Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica From: jon@fltdek.ieee.org (Jon Grossberg) Subject: Bobbi's Story (chapter 4) Organization: Somewhere just far enough out of Toronto Date: Tue, 5 May 1992 04:26:37 GMT Approved: erotica@telly.on.ca Message-ID: <2A060E7E.43F1@telly.on.ca> Sender: erotica@telly.on.ca (Evan Leibovitch) Lines: 730 Archive-Name: bobbi-04 (Note: the original author of these stories prefers to remain anonymous) A D A Y I N T H E L I F E The blast of the alarm clock shocked me out of sleep, and into the earth plane once again. It was 7:00AM on Monday morning, and I had to get ready for work. I really did not want to get up. I had been having such a pleasant dream, but the rent had to paid somehow. I forced myself awake, and headed toward the bathroom. I could hear Margo waking up, and lighting a cigarette in the other bedroom. It was her turn to fix breakfast, so I could take my time with getting ready. She liked to shower after breakfast, so I could take as long as I wanted. I stripped off my robe and blue lace nightie, and stepped into the shower. The fine needle spray tingled all over me, and started to wash away the final layers of sleep that still clouded my mind. I soaped myself all over playfully squeezing my own breasts while I washed them. They were not as big as Tina's breasts, but I would call her doctor this week, and see what could be done to change that. I wanted real breasts so very much. I had to be gentle with my bottom that morning. It was still a little sore from the way Tina had fucked me on Saturday night. I liked being fucked. I also like being fucked hard, but Tina had given my ass quite a reaming that night. I would feel it for a while yet. I took the nozzle of the shower off its hook to rinse myself off. The tingling of the spray titillated my nipples, and made them stand erect. My penis was also growing hard. I stroked it with my soapy hands, and it responded to the touch. I could feel the ghost of a vagina that lurked behind responding too, and I stroked even harder. I leaned back against the tile wall, and brought the nozzle down to spray against the scrotum and balls that hung beneath. The feeling was exciting! I thought that it was what it would feel like to have someone eating the pussy that should have been there. I tried to imagine someone doing that to me, but the only image that came through was that of Tina doing it. Was this what a Lesbian encounter would be like? I thought of myself having a sex-change, and being made love to by another woman. The fantasy took hold, and carried me off. I stroked harder at my penis. My breath now came in excited gasps. All I could see was Tina's head down between my legs with her long hair billowing out across my thighs. In my mind she no longer had that huge cock that had ravaged my asshole on Saturday. We were two Lesbians bent on the taste and feel of each other's pussies on our tongues! I shook all over at the sheer animal lust of it, and then I felt the warmth of my semen as it spurted from the tip of my penis, and ran over my hand. I shuddered deep inside with my orgasm. It took a few moments to catch my breath afterward. I finished my rinse, and stepped from the shower to towel off. Margo knocked at the door. "Are you going to be in there all morning?," she asked urgently. "Breakfast is ready, you have to go to work, and I have to pee!" I unlatched the door, and she headed straight to a seat on the toilet while I wrapped my pink terry-cloth robe about me. I tucked my now soft penis between my legs, and went into the kitchen for breakfast. It was the start of just another normal day, or was it? Margo and I talked about my seeing Tina's doctor over breakfast. She was supportive, but not overly excited about it. "If that's what you want, Bobbi," she admonished me, "then do it, but it's not as easy as it sounds. What Tina had done to her breasts with the silicone implants is simple, but a full sex-change like you seem to want is a big step. Just make sure you are making the right decision. There's no turning back once you have your cock cut off!" Margo's last sentence hit me harder than I would have expected it should have. I did want to be rid of my penis, but in those terms, the idea was a shock. I assured her that I would consider things very carefully before I made the final and irrevocable decision. I knew it was what I wanted, but there was time to think about it anyway. After breakfast, I went to my room to dress for work. This was always my least favorite part of the day. I hated dressing as a man each morning. The men's clothes that I wore might be the most effeminate I could find, but they were still men's clothes. They just reminded me all the more that I was not yet as much a woman as I wanted to be. At least I did not have to wear a suit in my job as a stockboy. I slipped out of my robe with a sigh, and prepared to get into my male costume for the daily masquerade. I started with a pair of blue lace panties. I might have to wear men's outer garments, but my underwear was strictly female. I tucked my penis back into my crotch between my legs, so that I could still feel as female as possible no matter what I looked like outwardly. I topped my panties with a blue camisole. Dressed that way, I still looked very feminine, and I liked that. I slipped a pair of light-blue socks on my feet, and started on the clothing that made me look like a passable, although very effeminate, boy. I pulled on a pair of very tight jeans. They still had a very male fly and zipper, but I had stitched the crotch up a little higher than any male trousers, and tapered the legs. They hugged every curve I had. I pulled a lightweight, grey, crew-necked sweater over my head for a top, and stepped into a pair of brown penny-loafers. