Thought I'd forgotten you - huh? Well, I haven't - so there!
My health isn't that great. Not awful - just can't walk worth a damn. In all honesty, I don't visit this page much at all. The meds I've been taking for quite a few years now have eliminated any sexual fun I once had and I just feel that I'm imposing by looking in.
I DO keep in touch with Carrie quite a lot though and kept up to speed somewhat - so would especially like to Thank Dave, Belinda - and Carrie of course. I'm well aware that there's many more I should probably thank for keeping this blog up and running, but may of you were unknown to me when I started this blog. It's still a matter of pride to me to see that a clean page like this can keep going - and my thanks to all the contributors who keep it this way.
For old time sakes, I've included a story - "You". Its probably as old fashioned as all get out - but it DID have a tie-in to the original "Swiss Miss Sissy" - the only story I never finished ( lots of luck with ending it, you guys). Many of you will probably have read this story from one of my Kindle books - I may have even published it as a Christmas story before - my memory SUCKS - so forgive me if it's not original to you.
But to all. Hang in there - be good! Merry Christmas - and a Prosperous New Year to you all!
Hugs
Bea
My health isn't that great. Not awful - just can't walk worth a damn. In all honesty, I don't visit this page much at all. The meds I've been taking for quite a few years now have eliminated any sexual fun I once had and I just feel that I'm imposing by looking in.
I DO keep in touch with Carrie quite a lot though and kept up to speed somewhat - so would especially like to Thank Dave, Belinda - and Carrie of course. I'm well aware that there's many more I should probably thank for keeping this blog up and running, but may of you were unknown to me when I started this blog. It's still a matter of pride to me to see that a clean page like this can keep going - and my thanks to all the contributors who keep it this way.
For old time sakes, I've included a story - "You". Its probably as old fashioned as all get out - but it DID have a tie-in to the original "Swiss Miss Sissy" - the only story I never finished ( lots of luck with ending it, you guys). Many of you will probably have read this story from one of my Kindle books - I may have even published it as a Christmas story before - my memory SUCKS - so forgive me if it's not original to you.
But to all. Hang in there - be good! Merry Christmas - and a Prosperous New Year to you all!
Hugs
Bea
YOU
By Bea
Many, many, thanks to
Chrissy - the Swiss miss - who provided all the technical expertise in the
hairdressing stuff. Thanks Chrissy,
couldn’t have done it without you.
Your
reflection smiles back at me from the bedroom mirror. You lift your hand and honey blond
hair, up from your neck - to reveal that lovely column that is just another
part of you that I worship. You speak.
“Yes
darling. I do mean what I just said.
I’d like you to start wearing that panty girdle. Now? Of course!
What in heaven’s name makes you
think I’m teasing you?”
I
mumble a protest - something about it being a feminine garment, dry mouthed at
giving the slightest appearance of arguing with you. I see you shake your head, then drop your
hair back down. You start to look for
some cosmetic on the dressing table top, then choose a lipstick. You pull the cap from the tube, then slowly
spiral the phallic tip of the crimson contents out, your mirrored eyes back on
me again. You lift it slowly towards
your mouth. My eyes are fixed on the
lipstick - hypnotized.
Before
you apply any though, you speak to me again, the tip of the lipstick just an inch
from your lips. “Darling? You know how much you love to do as I ask, don’t you?”
I
nod.
“And?”
you continue, “ Do you think that I can’t tell that you enjoy it? That I don’t see that little tent of enjoyment at the front of your pajama
trousers?”
I
blush.
“But
it just doesn’t seem right, does it? I
mean, you get your little tent when I ask you to do girl things like brush my
hair, or wash and iron my undies. I
mean, you MUST be confused, don’t you think?
Enjoy doing little girl chores for me, and being reminded all the time
that you are a man by that ‘thing’ down there?
I
try to stammer an apology, but you wave your hand in dismissal.
“I’ve
bought you about a dozen panty girdles to wear.
Nice, pretty colors. Now that
pair I’ve laid on the bed for you are pink - but if you think that blue is a
more ‘manly’ color? Why, I won’t
argue. You’ll find a blue in your
underwear - or I guess I’ll start calling it your ‘lingerie’ drawer from now
on. More appropriate, don’t you
think? Now be a dear. Go put your panties on, pink or blue -
doesn’t matter. Then help me get
dressed. I don’t want to be late for
work. Now?”
I
make the mistake of pleading with you.
You transfix me with your reflected eyes. Say nothing, just stare for a few seconds,
then go back to anointing your lips.
Deflated, I go to the bed and pick up the pink garment, turn my back to
you, then untie my pajama pants and let them fall. Step out of them, then into the panty girdle,
hoping that by picking the pair you’d “suggested” that I’d win some favor back.
I
have to struggle some to fit the tight garment up over my privates and into
position, but become immediately aware of the control this clothing
exerts. Can actually feel my erection
decreasing until it is no more. Hear you
speak at my back, approvingly.
“My! I’d never have believed what a cute little
ass you have, darling. You’ve been
hiding it all these years! And! These hips!
Turn around, let me see your front..”
Ashamed,
I turn to see your amused eyes survey me from the mirror. See your lips turn upwards into an approving
smile.
“There!” you say
“Much better. More like a girl
now. Don’t you agree?”
Totally
aware of my flattened tummy and lower regions, I have to nod in agreement. Ask a question, nervously fumbling with the
suspender straps hanging down from the girdle.
“You
don’t know, darling?” you reply. “These are for holding up your
stockings. I wasn’t going to make you
wear nylons today, but if you want to?
Oh, you don’t? Well, that’s
perfectly okay darling. Go and get my
gray dress, then help me into it, would you?
there’s a pet!”
I
feel rather ludicrous, walking around in just my pajama tops and a girdle, with
useless straps dangling down my thighs.
I want to go and put my dressing gown on to cover my shame, but am well
aware that you’ve asked me to do something and I do not wish to incur your
displeasure by pausing even for a second.
I get your gray dress from the closet, then unfasten it at the back,
then kneel on the floor, the dress held open for you to step into it.
As
you do, you pat me on the head. “Thank
you darling. I just love you to PIECES
when you’re obedient! Now fasten me in
please.”
Blushing
with pleasure at the praise, I get up from the floor, and enclose you in your
dress. You cock your head at your
reflection. “The navy court shoes, I
think? And the matching leather belt
darling. What do you think?”
I
tell you that you’d look lovely, as always.
You
smile kindly, then reward me by gently pulling me over to the chair, and having
me drape myself over your knees. Give me
a few loving spanks on my new panties, and compliment me on how nice and
girlish my squeals are becoming, and how nicely I’m learning to kick my legs. “So satisfying darling!” you tell me.
Later,
I am horrified to discover that I have to wear my new underwear beneath my
pants to work, but accept my instructions as gracefully as I can, smiling to
show my appreciation for your decision.
I
get dressed as you read your morning newspaper and drink your coffee, then
inspect you thoroughly for any untoward creases in your clothes, errant smudges
of makeup, dangling threads and so on.
This morning, you surprise me by commenting that my shirt isn’t ironed
properly.
“You
do SUCH a wonderful job on my clothes darling!
But I can’t have YOU going out all shabby now, can I?”
I
blush happily at your concern, and indicate that I’ll go and put on another
shirt.
You
frown at this suggestion. Tell me to
re-iron the one I have on. I can’t help
it. Look at the clock and remind you
that I’ve been tardy for work a lot this week.
“Yes! I’ve noticed!” you say, but smiling. “And, as your Regional Manager I’ve been meaning to talk to you about
that! BUT?” and here, your smile disappears. “You surely realize that for me to accept a
shoddy job of work from you would be signs of extreme favoritism? I’m scheduled to visit your office this
morning and, while there, expect to see that you’ve taken the time to do a job
that will please me. If your shirt isn’t
impeccable? I’ll be very
disappointed. Understand?”
You
leave me, engaged in ensuring that my shirt is perfectly ironed, happily
humming a little song, delighted that you have taken such an interest in my
appearance. Because of this, I am almost
a half hour late getting into work.
Ruth, my secretary greets me warmly and helps me out of my jacket, then
pours my coffee, while I prepare for the weekly group discussion that is
scheduled for thirty minutes from now.
I
manage a small office, with only six employees, excluding myself. There is Ruth, my secretary. Marilyn, the general supervisor. Robert, the senior clerk. Amy and
Becky, the clerks, and Jessica the office girl. I consider myself a gentle manager,
considerate of the employees welfare, and that is why I hold this weekly
meeting to discuss any concerns that any of them may have.
You
are my Regional Manager, a position of some power in the company, being
responsible for the productivity and efficiency of over thirty offices like
mine, except that mine is the smallest in the company. The relationship we share is not known to
anyone except Ruth, who forwards messages to me from you. It is well known, I think, that I was the
person who originally hired you into the company, when I was the senior clerk,
and that you quickly and efficiently promoted up the chain, over my head to the
position you now hold. I had been
promoted to head the office at your recommendation when the previous manager
had resigned. You had been concerned
that you would be accused of favoritism, that is why we try to keep our
relationship a secret.
To
my disgust, the meeting reverts to its usual lethargy. Jessica, as always, is pretty and feminine,
serving up the teas, coffees, and pastries to everyone, herself last. Amy and Becky quickly fall to filing their
nails and smiling vacantly. Marilyn does
try to get some semblance of interest raised but fails miserably, and Ruth sits
quietly, her steno pad at the ready for taking the minutes - in case anything
of note is ever said.
As
usual, Robert fumes, stating that the meeting is just a waste of his time. Gently, I remind him that it is a good
managerial technique to “listen” to one’s employees. “Keep an ear to the ground” sort of
thing. He sneers openly.
