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I Can Wear A Skirt To Work - Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-04-04 14:29:34 +0000 UTCOTHER CHAPTERS | ALL STORY LIST
Tuesday morning, I awakened in a disoriented state. I still wasn’t used to sleeping in filmy nylon, plus I wasn’t in my own bedroom. It only lasted a moment, then I remembered that this WAS my bedroom, after all for the duration of the week.
There was a knock at the door. That brought me fully awake in alarm until it sank in that it had to be Kate. An earlier knock had been what had awakened me at first.
"Hello," I called out.
"Shake out the cobwebs, sleepyhead," she called back. "Time to be putting yourself together for the day’s work."
Compared to Monday, I arrived at work dressed much less dramatically. Oh, it began with exquisitely feminine lingerie: a matching set of bra, panties, and slip, floral on a black background, trimmed generously with black lace. However, all that could be seen as a tweed suit, featuring an A-line skirt that didn’t quite reach the top of my knees, and a cropped jacket. The modified jewel neck of the jacket required no blouse, sparing me the unwanted warmth of an extra layer. Then again, it also offered no opportunity to get cooler by removing it. The black shoes, purse, and accessories served to reinforce a conservative image, mitigated only by the white pantyhose.
Applying my makeup had been no less painstaking. A low key makeup is if anything more challenging, because it has to fix the problems, yet appear invisible.
I guess the rest of the office staff were getting used to my appearance. One of the guys had even remarked, "nice outfit, Tess," without any evident sarcasm.
What was happening to me? I’d come to work dressed completely as a woman only three days, and I was THAT easily accepted? It wasn’t as if my masculinity had been questioned before this started. I’d been a "regular guy" in every way I could think of. How is it that I could be so easily accepted in a feminine mode? How well would I be accepted when I returned to being "Ted"?
Diane’s voice intruded into my thoughts.
"Tess? ... Tess! The phone!"
I quickly reached for the switch that enabled my headset. It was one of the technicians, ready to close out a service call.
When lunchtime came around, Jean came by and asked me where I was going for lunch.
I was rather surprised that she hadn’t just insisted at the start that I join her. I told her that I’d planned to eat lunch with Kate in the break room, even though I knew that Kate would insist that we eat out at least there’d be just the two of us.
"Oh, come on, Tess. It’s a beautiful day out, and you look too pretty to be hiding in there. Come along with us I’ll buy it."
"That’s a dirty trick," I accused, "appealing to my frugal nature."
"Cheapskate, you mean," she countered.
"Be nice," I told her, emphasizing my words with an exaggerated pout.
"I AM being nice," Jean insisted, "I’m praying for your lunch."
No one mentioned where we were eating, so I just went along without asking. By the time we got to the restaurant, I’d become so immersed in the conversation that it didn’t even register on my brain that not only did we eat here often, but we’d been here just last Thursday.
The hostess had to open another section to seat us all in a single booth. We went through a shuffle to let Anita sit in the middle with Gregg and myself on either side and then Jean and Kate at the ends.
"Your waitress will be Anne," we were told.
Shortly, Anne came by for our orders, taking those of the three to my left before getting to mine.
"And what will You have, Sir?"
I was sure that she had already taken Gregg’s order, so I was surprised that I wasn’t next. I looked up at her, only to discover that she was looking right at me. Time stopped.
"Yes, sir," she repeated, "what will you have?"
I couldn’t talk.
Jean giggled.
I glowered at her. I never got to finish my stuttering question, "How ... ?"
"Oh, it was easy," Anne answered You folks eat here a lot; the same group was here just last Thursday; you’re all sitting around the table in the same order as last time; and you, dear, are holding the menu the same way you always do."
How could I be so stupid? Worse, I hadn’t even tried to deny the verity of her guess.
But don’t feel bad," she continued. "If I hadn’t known all of you so well, I wouldn’t have had a clue." Then she looked directly at me, "You really do look VERY cute."
I was anxiously searching my peripheral vision to see if anyone was listening to this exchange.