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked almost, but not quite, like a girl with my longish hair fluffed out in a unisex style. I was letting it grow long, but it was not quite full female length yet. I could almost pass as a butch woman, but since most people at work knew me as a boy, they thought I was just "queer". I was ready to leave for work except for one last item. I had just bought a leather bag with a shoulder strap. It was not a purse. It was more like a small photographer's soft gadget bag. I purse would have been an obvious giveaway, but this I could get away with. A lot of the "Hippies" carried these, so I could too. It was even just big enough for me to put a padded bra, my make-up case, and some jewelry in the bottom under my wallet and change purse. Margo had finished her shower, and was sitting in the kitchen having coffee and a cigarette. "My, but don't we look nice today!," she said as I entered the room. I thanked her as I pulled a light jacket on, and slung my bag over my right shoulder. I asked her what she thought of the bag. "It looks good," she replied. "You could pass as a woman just the way you are now, Bobbi. If you had make-up on, there would be no question. You're very pretty. You just look like a girl." That was what I hoped I would hear. I said good-bye, and left for work. Margo and I lived on 46th Street just off 9th Avenue in New York City, and the Department Store where I worked was at 39th Street and 5th Avenue. That was just eleven blocks, so I usually walked. This morning was clear, but the mid-September chill was a harbinger that winter was not far away. I felt good! What I wanted most in the world at that moment was to be a woman, and I was making progress toward that end. It did not take me long to get to work. I made one stop on the way in at a little hole-in-the-wall Coffee Shop on 39th Street. I usually stopped there each morning to get a cup of coffee to go, so I could have it in the stock room when I started work. I got a very nice smile from the young Puerto Rican boy behind the counter. I do not know if he knew whether I was a man or a woman, but the smile felt nice just the same. This was starting to be a very good day. I went in through the Employee's Entrance, and went to the time clock room. I bumped into a man as I entered. It was Paul! "Oh, excuse me," he started, "I didn't see..." Paul stopped, and stared at me. "Bob?," he asked. I nodded, and said, "Yes, good morning!" A look of recognition, followed by a smile crossed his face. I was not sure what that meant, so I decided to proceed carefully. "I didn't recognize you at first," he said. "You've started looking very different lately. You look nice, but different." I thanked him for what I assumed he meant as a compliment, and punched in. As I turned to leave, Paul said, "Err... Why don't you stop by my office this afternoon? I have something I'd like to talk to you about." I wondered for a moment what he wanted to talk about. From the way he was looking at me, I was sure that he had recognized me as the Drag Queen prostitute that he had bought a blow-job from on Saturday night. He somehow seemed to like looking at me, though, so he was not angry. I was confused, but there was only one way to find out what was on his mind. "All right," I said as I headed for my department. "I'll be up around 2:15PM after lunch." The Children's Shoes Department was quiet when I arrived. This was normal, for I was usually the first one in each morning, but the lights in the office were already on. Edith, our departmental secretary, had come in a little early, so I bid her "Good morning!" in a cheery voice as I entered. "Good morning, Bob," she answered, and after looking at my more effeminate than usual appearance added, "My, but don't you look nice today!" Her tome was that of a sincere compliment, and I thanked her as I sat down at the desk next to her's. She stared at me for a long moment, and then said, "Bob, we don't get much chance to just talk. I like you very much. Can I ask you a personal question?" I looked at her as I sipped at the coffee that I had brought with me. I wondered what was on her mind. I decided to find out, so I answered, "Sure." "Bob," Edith began, "you must know that some of the people around you have noticed a change in your appearance lately. I think that you look wonderful, but some of the others have said some things that..." Edith trailed off, so I jumped in with, "Edith, and you my friend?" My throat grew tight as I spoke. I wanted desperately to tell someone all about the me. I needed