When
you sweep into the meeting, everyone is immediately energized. I am a little slow in giving up my seat at
the head of the table, earning a barely concealed glare from you. (I know that you are only pretending, so that
nobody will guess about us, but I still get a little tremor of fear when you
look at me like that). As everyone else
has already taken their seats, I have to move down the table so that I am now
sitting side by side with Jessica. She
smiles a welcome at me as I join her.
You
then proceed to chastise me! Lecture me
in front of my employees about the low productivity. Berate me for my timekeeping! Comment that if I didn’t spend so much time
on personal grooming and appearance, I might have more time for management of
my group. I can feel the tears well in
my eyes at your cruel (but necessary) comments, and know that they are visible
when Jessica places a consoling hand over mine on the table top. After you leave, everyone goes quietly back
to their desks. In the privacy of my
office, I shed a few tears.
That
night, you convince me that your treatment of me was correct and that you have
motivated me to do a better job. I have
no idea of what I’m supposed to do until you
‘agree’
with me that I need to get closer to the employees, not be such an
authoritarian figure. I am inwardly
thrilled that you are agreeing with me, although I have no recollection of
making such a statement, so nod my head agreeably - and often.
Your
answer to my (unstated) question as to how this could be accomplished is
brilliant - even I have to agree with that.
All I have to do is ask the girls if I may join them for breaks and
lunches. You pooh-pooh my consideration
that they might not want a male interfering in their little chats, and suggest
that it would just take a minor attitude change on my part - “be a little more
feminine dear, a little less masculine” to win them over.
In
your brilliant fashion, you then suggest that you can perhaps help me
accomplish this. “Here” you say, handing
me a microscopic tape recorder, “Tape all of your conversations with the
girls. Then I can then perhaps make
suggestions to help you fit in more.”
I
look at the tiny little microphone head.
Say that I can carry the tapes in my pocket, but where would be a good
place to have the head, where it wouldn’t be seen? You think for a second. Decide that it would not pick up the sound if
I carried it in my pockets. “Needs to be
about chest high” you say out loud. Then
you crow triumphantly “Got it! You can carry it in your bra! Perfect!
We’ll run the wire down under your shirt and cut a little slit in your
pant pocket so that you can keep the tapes in there. Perfect!”
When
I point out, deferentially, that I don’t wear bras, you laugh and admit that
you had forgotten to tell me of your purchase that afternoon. “Bought nice lacy
ones for you to wear darling. You looked
so sweet in your panties, I just couldn’t resist the thought of how happy you’d
be if I bought you some matching bras.
They’re in your lingerie drawer.”
I
can feel the blood draining from my face.
You are immediately concerned.
Come and enfold me in your strong arms.
Kiss me tenderly. “Oh dear!” you exclaim.
“I didn’t mean to over-excite you .
Don’t worry! They’ll fit just fine
- and I know you’ll love how they feel on!”
I protest,
weakly, that I don’t really have the figure for a bra, and try to point out
that it is not a garment normally worn by men.
“Silly!” you say.
“Didn’t you just come up with the idea that you should become a little
more feminine, a little less masculine?
What would get that idea over better than wearing a bra? It’s a perfect solution! You’re VERY clever to have come up with it!”
I
feel that something is awry here, but can’t seem to come with an argument that
makes sense - particularly when what you say agrees so much with the statements
I made - even though I’m a little confused on that score. I’m further confused when you add “And darling?
I hate to say it, but your suspender straps?”
I
look at you blankly.
“Suspender
straps? From your panty girdle?”
I
recognize what you are talking about.
Smile, with a question on my face.
You answer the question immediately.
“Darling? They’re all higgeldy - piggeldy under your
pants. Just not hanging straight down as
they should. It’s really quite obvious
that you have no stockings on. Not
ladylike at all. Put nylons on tomorrow.
I’d suggest you shave your legs tonight.”
“You
could s. s.s see them ?” I stutter.
It
is your turn to look blankly at me, then you smile understandingly. “Of COURSE darling! Any woman recognizes panty lines, suspender
lines, things like that. And suspender
straps just look really tacky if they don’t have stockings to hold up. You DO understand?”
I
think I nod, but am not sure. You seem
to take it as such though. “Good
darling. I bought you nylons along with
your bras. They’re in your lingerie
drawer as well. If you need a hand to
fasten your bra tomorrow? Just come and
ask me. I’ll be glad to help.”
The
following morning I go to work. Navy
blue, lacy bra to match my panty girdle.
Smokey, gauzy nylons attached to my suspender straps. You will not allow me to wear socks, so any
gap between the bottom of my pants and shoes shows a small expanse of
nylon-shod ankle. The micro recorder is
tucked safely in one of my bra cups, with the tiny cassettes located in my
pocket.
I
am so distraught about my underwear that I don’t think clearly. When Ruth helps me off with my jacket, there
is a pause and I know that my bra is clearly visible under my shirt. I cringe, but follow your instructions to the
letter. Call everyone in, and suggest
that, in order to cement friendly relations, we all start gathering together at
breaks and lunches.
Robert
gets red faced and refuses immediately.
Says that he has to listen to a bunch of women all during working
hours. He’s damned if he’ll listen to
them on break and lunch times as well.
Leaves my office in high dudgeon.
I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen my bra - but am almost positive that all
the women have. Me and the other girls
giggle a little at his masculine posturing.
The
women aren’t really too keen on the idea of me joining them either but admit that, - if I don’t act like the ‘boss’, be
‘friendly like’, they won’t mind - but I’ll have to take my turns at making tea
or coffee. ‘Fair’s fair” they say, smiling, their eyes looking everywhere but
at the bra outline under my shirt.
I
join them at break time - and am almost immediately aware that my suspender
straps and nylons, have been noted in
addition to my bra. I am quickly
assimilated into the group. Am
practically one of the girls by lunch time.
At afternoon break, I discover that it is my turn to make and serve the
liquid refreshments. Amy and Becky
simper at me for a while. I suspect that
they are embarrassed at having their boss - a male, perform such a feminine
function, but they soon get over it.
Becky actually hands me her teacup and asks if I’d add a little more
sugar to it.
At
home that evening, you listen to the tapes from that day, though I am surprised
that you only listen to a few minutes worth.
You are so happy with me that you take me over your knees again for a
light spanking. I squeal so convincingly
that you give me an additional few swats as a bonus. For the first, but not the last time in my
life, I learn how it feels to have one’s bra straps snapped.
Some
three days later I incur your wrath, and am spanked thoroughly, this time with
the hairbrush. I had, by this time, accepted another clothing article -
camisoles - to the underwear I wore daily, but I must have pleaded too much
when you handed me a blouse to wear that morning. I admit later that it does look very pretty -
and businesslike - on me. Black silk
with white polka dots. Long sleeved with
satin cuffs that are fastened with four pearl buttons. A lovely white satin bow that you show me how
to tie in a pretty bow at my neck. To
show it off properly, you recommend that I wear breast forms inside my bra
cups. Before I leave for work, I agree
with you that my outfit is both pretty, and very becoming.
At
the office, Robert eyes me with shocked disdain, but Amy, Becky and Jessica are
very complimentary about my new ‘shape’ - and comment how nicely my undies show
underneath the blouse fabric. At this
point, my name becomes finalized. (Until
my entering the girl’s group, I had always been addressed as mister, or ‘sir’.
The latter term was dropped quickly, the former used exclusively for a while,
then shortened to “miss”, then expanded to “missy” - then purely and simply,
“Sissy”).
I
can’t help myself. The wearing of the
blouse is now an open declaration of my effeminacy. This, coupled with my new name, generates
more and more feminine gestures and speech patterns from me. At home that evening, I know to show delight with the pretty apron you present to
me, and clap my hands with girlish happiness when you impart the news that
another three are hung up in the kitchen for me.
You
compliment me on my appearance then, for the first time, apply a little
lipstick, blush and mascara to my face.
Smile lovingly at my blushes when you comment how pretty I am.
I
am shocked when I hear the doorbell ring, and you tell me to go and answer the
door, indicating that it is probably the two guests you were expecting. Nervously, not knowing who to expect, I open
the door to find Ruth and Jessica standing there! Neither of them seem surprised at my appearance. Quite mildly, you ‘suggest’ that I mind my manners and take the ladies purses
and jackets after I show them in . I
stammer an apology to them, then take these items from them and put them in our
spare bedroom. When I return, I have to
serve you ladies drinks. I am quite
surprised when Jessica accepts a glass of wine.
You then instruct me to get into the kitchen and prepare dinner. Jessica offers to give me a helping
hand. You laugh and state “No dear,
thank you - but I think that Sissy should have his kitchen to himself.”
I
make a nice salad, and a Shrimp St. Jaques, which the ladies rave over. Still in my apron, you allow me to sit at the
table. You tap your wine glass with your
fork, and smile, saying that you have an announcement to make. First of all, you address Ruth and Jessica.
“Ladies? I’m sure that you are perfectly aware that
the performance of your office is sub-standard?”
Both
women redden with shame, but nod in
agreement. You continue. “Sissy here, must be held accountable. He is the root cause. Accordingly, I am going to re-organize the
office, effective immediately.
Ruth? You are now the office manager.”
Ruth
smiles broadly. “Thank you, very
much. I appreciate the recognition,” she
says. “but what about Sissy?”
“I’ll
tell you in a moment.” you answer.
Jessica
claps her hands in delight. “Oh
wonderful! Congratulations Ruth!” She smiles at me. “Isn’t that wonderful Sissy? “ she says, then
seeing my face. “Oh!”
