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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary   by Amy Brett  (06/11)
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Hi.

  This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.

  As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.

  If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.

Enjoy the story.

Ciao
	Nostrumo

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

6___The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_



My first thought was that I shouldn't be.  My second was that I didn't give
a shit about what I should or shouldn't be.  I was very happy with it.

"I think it's super," I told him and his smile returned.  "Are you going to
finger fuck me again next week?  I've gotten to like it." He laughed hard.

"That's called a sexual response test combined with a simple proctology.
The scientific terminology is supposed to make it very objective and
medical."

"Oh.  I thought it was just a really good time," I said, gaining his
laughter again.

                                * * *

Paula and I talked over another slightly early lunch before we returned to
the office and I learned that Paula was excited about the changes the doctor
had predicted for her.

Back at work, Bill called me into his office and said he'd talked to the
doctor after I'd left the doctor's office.  I wasn't sure about the
confidentiality question but, since Bill was paying for everything I didn't
think I could complain too loudly.

As he talked, I found that I didn't have anything to worry about anyway
since all the doctor had told him was that the process looked like it was
working better than expected.  "Extremely well," to quote him, according to
Bill.  What he wanted was an update from me so I ran it down for him.

"Fantastic," he said with a huge smile, sitting this time behind his desk.
It wasn't coffee time, after all.  "You're happy?" he asked and I told him I
was, with qualifications.

"Bill.  It's obvious after this week that I need to be as feminine as
possible," I told him.  "The way I work is, if I'm going to do something, I
want to do it as well as I possibly can.

"Maybe by next week's appointment or after a month, I'll know if the changes
are going to work right and be good for me," I said, broadly indicating my
body.  "At the same time, I should have a pretty good idea if things are
going to work out here.  At work."

"If you have any problem, you bring it to me," he said quickly.

"What if the problem is with you?  I mean, I work for you.  Right?" He
stared at me for a minute.

"Is there a problem so far, Amy?" he asked.  "Are we moving in the wrong
direction?"

I thought about it, looking at my clasped hands in the lap of my short red
dress.

"Bill, I'm not at all sure I would have moved this fast.  Particularly on
the medical thing.  I felt some pressure to do it.  Almost like you were
forcing me to do it." I stopped and looked at him but he was quietly waiting
for my comment.  He wasn't going to be defensive.  Or maybe he knew it was
true and was waiting for what I thought of it.

"I only tried on my first women's clothes a week ago today.  Suddenly,
there's this." I moved my hands across my body.  I decided to make it more
explicit.  "Suddenly, I've got budding breasts, I'm not only dressing as a
woman full time but as a sexy woman, my body is changing in ways I can't
even appreciate yet.  And, well, there are the ...  things you've done with
me.

"It's just so ...  radical.  So fast and so much." He looked at me while I
tried to decide if I'd made myself clear.

"Do you wish none of it had happened?" he asked.

"No," I said.  That wasn't it at all.

"Is it all just for a job?" I felt like I should think about it but I knew
as soon as the question was out of his mouth that it wasn't true.

"No.  There's more to it than that."

"Now that you know how good the medical procedure is going, would you want
to stop?"

"No.  Not now."

"Wish you hadn't done it?  That I hadn't made the appointment for you?"

"No."

"Would you have done it on your own?"

"Maybe.  Eventually.  Not yet for sure."

"So are you happy with where you are now or not?"

"Yes."

"Do you itch?" he said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Ah, yeah.  But I'm going to make myself wait until coffee time.  Myself and
you.  It's hard to tell which of us enjoys that more."

"You're sure.  After all, the itch will probably come back in an hour."

I looked toward the door and back to him.

"The problem is this dress," I pointed out, blushing.  "We'll wait until
two."

"It's your itch," he said.  "I'll warn you though.  This time I need an itch
taken care of, too."

I blushed at what I thought was a reference to a blowjob.  Now I had to
think whether I'd enjoyed that the last time.

He had some surprises in store for me.