a friend beyond the collection of Drag Queens, cheating husbands, and petty hangers-on that populated "The Gilded Grape" who passed for my friends since the rest of the world had cut me off. I hoped that Edith would be sympathetic, but I was scared! "Of course, Bob," Edith replied. I mustered my courage, and said, "I only ask that you keep this confidential between just you and I." Edith agreed, and I confessed, "I am what some people would call Gay. I have felt this way for a long time, but only lately I have really begun to understand all of it. Most Gay men are content to look and act like boys, but there is something in me that wants to go beyond that. I want..." Edith stopped me at that point, and surprised me by saying, "You know you make a better appearance as a girl than a boy anyway. I know what you want to do. I have read enough about it to have a good idea of what you may be going through. I don't claim to understand it, but if that is what this is all about, I'm behind you if you need me." I was flabbergasted! The look in Edith's eyes told me that she was more than sincere in what she was saying. I knew then that I could trust her. I did not know why she was befriending me in the way that she was, but I did not care. I had found the friend that I needed so desperately. I wanted to talk more, but we could hear the sounds of some of the others arriving, so we decided to have lunch where we could discuss things privately. I looked forward to that lunch all morning. The rest of the department arrived one by one in their usual Monday morning stupor. Every one of them took some notice of my more effeminate than usual appearance that morning. The first two bothered me a little. Mr. Steinman, the Assistant Buyer, showed some obvious surprise at it, and gave me only a perfunctory "good morning" in passing. Alicia, our would be elegant Sales Assistant, gave me a look of cold disdain, and said nothing. That was their problem, I thought, and went out to the stock room to start my work. I ran into Dave, our other Sales Assistant, and my one time friend in philosophical discussions, on his way in out there. He looked me over carefully, and bid me a cheerier "Good morning!" than had been his wont of late. He smiled at me, and added, "You look very nice this morning," as he headed for the office. Maybe he had come to terms with the way I now was. I hoped so. I liked having him as a friend. Last to arrive was Mrs. Adams, our Sales Supervisor. I met her as I was making my morning rounds of checking the displays on the sales floor. "Good morning, err... Bob?," she said as she passed. "My, but don't we look pretty today!" She was always full of sarcastic comments like that for everyone. I said "good morning," but tried to take little notice of her. It was just not worth it. The rest of that morning passed uneventfully. I thought quite a bit about the reactions I had gotten to my appearance. Over all, it was more toward the positive side. Those who did not know me reacted as if I were somehow really female. Those who did know me were split in their reactions, but the one's who meant something in my life leaned to the positive side. I knew that I could pass as a woman while all done up in high Drag Queen glamor. It also seemed that I could do the same in ordinary street clothes, and no make-up. Now I had three things to look forward to that day. There would be lunch with Edith, the talk in Paul's office, and getting into my bra, make-up, and jewelry to see how that worked on the way home! "Are you ready to go? It's almost noon!," Edith startled me with her words in the quiet stock room. I was not wearing a watch, and I had forgotten about the time. "I just have to get my jacket and bag!," I answered quickly as I hurried off to fetch them. A few minutes later we were sliding into seats in a booth at the Coffee Shop down the street. Edith looked at me with a strange twinkle in her eye. I would soon find out why. We made some small talk to start, and then Edith said, "Bob, how far do you want to go with this?" I was both surprised and pleased at the frankness of her question. Her look told me that she would be sympathetic to whatever I had to tell her even if I did not yet know why she was being so open with me about it. I proceeded to tell her my story. "Edith," I began, "I told you this morning that I was Gay. That isn't quite the truth. I was born a boy, but I have never felt like one all my life. A Gay man is attracted to other men. I'm attracted to men, but in the way that a woman is attracted to a man. My feelings and emotions are also those of a woman, and not a man. It took me a long time to realize it all, but I'm more female than male, and I'm going to be the woman that I really am. I'm already living as a woman except for this job, and I'm looking for the first chance I get to change that too." I stopped to take a sip of water, and then continued, "The last part is the surgical operations to finish the job, and I'm eventually going to have that done too! That is who I am." I sat back when I finished my story to see Edith's reaction. She smiled, and said, "That's what I had hoped you would say." "Bob," Edith said. I