I used to have an attitude problem.

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

*Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-check. You have been forewarned; expect to find mistakes.


Michael 'Mickey' Theriot pushed the mail cart to the elevator, pressed the 'Up' button and waited. In the shiny metal of the elevator doors, he checked his appearance and shrugged his shoulders.

Lori Scott, the cute administrative assistant looked up when she heard the tell-tale squeaking of the mail cart. She brushed her hand through her shoulder length red hair and unbuttoned another button on her blouse.

"Shut up," Lori hissed to Yvette Wooten, the administrative assistant to her left.

Mickey dropped off a few items for Mrs. Cahill, the head of the department and turned to leave. Lori leaned forward, affording a good view down the front of her blouse.

"Aw, Mickey, nothing for me?" she lisped.

"I uh, I um, I..." Mickey stammered then fled the room.

"Smooth talker," Yvette said, receiving a murderous glare from Lori.

"Oh, Lori?" Mrs. Cahill sang out forty nine minutes later. "Listen, heart, forgot to give Mickey this stack. Would you be a dear and run them down to the mail room for me?"

"Yes ma'am!" Lori said brightly, jumping up.

Standing in front of the shiny elevator doors, Lori checked her appearance. At five feet, four inches, she weighed one twenty four, with nicely muscled legs, sweetly rounded bubble butt, narrow waist and 32C breasts.

Her best feature, she thought, were her large brown eyes, and her bright red hair. Again, she admired herself in the mirrored doors just as she heard the 'ding' that alerted her that the elevator had arrived.

Mickey started to push the cart forward when he looked up and saw that they were on the third floor, not the lobby. His throat went dry and his hands started sweating when Lori Scott stepped onto the same elevator.

"Lobby, oh good, you already pushed it," Lori said.

"I uh, yeah, I, that's where the mail room is," Mickey said, swallowing nervously.

"Mickey, why don't you like me?" Lori cooed, stepping close to him.

Her three inch heels put her at almost eye level with the slender young man. She stepped close, resting her hand on his chest.

"I uh, I do, um, I do like you," Mickey managed to squeak out when the doors slid open into the lobby of the Thibodaux Investment building in Elgee, Louisiana.

He fled the elevator, blazing a path to the mail room. Lori giggled as she slowly, deliberately strolled to the same small area.

"I uh, yes ma'am?" Mickey stammered as Lori entered his domain.

"Mrs. Cahill forgot to give these to you," Lori cooed, handing him the envelopes.

"I oh, okay," Mickey said.

"You'll take care of them for me, right?" Lori asked, again stepping close to Mickey.

"I uh, yes ma'am, I will," Mickey agreed.

"Thank you, Mickey," Lori whispered and brushed her lips against his.

It had been a feather light kiss, her lips had barely touched his. But Mickey's cock sprang to full hardness.

"Oh my God," Lori thought, over and over as she waited for the elevator doors to open.

By the time Mickey had finished getting everything sorted and ready to go out, his eight inch erection had subsided. Here, in privacy, he was master of his domain. He knew what he was doing, he knew how to process each item, he knew how to secure every parcel and package.

Mickey wasn't a bad looking young man. Actually, he was plain and ordinary. Plain, ordinary brown hair that he kept closely cropped. He cut his own hair, using a small pair of clippers and a number three guard. He had plain brown eyes. His nose had been broken in a fight in his junior year in high school, which was the only distinguishable feature of his that Mickey didn't think was plain, ordinary.

Gary Jordin, the senior bully did not cross paths with Mickey again. Gary went and found easier targets to torment.

Completing his day's work, Mickey clocked out and cut through the lobby to the garage of Thibodaux Investment. Rather than wait for the garage's elevator, Mickey trotted up the four flights of stairs. He stepped out of the open stairwell just as the elevator was opening.

"Mickey! Are you following me?" Lori playfully accused, stepping in front of the lightly panting Mickey.

I uh, what? No!" Mickey hotly denied, stricken.

"Lori, leave him alone," Yvette giggled.

"I don't know, seems kind of suspicious to me," Lori accused. "I mean, right when I'm stepping off the elevator, there you are?"

Mickey didn't answer, just fled to his 2003 Chevy Silverado. He could hear Yvette and Lori laughing at him, chattering with one another.

"You know, think that Michael, over in IT likes you," Yvette informed Lori as Lori unlocked her BMW, using the key fob.

"Michael in IT? Guy who'll screw ANYTHING?" Lori asked, lip curled in distaste.

"Oh come on, he's not that bad," Yvette defended.

"What. Ever," Lori said and turned to wave at Mickey's retreating pickup truck.

"At least he can talk in complete sentences," Yvette mocked.