                                * * *

I used some time in the women's room with my dress already around my waist
to lower the top and take care of the itch for a while.  It was still as
intense as it had been the first day.  Perhaps even more.  I didn't look at
them but just reached under the breast forms to scratch and roll the nipples
and the puffy flesh around them.

The manipulation did have the effect of turning me on considerably but
wasn't sufficient to bring on a release.  The carry-over of that to my desk,
made me squirm in my seat before the computer until Bill lifted his cup to
tell me it was time for the coffee break.

I was back with coffee in a few minutes.  The itch was at the peak of its
form by the time I'd closed the door and, at Bill's bidding, locked it.

He sat down in the chair casually, a few inches away from touching knee to
knee, and stared at me.  I wondered if he wanted me to make the first move
as he picked up his coffee and sipped at it or if he was going to torture
me.  Make me beg him.  Or, blushing at the thought, if he wanted to be
satisfied before he'd do anything for me.

"I've been watching you," he said.  I nodded because I was aware of that.
Every time I'd looked up from the computer screen, I'd met his eyes or could
at least see him staring at my legs.  "You're very appealing even when
you're not squirming like you have ants in your panties."

I blushed for him.

"Have you gotten any work done today at all?" I asked him.  "Or have you
spent the whole day watching me?"

He laughed.  "Not much.  It's lucky a good boss doesn't really have to do
anything if he hires good people."

The phone rang on his desk then but he held up a hand and answered it
himself.

"Yeah.  Sure.  About an hour.  Right." He hung up and looked at me again.
"Margaret needs to talk to me.  Bosses are only needed when there's a
problem.  I hope it's not the EEOC again."

I couldn't comment since I didn't know what she wanted..

"It does put us on a schedule, however," he grinned.  "Why don't you show me
where the itch is?"

"You mean " I vaguely pointed toward my chest but knew that, of course,
that's what he wanted.  A thrill of strange excitement surged through me
that had to be an exhibitionist high I'd heard strippers have sometimes.  I
read a book once where the heroine had an orgasm from a dream where she
found herself naked in a group of fully dressed people.

I stood up shakily, my legs feeling my excitement, and turned my back to
him.  He slowly lowered the dress's zipper and pushed the narrow shoulder
straps off.  Not ready, I gasped as the weightless tunic fell to the crooks
of my elbows.  His fingers went to the fastener on my bra before I'd reacted
to being bared to the waist in that second.  He lifted the bra straps off my
shoulders as well, presenting me with a dilemma.

I caught the weighted bra and breast forms with both hands as my elbows
still held the dress.  I could only set it down on the chair in front of me.
When I was bent that way, he stood behind me and, when I started to
straighten up, he pushed me forward gently with a hand on my back.  I caught
myself with both hands on the chair arms, straightening my arms so the dress
fell to my wrists.

"What are you doing?" I asked as his hands went into the sides of my panties
and pushed them down to my knees.

"You'll figure it out," he said as I let the dress fall off one hand and
then the other.  The material slid off the leather chair around my ankles.
The panties did the same thing and I stepped out of both with one foot,
trying not to step on the material with the high heel that, I feared, could
poke a hole in the light material.

As I kicked the dress to the side with the foot still remaining tangled in
it, I felt him standing behind me.  I looked under myself and saw his shoes
behind mine but, oddly, became entranced by the fact that my swollen nipples
and surrounding flesh actually formed the cones of small breasts.

I sighed as he put one hand in the middle of my back and a finger at the
portal of my asshole.

"Mmmm.  That didn't itch," I noted.  He didn't say anything but slid it far
into me before turning it to each side and the upward as if hooking it up.
It slid very easily out and back in a couple of times and made me forget
that it hadn't been the direction of my thoughts right now.  In fact, it
made my nipples itch far more intensely and, bent over and supporting
myself, I couldn't do anything about that itch.

There was no doubt that it was stimulating, of course.  Beyond the slightly
dangling cones, I noticed my cock was rapidly hardening.

He took his finger out of me and then replaced it, repeating what he'd done
a minute before.  Then he did it again.  All the way out and back in,
around, in and out a few times, and back out again.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked huskily.

"Yes," I moaned.