She saw it, and leaned forward, to talk in a softer voice, "Tell you what: I’ll call you ‘Miss’ while you’re here for lunch, but you’ll know that I really mean ‘Sir’. Right?" She finished with a wink.
I wished I could just die, right there, where I sat. My makeup couldn’t possibly hide the crimson glow in my cheeks.
"Hey!" she added, "that blush makes you even cuter."
I let my head lean forward to rest in my hands, as if to hide behind them. What could I say?
Kate touched my side with her elbow. "You haven’t ordered yet."
"I gotta go," I plead.
"To the ladies' room?" she asked.
"Out of here," I explained.
Anne tried to reassure me, "Oh, it all right, dear. Just relax, and enjoy your lunchtime. There won’t be any problem really."
I didn’t respond, which she apparently took to mean I was staying.
"What will you have?"
Kate put a reassuring hand on my thigh. That steadied me enough to place my order, after which Kate gave hers. Then Anne left us.
In a couple of minutes, we began to notice that members of the staff were taking surreptitious glances at us. The busboy went out of his way to pass near our table, and look - at me. As it got busier, they had to pay less attention to us and take care of business, but we could tell they were observing us, and talking among themselves.
When Anne brought our lunches, she put everyone else’s on the table before mine, then proceeded to serve me with exaggerated flair.
Gesturing across the part of me she could see, Anne asked, "Do you have a special name to go along with this ... image?"
"Tess," Jean quickly volunteered for me.
"Well, Tess," Anne stated, "we hope that your food is equal to this special occasion."
I was a little puzzled over what she meant. I didn’t see how this lunchtime, even with the way I looked, constituted a "special occasion".
However, she left us to take care of other customers, so I didn’t get to ask why she had said that. More bothersome was the notion that everyone on the restaurant’s staff now knew about me, as the guy who was dressed up as a woman. All I could do was go ahead and eat my lunch.
In a little while, Anne stopped at our table again to ask how our food was. She got the standard responses from everyone except me - I just nodded. She wouldn’t let me get by with that and made a special point of asking me how mine was.
In something like a loud whisper, I told her, "Fine - thank you."
She offered, "If you want anything else, just ask," before she moved on to another table.
The only thing else I wanted was OUT of there, before I was embarrassed beyond endurance.
"Very good," Diane complimented. "A little more practice on that voice, and I think we could take you anywhere."
"Oh thanks," I responded sarcastically. "Just what I need is for you to be parading me all over town."
Anne came by again, just as some of us were finishing, to take away plates.
"Instead of asking for your dessert order, I have a special treat coming," she announced.
When she saw some concerned expressions, she added, "on the house."
A couple of minutes later, she was back, leading a train of staff members. One was carrying something, and the rest all gathered behind him as he set it on our table.
It took a moment for recognition to sink in. The cake had the inscription "Happy Birthday, Tess" in blue frosting over the white.
Then the staff, began singing the "Happy Birthday" song to me.
Filled with embarrassment, I buried my face in my hands, Then, wondering who had set this up, I looked up and glanced in turn at each of my companions.
All I saw was their own bewilderment.
I managed to squeak out a perplexed "Thank you" to the crew, and, except for Anne, they disbursed back to their duties.
She looked right at me, saying, "Honey, it wasn’t any of them; this is my own doing."
I sighed, then said, "Look, this was very nice, but I’d have much preferred that you hadn’t told all of them about me."
Anne started to say something, then stopped.
"Oh," she started again, "I didn’t tell them about THAT. I just said that your friends had brought you in for a birthday luncheon." Then she added, "They haven’t a clue."
She didn’t miss the "why?" in my expression and answered without my asking.
"It just happens that I have a very dear friend who would just LOVE to be able to do what you are doing today."
Suddenly, the eyes of my understanding had been opened. Appropriately humbled, I said to her, very softly, "Thank you very much."
"Honey, you are so very welcome," Anne responded. "I hope you have a lovely day."
While we hurried with our dessert, Anne made certain that the remainder of the cake went into a box, to go with us. While she was away from the table, I put out a substantial tip for her.
We had to walk briskly to get back to work on time.
