
friends smoke?" There was an air of hopefulness and expectation in this last
inquiry.

    "They sure do," Maya grinned ruefully. "When Angela, Leigh and I get
together, I frequently kill a whole pack before the night is over. That's what
smokers do when they congregate. All we do is drink and smoke and talk, and
flirt with guys."

    "That sounds great," Claire exclaimed. "I need practice being bad. I'm
already dressed for it, and I want to practice smoking some more. Just
introduce me as a friend of yours who works at Parkside Hospital. Don't tell
'em I'm a doctor. Keep that a secret. Tell 'em I'm a nurse or a medical
technician or something. Please? I don't have anyone else to drink with, Maya.
Let me get wasted with you guys tonight. I won't be any trouble. I promise."

    "Okay," Maya grinned. It was the same adorable, lustful smile. "For a
doctor, Claire Davis, you're sure a surprise!"

    "I intend to continue be a surprise, Maya. Watch me." She looked at her
watch. "We've got half an hour. Let's get some more coffee." She gave a wicked
smile. Her eyes were now dancing with excitement. "And I'd like another
cigarette, too."

    Maya laughed. It was an infectious, carefree laugh, the laugh of a woman
thoroughly delighted with the transformation happening to her collaborator.
"God, you _are_ bad, Claire!" She shook out two cigarettes and handed one to
her companion. "But I love it!"


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