interrupted her to say, "If you really accept what I am, call me 'Bobbi'. I spell it with an 'i', but most people think it is the male nickname with a 'y' when they hear it." She chuckled at this. "All right," she said, "Bobbi, there's something about you that I'm very drawn to. Please don't think I am being silly when I tell you why." I assured her that she did not even have to tell me, but she insisted. I was just happy to have her as an understanding friend. "There has always been something about you," Edith began, "that has felt strangely familiar to me. I couldn't tell until the 'change' in your appearance what it was, but I felt it all the same. When you started letting your hair grow, and dressing like that, I saw more clearly what I had been looking at, but not quite seeing all along. Let me show you what I mean." Edith reached into her purse, and took out an old wallet. Just then the waitress appeared at our table. "What'll it be, ladies!," she said snapping her gum as she took our order. Edith and I smiled at each other in silence. I had passed another test. The mouthy New York City waitress had seen me as a woman, and nothing less. If I ever needed proof of what was meant to be, I had it now. There was, from that instant, never another question about any of it in my mind. The waitress brought our meals, and as we ate, Edith returned to the wallet. She opened it to an old photograph, and handed it to me. It was the picture of a young woman of about my age. She was dressed in clothing that looked old-fashioned, but in keeping with the apparent age of the photo. As I examined it more closely, I saw something more. I began to see a marked resemblance to me! It was by no means my double, but the woman in the picture could have passed as a sister. I remarked about this to Edith, and she nodded knowingly. "That picture, Bobbi," Edith said at length, "is me about twenty-seven years ago." Edith looked wistful for a moment, and then spoke again. "It was taken," she said, "just before I left Estonia with my mother. We went first to England, and lived there for about nine years all during World War II. While we were there, I met a young R.A.F. Lieutenant, and fell in love." Edith's voice grew dreamy, and she paused for a private thought. Then she continued, "He was killed in a raid over Germany in 1944, but we had been a little indiscreet in our affections, and I bore him a daughter." Edith's mood grew more serious, and I was sure I could see tears welling up behind her eyes. "I was determined to keep her," she said with a catch in her voice, "no matter what my mother or the authorities said, and I did! We had three years together. The details of this really don't matter. The only important thing in my mind was to keep us together, but at the end of those three years, she caught Scarlet Fever, and died." A small lonely tear slid gently down Edith's cheek. She looked off into the distance, and we finished eating in silence. Edith regained her composure as we sipped at coffee after lunch. She picked up the story saying, "After that, my mother and I left England, and came here in 1948." She paused for a minute, and looked at me with an embarrassed look. She continued sheepishly, "Now comes the silly part, and please, Bobbi, don't think me crazy, but my daughter would have been just about your age by now. Since you already resemble me at that age, I have an idea that she would have looked a lot like you by now, and I have always wondered what it would be like if she were still here. I know it sounds a little insane, but I could almost think of you as a daughter. Can you understand that somehow?" Edith gave me a hopeful, but worried look, and sat back in her seat. It is difficult to describe how I felt at that moment. Edith, my friend, had just explained to me how she not only accepted me as the woman that I was trying so desperately to become, but also could see me in that role as her daughter. Maybe this was, after all, New York City where the otherwise out of the ordinary passes for a normal and mundane life, but this was not something that one would expect out of a quiet luncheon conversation with a friend under any circumstances. I sipped my coffee, and thought. It fit, however, the pattern of the rest of my life. I have long seemed to have the nine lives of a cat. If ever I loose something from my life, the universe replaces it with something else that is better adapted to help me in the situations that are about to come. When I had all but lost my masculinity, it gave me Margo, and a new feminine life. When I had lost most of my friends, it gave me Tina, and the promise of new friends. My family had deserted me, and now the universe was giving me Edith, and the hope that this was all going to work out in the way that it should. I decided to accept the universe's latest offer. I looked at Edith, and smiled as broad and loving a smile as I could at her. I touched her arm, and said, "I do understand, and I don't think it's silly or crazy at all. I guess we both will just have to accept each other for what we are." Edith grinned, and patted me on the hand in a motherly sort of way. We had formed a bond that day that would