During the first lull in phone activity, Elaine approached me.
"I have something for you," she said, as she reached out to hand it to me.
It was a new employee badge, bearing my last name and "Tess". I recognized the photo on it as one of those taken at Diane’s, last Friday morning. At first, I looked around the room, to see who might be watching for my reaction.
"It seemed appropriate, under the circumstances," she said, answering my unvoiced question. "Besides, that and the nameplate will make wonderful souvenirs afterward."
With a rather weak smile, I offered an uncertain, "Thanks."
On one of her visits to pick up paperwork, Jean reminded me that I was expected for dinner at 6:30.
I asked if there was anything I could do to help her with the preparation. It was no problem for me to be there earlier, I explained. I must have caught her off guard. She didn’t answer immediately. She just looked at me with a contemplative gaze, then smiled. It was the same sort of expression that I’d seen yesterday morning on Elaine’s countenance, an unvocalized "very in-teres-ting".
When I got home from dinner at Jean’s, Kate was again curled up on the recliner, reading a book. She gestured to the sofa.
I sat down, taking care to execute the move gracefully. Then we went through the same procedure as last night interview and review. This time it only took one retry to satisfy her.
Kate stood up and escorted me back to my temporary bedroom. Opening the closet, she removed a garment on a hanger.
"It’s the same as in the catalog. Let’s see if it’s going to fit right."
Shortly, I was down to my slip. I really didn’t need the help, but was enjoying Kate’s fussing with the dress as it slid down over my head and enveloped me in luxuriant softness. It was black velvet and would need the grey blazer, still hanging on the clothes pole, to keep it from looking too after-five-ish for office wear. At Kate’s urging, I replaced the white stockings with a pair that were off-black, then slipped on the black, ankle-strapped, high-heeled sandals that awaited.
Kate helped me rearrange my wig, after the tousling it received during the clothes changing. Then she guided me into the hall, where the full-length mirror would show a complete picture of how I appeared.
I studied the image, turning this way and that. It fit perfectly. Kate returned to the room and brought out the grey blazer. With it on, I repeated my study of the image in the hall mirror.
"My hips are still too small, the blazer doesn’t hang quite right," I concluded.
Kate reached over and fastened the jacket’s button.
"How about now?" she asked.
That made just enough difference.
Kate disappeared for a moment, then reappeared with a large envelope style handbag, handing it to me. "This will add a much more professional look to that outfit." I fumbled for a way to carry it.
"It can’t be carried like an ordinary purse," she cautioned. Taking it back, she put the edge of it atop the inside of her forearm, tucking the corner under her elbow, to demonstrate how to hold it.
After Kate returned it to me, I walked the length of the hall and back, practicing my carry. Kate’s approving nod told me that I had it under control. We returned to the room, and Kate again helped me with getting out of the clothes.
Down to the foundation garments, I accepted a bathrobe from Kate, then we returned to the living room, where she picked up the first of a stack of records featuring dance rhythms.
Wednesday morning, Kate insisted that I ride with her. Considering the outfit I was wearing, it shouldn’t have been too hard to figure out why. I was wearing a cotton top that was nearly as thin as a T-shirt, and the slim skirt was three inches short of reaching my knees.
It proved to be all but impossible to sit down without displaying the hem of my slip, or worse. At work, I could hardly move, without Diane commenting on what, or how much, I was showing. By the morning break, I was ready to go home and change, but, of course, had no way to do so.
Elaine had noticed, too, and remarked, "If you keep showing off, some guy’s going to think you want his amorous attention."
I blushed at that.
"You don’t want that?" she continued, "Then maybe we need to arrange more time for you to learn ladylike comportment."
I never did figure out if she was kidding or not.
By noon, I had resigned myself to finishing the day dressed as I was. Unlike the previous days, I asked Diane to take the first lunch. By the time my turn came, I was tense with apprehension over the provocative way I was dressed. Nevertheless, I slung my purse strap over my shoulder and walked outside and down the block. Kate was supposed to meet me at a sandwich shop we had picked out during the morning drive to work.
