Different Circles

The photo was of decent quality. It was not a scan of a photo but a digital copy of the original photograph. Kingsley and his wife were dressed in winter clothes and had winter hats on their heads. Behind them was a futuristic looking airplane. Standing between them was what Daryl assumed was a young girl with long black hair dressed in a work sweater of some sort. She was not terribly attractive. Her body seemed to lack feminine curves and her tits could not even be discerned beneath her bulky clothing. Who in the hell was she? Daryl wondered. Some ho they were sharing? He had read that Kingsley’s wife—if they were, in fact, actually married—was into chicks. It had even been suggested that she and Celia Valdez—who’s picture Daryl had masturbated to on occasion—regularly got it on when they were out on tour together.

He took a closer look at Laura Kingsley and found he liked what he saw. She was, as the author of the email suggested, pretty fucking hot. She had a cute, innocent looking face, copper colored hair that spilled out from beneath her beanie, and her feminine curves were easily discernible. And she liked doing women! How was it fair that Jake fucking Kingsley ended up with a hot chick like that when he, Daryl, computer genius and D&D dungeon master, could not even get laid by known skanks who slept with anyone? How was it that Jake fucking Kingsley could buy an airplane like that just because he could sing a little? The world just sucked!

His eyes turned back to the girl standing between the two of them. He wondered again just who she was. He noted that there was some writing on the front of her sweater. He could not quite make out what it said so he used the zoom function to bring it in a little closer. The image pixilated a bit, but he could now read the writing.

FBO Services

Ron

Ron? A girl named Ron? What the hell kind of name was that? And she worked for FBO services? What was FBO services? Some kind of escort service?

He moved the photograph a bit until he was zoomed in on the girl’s face. It was then that he started to wonder if Ron was actually a girl at all. True, the face was feminine, without a hint of facial hair, but when you looked closely there were a few masculine features that were nearly buried. Ron’s larynx was a little bit pronounced. And his cheek bones were a little bit sharp. And there was just a little bit of hair on the back of Ron’s hands. Maybe Ron was a tranny? After all, a guy who snorted cocaine out of butt cracks and let his wife eat pussy would be the sort of man who might be into trannies, wouldn’t he? In fact, wasn’t there a story a few years back about how one of the members of Intemperance had been caught screwing a tranny? He seemed to remember something about that.

Daryl minimized the email server and the open jpeg and called up his search engine. He typed in “FBO Services” to see what that was all about, expecting to find links dealing with prostitution and escorts and bondage and discipline. Instead, he found that FBO stood for “fixed base operator”, which was apparently the generic term for a company that provided aviation services for pilots at airports. Such entities were contracted to sell fuel, provide ramp services, rent tie-down and hangar space, and sometimes even provided maintenance. They were not, as a general rule, in the business of providing transexual prostitutes for rich people.

How fucking mundane, Daryl thought, disappointed. He clicked back over to the photo again and looked even closer. Yes, the person standing between Kingsley and his wife did look extremely effeminate and might very well be a faggot, but he probably was not an actual tranny and definitely was not a biological female. He was probably just one of the airport workers at whatever airport the shot had been taken at posing with a celebrity couple who happened to be utilizing his services. This was completely and thoroughly uninteresting.

He returned the zoom level to normal and was, once again, about to simply delete the email and then maybe pull up some porno pictures of hot redheads and have a good wank. But then he looked at the image of Jake Kingsley again and the hatred of him began to surge anew. Maybe the guy in the picture wasn’t a tranny that Kingsley and his so-called wife were fucking, but they had probably done things like that in the past, hadn’t they? Undoubtedly! And shouldn’t people know that Kingsley was into shit like trannies and threesomes with them? They really should. Maybe if they knew he liked taking a tranny cock up his ass they would stop worshiping him like he was some kind of god.

Maybe someone should take his ass down a few notches, he thought, a plan starting to form in his head.