"I think I know a way that you can enjoy more of this," he said, grunting
with an effort that didn't translate directly to my body, "and we can
scratch the itches at the same time."

He pulled his finger out of me and then brought it back to the opening
again.  Then I thought it was two fingers as it opened me more than before.
Then I thought it had to be more than two fingers because it was near the
edge of painful.  He pressed harder and it crossed the threshold, I
squealed, and bent my knees to allow myself to pull away from it.

His hand went around my waist and pulled against my lower stomach, lifting
me, and pushed whatever it was into me again.  As a pain flared and dropped
off immediately, I realized it wasn't his fingers.  It was the flared head
of his dick.

"Okay now?" he asked.  I wondered if I was okay.  I wondered if I wanted
this.  Then I knew.

"It's okay," I sighed.

He chuckled slightly and put both his hands on my hips and pressed forward.
It lifted me up onto tiptoe as it slid in.  I dropped back onto my heels as
he stopped to let me get used to it but rolled back forward as he pulled
back slightly and pressed forward more quickly, sinking still further into
me.  He kept the pressure up, his fingers painful on my hipbones, as he slid
further and further of his long dick into me.

I actually squeaked as he finally stopped and moved his hands.

But the feeling in my ass was supplanted when I felt him curl over me, his
shirt and tie pressing against my back, as his hands went over both my
swollen breasts at the same time.

Immediately, I felt some relief from my itching nipples as his sweaty palms
pressed against me.  He starting rubbing the entire areas of them, the skin
looser than I thought it should be as he slid it over my ribcage for a
minute.  Then he was very slowly sliding out of my ass, almost agonizingly.

I licked my dry lips and moved one and then the other leg apart.  He pressed
back into me in a quicker motion until I felt him stopped as the front of
his legs pressed against my bottom.  Stopped there for a second, I felt his
rapid breathing all around me.

He began a slow removal and fast return, withdraw and thrust, withdraw and
thrust, as his hands started moving and squeezing and manipulating my
breasts rougher and rougher all the time.

When he changed his pace to an almost spasmodic pumping for several strokes,
his hands squeezed hard.

My eyes were clenched tight shut and my mouth in a grimace of pleasure-pain
as I felt him empty once, pump, again, pump, again and again and again.

The next thing I noticed was that my arms were vibrating with exertion or
reaction, his fingers and thumbs were rolling my new breasts between them,
and he was kissing the back of my neck and shoulders over and over again.

"You liked that," he said simply after a few minutes.  His voice almost
sounded normal.

"Yeah," I hissed from a totally dry mouth, my eyes still closed to red and
yellow flashes.  I swallowed dryly.  "Oh yeah."

He still manipulated my breasts but slowly slid himself out of my ass and
shifted to straighten his legs.  The wet and softening flesh rested in the
crack of my ass as he lifted me upright.

"Mmmmmm," I moaned as I put my hands over the back of his and felt, even
more acutely, the way he took care of the itch that way.

But as I relaxed, I realized that I was having to clench my ass to keep from
leaking and might, actually, be leaking anyway.

As if sensing my problem, Bill reached to the desktop and got a handful of
Kleenex that he pressed against my ass and, I thought, maybe even a little
way inside.  Then he got a couple more and handed them to me.  Looking down,
that was the first time I realized I'd climaxed, too.

Quickly I wiped off my penis and tried to wipe off the chair a little.  But
there was too much there for a couple of Kleenex.

I slipped back into the bra, carefully seating my own nipples beneath the
breast forms, and fastened it behind me.  I had to hold my hand against the
Kleenex on my butt to keep from losing it as I bent over to get my dress and
panties, and clasped my legs together like a five-year-old while I dropped
the dress over my head.  I was sure I wasn't going to make it.

"Bill, I've got an emergency," I said, embarrassed.  "I've got to get to the
bathroom right now."

"Sure.  Go ahead.  I'll take care of this, hon." He was grinning and using
more Kleenex to wipe up the mess on the chair and the few drops on the floor
as I opened the door and carefully went to the bathroom.  I had to walk
funny, my panties balled in my hand, to get there as quickly as possible.