Even though I was getting pretty well accustomed to being out in public dressed as a woman, I couldn’t stop worrying about how much attention that day’s outfit would draw. It must have been obvious because, throughout our meal, Kate was clearly working hard at keeping my mind occupied, with marathon conversations.
As we walked back to the office, Kate pointed out what she saw in the faces of various passersby and encouraged me.
"Tess, a lady keeps her gaze forward, looking where she’s going," she directed. "And SMILE show everyone you’re happy to be who you are."
As we were about to pass a department store, Kate steered me inside, declaring that we still had nearly 25 minutes. Sensing that my anxiety was rising again, she explained calmly how no one had taken offense on the street, so I could relax in here and enjoy a few minutes of "eyeball shopping". "Besides," she advised, "You might even find something you want to buy."
She guided me first into the misses’ department, where we picked through a group of dresses that were my size. She even had me take a couple of them over to the full-length mirror to hold them in front of me. I thought my heart wouldn’t ever beat again when one of the clerks asked if she could help us. Mercifully, Kate dealt with her.
Next, she led me into the lingerie department and directed my attention to a rack of nightgowns. Sorting through them, she asked my opinion about several. I fell in love with one, but I wouldn’t admit it to her. Just as another hungry clerk was homing in on us, I convinced Kate that we were out of time, and we left.
I returned to the office with a few minutes to spare.
"Is the restroom clean?" I asked Diane.
"I don’t know."
I sighed in indecision.
"You could try the men’s room," she volunteered.
I stared at her in wide-eyed panic.
"Tess," she said, "don’t you think that it’s time you got used to being one-of-the-girls? If you need to use the facilities, go in and do it. If you will just accept in your own mind that you belong there, so will everyone else."
My physical needs were rapidly overtaking my will to argue her logic, so I just took a deep breath and went into the ladies’ room to take care of my business. Fortunately for my peace of mind, it was empty, and I went directly into one of the stalls. However, just as I was ready to leave, two women from sales came in to touch up their appearances. I just could not bear having them know who was in there with them, so I waited in the stall until they finished. That put me a couple of minutes late getting back to work.
Diane got in a dig at me over that.
"My, we are acting more like a woman now, aren’t we. Even taking longer in the ladies’ room to do our business right?"
"Okay, okay," I told her as I made an imaginary mark in the air, "Another point for the home team."
The balance of the day was fairly routine, and I began to forget how I was dressed, other than being careful with the hem of my skirt. Just at quitting time, Kate called from a customer’s site, saying that she would be late, while she completed a repair. I reminded that I didn’t have my car. She told me to wait in the parking lot and she’d pick me up in about half an hour.
I wasn’t really thinking when I left the building until the door locked behind me. There I was, in a thin, clinging top, short skirt, and high heels, standing around with nothing to do. My predicament was brought home powerfully when I heard a whistle from a passing car. That was when I got the wild idea to return to the department store. At least that would keep me occupied until Kate arrived, I reasoned.
It was as if I were being magically drawn back to the nightgown rack. I found a gown like the one Kate had shown me, which I’d liked so well. It was the wrong size. Eventually, I picked out two, one for myself in a mint color, and another in peach, which I thought that Kate had liked.
On my way to the service island, I realized that I still had my very masculine wallet in my purse. I stopped and carefully fished out enough money to cover my purchase, then stepped up to the counter with cash and merchandise in hand.
Even so, the youthful clerk asked whether the purchase would be cash or charge. I had to pause overly long to adjust my throat muscles, then in a soft voice I spoke just two words, "Cash, please." I hoped that anyone listening would perceive the pause as being due to astonishment over the clerk not seeing the currency, which was in plain view.
The transaction seemed to be taking forever. Didn’t this clerk know how to process a cash transaction? Looking at my watch again, I was amazed to discover that I still had seven minutes. Finally, she handed me my change and the bag containing my purchase.
As I walked away, my tenseness from dealing with the clerk began to be displaced by elation over having been accepted, apparently, as the woman I appeared to be. That process was momentarily reversed when, to my shock, I heard Diane’s voice, just as I was about to leave the building.