You
turn your attention to me. “I s that
tears I see dear? Please don’t cry. This is all for the best, you’ll see.”
I
try to smile bravely, not wanting to shame you in front of your guests.
Then
you talk to Jessica. “You may be
wondering why you were asked here tonight?”
Jessica
nods, and responds. “Yes. I WAS wondering. Office girls don’t get this kind of treatment
very often.” She smiles broadly. “But I KNEW that you would have a good reason!”
You
are obviously flattered. “Why thank you
Jessica. That’s a lovely
compliment. you’re still involved with
the Beauty school I take it? Almost
finished your certification as a beautician?”
Jessica
beams with pride. “Oh yes! Just a few
more weeks, then the final exams. Then
I’ll be finished. Finished with a
capital “F”!”
“WONDERFUL!”
you enthuse. “I assume you’ll be leaving
our employ once you are certified?”
Jessica’s
smile dims a little. “Oh yes! I’m sorry, but...”
You
hold your hand up to stop her. “No
Jessica! No apologies needed! But I wanted to ask if you’d mind taking
Sissy on as your trainee while you still worked for us?”
Jessica
giggles. “Train Sissy as the office
girl?”
“Exactly!” you answer, then continue. “Let me explain.”
As
you say this, you rise from your chair and come around the table to stand at my
back. Put your hands possessively on my
shoulders.
“Sissy
and I have had a ... relationship.. for some time. Recently, he started showing increasing
tendencies towards the .. ahem ... feminine. I’m assuming that you girls noticed this?”
Both
Ruth and Jessica nod solemnly.
You
continue. “I know that he seems happier
now, but his pre-occupation with womanly things seems to have impacted on his
efficiency. He is also showing an
increasing propensity towards becoming a girl - as evidenced by his recent wish
to join all of you ladies and become, in effect, ‘one of the girls’?”
You
pause, and the girls nod again.
Your
hands tighten slightly on my shoulders as you start to speak again. “I want him to be happy. I’m not one hundred percent sure that he’d
actually enjoy living as a female, so think a little trial run would maybe help
make up his mind for him? So Jessica?
If you were to be his mentor in
things feminine? Who better to introduce
him to makeup, hair, how to walk and talk properly ... all these things that
real girls take so much for granted?
If
he still wishes to be a woman after that trial period? Then I am positive he will be that much more
knowledgeable about what is involved and what the advantages and disadvantages
are. Right darling?” At this point, I feel you lean over and kiss
me tenderly on the neck.
“But
office girl darling?” I say, trying to
keep the complaint out of my voice. “And?
What about Marilyn and Robert?
Won’t they be upset at being passed over?”
“Isn’t
that sweet?” you ask the girls. “So concerned about others!” You nuzzle my neck fondly again. “No dear, I’ve transferred Robert to another
office as manager. He’s gone.. You’ll never
have to put up with him again. Marilyn
has agreed to stay on in her current position because I explained that this new
set up is only temporary. I need Ruth to
get some managerial experience ...”
“Just
temporary?” I break in quickly.
“Of
course, you little silly!” you tell me.
“You don’t possibly think that I’m
going to make you an office girl for
ever - surely not! It’s just to take
advantage of Jessica’s skills while we have her - and I can’t have her training
someone higher up the chain now, can we?.
I
told you the other night that you needed to get closer to the troops. This is the perfect opportunity for you to
learn from the ground up. That’s why
I’ve been pushing you to wear women’s clothes - I mean you can’t be an office
girl in pants and a tie, can you?”
You will help me out, won’t you sweetie? Just for a week or so?”
“Well
... okay. Just to help you out - and for
a short time!” I say firmly, pretending that my permission is being given
grudgingly.
“You
little doll!” you say and give me a kiss. “Now why don’t you leave the dishes
until later. I’ve got business matters
to discuss with Ruth. Run upstairs with
Jessica, and have her help you pick out your clothes for tomorrow. I’ve bought you some pretty skirts to wear
for your new job. They’re lying on top
of the bed. Don’t forget to hang them
all up when you’re finished though!”
By
this time I’ve become inured to the idea of wearing female attire to the
office. After all, when you’re encased
in women’s clothing almost from top to bottom, does a skirt make that much of a
difference? And only for a couple of
weeks? I can do that easily, I thought.
Jessica comes with me and helps me choose my
outfit for the next morning - a long silky straight skirt, with a gray
background and a motif of rectangular pink and blue geometric shapes. This and a plain white silk blouse makes a
nice statement (according to Jessica) of one being a junior employee, along
with a certain measure of sophistication.
She then starts giving me tips on how to apply makeup, what colors are
good for my complexion and so on. I notice some high heeled shoes in my closet,
but say nothing to her about them.
We
are distracted by your voice calling
upstairs “Sissy! Clean up time. Dishes have to be cleared away and washed!
We
hurriedly tidy up the bedroom, then report back downstairs. I’m just about to go start tidying away the
dishes still on the table when you call me back into the room where all three
ladies are sitting. You smile at
me. “Sissy? Ruth has a problem. She thinks that you may find it difficult to
report to her. But you don’t have any problems with that, do you?”
I
don’t trust my voice, so shake my head.
“Very
good! Now let’s just show Ruth that you
recognize her as your boss. Come over
here and curtsey nicely to her. That’ll
show that she’s your mistress at work, just as I am here.”
Humiliated,
I am frozen to the spot. Just cannot get
my feet to move. You stop smiling and
look grave. Get up from your chair and
come to where I’m standing.
“All
right Sissy. You don’t have to
curtsey,” you say, taking hold of my
forearm and leading me over to where Ruth is sitting “Just go over her knees instead.”
Ruth
looks surprised at first, then smiles.
Holds a hand out for me to take.
I offer no resistance as she gently pulls me
down and over her knees. She only gives
me a half dozen swats, but I hear both her and Jessica start to giggle as I
squeal girlishly and kick my legs. Her
swats are quite painful as well. I’m
embarrassed when I start crying.
You
shake your head sorrowfully. “ Now darling?
Why don’t you go over Jessica’s knees as well? It’s high time you learn that any woman in
that office is going to be your superior for the next few weeks.”
Still
weeping a little, I get up from Ruth’s knees and start walking to Jessica. She holds her hand up to stop me. Asks you if she can ask a favor instead.
“Of
course!” you say. “What do you need?’
“As
part of my certification? There’s
different tests - manicures, pedicures,
makeovers, and hairdressing Could
I possibly use Sissy as my model for the hairdressing contest? It would be great if I could. See, the style I want to use is the bouffant
lacquered look that was so popular back in the sixties.”
Sounds
okay to me.” you say “But wouldn’t you need a more experienced
model?”
Jessica
nods. “Yes, but I want to use a cool set
- which means that I can’t use a drier so
the rollers have to be in for a long time. It’s kinda uncomfortable, so none of the
models are keen on the idea. He’d be
perfect! His hair is nice and full -
maybe just a teeny bit short, but the contest is not for two weeks, so it
should be just the right length by then.
Not only that?” she clapped her
hands “Just dawned on me. I have to show
photos of the ‘before’ and ‘after’ conditions of his hair. What a difference there’ll be! WOW!”
You
smile indulgently at her enthusiasm.
“Yes Jessica. I bet that Sissy is
just thrilled at the idea. Right Sissy?”
But
before I can answer, Jessica says. “But
there is one thing more?”
You
just nod, and wait for her to talk again.
Jessica
twists her lips a little. “Well? Sissy’s cute, but his figure needs work. He needs to lose about ten pounds. A diet
would work, but there isn’t enough time.
I think I’d rather have him start
corset training as soon as possible - and the ‘tight lace’ routine at
that. It will cut down on his appetite,
and help define a more girlish waist line.
I’m not well off - and good corsets are expensive, but I’ll pay for two,
if that’s okay?”
You
smile widely. “What a perfectly
marvelous idea! No Jessica, you won’t
need to buy anything. I’m sure he’ll
just love to wear a nice tight corset - and I have a place in mind that has an
extensive inventory. It may take a day
or so, so why don’t you get a tape measure from that drawer over there and
measure him for one. I’ll call in his
sizes tomorrow.” You turn to me. “Now isn’t that thrilling darling! And wasn’t that nice of Jessica not to spank
you - when you richly deserved one?”
I
agree emphatically, so you add “
Then? Go and thank her by giving her a
nice curtsey. Please?”
This
time, I quickly comply with your suggestion, curtseying prettily for
Jessica. She blushes with pleasure.
The
rest of the evening is spent with me being measured by Jessica for my corsets -
which seems to require a lot of data that doesn’t seem to line up with what one
would need for a corset - and practicing walking in my new shoes. The dishes had to be done of course, but that
didn’t take long after Ruth and Jessica wished us good night. You were very quiet, which made me quite
fearful but I finally got brave enough to break in on your thoughts.
“Dear? May I ask you something?” I say.
“Yes
darling, “ you reply quietly.. “Of course.”
“I
don’t really understand why we’re being so nice to Jessica. I mean I know that you said I want to be a
woman, but that’s not really true....”
“Oh darling!
You little silly! Of course I
know you don’t want to be a woman! But
this is a great possibility for you to learn how the female mind works. Will provide you with all sorts of insights
when you move on to your next job...”
I
gaze at you in delighted admiration.
“You are considering me for another job?
A promotion?”
“Of
course! Didn’t I say you were only going
to be an office girl for a few weeks?
Don’t you trust me?”
Chastened
at showing so little faith in you, I blush and apologize. You accept the apology gracefully.
We agree not to discuss the subject again.
The
following morning found me very nervous and not looking after you
properly. You understood though - I was
to be introduced as the new office girl - and I was nervous about how I would
be accepted - and what I should wear.