last a very long time. It was getting late, so we hurried back to the store. We made a lot of small talk on the way back, and Edith wanted to talk some more after work. I wanted that too. I wanted to get into my bra, and get some make-up on, so she could see me that way too. I did, however, have to see Paul at 2:15PM, so I told her that we would have to wait until after that before we made any plans. I still had no idea of what he wanted, or what would happen. Even with rushing as much as we could, Edith and I were a few minutes late getting back from lunch. We were made aware of this by the stare that we got from Mr. Conlin, the Buyer, as we entered the office. He expressed his displeasure with anything through a look rather than words. He was one of the easiest people to get along with that I have ever met, so a look of displeasure was about as far as things usually went unless you did something really horrible. Mr. Conlin looked me over pretty well through that look of momentary displeasure. He focused especially on my new hair style, and the bag that I carried as a "purse" for the first time that day. His eyes gradually changed from the displeasure that was in them to become filled with what I judged to be approval of my appearance, and his mouth took on a wry smile. Mr. Conlin was not married, and for a variety of reasons, I had suspected that he might be secretly Gay. The knowing nod that he gave me as he turned to go into his office told me both that he was Gay, and that he did not disapprove of what I was doing. This made me feel a lot better about my position with him. I might not like having a "male" job, but at least I knew that in he and Edith, I had friends of a sort there. The next hour or so went quickly enough, but I spent most of it wondering what would happen at my meeting with Paul. I was positive that he knew who I was. I just did not know what, if anything, he was going to do about it. I might not really like this job, but I did need it for now. The clock on the wall of the reception area of the Personnel Department showed 2:15PM as I approached the door to Paul's office. To say that I was nervous would have been a gross understatement. I think I knew that someday my old life as a man would come into contact with my new life as a woman, but I did not think it would happen this soon. I knocked on the door, and heard Paul call, "Come in!," from within. Paul's office was rather plain. He sat behind a standard metal desk in front of which were two chairs. He motioned for me to sit in one of them. The only other furniture was a file cabinet, and an old sofa that I supposed was there in case he needed to hold a meeting in his office. I fantasized that it might have other uses too, and double as a sort of "casting couch" for any "special" interviews that he might do in his job as an Assistant Personnel Manager. Paul looked at me for a long minute, and then opened a file folder on his desk saying, "I've been looking through your record with us, and it's good. Oh, nothing out of the ordinary, but good anyway." He leaned back in his chair, and looked me over again. Then he said, "I don't want to see anything bad go into your record, but this company does have rules." He shook his head, and started writing something on a pad. I shifted uneasily in my chair. What did he mean? "If you mean the long hair," I blurted nervously, "I didn't think it would be a problem, but..." Paul put up his hand to interrupt me, and said, "No, it's not your hair." He chuckled a bit, and continued. "I was referring to your, err... moonlighting?" He sat back again, and said, "I think you remember our little meeting last Saturday evening." I swallowed hard. He had recognized me! A thousand thoughts raced through my head. There was obviously something more on his mind, or he would have just put something in my file to make things difficult for me here. Then I realized that I had as much on him as he had on me. Paul was married. He even had a photograph of his wife on the desk. The story of how he had purchased a blow-job from a transvestite prostitute was one that he would not want made public. There had to be something more. Paul leaned forward, and spoke again. "You make a very pretty girl, err... Bobbi. Much too pretty in fact to be working as a stockboy. You need a friend. You need a friend who might be able to help you over the, err... rough spots." Paul stood, and walked over to the window. "Look at yourself!," he said. "Even now, in those clothes, you strike me as more of a girl than a boy." He turned to face me from where he stood, saying, "You know, I thought you looked familiar the other night, but I didn't know why until this morning. Please believe me when I say that I want to help you. I am your friend. I like you very much, and I want you to like me." I still was not sure what Paul was driving at, but I calmed down a bit. Having a "friend" like him could have its advantages, but I was sure that there was still more to this than just a simple friendship. I sat up straight in as ladylike way as possible, and said sweetly, "I do like you, Paul, and I'm sorry if you think I deceived you the other evening. I need this job