"Wow! You’re really getting into this, aren’t you?"
With dread, I turned toward the sound to discover, to my relief, that she was alone. Rather than reply, I just shrugged.
"What did you get?" she asked, as she stepped up to me.
Quietly, I said, "nothing much."
She looked at me thoughtfully but didn’t say anything else.
We took leave of each other, and I went outside. I had to wait another ten minutes in the office parking lot before Kate arrived. It felt like hours.
Kate, too, asked what I’d bought, but didn’t press when I was evasive about it.
When we got back to my place, instead of starting dinner, she helped me redo my makeup.
"Just for a dinner at my own home?" I complained.
"No," she told me, "we’re going out."
"We’re WHAT?"
"Don’t panic. We’re just going to a little place where I know you won’t be bothered."
I was puzzled, but she wouldn’t explain any further.
"At least let me change to a longer skirt," I demanded.
"No. You look fine just the way you are." Insisting that it was an important part of my education, she pushed me along.
When we drove into the parking lot of our destination, the name of the place sparked an uncertain recognition. After we had taken a table, and I’d had a chance to look around a little, I realized why. There weren’t any men in the place.
Trying to be discrete, I whispered, "Isn’t this a lesbian bar?"
"Tess," she began, "a women’s club is a place for any woman who wants to socialize in a safe environment. It has nothing to do with her sexual preference."
Her explanation made me feel even more like an invader.
"What if they ...?"
"Anyone who looked at you closely already knows," she answered before I could finish.
A look around the room brought confirmed that I was conspicuous, in a way I wouldn’t have imagined for a gathering of women. Of the twenty or so souls there, less than a handful were wearing any kind of skirt.
"If you behave yourself," she continued, "everyone will treat you pretty much like any other woman."
‘Pretty much’ left quite a bit of latitude, as it turned out.
At least I had the presence of mind to realize that "behaving myself" included keeping my eyes off the other patrons. Not that it took much cogitation to realize that the only thing less welcome in a lesbian environment than being ‘checked out’ by a guy, was if the guy was also pretending to be a woman.
The menu barely had enough on it to qualify the place as more than just a bar. When the server came to take our orders, Kate insisted I order for myself. I was tired and had trouble staying perfectly in character, so the server knew I wasn’t a "regular" woman. Nevertheless, she graciously gave me no reason to feel that I was unwelcome.
While we were there, several women came by the table to greet Kate. She introduced me to each as "Tess, a friend from work."
Other than receiving a thorough scan, I was treated politely. One friend, introduced as Janet, went a little farther. She took another chair and sat with us, conversing mainly with Kate.
Suddenly, she turned to me, saying, "You know, you really have a lot of nerve, coming in here dressed like that."
What could I say? I wanted to tell her that it hadn’t been my choice, but even the thought sounded so lame, that I didn’t speak at all. I looked to Kate for help, but her flat expression told me none was forthcoming. At that moment, I felt so incredibly betrayed. I’d been set up, dragged into a hostile environment a wolf in sheep’s clothing, after the sheep had been equipped with claws and fangs. What had happened?
I’d thought Kate was my friend. Why had she put me in a situation to be held up to ridicule? Strangely, my immediate reaction wasn’t an angry retort, but rather, a welling up of tears. I fell back to a defense I’d perfected as a child: play ignorant. Directing a puzzled expression at Janet, I asked, "How so?"
After a sigh of disgust, she elaborated, "Why is it you transvestites are impelled to come into woman space trying to look like some guy’s wet dream? Who, in a place like this, do you think is going to appreciate the image you’re projecting?"
Aghast as I was at having been accused of being a transvestite, my anger was overridden by the sensation of the impending overflow of the water in my eyes. I wanted out of there. Without any thought for how far I was from home or how inappropriately I was dressed for a long hike, I pushed my chair back to get up and leave, saying "You’re right, of course. I’m really sorry to have intruded." At that moment, Kate finally deigned to speak.
"Wait!" she commanded, giving me only momentary pause. No, I was definitely leaving now. Her voice softened, "Please! Don’t leave."