Mickey drove to the Venice Apartment complex. He backed into his assigned parking spot and again double-checked that his Venice Apartment parking tag was prominently displayed before getting out of the vehicle.

In Apartment 212, Mickey stripped down to boxers and tee shirt, then started up his video game controller. He played, competing against 'Larry' from Dolenz, Utah for almost two hours before hunger necessitated that he tell 'Larry' good-bye.

In his kitchen, Mickey quickly made himself a pot of jambalaya, using up the last of his sausage and the last of the fried chicken he'd made two evenings prior. Forty minutes later, he watched the early nightly news.

In the morning, his morning erection beckoned. Mickey replayed the feather light kiss Lori had given to him, stroking his throbbing cock.

He imagined bending Lori over, spreading her cute bubble butt open and jamming his cock into her wet pussy. He imagined grabbing her sweet breasts in his hands, squeezing them, using them to pull her hard against his cock.

"Erg, oh yes," Mickey hissed, spurting a sizable load against the shower wall.

Then Mickey felt guilty; Lori was a nice girl. And unlike most girls, Lori didn't treat him as if he was invisible.

"Damn, 'bout need do some serious grocery shopping here," Mickey thought as he fried up the last of the bacon for his breakfast.

Mickey drove to work and clocked in. The US Postal Service letter carrier came in, dropped off that day's mail, took the items Mickey had prepared and wished Mickey a good day. Mickey then quickly organized the new mail, sorting them for his cart.

"Your boyfriend's here," Yvette said to Lori when they heard the cart.

"Shut up, Yvette," Lori grumbled.

"Ooh, someone's in a bad mood?" Yvette taunted.

An hour later, Mrs. Cahill was about to step out, two envelopes in hand. Then, with a sweet smile, she turned to Lori.

"Lori? Be a dear, take this down to the mail room?" Mrs. Cahill asked.

"Yes ma'am," Lori said happily.

Mickey was hunched over his cart, already engrossed in his duties. He heard the click-clack of someone's high heels and straightened.

"Hi," Lori breathed, entering Mickey's small area.

"I uh, hi, um, help you?" Mickey stammered.

"Mm, maybe," Lori teased.

Again, she invaded Mickey's personal space. She rested her free hand against his chest and looked up into his eyes.

"Need these go out as soon as possible," she husked, holding up the two envelopes.

Uh, yeah, okay," Mickey stammered.

"Tomorrow's Friday, Mickey," Lori said. "You doing anything this weekend?"

"I uh, no, no, not really," Mickey stammered.

"Oh, goody," Lori said, again brushing her lips against his. "Why don't we go to Hop Kim's? You like Chinese?"

"Hop Kim?" Mickey sneered. "I can cook better than them."

"You can? What time you want me there?" Lori cooed, again giving him a soft lip brush.

"I uh, six? Thirty?" Mickey stammered.

"Six it is," Lori said. "Can I bring anything?"

"I uh, no, I got it," Mickey said.

He amazed himself, being able to scribble out his address and apartment number, in a legible scrawl. Lori scribbled out her cell phone number, adding his cell to the piece of paper with his address.

"Six tomorrow," Lori again verified, her hand softly tracing a number six pattern on his chest.

"Uh huh," Mickey agreed.

She turned and strolled out of the mail room. She pressed the 'Up' button for the elevator. When the door slid open, she blew him a playful kiss.

"Yes!" Lori whooped the moment the elevator doors slid shut.

"Yes! Oh God," Mickey whooped, then moaned when the elevator doors slid shut.

At Burns & Burns, Mickey shopped carefully, meticulously. In the Spirits aisle, he paused, looking over the beer and wine selection. He picked a white wine since they'd be having a spicy peanut chicken dish.

Turning to put the bottle into his quite full cart, Mickey looked at the selections of Nulough's flavored Vodkas. He scrutinized each offering and finally selected a fifth of Nulough's Chocolate flavored Vodka, then a bottle of Nulough's Peppermint flavored Vodka.

"What the hell, huh? They're only four dollars a bottle," Mickey said aloud.

"Regular's only three dollars," another customer said, pointing to the Nulough's Vodka.

"Hmm," Mickey agreed, grabbing the unflavored fifth as well.

The cashier did ask him for ID but didn't even glance at it. The fifty nine year old woman had a theory; if they weren't afraid to pull the ID out, they were probably old enough to buy the alcohol, or the cigarettes.

Arriving at his apartment, Mickey did slightly resent Lori Scott. He lugged heavy bag from trunk, up a flight of stairs, to his apartment, then turned and repeated this process several times.

Then, after making himself a quick dinner, he meticulously cleaned his already quite clean apartment. He took extra care in the bathroom; his mother had hammered this home. Girls do not like having to use a dirty toilet, girls do not like washing their hands in a dirty sink.