right now until I can figure out a way to live like the woman that I am. I guess that I could use a friend like you." I was baiting him a little, but it was not completely a lie. I wondered what I would have to do to be the sort of "friend" he wanted. Paul crossed the room, and sat on the edge of the desk in front of me. "I have a friend," he said, "who needs some models for a line of coats. Have you ever thought of modeling?" He leaned closer to me, and continued, "I could see that you get one of the jobs, part-time of course, if you were my friend, and we wouldn't even think of it as moonlighting." He touched my cheek with the side of his index finger, and leered at me. Paul ran his finger along my chin in a very provocative way. I was getting the idea of what he meant about our being friends. I looked into his eyes. There was no malice in them. He was living a fantasy, and I was it. He did not want to hurt me. All he really wanted out of this was a mistress for a little fun away from his wife, and he was willing to help me in return. The offer of a real modeling job was tempting. I decided to play along. "What's the deal?," I asked with my prettiest smile. Paul stood up, and explained. "I enjoyed being with you on Saturday night. I thought that maybe, if I helped you, we could have some more, err... fun together once in a while. The job offer is real. It's yours if you want it. Are we friends?" I stood to face him. I liked the idea of being a sort of "kept woman" a lot. I put my arms around his neck, and kissed him. "We're friends," I whispered in his ear. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and we kissed again, and allowed our tongues to meet in the process. Paul could kiss very well indeed! "Do you want me now?," I asked. "Yes!," he answered with a quaver in his voice. Now it was his turn to be nervous. "Lock the door," I said. "We don't want any interrup- tions, do we?" Paul went to the door, and quietly locked it. I pulled my sweater over my head, and slipped out of my jeans. When he turned around I was standing by the sofa in just my camisole and panties. His eyes got very big when he looked at me. "We don't have enough time for much more than happened on Saturday night, but we'll have more time some evening later this week. Why don't you sit down here where you'll be more comfortable?" Paul walked over, and kissed me again. Our tongues fenced for a moment as we tasted each other's feelings. Then he sat on the sofa, and looked up at me. "You really are a very beautiful woman in or out of your clothes." He was sincere in what he was saying. Paul did not, as I found out as time went on, consider himself Gay. He never thought of any man as a sexual partner unless that man was wearing a dress. It was a little lie that he told himself to keep his phsyche together, and his machismo intact. It hurt no one. If he wanted me to be all the woman I could be for him, that was just fine with me. I rather liked the idea of being his mistress. I dropped to my knees in front of him. My hands reached to the buckle of his belt, and unhooked it. Paul got a broad smile on his face. He settled back to leave me to do what I did best. It took but a minute, with little movement on his part, to have his trousers down around his ankles. I could see the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric of his underpants. I gave a tug at the elastic waistband, and it was there pointing straight at my face. I needed no further invitation. I opened my mouth wide, and took the length of the shaft almost to the back of my throat. My lips wrapped tightly around it, and I felt its warmth on my tongue. Paul's cock tasted good, and felt even better. I have given up counting the number of cocks that I have had in my mouth, but his was one of the best. I wanted to keep it in there for a long time, but we did not have the luxury of that. All I could do then was give him a quick blow-job. Expertly I worked Paul's cock in and out of my mouth. In his state of excitement at finally having found his mistress, he seemed ready to pop when my tongue first touched the tip of his cock. I took a quick look up to his face to see his head thrown back, and his eyes closed in ecstasy. Just then I felt the semen slowly flowing out of him the way it always did. It filled my mouth, and it took three swallows to get it all down inside of me. I let his cock fall from my mouth as I savored the last drop. We looked into each other's eyes. We had both found something that we wanted. I slid up onto the sofa next to Paul after giving him his blow-job. He put his arm around me, and we kissed once again. This kiss had less sexual fire and passion in it, but more true affection for each other. I never fell in love with Paul, nor he with me, but we did feel a mutual affection all the time we were together. I needed that. I had a whole new life to build from the ground up, and any help I could get was welcome. Paul would give me more help than I knew at that moment. I lingered in his arms for a little while, and then said softly, "We should get back to work." Paul stretched a little, and nodded. He got up quickly, and in another moment had pulled up his