You were even kind enough to have
me model my undies and show you my choice of skirt, blouse, and shoes.
It
dawned on me that I was rapidly becoming used to dressing and acting like a
woman. In a very short time, I had
become used to lingerie. And now, even
though it was only the second day I’d worn a blouse, I was not that disturbed at
wearing a skirt and high heeled shoes.
As I’d gone into my drawers for the lingerie, and my closet for the
skirt and blouse, I’d noticed that my male clothes had practically disappeared. I knew it was only for a few weeks, but this
meant that you didn’t want me being constantly reminded of my real sex - which
meant you were concerned about me. This
made me quite happy and I actually
hummed a little tune as I fitted my bra, then filled the cups with the forms.
I
found myself getting sexually aroused as I slid my nylon stockings up my legs,
attached them to the suspender straps, then checked my seams to ensure that I’d
put the stockings on properly. Once I
had stepped into my skirt and fastened it at the waist though, the girdle was
working its magic again and the evidence that I had some masculinity left
disappeared. The blouse felt nice. Really silky.
I unfastened the skirt waistband, tucked the hem of the blouse in, then
fastened the skirt again.
I
was a little concerned about my hair, but you consoled me by pointing out that
it was probably going to be one of the first things that Jessica would work
on. You were very supportive - even
helped me apply my makeup, then loaned me a nice set of matching gold chain
necklace and bracelet.
You
drove me to the office and came in with me, just for a little while you
said. We were the last ones in. Ruth was in the process of moving her
personal belongings into my old office, but took the time to call everyone
together for you to make an impromptu announcement. With your arm protectively around my
shoulders, you announced my new title and described what my new duties were to
be. You finally admitted that you and I
had a ‘relationship’, but warned everyone that you would be very unhappy if
anyone treated me with any kind of deference because of our relationship. “He’s only going to be the office girl for a short time,” you said
“Don’t be treating him any differently than you did Jessica. Understood?”
Everyone
smiled. You let go of my shoulder. “You may as well start now, Sissy.” you said.
I’m sure we’d all like a cup of coffee or tea?”
In
one of Jessica’s nicest aprons, I was serving the beverages to the ladies less
than ten minutes later.
After
you left, I settled down into my new job with remarkably few glitches. Amy had taken over Robert’s position, and
both Becky and Jessica had moved up a notch.
Marilyn continued as she had always done. I found her to be a pleasant and courteous
boss.
At
the morning break, I discovered that the making of the coffee and tea, and
serving of same - plus all the clean up was now my responsibility,
totally. I didn’t mind this,
really. It was a break from all the
filing and photocopying the ladies were asking me to do. On top of that? To tell the truth, I was beginning to like
the feeling of walking around in a skirt, and serving gave me the opportunity.
At
lunchtime, Jessica did a quick wash and set on my hair, apologizing for her
‘rushed’ job, but she was well aware that Ruth would not want me parading around
in rollers, so this limited what she could do.
She did, however, pierce my ears and put in temporary gold posts. I was quite proud of myself. I did flinch a little, but didn’t shed one
tear.
“What
about the holes though Jessica? Won’t it
take a long time for them to disappear?”
“Why
would you want to know that?” she
started, then “Oh, I see! Shouldn’t take long Sissy - maybe a week or
two after you stop wearing earrings, that’s all.”
I
think everyone was embarrassed a little at one incident in the morning. I’d needed to go to the bathroom and was
actually entering the ‘Gents’ when Ruth saw me and called out “Sissy?”
“Yes
Ruth?” I answered.
She
actually looked a little flustered.
“Sissy?” she coughed. “I think.. well... considering the clothes
you’re wearing...?”
I
plucked nervously at the silky material of my long skirt, still with no idea of
what she was getting at. Jessica saw
the problem immediately. Came and took
me by the arm.
“She
means,” she whispered “that you should
be using the ‘Ladies’ now.”
I
blushed the most furious blush ever.
Could practically feel my toes turning red! Then Jessica added to my embarrassment by
whispering “Better remember to pee
sitting down from now on.”
At
that point, it was as if veils had been lifted from my eyes. What had I done? Somehow, I had managed to work my way DOWN a
hierarchy, from boss - to OFFICE GIRL! I
was standing there in a skirt, blouse, and female underwear. I had been told that I couldn’t use the
‘men’s’ any more. I had to use the
‘ladies’ - and pee sitting down! For a
moment, all I wanted to do was run away - but then reality set in. In a skirt and blouse? Where would I go? I had no money of my own any more, as you had
wisely determined that you were much better at handling our finances. I had no friends either - all my men friends
you had felt were bad examples for me.
And, most important - I REALLY did need to go to the bathroom. Still blushing, I went into the ladies, and
sat down in a cubicle to pee. Again I
consoled myself with the fact that it was only for a few weeks.
That
afternoon as I was sitting on break with the other girls, Ruth stuck her head
out of her office door (she didn’t want to sit with her employees, I’d found
out). “Sissy dear? Do you have a moment please?”
“Yes Ruth”
I said, putting my knitting down and hurrying into her office.
To
my surprise, she was sitting in a straight back visitor’s chair instead of
behind her desk. She smiled across the
room at me, but didn’t invite me to sit.
“You
were late getting to work this morning dear.”
“Oh
yes Ruth - and I’m dreadfully sorry...”
“Of
COURSE you are dear. But it’s not
something I intend to put up with. So
come over here...”
And
she was pointing to her lap! She wanted
me over her KNEES!
“Oh
Ruth. Please don’t.” I pleaded going over to where she sat. “It wasn’t my fault...”
“You
going to blame Brenda?” she asked.
I
was so stunned to hear your name spoken that I could only stare at her.
“What’s
wrong?” she asked. ‘I say something
bad?”
“I’m
not allowed to call her by name” I
admitted fearfully.
She
threw her head back and laughed for a moment, then brought her head down and
stared at me, still smiling “A sort of
SHE WHO MUST BE OBEYED sort of thing?”
I
nodded.
“Well
Sissy. Here, I’m your boss. Here, I’m
the one that must be obeyed. Weren’t you
told that last night?”
“Yes.” I answered meekly.
“By
her?”
I
didn’t answer except to sigh, then walk over to Ruth's chair and lay down over
her knees.
“That’s
better. Much better!” I heard her say.
Slowly then, I felt the hem of my skirt being
pulled up, riding against the back of my legs.
Then it was my slip that was being treated in the same manner, but more
sensuous now, the air feeling cool against my bared backside, the lace edging
of the slip tantalizing the material of my nylons. A few moments later, I knew that both the
skirt and slip had been pulled up all the way, feeling them bundled about my
waist.
“What’s
this?” she asked, giving my panty girdle a light slap.
“My
panty girdle Ruth.”
“Call
me ‘Miss Ruth’ Sissy, when I talk to you,” she said sharply, giving my backside
a resounding spank.
“OW!”
I cried. “Sorry Miss Ruth.”
“That’s
better! But why aren’t you wearing nice
frilly panties? Sissy panties?’
Unthinking,
I replied, “Because Brenda wants me to wear these!”
She
caressed my buttocks gently. “I thought
you weren’t supposed to say her name?” she cooed, her voice soft and dangerous
in my ear.
“Oh
God!” I moaned as her implication struck
me. “Please don’t tell her Miss Ruth!”
“Well,
maybe I won’t. But only if you are a
nice obedient little girl. Okay?”
“Thank
you! Thank you!” I babbled.
“I’ll be a good girl. Honest!”
“Well,
you tell Brenda tonight that I’d prefer you to be wearing prettier
panties! Understood?”
“Yes,
Miss Ruth” I sniveled.
“Because
the next time I find you improperly dressed, you’ll get spanked out there in
front of all your little friends. So
keep that in mind!”
With
that, she started to spank me. She only
used her hand, but I knew that the sounds of the slaps were being heard in the
outer office and, if they weren’t, my squeals and sobs were. Some few minutes later, red and watery eyed,
I was washing my face with cool water in the ladies room. None of the other girls talked to me for a
while. I think they sensed my
embarrassment, but I appreciated their kindness. At the same time, I promised myself revenge
against Ruth. I wasn’t going to be an
office girl forever, that was for sure!
You
were late getting home that night. A
little tired looking I thought as I served up your dinner, but with a contented
glow about you. Afterwards, as you
lounged in your chair sipping your after-dinner drink, you said. “Hear you have to wear little frilly panties
for Ruth? You’ll be happy to know I
bought you some this afternoon - when I
got your corsets. Just wait until you
try them all on! You’ll feel like the
belle of the ball!”
I
was puzzled, and my face must have showed it.
“Something bothering you sweetie?”
you asked.
“No. Not really.
I was just wondering when you spoke to miss Ruth? You hadn’t said anything...”
It
was one of the few times I’ve ever seen you flustered. “Ah, eh, I thought I’d drop in and see her on
the way home...”
“But
she left the office before I did, and I didn’t...”
“Would
you stop this girlish nattering!” you exploded.
“Get these dishes done! Jessica’s coming over to work on you tonight -
get you started on your corset training!
Get a move on!”
Jessica
didn’t waste any time when she arrived.
“Right Sissy! Let’s get your
corset on. Sooner the better!”
At
this, you brought them out of the carry bag you’d brought them home in. Grinning, you held both of them up for view, one at a time. I gulped.
How could I be expected to get in one of these things? Both were long line that would stretch from
just under the bust line to just above my groin. the light blue one was satin faced, the
yellow one was taffeta.
“Both
can be used for sleeping in.” you told Jessica. “I told Elaine at the shop what
you were trying to do and she agrees - you’ll have to go to a ‘tight-laced’
program - and twenty four hours a day at that!”