I hustled into a stall, holding up the skirt and thanking the gods that no
one else was there, and sitting down right away.  As soon as I relaxed my
muscles, a stream of hot fluid poured out of my ass that sounded very much
like a woman pissing.  I had to squirm a little to get it all and still used
several times as much toilet paper to clean up as usual.

I put the panties on my legs while I sat there and pulled them into place
when I stood.  But immediately, the change in body attitude made it
necessary for me to sit back down and allow some more come to drool out of
me.

When I stood up, decided I was done, and got the panties back in place, I
felt like I'd been stretched to the size of a baseball.  I wondered, almost
seriously, if the next time I had something to eat it would go in my mouth
and immediately run though and straight out without slowing.

I grinned at myself in the mirror.  I hadn't brought my purse.  I rushed out
too quickly.  So if there had been terminal damage to my face, I couldn't
have done a thing about it.  But, I realized, Bill hadn't even kissed my
mouth or touched my face.  It looked as perfect as it ever did.

Like I hadn't just lost my virginity.



14. Chapter


I had just finished kissing Bill and thanking him for "taking care of my
itch" and returning to my desk when Margaret and Michelle came into the
office.

Margaret, with an open door and her experience behind her, didn't have to
wait for me to announce her or even to check with Bill.  She just finger
waved as she passed into the office, dropping Michelle off with me.

She shut the door behind her.

"Hi," I said.  "What's up?"

"I talked to Margaret about you and Paula?  Your doctor's appointments?"

"Yeah."

"And she said she'd talk to Bill for me.  Keep him from blowing his stack
when he finds out."

"He won't.  You know him as well as I do now.  Better, I'll bet."

She looked down at me with a grin, my red dress and crossed legs.

"I'll bet not.  In two years, he never kissed me once," she said.  I blushed
and knew what I was going to say next and blushed some more.  She saw it.

"He probably never fucked you either," I noted.

Her mouth dropped open with surprise.  Real shock.  She used her hand to
shut it.

"You're kidding!" she said.  I only shook my head slowly.  "How?"

"I told you he'd sort of rolled my nipples to make them stop itching.
Right?"

"Yeah but "

"Yeah.  That's different.  I know.  But he'd done some things and I'd done
some things before.  Today, he just took it I don't know.  A step further?"

"How?" she squealed.

"With a really long dick," I chuckled.  "And really well.  And rubbed and
squeezed and played with my nipples at the same time.  They feel better than
they have in three days."

I blushed again.

"You certainly look good.  Happy."

"I am.  It was great.  I highly recommend it."

The door opened and Margaret told Michelle to come in.  She went and the
door started to close but then opened again.

"Amy?  Bill wants you here, too," Margaret said.

Bill was behind his desk and Michelle took the second chair in front so I
sat against the cadenza behind him.

"Amy?  You knew about Michelle all along?"

"Yes," I said.

"But didn't tell me?"

"I didn't think it was my place, Bill.  If she wanted to, I figured ..."

"Okay.  I understand," he said, a little disgruntled, I thought.  I wondered
if we were in trouble.  "So now I know about Paula and you two.  How many
more are there?" There was a definite edge to his voice I didn't like.

"That's all, Bill," Margaret said.

"Since this involved my former secretary and my current secretary as well as
my employees in general.  And in possible contravention of a federal law.
Shouldn't I have been informed instead of having to find out for myself?" he
asked Margaret.

"I wasn't at all sure it would work out," she said by way of defense.

"So if it had failed miserably, say having them get caught in the ladies'
room by some women's libber, then it would have all been okay?"

"No.  I thought the most likely scenario was that the, ah, girls would
change their minds.  One or more.  That they'd decide to stop and go on to
something else," she said.  "Or, more likely, that you or Roger wouldn't
hire them in the first place."

He sat with his fingers steepled below his chin, contemplating what she'd
said.

"I wasn't sure that any of them could get away with it until the middle of
the week.  That they'd be believable."