pants and under- pants, so that he was dressed again. He went to sit on the edge of his desk to watch me dress. Paul liked watching me dress and undress. I think that he got almost as much out of that as he did out of having sex with me. It was a simple matter for me to get dressed, but I stretched it out as much as I could for Paul's benefit. I posed a little in just my camisole and panties for him before I started. He liked that. I do not know what it was about my body that turned him on so much, but Paul's cock would get hard if he just thought about me stripping for him. His cock was hard again now from just looking at me, and I was not dressed very attractively. I stepped into my jeans, and adjusted my penis back between my legs into my crotch. Then I pulled my sweater over my head, and fluffed my hair back into place. Paul looked at me with a happy smile, and said, "Wait just a minute while I make a phone call." He picked up the receiver, and dialed an outside line. "Hello, Jack?," Paul said into the telephone. "I've got a girl for you... Yes, she's got the look that you wanted... Sure... No... No, this is the first time she's ever modeled... Oh, about five foot six... Right! That's what I told you... Any time you want her to start... Her name's Bobbi... I'll give her a note from me to you as an intro... No!... Okay... Next week?... All right... Yeah, see you Friday... Bye." Paul hung up the telephone, and wrote something on a piece of paper. He tore the sheet off the pad, and put it in an envelope, but did not seal it. He wrote a name, address, and telephone number on the envelope along with a day, date, and time, and held it out to me. "The name on it," Paul said as I took the envelope, "is my friend Jack. He's the one who needs the models. Be at that address next Tuesday at 11:00AM just like I wrote there, and give him the note. It's an, err... introduction from me. Look good, and you've got the job." I jumped up, and hugged him around the neck like an excited schoolgirl! This would be my first real job as a woman! I was beside myself with elation! I kissed Paul in gratitude. He could have asked me for absolutely anything at that instant, and I would have given it to him. "Now, Bobbi," Paul said very seriously as he held me back to try to calm me down, "I'm taking a big chance with you. Jack thinks that you are all woman, and he's used to working with models. He also does not know that I like, err... girls like you. He's expecting a woman, and nothing less. I wouldn't send you to him if I didn't think that you could do the job. He wants to try this with some non-professional models for a different look, so you don't have to worry about not knowing how a model is supposed to act. Just act like a woman! Don't let me down!" I calmed down a lot as the reality of all of this surged over me. This was not some Drag Show at "The Gilded Grape" that I was going to do. This was a woman's modeling assignment. They did not want professional models. They thought that with just ordinary girls they would get a fresh look, but they did want real women. I would have to look and act my best. Who knows? Maybe there could be more modeling jobs from this one. That would suit me just fine. This would be the biggest test yet. I had to pass it no matter what I had to do to do it. Paul was counting on me, and I was counting on me. The rest of my life could depend on this. "You should be getting back to your department," Paul said as I calmed down from the excitement of getting the modeling job. He was right. It was quarter past three, and I had been gone for over an hour. A thought hit me, and I said, "Tuesday isn't my day off. How can I get to the modeling interview?" Paul smiled, and said, "I told you that you needed a friend like me. I'll call your Buyer, and get your day changed for next week. I'll also tell him that we were having a, err... job enrichment conference, and I lost track of the time. That way you won't get into any trouble. Okay?" I kissed Paul again as I left. Having a friend like him was worth it. I gave him my address and telephone number, so that he could get in touch with me when he needed to. After all, a man had to have access to his mistress. I walked back to the Children's Shoes Department on a cloud. I had found two friends that day who would be very important to me as time went on. What else could happen today? Back at the department, Edith was still interested in spending some time together after work. I wanted to do that too. I wanted to tell my new found mother about Paul, and the modeling job. I was not sure if I would tell her everything that Paul and I had done. After all, what girl would tell her mother that she had given the boss a blow-job? There were just some things that were not done. We decided to go for a walk, and do some shopping after work. Before I knew it, it was 5:00PM, and time to leave. Edith met me in the hallway, and we left together. She wanted to walk and shop, but I suggested that we stop for a coffee first. I had something that I wanted to do before we went any further. We slid into a booth in the Coffee Shop, and ordered coffee. I excused myself to go to the Ladies Room. I stepped