The bathroom gleamed by the time Mickey finished scrubbing, wiping, scrubbing. Exhausted, Mickey stripped and fell into bed.

In the morning, after his shower, Mickey again wiped his bathroom clean. He then dressed in his nicest jeans and New Orleans Saints pullover shirt. Casual Friday or not, Mickey wanted to look his best today.

At work, he blushed hotly when Lori blew him a kiss, but smiled. An hour after dropping off the mail for Mrs. Cahill, Mickey blushed hotly when he heard the telltale sounds of high heels striking the ceramic tiles of the lobby. A moment later, Lori stuck her beautiful head into the mail room.

"Hi," she whispered, stepped up to Mickey and gave his lips a teasing little lick. "Mrs. Cahill sent me down with this."

She handed Mickey an envelope. She leaned forward, kissed him on his lips, a full kiss, not one of her feather light kisses and smiled up at him.

"I am sooo looking forward to tonight," she whispered, kissed him again, then left the room.

"Good God, just how big is that thing?" Lori asked herself, stealing one more glance toward Mickey's tented jeans.

At five minutes after six, there was a light knock at his door. Mickey nearly yelped, steeled himself and went to the door.

"You parked in the visitors spot, right?" Mickey greeted Lori.

"Uh huh, right over by the office, right?" Lori asked, stepping into the apartment.

She looked around at his apartment. The front room was ten by fourteen. There was a couch and matching recliner to her left. Both pieces of furniture matched, brown and green velour. The end table between couch and easy chair matched the coffee table, a dark brown wood. The brass lamp on the end table was turned to a low setting, casting a soft glow to the living room.


To her right was a table and four chairs underneath a swag light. On the surface of the dark wood table were a tall pepper mill and a tall salt shaker. A dark wooden bowl held some wax fruit.

Even though the kitchen showed the disarray of someone cooking, it was still quite clean. Lori nodded in satisfaction and put her purse onto the low coffee table.

"I, you, um, I'm almost done making the egg rolls, um, you want a drink?" Mickey stammered.

"Sure; I could use one. Bruce? In acquisitions? Needed a report filed by end of business day; guess when he brought it down?" Lori smiled.

"Bruce um, Domingue? Knowing him, brought it in right before five," Mickey agreed and poured one jigger of Nulough's Chocolate flavored Vodka, one jigger of Nulough's Peppermint flavored Vodka and two jiggers of club soda over ice.

"Mm! What is this?" Lori asked, taking a sip of her drink.

"I don't know," Mickey admitted. "I guess I'll call it a peppermint patty."

"No," Lori said, brushing his lips with hers. It's a peppermint Lori."

He served the piping hot egg rolls with two steaming cups of egg drop soup. Then, clearing those plates and cups away, Mickey served the peanut chicken over fried rice. Over their meal, Lori and Mickey chatted, telling each other a little about themselves.

"Girlfriends? Oh no, no," Mickey said. "No, see, I'm Timmy Theriot's little brother."

"And?" Lori asked, brown eyes studying his face.

"Timmy? Theriot? The star running back of the Elgee Eagles? U.L.D. Storm?" Mickey said.

Lori just shook her head 'no.' Mickey smiled and shrugged.

"Then, when my mom got ALS," Mickey continued his tale.

"A what?" Lori asked.

"Lou Gehrig's disease," Mickey explained.

"Oh! God! Mickey, that's horrible!" Lori gasped, beautiful brown eyes opened wide.

"My dad says he can't handle it and leaves. Timmy's at college, so kind of fell to me to take care of her," Mickey said. "Where I learned how cook. Taking care of her."

"Oh Mickey," Lori said and rubbed his leg in sympathy.

"Course, minute she dies? Dad's trying get back in the house, Timmy's saying half of everything's his," Mickey said and took a sip of his wine.

"What happened?" Lori asked.

"Showed dad the divorce papers, showed Timmy the will, then showed them both the door," Mickey shrugged. "And that's when the real nightmare started. Timmy decided, since he couldn't have the house? No one could. Burned it to the ground."

"Oh. My. God," Lori said, eyes wide.

"So, instead of going to the NFL? He's in Mumphrey," Mickey shrugged. "But, God, been running my mouth this whole time. Tell me about you. What makes Lori Scott Lori Scott?"

"My sister? Jillian? Oh my God, she was just so gorgeous," Lori said, taking a sip of the wine.

"Prettier than you?" Mickey managed to ask.

"Aw! You're so sweet!" Lori gushed and kissed him. "But I'd watch her getting ready for a date. She'd put on this outfit, find some miniscule fault with it, and try on another outfit. She'd find something wrong with that one and try on another one. Whole time? Her date's downstairs waiting. Then, finally finding just the right outfit, she'd then put on her makeup."