"They're certainly believable," he said softly.  "I didn't even recognize M
...  ah, Michelle.  After having him sit outside my door for the last two
years and having coffee twice a day."

He looked at Michelle then more closely and I could see his grin in profile.

"You're certainly believable.  If I'd known you're this pretty, you'd have
been in dresses two years ago," he told Michelle.

"Thanks, Bill."

"It probably would have helped in avoiding the EEOC problems," Margaret said
with a chuckle.

"Okay.  We've got three, what should I say?  New women," he emphasized, "on
staff.  How likely are we to get caught doing this?"

"I guess that it's possible that other staff members could still catch on.
I'm not sure whether that would be a problem.  Maybe a 50-50 chance if they
were caught.  But I'm pretty sure that if they were going to get caught it
would have been in the first week.  As Paula and, I guess, Amy did.  No one
in my department has identified Michelle and she's a fixture now.

"They'll need to remain cautious, of course, but I think the greatest danger
is passed.  After all, they're all gaining friends and acquaintances among
the staff so they would be less likely to get turned in even if they were
discovered.  They're also getting more confident and believable, if that's
the term, as they go.

"And all of them are working out very well in their jobs.  And that would be
the mostly likely problem.  If they didn't do their jobs and there was a
disciplinary problem." She paused for breath.

"The medical, ah, work with Paula and Amy can only help."

Margaret looked at me and smiled.

"Shortly, if they're challenged they can show a breast and make anyone eat
their words." Bill finally laughed.  "There isn't an EEOC official in the
world who'd say 'Lift your skirt and prove you're a woman.'  Right?"

The thought of those uptight, politically correct types suggesting that
seemed ridiculous and we all laughed.

"So now the question becomes first, will you extend the, ah, medical
benefits you've provided Paula and Amy to Michelle?"

"Yes.  Of course.  Amy can make an appointment for Monday with Phil," Bill
said.

"Okay.  Then the other question is should we offer this as an alternative to
other employees if the ax has to fall again."

"Let's hold up and wait on that decision until it looks like it could
happen.  God, the more of them we have around here, the greater the chance
of a problem.  Right?"

"Yes.  Probably.  But you've already told me that they are in a rather
unique position that I'm sure you girls have already noticed," she said.  I
wasn't sure what she was saying.  "Specifically, you have as much to lose if
this becomes public as the company has.  Maybe more."

"Not the least, that it's wonderful to live this way," I noted.  All three
of them looked at me and smiled.

"It certainly makes some sexual harassment questions moot," Bill noted,
looking at his fingernails and not meeting any of our eyes.  Michelle and I
looked at each other and smiled.

"Maybe not all of them," I said into the momentary silence, bringing
Margaret and Bill's eyes to me.  "The first day I was here, a girl from the
marketing department told me about some pretty blatant cases."

Bill and Margaret looked at each other and frowned.

"What?" Margaret said.

"She just said that a condition of employment over there is a blowjob and
one had been on a junket with the marketing manager they'd spent in bed," I
amplified.

"Oh fuck!" Bill said softly.  "That god damned Ed again.  What do you think
Margaret?"

"I think, if it's true," she looked up at me and held up a hand before I
said anything, "and I'm sure the girl said it, then something should be
done."

"Formal?" Bill asked.  "Interview the women involved?"

"If there wasn't a problem before, bringing it out formally might make it a
problem.  That might be the worst approach."

"It sounded like the girls didn't particularly mind," I said.  "The one who
said it didn't like giving blowjobs.  If it's a problem, it is that she told
an almost total stranger about it.  Me."

"Yeah.  Does that make her a loudmouth, stupid, or dangerous?  Could she
tell someone who'd make it formal?"

"I've seen her a couple of other times since that first time and she didn't
say anything else," I pointed out.

"Maybe a good start would be for you to have a quiet talk with her the next
time you see her and tell her the potential dangers," Margaret told me.

"Okay," I agreed.

"Bill, I wonder if there's an informal situation you could broach the
subject with Ed," she continued.

"Yeah.  I'll see if he can play golf this weekend.  Then I can mention it
casually.  Hopefully, he'll take a hint."