You
turned to me. “Just as well you’re going
to lighter weight panties now - the girdles wouldn’t have gone with these as
well. I got you nice light shades as
well - won’t show under your other clothes as much. Wasn’t that nice of me?”
I
tried my best to smile my appreciation of your thoughtfulness, but wasn’t too
sure if I was successful or not.
Jessica
gave me enough privacy to let me change into my new panties. I picked a nice lacy pair, oyster shade to
match the bra I was wearing. Then she
made me step into the yellow corset and pulled it up around my waist. Pulled the laces tight. It didn’t feel that bad at all, I
thought. Kinda comforting as a matter of
fact.
“Take
a deep breath in Sissy.” she said.
I
did, and suddenly felt as if a vice was being clamped about my middle!
“OOOH!” that’s too tight Jessica!” I complained.
She
laughed. “We Just STARTED Sissy! Another deep breath in!”
A
few minutes later, I was on the verge of fainting. Could not breathe, other than in shallow
little gasps. Saw the womanish shape of
the person wearing the yellow corset in the mirror, but felt that I was too
close to the point of collapse to recognize myself.
Jessica
laughed unsympathetically. “You’ll
live. By next week, I want another two
inches off that waist. Just wait and
see, by then you’ll be so used to it that you won’t feel right when you do
finally take it off!”
She
spent the rest of the evening “getting me started in the right direction”. Checked the holes in my ear lobes to make
sure they were fine - they were. Plucked
my eyebrows. Started work on my
fingernails, showing me what she wanted in the way of shaping. Tutted at the shape of my toenails - and
started me caring for them. Gave me some
rudimentary lessons in applying makeup - but the main thing she did was shampoo
my hair and give it a light set. “May
as well start training your hair now.
Get you used to setting lotion
and sleeping in curlers and a hair net.” she said “ Make your hair more like a girls. Don’t want to do too much before the contest,
but can’t have you walking about in nice clothes with your hair a mess, can
we?.”
I must admit that I felt uncomfortable as she
soaked my hair in setting lotion, then put the rollers in, pinning them in
place.
“Seems
awfully perfumed Jessica.” I complained.
“That’s
right. It is.” she said.
“Once we get started applying lacquer though, you need to have something
smelling pretty to counteract it. Just
getting you used to it.”
When
my hair is rolled and pinned to her satisfaction, she pulls a heavy duty, pink,
hairnet out and puts it on over her work.
“I want you wearing this every night until the competition now Sissy. Okay?”
“”Yes
Jessica” I say obediently. “Do I take the rollers out tomorrow?”
“You? NO!
I’ll take them out tomorrow morning in the office. Just get in a half hour early. You’re not going to touch your hair until I
know you’re properly trained!”
The
thought of going to work with my hair in its present condition humiliates me,
but I decide not to argue.
As
the night wears on, I find that I am becoming accustomed to the corset - and am
stupid enough to say so. Jessica
promptly loosens the laces - and then pulls them in tighter! I feel as if my eyes are crossing. And then it dawns on me!
“Jessica?”
I pant fawningly. “How can I take this
off?”
She
looks at me as if I’m crazy. “You
can’t! That’s all there is to that!”
“But? I need to shower? What do I do then?’
“Ask
Brenda you silly bimbo! Who do you
think!”
“Get
HER to help me undress and dress?”
“Of
course! She knows all about it!”
You
giggle when I model for you. In honor of
the occasion Jessica has removed the gold posts from my ears and replaced them
with long glittery earrings that glitter crazily as I walk. I’m also wearing the yellow peignoir that
I’ve discovered hanging in my closet - that matches the yellow nightgown under
my pillow. My nylons are attached to the
suspender straps of the corset now, and I’m wearing high heeled slippers. Jessica has
made me up a little more dramatically than I’m used to. You giggle at the hair net.
After
Jessica leaves, you have me pour you another drink, then come and sit beside
you on the couch. You put an arm around
me and give me an amorous kiss. Your hand slithering over my corset and cupping
my breasts. “Mmmm! You feel SO pretty! Smell just like a girl! Know what?
I think we should get married!”
I
gasp. “Honest? Oh dear!
Yes! When?”
You
consider for a minute. “Didn’t want to tell you so soon, but I’ve been promoted
to International Sales V.P. Have to take
off on a sort of ‘introductory’ tour in just over two weeks, right after
Jessica’s contest. Thought I’d take you
with me - a sort of honeymoon?” You
grin. “Combine business and pleasure?’
Inside
my layers of whalebone (or whatever)
taffeta, chiffon, and nylon, I quiver uncontrollably and slide into your
arms. You start to caress and kiss
me.... I play the feminine role in our
lovemaking .. not that that’s anything new.
Afterwards, I wear my pretty yellow nightgown over my corset when I go
to bed.
You
fall asleep almost immediately, but I lie there awake, very uncomfortable in my
corset, well aware of the perfumed air that surrounds me, and finding it hard
to get used to the rollers in my hair.
They’re not tight, but it feels like anywhere I move my head on the
pillow, another roller decides to make me uncomfortable. I’m also excited about the upcoming
wedding. I’m going to be your husband!
The
following morning, I almost weep as you can’t stop laughing as you first of all
loosen my corset laces, then retighten them after I’ve finished my shower. You tease me about the frilled shower cap you
make me wear to protect my hair do.
Tease me about the little yellow dress you have me wear.
“Oh! What a handsome husband I’m going to
have!” you giggle. “SO masculine in your
pretty little yellow dress - and these rollers in your hair! And that perfume!”
I
start to cry at your teasing, so you punish me for that by giving me my very
own handbag, and putting my lipstick and other cosmetics in it. You drive me to the office a half hour early,
but don’t come in. “Have Jessica drive
you home tonight dear. Tell her she can
stay for dinner. That way, she can
continue your training with less interruptions.
You’re going to be SUCH a pretty girl!”
you laugh, “ Just can’t wait
to see your hair!”
Jessica’s
waiting impatiently. “That’s a very nice
dress sissy,” she says “But step out of it for a minute. I want to check your corset laces.”
“Oh
Jessica!” I complain. “I’m laced tight! Honest!”
“Sissy? We can do it now, or wait for the other girls
to come in and see your pretty corset, because I’m going to check it now or
later. What do you think?”
She
was able to tighten the corset more, as she’d thought. Again, I was breathless for a long time until
I got used to it. But I was able to get
my dress back on before the other girls came in.
I
was surprised at how quickly she did my hair.
Her fingers deftly removed the rollers and pins, then she started doing
something at the back. Brushing it, then
spraying it very lightly, brushing it again and smoothing it with her hand.
“What
are you doing?” I asked.
“It’s
just some backbrushing or teasing,” she
said “Gives your hair body. This isn’t a
proper job. I just want to start
preparing you for what will be going on during the competition.”
Then
she started combing the hair out on the top of my head. Hardly used any spray thre at all. When she stepped back and let me see myself,
I gasped. I could tell it was me - but
barely. It was a very feminine looking
girl who was looking back at me from the mirror. Jessica gave me a hug. “You look terrific!” she said.
“I’m SO glad you’re going to be my model! You’re going to WOW all the judges. I promise!”
She
gave me a net bag to take home with all my rollers and cans and cans of laquer’
and plastic bottles of hir setting lotion - extra firm. “Remind me to take these with us when we go
home to your house tonight. I’ll
drive and? by the way?
here’s a little portable can of hair laquer. I don’t want you using it until I tell you -
just keep it in your purse for now.”
I
was very shy and timid when the other girls came into the office, but they were
all very complimentary to me - and Jessica for the job she was doing. There were a few surprised looks at me ‘new’
figure, but they guessed at the means that had been used fairly quickly. Amy actually sympathized with me - said
something about “bloody girdles” when I took her coffee to her that morning,
but smiled so that I knew she was talking ‘woman to woman’..
Later,
in her office, miss Ruth lifted the skirt of my dress and approved my
panties. She spanked me afterwards in
the afternoon, for spending time on my nails when I should have been filing
documents for her. It was just a light
one though, and I didn’t cry. She left
early that day. Didn’t say where she was
going.
It
was strange. You were home early for
once. Not only that? I could have SWORN I saw miss Ruth driving
her car up our street when Jessica took me home. You seemed very happy about something, but
just stared at me coldly when I asked if Ruth had been there. I decided that I didn’t need an answer, so
went off and made dinner.
Over
the next week, I fell into a sort of routine.
I became a girl to all intents and purposes. I had become used to my tight corsets and
knew that my weight was dropping rapidly - I just didn’t have the appetite.
Jessica came by every evening, but it wasn’t really needed now. I’d learned to walk, talk, and act like a
girl. My nails were pretty and I was well versed in makeup, and more
than confident wearing my dresses and skirts.
Miss
Ruth still used every and any, excuse to spank me in private, but it was more
of a game now. I still squealed and
wriggled, but she didn’t hurt me any more.
Jessica
still did my hair every night, but was starting to allow me to work with it now
and then. She was getting very nervous
about the competition.
I
was in two minds about the wedding ceremony you had set up. Just you, me, and the girls from the office -
and the minister of course. I was well
aware that we had an extremely limited circle of friends, but I really did want
to show off the great catch I’d made - though I was well aware of how others
saw our relationship, and knew that I didn’t show in the most masculine of
lights. Once I got back into men’s
clothes agai n though, I thought vaguely - then we’d see what was what.
Then
the shock when I discovered that you had moved the ceremony up to just hours
after Jessica’s competition because of a schedule change - and that we now were
having to have the wedding in our own place!