"Jeez," Mickey said, shaking his head in disgust.

"Then, after she left? I'd do the same thing. I'd try on her outfits. Then, I'd put on her makeup. Of course, I looked kind of silly; she was a brunette, kind of took after our mom, and I'm this red head with pasty white skin, look just like our dad," Lori said. "Mickey, this is delicious."

"Thank you. Better than Hop Kim?" Mickey asked.

"Much, much better," Lori agreed. "Anyway, one night? Jillian's date was being a real douche so Jillian came home early and caught me wearing one of her blouses, one of her skirts, makeup on. I was terrified."

"I'll bet. Timmy? Would have killed me if I'd borrowed one of his stupid football jerseys," Mickey agreed.

"But instead of laughing at me, or worse yet, screaming for mom and dad, Jillian just sat me down, picked out some better makeup for me and helped me put it on," Lori said. "Then she helped me do my hair, found an old pair of pantyhose and showed me how to walk in heels."

"Aw," Mickey said. "Sounds like a great sister."

"Uh huh. I want another peppermint Lori," Lori demanded, pushing her empty plate away.

"I uh, yeah, um, you going be okay to drive?" Mickey asked.

"I, that's, that doesn't matter," Lori said, fixing him with a serious gaze. "If I'm going tell you this next part? I need that drink."

Mickey nodded, cleared their plates away and returned to the kitchen. A moment later, he carried her fizzing drink to her.

"Thank you, Mickey," Lori murmured and gulped some of the drink. "Mm, this really is nice. Then it happened. I mean, it was bound to. Jillian and I; we're having a girls' party, doing each other's nails, I'm wearing one of her baby dolls, got my hair in curls, and our dad walks in."

"You uh, you weren't allowed to have your hair in curls? Oh, oh, the nail polish. Yeah, there was this girl in my homeroom class; her parents wouldn't let her put on makeup either," Mickey deduced.

"I need the little girl's room," Lori interrupted, standing.

"I uh, okay, it's, you got go through the bedroom get to it," Mickey apologized and stood.

He'd had the foresight to turn his lamp on; the bedroom was illuminated by a soft glow. Lori noticed, with satisfaction that Mickey's queen sized bed was neatly made. She also noticed that there were four pillows on the bed.

"And right here," Mickey said, flicking on the light of the bathroom.

"Thank you," Lori said and gave him a gentle kiss.

Inside the bathroom, Lori again nodded with satisfaction. Mickey Theriot kept his apartment clean. He was a wonderful cook. And, even as cute as he was, he wasn't arrogant, overly confident.

Lori slid her khakis and thong panties down. She sat on the commode, gently stroking her six inch erection. She bit back the groan as she did so.

"Okay, let's get it over with," Lori said to herself, tucking her fat cock into her panties again. "He'll either accept you or he won't."

Stepping out of the bathroom again, Lori admired Mickey's bed. Her last boyfriend had one pillow on a sagging mattress. He was the quintessential 'wham bam thank you ma'am' man. He wanted a quick suck, a quick fuck, and don't let the door hit you on your way out.

Mickey had refreshed her drink and she smiled. She smiled wider when he gave her an adorable little blush.

"Anyway, your dad comes in," Mickey prompted Lori to continue her story.

"You ever heard of Dr. Leibowitz?" Lori asked.

"Who?" Mickey asked.

"Dr. Joel Leibowitz. He's a famous plastic surgeon," Lori said. "Anyway, he walks in, catches Jillian and me having a girl party. Next thing I know, instead of screaming, punishing me, he just says, 'Okay, you want to be a girl? You're a girl.'"

"Huh?" Mickey asked, taking a sip of his own Peppermint Lori.

"I was born Joshua Scott Leibowitz," Lori explained.

"You what?" Mickey asked, not sure he'd heard right.

"I was born a boy," Lori explained and braced herself.

Lori didn't think that Mickey would become violent. But she had not believed David Blumenthal would become violent either. She had sucked David's cock, sucked him to a juicy delicious spurting climax, then asked him to return the favor.

Thankfully, her father was able to repair the damage to her broken nose, and slim down her nose in the process. In exchange for not pressing charges, David agreed to keep Lori's true nature a secret, as well as pay for her facial reconstruction.


William had also reacted badly. He had been Jillian's boyfriend, but then noticed that Jillian had a cute little sister.

One date, just one date and he expected pussy. He informed Lori that a blow job was a good start, but her pussy was his. Lori tearfully explained, there was no pussy to give to him.

William's first slap knocked a tooth loose. There was no second slap; Lori hit William with her Taser.