Margaret stood to leave and Michelle followed her.  At the door, when I
joined them, Michelle told Bill thanks for the medical support and he told
her he was glad she still worked for the company even if she wasn't his
secretary any more.

While Michelle waited, I made the Monday morning appointment with the nurse
I'd gotten to know fairly well now.  She's the one who asked if it was a
similar case to Paula's and mine.  She seemed totally unaffected when I told
her it was.

                                * * *

We all spent a quiet weekend with a short shopping trip Saturday where I
spent some of my first week's salary on a cute frilly dress.

We went out to dinner together Saturday night and stopped at the bar
afterward.  Everyone seemed to want to pick us up and Paula, in particular,
was getting a big kick out of that, dancing with half a dozen different
guys.

Friday night Paula and I embarrassed Margaret when we had a few drinks at
home and started talking about our experiences with our bosses.  Paula got
fucked for the first time Friday afternoon, just as I had.  We speculated on
whether Roger and Bill had been talking.

We started taking our pills Saturday morning.

Sunday night, I got up after Paula and I had been in bed for a while to get
something from the living room.  I stopped at the doorway when I heard what
was going on but looked around the corner to see Michelle with her head
between Margaret's spread legs.  Neither of them saw me and, I guess, I
shouldn't have been surprised.  After all, Paula and I had been doing things
since the first.  But I was.

Monday Michelle came and got me for lunch after her appointment and, almost
in a panic, talked about the itching.  Since mine was almost gone, I could
tell her it was only a few days and that she'd get used to it.  But we still
ended up in the restaurant restroom where I scratched the itch for her with
both hands as Bill had showed me Friday.  Minus the fuck.

I think Margaret must have helped her out for the rest of the week because
she didn't ask me again.

Wednesday, after her third appointment, she came to my office and told me
that the doctor had said her progress was nearly as good as mine.  Mine, on
the other hand, had gotten a little less sensitive as the itching stopped
but looked the same as they had.  Bill told me they looked like a teenager's
and I missed the opportunity to ask him how he knew what a teenager's tits
looked like.

Tuesday, I ran into the girl from marketing that I'd met and talked to her
in the restroom for quite a while.  As I'd been asked, I told her that if
the word about the sexual activities in the department got around, it could
cause problems.  She seemed surprised since she took it as a matter of
course.  Something that had happened to her at every job she'd ever had, she
said.  She did promise to keep it to herself and me, so I could monitor if
anything new was going on.

Bill never mentioned what had happened when he talked to Ed and I didn't
really think it was my business.

Every day that week, I wore a new outfit and every day got more praise on
the clothes from Bill and other people who came into the office.

He continued to watch my legs as I worked, took care of my itches (even if
they were gone) with his hands or mouth every day, and made love to me
Tuesday afternoon.  His hands or lips on my budding breasts felt different
from when they'd itched so bad but equally different from when they were
small male pimples.

Remembering how I'd had to strip completely the Friday before, I wore a
skirt and blouse Friday.  The nurse told me that I'd increased an inch
across the bust and hips, and decreased an inch in my waist.  She was
envious, she said.

The doctor told me my progress was "phenomenal" and beyond even his
confident expectations of the week before.  He predicted that I'd be an
A-cup before the end of the next week if I kept growing at the same rate.
He adjusted the dosage of estrogen downward slightly.  Then he did the
sexual response thing again with the same results as before.  Again he said
he was amazed since he thought there would be at least some lessening in
response at this stage, just as he'd thought there would be a little retreat
in the size of my breasts.

By the end of the next week, I fillled out one of Paula's bras without any
breast forms and had to switch to B-cup forms instead of the C's I'd been
wearing.

Before my one month appointment, I had to buy a couple of padded bras
because even Paula's A-cup breast forms shaped around me strangely.  The
doctor noted the two inch increase and general progress of everything else.
The dosage was reduced again.

If it was possible, that day changed my life again.



15. Chapter


"What kind of a woman are you going to be, Amy?" Bill asked me that
afternoon as we sat facing each other.

"What kind?"