I was frantic about all the extra cleaning and preparing that was going
to be needed, but you told me not to worry - and made all the arrangements for
cleaners and caterers.
“But
I’ll need time to change dear.” I said .
“Don’t
worry darling. You’ll have all the time
you need. After all, we can’t have the
ceremony without you now, can we?’
I
apologized for being such a worry wart and you kissed me nicely.
I
was also put out a little when I discovered that Miss Ruth was going to be
joining us on our trip. I’d loved the
idea of us having two months of traveling together, seeing the world, just you
and me - but your explanation that the company required you to take an office
manager with you as a ‘consultant’ sort
of bothered me.
“But
I was an office manager.” I complained
softly “why couldn’t you have taken ME?”
You
hugged me consolingly. “But you’re an
office girl dear. She’s a manager now.
And aren’t you glad I’m not bringing some stranger along?”
I’d
complained when I found out that we had always booked a suite - and an
adjoining room at all the hotels we were going to stay at. “Dear?
Can’t you get a room for her on another floor? I’d really feel better
with a little more privacy.” I cooed.
“I
promise you dear! You’ll have all the
privacy you need!” you said.
The
competition was to be on a Saturday afternoon.
Our wedding was to be at eight thirty that same night. I was surprised when Jessica appeared at our
place on the Thursday night, visibly excited.
“Okay
Sissy! Time to get this show on the
road! Get your dress off. Put a robe on! let’s go girl!”
“First
of all Jesica! I am NOT a girl!” I said, laughing lightly so that I wouldn’t
hurt her feelings. “As you’ll find out in a day or two . Second?
This is Thursday night! You’ve made a mistake. The competition isn’t until Saturday!”
Her
jaw dropped, then she GLARED at me!
“Sissy! I’m in no mood for
bullshit just now! I’m nervous and
excited! Give me any trouble and, so
help me, I’ll put you over my knees and give you a damn good paddling. Now, get upstairs and get that dress
off. NOW!”
Well,
I could see that she was nervous and excited.
Didn’t want to raise any kind of fuss though - it might disturb your
relaxation period watching TV. I knew
she was just a feminine little thing, but was scared I might hurt her if she
attacked me physically. I just pursed my
lips and led her upstairs. Took my dress
off, then hung it up. Put on a lacy
peignoir. Then I found that she wanted
to shampoo my hair! I started to protest.
This was too much! But then she
glared at me again, so I decided it was better for a peaceful evening if I let
her do what she wanted.
She
took much longer than usual, and it was a new shampoo, one she’d never used
before - very perfumed. It actually caught my breath one time, it was so
strong. Then she rinsed it thoroughly -
I mean about five or six full rinses.
then, she put on a pair of gloves and started massaging a creamy
solution into my hair. It felt nice, and
it seemed to cut the perfumed odor of the shampoo a little, so I didn’t
complain.
Then,
she started a timer. Handed me a Vogue
magazine to read. “There’s a nice
article in there about lipsticks with sunblock.
You might find it interesting?”
I
was not going to argue with her. After
all, I wouldn’t need this kind of information any more, but read it for want of
anything better to do. Then I read
another article about a new polyester
fiber, then something else. It must have
been a half hour, when the timer went off.
“Thank
goodness!” she said “Almost done!” then she rinsed my hair, again thoroughly.
She
seemed to have regained her sanity, so I asked her - politely. “What was all this in aid of Jessica? And, aren’t you going to dry my hair?”
“I’m
sorry I was mean to you Sissy. But
didn’t I tell you I was going to dye your hair for the contest?’
“Dye....
My .... hair?” I gasped.
“Yes
- it looks like it’ll be great.
Champagne Blonde. Just wait,
you’ll like it!”
“Blonde? Blonde!
What will .. what will...”
“What
will Brenda say?” Jessica asked.
“Yes. What if...” I started.
“She
approved the color Sissy. She knows all
about it. She and I discussed it. She’s all for it.”
“But
I have to get it out before we get married.
I can’t get married as a Champagne Blonde. Good heavens!
I’ll have to...”
“You
better ask her before you do
something rash.” Jessica warned me.
Then,
as I sat speechless, considering what she’d just said, she put some rollers in my hair - just
lightly, then wrapped a silk scarf around my head in a turban.
“There
Sissy. Just brush out out lightly in the
morning before you come to work. Don’t
be spraying it with anything, or trying anything fancy. Understand?”
I
guess that I had become used to the perfume given off by my hair. You hadn’t though, and that night, laughingly
refused me access to our bedroom. “Hate
to tell you honey” you laughed “but you
smell like a whorehouse. Not tonight
Josephine!”
I
was hurt, but went and slept in the spare room.
I
was actually flattered when I saw the color of my new hairdo on the Friday
morning. It was very feminine. Not a bright, yellowy, blonde. Very ladylike. I brushed and combed it out, and actually
admired myself in the mirror. I was
getting to be quite an attractive girl I thought as I put my lipstick on. A shame that I was giving it up in a day or
two.
Amy
and Becky were enchanted by the change, oohing and aahing, and complimenting
Jessica - who was delighted in how her handiwork had played out. Marilyn made a nice comment, and even Ruth gave me a twisted, mocking, smile
but said nothing.
I
was doubly surprised then when Ruth told me to take off at noon.
I
stared at her. “I’m sorry Miss Ruth, but
why?”
She
stared back. “You don’t know? Jessica’s going to need you.”
“For
what?” I asked.
She
just laughed and shook her head. “Good
God!” was all she said.
And
Jessica did. She was standing waiting
for me when I came out of Ruth’s office.
“What’s
keeping you!” she said impatiently.
“Come on!”
She
hurried me home. Was going to rush me
upstairs but, for once, I put my foot down.
Tearfully said that I was going to eat some lunch. She pursed her mouth but agreed - only if I
let her tighten my corset before we did.
I let her, and it did cut my appetite down a lot, but I felt I’d finally
stood up for myself - like a man should!
She wouldn’t let me put my dress back on though, had me put on a
negligee instead.
That
afternoon was a shocker! My hair was
washed in the heavily perfumed shampoo again, then rinsed, then doused in
another perfumed setting lotion. Then
Jessica combed two parallel parts about three inches apart running from the
back of my head to the front. Then she
put on this huge roller, and rolled the hair on, really tightly! I squealed, but she paid no attention. Pinned the roller firmly in place. Then another right behind it. Then another right behind that! I had tears in my eyes with my hair being
pulled like that.
“Ah
shut UP! Sissy!” Jessica complained.
“Stop being such a goddam wimp!”
I
gritted my teeth. Wimp indeed! I’d show her once I was back to being a man
again!
She
applied rollers, tightly, all over my head, smaller ones now, constantly
spraying with light coats of lacquer as she did so. The combined smells of lacquer and perfume
almost suffocating. When she finished, I
was dizzy. She peered into my eyes.
“Look
Sissy? I know this is all strange to you
- and not that pleasant. But don’t touch
anything! Got it? I’m going, but I’ll come back here before you
go to bed. If you’ve done anything to
your hair? I’ll KILL you! Leave it alone! Understand?”
In
a haze of perfumed euphoria, I smile and nod.
She
wraps my hair up in some gauzy material, then leaves.
I
doze off. Am awakened by you peering
into my eyes and tapping me on the forehead with your finger. “Sissy!
Sissy! Anybody home? wake up!
When’s dinner?”
I
struggle up out of my chair, stupified with sleep, feeling as if I’ve been
drugged. With a shock, I see that it’s
past six o’clock, and I haven’t even
started preparing dinner yet! I feel so
guilty about not taking care of you that I nearly start to cry.
You
don’t make me feel any better when you start to laugh at my appearance. “Good God Sissy! What have you let Jessica do to you? Have you seen yourself? But here, before you look in the mirror, put
these earrings on. They’ll go with your
rollers I think.”
You
had been digging about in your costume jewelry box, and hand be a pair of huge
hoop earrings. They look very heavy but
are surprisingly light.
You
roar with laughter as I make my way over to the mirror, staggering a little as
I’m still not properly awake, My negligee wafting about me, and the huge
earrings banging against my jawline as if they had a life of their own. I do weep as I see my reflection, a scared,
feminine face with high arched eyebrows, pouting red lips, and rouged cheeks
under a HUGE mass of large pink curlers,
held in place with a chiffon scarf.
You
hurry over beside me and put a comforting arm around my shoulders and apologise
nicely for teasing me. You than make
amends by telling me that we can have a pizza delivered. You wont let me put on any other clothes nor
take off the silly earrings, claiming that I look ‘cute’.
We
have the pizza and a glass or two of wine, which makes me sleepy again. You won’t let me sit too closely to you,
maintaining that my perfumed hair is too much for you to handle. You do watch Jessica closely when she returns
to apply more setting lotion - lots more - then re-tighten my rollers until I
am pleading for mercy. Jessica doesn’t
listen though, just tightens and pins, tightens and pins, to her own
satisfaction.
Again,
I seem to become lost in a haze of perfume, setting lotion smell, lacquer? I don’t know.
I fall asleep sitting there. Have
a vague memory of someone guiding me over to the bed in the spare room. Have a terrible night, dreaming of a
frightened girl in a huge nest of hair - who may be me. Smell of perfume permeating everything.
I’m
still dazed in the morning. Don’t want
breakfast. Don’t want lunch either, but
Jessica makes me eat some cottage cheese and a few crackers about eleven
o’clock. I have new undies that I’ve
never seen before. Bra, panties, garter belt, and a half slip all in a gorgeous Royal blue satin, with jet
black lace trim. I also have a new
corset, jet black. Black net stockings
and a pair of Royal blue high heeled shoes with a four inch heel. I make sure that my hair is completely
enclosed in a shower cap before having a shower. Jessica is not happy with the idea of me
risking my hair getting wet, but gives in when I stamp my foot.