into a stall in the Ladies Room, and pulled off my sweater. I fished in my bag for the bra that I had put in there this morning. I took off my camisole, slipped my arms into the straps of the blue pad- ded bra, and hooked it behind me. It felt good. I had missed that feeling all day as I always did. There was just something about wearing a bra that made me feel really female. Men's clothing just did not have the same feel as women's, and the feel of a bra with its cups, straps, and hooks was the most female of that feeling. I could never be a "Women's Libber" in any way. I liked wearing a bra too much to burn it. I put my sweater back on over my bra, and stuffed my camisole down into my bag. I took out some jewelry from my bag, and snapped a pendant on a gold chain around my neck. I clipped a pair of matching earrings on my lobes. A couple of bangle bracelets on my wrists completed the look, and I was ready to face the world again, but this time as a little more woman than before. This was a scene that I would play out in this Ladies Room many times in future. The people who ran the Coffee Shop just thought that I liked unwinding with their coffee each night. If they only knew why I really came in here. I left the stall, and went over to the sinks to do my make-up. My mascara and eye-shadow went on quickly, and a little powder and blush brought out the peaches and cream of my cheeks. The mouthy waitress from lunch came in, and hardly looked at me as she went to a stall to pee. There was no question of my femininity. I was now a woman, and that was that. I applied some pale red lipstick, and returned to Edith. "Wow!," Edith exclaimed when I got back to the booth. "You look great! I thought that you looked good before, but now. Just look at you!" I thanked her for all the compliments, and we paid our check and left. We walked up 5th Avenue, and looked in all of the shops. We got more than our share of looks from the male passers-by, and the fact that they were mostly looking at me was not lost on Edith. "You certainly turn more than your share of heads!," she said after a few blocks. I just smiled. We talked about a lot of things that day. I told her about Paul, and while I did not say exactly what happened, I think that she got the idea that he and I were more than just platonic friends. She read between the lines of what I was saying. Mothers are like that. They always seem to know. Edith suggested that I be careful with what was going on there. She did not want to see me get hurt, and I was grateful for that. I needed someone to care about me the way that she did. After about two hours of walking, Edith told me that she would like for me to meet her mother who still lived with her, but that it was a little too soon tonight. The older woman was not able to do much for herself, so Edith had to do most of the things around the house. She would have to leave me soon to go home to get dinner for he mother. I understood that. We would have many other times together in future. We parted company until I would see her at work in the morning. I walked a bit on my own for a while after she left. I needed to think things out. A lot had happened today, and it was just a bit over- whelming. I had a new mother, a new boyfriend, and maybe a new job, and it was a job as a woman! Things were happening just the way that I wanted them to. I said a silent prayer that they would continue to do so. I got home at about 8:30PM. Margo was not at home. She was probably at "The Gilded Grape" turning tricks, and getting drunk. That is where she usually was at this time of day if she was not at home. I toyed with the idea of going out to see her, and telling her about all that had gone on today, but decided not to. She would not listen very well through the alcoholic haze that was probably forming around her by now, and I did not need the touch of gloom and doom that she always tinged he words with to dampen my spirits tonight. I stripped off all my clothes, and put on my pink lace nightie. I wanted to feel as feminine as I could tonight. I watched television for a while, and went to bed about 10:30PM. Visions of what would go on during the next week pranced through my mind. Tomorrow was my first rehearsal with the "G.G.Girls" chorus line, the next day I was going to call Tina's doctor about getting me some real breasts, on Friday I would be going to see the dancing teacher that Tina had recommended, and next Tuesday I had an interview as a model. It would be quite a week. This had been quite a day. -- Jon Grossberg - Internet: jon@fltdek.ieee.org FidoNet: 1:107/565 -- Mail rec.arts.erotica submissions to erotica@telly.on.ca. Most software will automatically mail your postings to that address. X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X Another file downloaded from: NIRVANAnet(tm) & the Temple of the Screaming Electron Jeff Hunter 510-935-5845 Burn This Flag Zardoz 408-363-9766 realitycheck Poindexter Fortran 510-527-1662 My Dog Bit Jesus Suzanne d'Fault 510-658-8078 New Dork Sublime Demented Pimiento 415-864-DORK The Shrine Tom Joseph 408-747-0778 "Raw Data for Raw Nerves" X-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-X