"Aggressive?  Liberated?  Ambitious?  A shrinking violet?  The little
hausfrau?  A decorative adornment?  An airhead?  Fun loving, dance all night
partier?  An intellectual?  What?" I chuckled.

"I think I'm probably aggressive but I wouldn't call it liberated in the
negative context.  I'm not particularly ambitious but I'm hardly a shrinking
violet.  I'm definitely not the little homemaker type.  I hate that as much
now as I did before.

"I think I'm reasonably intelligent but not an intellectual and definitely
not an airhead.  So what were the other things?"

"Just decoration?" he said with a grin.

"I hope I look good but not JUST decorative."

"A prick teaser?  A whore?  A lesbian?  A slut?  A nun?" I laughed hard as
he grinned.

"Obviously, not a virgin," I noted.  "You should know.  But I like girls.  I
like you.  I don't tease much.  And I don't plan on selling it, even if I
could."

"So would you accept a date?" I thought about it.

"With the right guy."

"Am I the right guy?"

"The only guy in my life right now actually."

"Would you be upset if I didn't hold a door for you?"

"I wouldn't know how to react if you did probably."

"Then what if I asked you over tomorrow night to help me cook a nice dinner
and maybe watch a video?"

"Oh, I'd probably say yes."

"Are you liberated enough to drive yourself over?" I laughed.

"I've never had someone pick me up for a date.  I don't think I'd know how
to react if it happened."

I just looked at him for a minute.

"How should I dress?"

"I sort of planned on wearing a pair of slacks and a tee-shirt."

"No special requests?"

"You've pretty well demonstrated that you know what I'd like better than I
do.  Surprise me.  But don't dress up.  Okay?" I nodded.

"You like Italian?"

"A lot."

"How about seven?"

                                * * *

Telling Margaret and Michelle where we were going, Paula and I ate a one of
the restaurants at the mall and shopped for "informal" clothes until the
mall was about to close and the majority of the people had left.

Then we went to the hair salon and the two of us took the place over single
handedly.

Both of us ordered the works and, for the first time in more than a month, I
took my wig off in public.  One hair dresser reset the wig while another
worked on my real hair and a third worked on Paula.  We both got facials,
manicures, and pedicures as well as our first hot wax.

All the attention was really a turn-on for both of us.  The girls in the
shop seemed to really have a good time doing it all.

It felt totally different to have my own hair trimmed and permed and curled
and combed out.  In almost three months (with almost two of unemployment),
my hair was nearly shoulder length and looked nice in the soft wave they
gave me.

It was obvious when we got home, finding Michelle and Margaret snuggled up
together on the couch, that they had enjoyed our absence.  They thought we
looked great as we joined them to watch a late movie before bed.

Paula and I enjoyed intertwining our smooth legs and cuddling until we fell
asleep.  Neither of us were particularly horny since we'd both had the
response test at the doctor's office and Paula had gotten a congratulatory
fuck from Roger after she got back.

I got up at about ten the next morning, had a late breakfast with Margaret
and talked about the sexual harassment situation at the office for a while
(Bill had talked to Ed and the word was out to knock it off or be very
careful), and read a book for a couple of hours.

Trying hard not to get excited, I took a long bath in the oiled, fragranced
hot water as I read some more.  I don't know whether it was inspiration or
what but I decided to carefully shave my pubic hair before I got out.

I hadn't really had to shave for a month but I used a little depilatory on
my neck before I got out of the tub.  Then I rinsed off with the shower head
so there wouldn't be any hair clinging to me anywhere.

For the next half hour, I tried on underwear, unable to make a decision.
Then I came on my decision.

I thought about stocking and a garter belt but ran my hand up my leg and
felt how soft the skin felt after the hot wax.

I put on the very short Levi skirt I'd finally picked out the night before
and pulled the VERY tight blue tee-shirt over my head and around my body
like a racing glove.  Cut in a circle neckline, I could reach in the top to
pull my new breasts toward the center.  Left alone, I showed a good cleavage
and a good swell.  I wasn't as big without the padded bra but it was
appealing, I thought.  I hoped Bill would agree.

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