I’m
surprised at the dress Jessica wants me to wear to the contest. It’s one of my plainer ones. Buttons down the front, quite nice - but not
anything like as flashy as I’d have thought she’d want me to wear. I’m certainly not comfortable with the idea
of parading anywhere with my hair still up, but she tells me the contest site
isn’t far away, and there won’t be too many people there at this time of day.
You’re
busy interacting with the caterers on the phone when Jessica leads me out of
the house. You blow me a kiss and wish
Jessica all the luck in the world.
Jessica is wound up so tightly that she can barely speak to say thank
you. Hardly says a word to me in the ten
minutes it takes to get to her school in her car. I’m starting to get a little nervous myself
but keep saying that ‘this is the end of it’.
‘Tonight I get married!’ over and over again.
I
am shocked out of whatever calm I have when we enter the school. Jesicca leads me down a hallway then, as we
turn a corner, we hear a discordant babble of a lot of women laughing and
screaming . I am led into a large room
where the noise is coming from. I can’t
believe it! There must be twenty or
thirty women there, eight or nine of them
in various stages of undress, though none are nude, thank goodness. I notice that all the partially dressed girls
have their hair up in different sizes of rollers and clips. Must be the models, I think to myself. There is a great deal of friendly taunting and teasing going on. Our entry hardly causes a ripple, though I see some women give me a
decided look over as they say ‘hi’ to Jessica.
One
long wall is mirrored all the way along , with about twelve chairs equally
spaced and facing the mirrors. Each
chair has a number on the back. About
waist height, there is a bench attached to the wall, with an amazing amnount of
cosmetics and cans of hair care items in front of each chair.
“Here’s
your chair. Number eight” Jessica told me.
“I’ve
got to sit here?” I stammered.
“In this room?”
“No
dearie. you get to sit on the throne in
the ladies room! Where’d you thiunk
you’re gonna sit! For god’s sake Sissy,
brighten up! Get your dress off and put
this cape on.”
She
was holding a little pink cape-like thing out towards me. It wasn’t very big, I guessed - would cover
my shoulders okay but I wasn’t sure if it would cover my breasts.
I
could see other models sitting on their chairs now, their ‘handlers’ hovering
over and around them like wasps, constantly darting in and touching things,
then standing back. Most of the seated
models were wearing similar ‘capes’ already.
I unbuttoned the dress and slid it off, then gave it to Jessica. Nervously, she bunched it up and threw it
under the bench in front of us. I had
wrapped my cape around my shoulders and was tying the ribbon at the neckline
while sitting down.
“But
Jessica! That will get all
wrinkled! Amn’t I going to wear it?”
She
looked at me as if I were crazy. “You
NUTS?” was all she said.
Then
an authoritative voice came from the doorway.
“Girls? You have one minute. The judges will be making their preliminary
checks. If they ask you any questions,
please be prepared to answer honestly!”
Amidst
a lot of giggling the remaining models jump hastily into their assigned chairs,
and wrap their capes around their shoulders.
I am terrified. what will I do if
the judges ask me a question. Will my
voice sound like a girls? I whisper my
concern to Jessica.
She
laughs, a little nervously, then whispers.
“They probably won’t ask you anything. Besides that? They know
you’re a guy.”
I’m
crushed - out of my mind with humiliation.
I’m sitting in a chair, in a bloody ROOMFUL of women. I’m in sexy women’s lingerie. I’m perfumed, I’m wearing lipstick and all
that goes with it. My hair is up in some
exotic set of rollers, so that I can model a woman’s hair style - and I can’t
even pretend to be a girl?
But
I’m distracted. Three smart young ladies
come down the line rapidly. All have
clipboards. Ask questions and record
their thoughts - or whatever - on their notepads. They come to us and pause.
“Wow Jessica!
this the 60’s look you’re pushing?”
Jessica
laughs behind me. “Yeah. thought it might give you judges something
different to look at.
A
burnished blonde laughs. “You actually got a model to take a cool set? What did you need? Blackmail?
I tried it once and none of the models would even talk to me.”
Jessica
laughed easily. “Just charm Judy. Just charm!”
The
judges laughed with her, then passed on.
They
were only a few more minutes, then the woman with the loud voice spoke again.
“Okay
ladies! You have one hour from now
exactly. At that point, you will be
given five minutes - ONLY - to get your girls dressed. They will then parade in front of the judges
in the main room. Models? Once you’ve passed the judges, you will see
chairs set on the floor with your numbers on them. Go and sit on the chair with your number on
it! Don’t sit anywhere else! I don’t want a repeat of last years nonsense!
“
Everybody
laughs.
“What
happened last year...”?” I start to ask Jessica, but she is too busy attacking
my hair!
In
no time at all, she has the rollers all removed. My hair seems to fall over in weird looking
circles, but Jessica doesn’t seem too concerned. She has started backcombing the hair at the
back of my head, but a lot more thoroughly than ever before - and the amount of
scented lacquer she is using! My god,
the whole place reeks! I can’t think!
She
is seemingly doing a little strand at a time, then spraying liberally with
lacquer, then smoothing it with her hand, then another strand, then more
lacquer, then smoothing it again. At
first I can’t see much of anything, but she turns my chair around to look at
something from a different angle and I see that the hair at the back of my neck
is starting to look very full - and I know that there is a lot to do yet. Suddenly a small red-haired woman is standing
in front of me.
“Hi
Jessica! You said you wanted false nails
and eyelashes? Is now a good time?”
“Perfect
Shirley! Just do the eyelashes first,
okay? Sissy? Do as Shirley asks, okay?”
Shirley
doesn’t tell me to do much of anything, other than “Hold still dearie” a few times, but less that ten minutes later,
my eyes are heavy with (heavy) false eyelashes (Real MINK, Shirley assures me)
and long false talons of blood red fingernails.
A
little while later, another girl appears.
“Look like you need a break Jessica.
Hey , don’t worry! We’ve plenty of time. I’ll get her makeup on - then all you have to
do is comb her hair out and get her dressed for the parade to the judges. Go grab a coke. I’l have her looking great. Don’t worry!”
Jessica
is looking exhausted. She smiles in
agreement, strokes my hair softly, then leaves.
The new girl turns my chair away from facing the mirror, then straddles
my chair.
“Show
time honey! Let’s get you gorgeous!”
Actually? I enjoy what she does, whatever it is. No strong scented odors. No feeling that anything is getting layered
on. I lie back in the chair, close my
eyes and let her do what she wishes, enjoying her feather soft touches on my
face, on my lips, eyebrows, cheeks, eyelids.
Am almost asleep when I hear Jessica say “Wow Laverne! She looks great!”
I’m
frightened to look at my reflection, knowing full well that I must have crossed
a line between masculinity and femininity - I just don’t want to see what how
far I’ve crossed it, or what I’ve become.
I’m to be married in just a few hours!
I’ve got to start looking and behaving like a husband! Know full well that what I see reflected may
eliminate my confidence, what of it I have left, anyway.
Jessica
is working furiously now, but just lightly teasing my hair into shape with a
rattail comb, and smoothing it with her fingers, over and over again. Then she brings the skirt and sweater I have
to wear “Very sixties’ she tells me.
I
step into the skirt and she zips it up behind me. Oh god, it’s TIGHT! She just barely manages to close it around my waist. Then the rapberry colored angora sweater that
opens all the way down the back, fastened with large faux-pearl buttons. The cuffs of the sleeves are tight around my
forearms, but the dolman sleeves provide lots of room otherwise. Someone helps
me on with my shoes, but my legs are shaking so, that I can hardly move.
I
barely hear Jessica entreat me to practice my walk in the few minutes grace we
have, but manage to travel enough in my shoes to gain a little confidence. A few moments later, I am lined up with the
other models behind a curtain. A voice says
something, but is distorted beyond all recognition, then some music player
starts playing Stevie Wonder’s “Isn’t She Lovely” - and I mince through the
curtain with the other girls, to the applause of a fairly large crowd.
The
judges I had seen before were sitting now, side by side. Me and the other girls are introduced , then
have to walk, one at a time, along in front of them, then turn and reverse our steps then find our
way back to our chairs, where we had to seat ourselves in a ladylike manner.
The hairdressers are also introduced, but without the show business aspect. They
simply walk and stand behind the chairs.
It
isn’t far to walk at all, but means are found to humiliate me.
“Here’s
SISSY! - the SIXTIES Missy!” Booms out
from the speaker, and I find myself taking my tiny little steps towards the
judges table, the skirt effectively hobbling my walking. To maintain my balance, I discover that I
must raise my arms out in front of me - like a ghost. I hear the applause. Find out later that the dolman sleeves spread
most becomingly and the audience assume that I am walking this way
intentionally!
I
hear the voice introduce Jessica, then horror of horrors, hear it add. “One thing folks? This hairdo calls for a cool set, a thing
that’s VERY unpopular with the models as it takes so long! Guess what!
This is Jessica’s boss and HE was a willing volunteer! Why don’t we all give him a great big round
of applause?”
There
is a moment of stunned silence then a lot of people clap. At the same time, there’s a lot of wolf
whistles and ribald comments. Legs
shaking in total humiliation I find my way to my chair, and sink into it
gratefully, my face aflame under my makeup.
It
really didn’t seem to take long at all.
The judges came down the line and examined our hairstyles closely. The blonde actually took a comb end and lifted
my hairdo a little.
“That’s
a real nice coif you put in there
Jessica!” she said .. “Good job!”
Jessica
(and me) took third place. She won a job
with a local, well known hairdressing salon.
I won a handbag with a lot of cosmetic samples. I then had to sit while a lot of women came
around and examined the winner and the second and third place finishers. It was finally over. I was shocked to see the time. Six thirty pm.
“We’ll
have to hurry Jessica.” I said
happily. “I’m due to get married in just
about ninety minutes.”
She
looked tired, but she smiled. “Plenty of
time Sissy. I’ll have you back at your
place in no time at all.”
“Why
don’t I change out of this tight skirt?”
I suggested.
She
shrugged. “Up to you I guess, but I’m
sorry, the dress you wore here is all crumpled and you’re just going to change
again anyway. Seems like a waste of time
to me.”
I
grimaced, but what you said made sense so, with Jessica holding me by one arm I
minced my way out of the hall through the small crowd of women still hanging
around. One or two congratulated Jessica
- she seemed to be well liked - and wanted to chat, but we finally made it to
her car. I had a terrible time getting
into the front seat as my skirt was so tight.
Finally had to hike it up my legs - which drew a whistle from a passing
girl - to enable me to get in.
The
house was a bustle of activity when we arrived.
None of the guests were there yet but there were quite a lot of caterer
people bustling about. I heard your
voice, but Jessica went ahead and told you to get out of the way so that we
wouldn’t see each other. “It’s bad luck
for the groom to see the bride before the weding.” she explained.
“Yes. I’d forgotten that.” I said.
Then
she led me upstairs. “We’ve got the
master bedroom. Brenda and Ruth have the
spare room.”
“WE
have? What do you mean, WE?” I asked, looking about me. The room seemed
feminine somehow. Then I noticed the
flowers in vases placed in various spots.
Then I noticed what appeared to be formal dresses hanging. Then the lingerie laid out on the bed.
I
shook my head. Something wasn’t making
sense. “And? What does Ruth have to do with it?”
“She’s
standing up for Brenda. Didn’t you
know?”
“Oh? No, I didn’t.
What is she? Bridesmaid? Matron of honor?” I asked.
Jessica
laughed. “No Sissy, I’m the bridesmaid. She’s the best man.”
“But
that’s ridiculous!” I laughed. “Can’t be... that would mean...” I faltered to a stop.
Jessica
nodded and smiled. “That you’re the
bride, and I’m your bridesmaid. Yes!”
With
that, she went and removed a plastic cover from the white dress. “This is drop-dead gorgeous!” she said. “It was Brenda’s mother’s . Gosh!
it’s immaculate!”
“But
how can I possibly fit into her mother’s dress for goodness sake!” I panted.
She
shrugged. “Remember that night I
measured you for the corset? Measured
you for any possible alterations for this at the same time.”
“I’m
not going to play the part of the bride at my own wedding! I’m not!
This is crazy!” I was
whispering desperately.
Jessica
looked at me calmly. “You’re just
nervous dear. Just like any other
bride. Don’t worry, you’ll be beautiful,
just wait and see.”
“Good
grief Jessica! I can’t! I wont!”
“Maybe
we’d better go and find Brenda? Want to
do that?” she asked.
She
helped me get out of my skirt and sweater - and even let me take my corset
off. “Don’t think you’ll need it. May as well be comfortable, eh?”
I
thanked her and took the lingerie - the white from top of the bed and went into
the bathroom to change. It was
lovely. Soft, buttery satin. I put on the matching panties, bra, garter
belt and white hose, then the full length slip. Then I went through to the
bedroom to help Jessica. She had
undressed and wanted a shower, so nipped into the bathroom once I’d left there,
taking her lingerie with her. I was
surprised at how quickly she returned.
She looked great in her undies, but we agreed that we’d better get her
dressed first.
Her
dress was very pretty. Blue taffeta with
a calf length hem, scoped neckline, and puffy short sleeves. A pink sash, and a large floppy hat with a
matching pink ribbon.
Luckily,
my dress opened up very easily, son that I could step into it without having to worry about my makeup being
smudged. As Jessica had noted, it was a
gorgeous confection of silk, satin, and organza. It felt wonderful as she fastened me in at
the back.
The
train was quite short, but it took me a little while to learn how to hold
and/or control it. I started to tremble
as she fitted the circlet that held the veil to my hair. Then I put on my hose and beaded white
slippers. We were ready.
You
had thoughtfully provided a small bottle of wine with two glasses. Jessica poured a glass for both of us, and we
settled down to wait.
It
couldn’t have been long - it just felt that way - before a knock came to the
door. It was the pastor, so we invited
her in. The moment she saw us, she
blanched.
“Oh
Dear!” she said.
“What’s
the matter ma’am?” Jessica asked.
“I
didn’t know! I mean, nobody toold
me...?’
“What
ma’am?” Jessica asked again.
“I
can’t perform same sex weddings. My
church wont allow it!” She was obviously
getting rattled.
“This
isn’t a same-sex wedding Ma’am. Sissy
here is a man. Brenda is a woman. It’s perfectly all right.” Jessica said, smiling,
“A
man?” The pastor looked at me
closely. “You’re very pretty for a
man. And that’s a lovely dress. Are you sure?
Did you know that you’re taking the vows as the wife? Promising to love, honor, and obey?”
I
sighed. “It figures” I said.
“Well. That’s all right then, I guess. Your husband is waiting for you
downstairs. Give me a minute then come
and join us please. Okay?”
I
nodded and she left the room. Jessica
came and arranged the veil in front of my face.
“You’ll
need your hands to hold your dress as we go downstairs,” she said
“So I’ll carry your train for you as we go, but once we’re there, I’ll
let it trail behind you. Okay?”
Nervously,
I nodded my head.
“You’re
a lovely bride” she said ,and gave me a slight kiss on the cheek.
There
were more people there than I expected.
All women. The girls from my
office and some of your female friends from yours. Every one smiled up at me as I descended the
stairs, the wedding march playing all the while. You were standing in the centre of the living
room, facing away, Ruth at your side turning and smiling at me. There was something predatory in her eyes a
‘I Just can’t wait to get my hands on
you” sort of look.
‘Okay’
I thought to myself. ‘I may not be the
husband - but I’m marrying your boss and
I’ve got a promotion coming, so we’ll see.’
Nevertheless, I started shivering.
The
ceremony was mercifully brief. I
repeated what was said, promising to love, honor, and obey, while you promised
to love and cherish me. I had forgotten
about rings, but you hadn’t. It was a
single ring ceremony, and I was the one who ended up wearing it. Then you lifted my veil, and tenderly put it
back over my head. Then you kissed me.
“Hello
wife.” you whispered.
“Hello
husband.” I whispered back.
The
small group of women all clapped, and the formalities were ended. In my dress I was introduced to your friends,
who were very complimentary about my looks and the dress. I even got some comments about my unusual
hairdo.
We
stood around eating canapes and drinking wine for about an hour. You then made an announcement that we were
leaving very soon on the start of our trip, but that everyone could stay after our departure, because Jessica had
agreed to take care of the place in our absence.
Then
you put a proprietary arm around my waist.
“And someone close to me has got to go and put her ‘going away’ outfit
on - and we all know how women are,
right girls?”
This
raised a lot of smiles.
You
had teased me many times about my masculinity, or lack of, but this was the
very first time you had ever referred to me as a woman or used the word ‘her’
to describe me. I felt curiously
flattered though as you continued by whispering in my ear. “ Wait until you see your trousseau! All the girls wherever we go are going to be
SO jealous. Ruth and I want to come and
help you change. Will that be all right
darling?”
“I’d
feel awfully shy with her there dear?
I’d rather just have you...” I
said, in a pleading tone.
“Oh
don’t be a silly girl!” you said, giving
me a slight pat on the rump. “I want you
two to get along. It’ll be a long trip
and I want you to be friends with her.”
Flanked
by Ruth on one side and you on the other, we went to the spare room. As soon as we closed the door behind us, Ruth
smiled. “May I kiss the bride?”
You
smiled back at her, then looked at me. .
“I’m sure Priscilla wouldn’t mind?
Would you Priscilla?”
And
Ruth was advancing on me! Weakly, I put
my arms up to defend myself, but she just brushed them aside, then took me in
her arms and kissed me. Kissed me
hard! Then I felt her tongue in my
mouth! I struggled weakly, trying to cry
out for help, but could see you sitting looking on with an interested
expression..
Then,
I was being forced back onto the bed., and Ruth’s hands were everywhere:
caressing my breasts, up my skirts, taking my stockings off. Then I realized that she was systematically
undressing me! And in front of my
husband!
I
finally lay there, helpless with only my bra, panties, and garter belt on
staring up at this new force in my life.
I
certainly was not expecting the next development. All of a sudden, through my mental haze, I
discovered that I was being dressed
again! Stockings, then a camisole, then
a full petticoat. In a stupor, I stood
and had a dress pulled over my head, and fastened at the back. Then something was attached to my hair, and
something else tied around my waist.
“Get
your shoes on Priscilla, there’s a girl”
you said “Now isn’t that a lovely
going away dress you’re wearing? And? Guess what?
You’ve got others just like it.
In different colors of course.
Now listen up dear. Go out and
help the caterers clean up. Then in
about a half hour? Bring us both a
drink. Understand?”
I
took my maid’s apron in my hands and curtsied, my lace cap bobbing. “Yes
mistress” I said, now well aware of who would be staying in the adjoining
suites on our travels.
The end
6 comments:
Merry Christmas, Bea.
Hey Bea It's been a long time! Thanks for your stories all these years.
Merry Christmas and stay....good!
An old friend from Greece (You remember?)
Merry Christmas Bea!
Thanks for this amazing storie and happy new year
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