I stopped, standing there with my hand on my purse strap.
With her eyes still on me, she said, "Janet, don’t blame her. It’s my fault she looks like that. And she had no idea where we were going."
"Her? She?" Janet responded, incredulously.
"OK, it’s an honorary designation," Kate responded, as she turned her attention to Janet. "And Ted isn’t a TV, he’s just a kind and gentle person, who happens to be too easily persuaded to get involved in unusual goings-on."
Janet sneered, "That sounds like a euphemism for a little boy who’s thoroughly ‘whipped’ by every female he knows."
I lifted the purse strap from the chair, but before I could say anything, Kate snapped back, "That was uncalled for, Janet. He’s not being led around by the little head."
Janet raised an eyebrow.
Kate giggled, "Actually, the truth is probably a distant cousin. Ted originally got into this situation partly because of an overactive masculine ego."
Janet’s expression demanded amplification, so Kate said, "sit down, Tess. It’ll be all right, now." Then she began to relate how I’d been challenged by Jean, and the convoluted path by which that had led me to have to work an extra week en-femme.
I was still standing, torn between wanting to bail out and wanting to hear how this conversation came out. Kate paused and lifted a hand toward mine, "It’s all right now," she reassured me, "please, sit down with us."
I may not have been thinking with my little head right then, but I wasn’t at all certain that I was thinking with my right head either. I let the purse strap slip back onto the back of the chair and lowered myself back onto the seat, and listened to Kate as she finished relating my story.
I’ll have to give Janet credit. As Kate progressed through her explanation, Janet’s sneer metamorphosed into an expression of respect, if begrudgingly so.
"You’ve actually been working as a woman for five full days?" she queried of me.
"No," I corrected her, "Only four days as a woman, the first day was as Ted, wearing a skirt and heels. And it’s not like all the regular staff doesn’t know who I really am."
"Well, I have to say, then, that you certainly have a set of brass tubes of one kind or another."
I wasn’t sure at the time, but it sounded as though it might have been a compliment, of some sort. So I said, "Thanks ... I think?"
Kate uttered a gentle laugh, "That’s a woman’s equivalent of having ‘balls’, Tess. It’s good."
"Tubes?" I echoed, "Oh, yeah." The light finally went on inside my head. "Uh, why not ovaries? Wouldn’t that be a more accurate analog?"
"Too many syllables," Janet responded. "And the Fallopian tube is as uniquely female as the ovary itself. "
"Look," she continued, "I guess I owe you an apology. You weren’t responsible for your circumstances tonight, so you didn’t deserve the insults. I’m sorry." She extended her hand to me.
Talk about mixed feelings. I was angry and hurt over her earlier words, but I’m not much inclined to make unnecessary enemies. So I extended my own to meet hers. She held mine in a firm grip, while she said, with a very serious face, "But you’ll have no excuse the next time you come in, if you’re dressed inappropriately. Got it?"
I don’t know where she got the idea that I’d ever want to come back. So far, whatever few good memories I might have had from this visit were still thoroughly overshadowed by bad ones. My thoughts must have been a neon sign on my face.
Before she released my hand, her expression changed to a very warm smile, and she said, "You ARE welcome here you’ve been every bit a gentlewoman, even in the face of my unkindness. I hope you’ll come again so that I can make it up to you." Then she got up and walked away, disappearing into some other part of the building.
After that, Kate spent half an hour or so at damage control, trying to explain that she hadn’t exactly foreseen things developing the way they did. She also told me that Janet was one of the club’s owners, and, yes, she did have a reputation for being rather direct.
Rather direct! Was that ever an understatement, I thought.
Before we finally got out of there, a few more of her friends had drifted over to the table for a few moments of conversation. Those visits were pretty much like those before Janet, so I began to mellow out a little. Nevertheless, I was still a little sullen when we got into the car. Kate was quiet until we’d driven several blocks, then she spoke tentatively, "Ted, have I blown our friendship?"
I was silent for a minute or so, then answered, "I’ll be OK."
"I figured that," she said, more directly. "That doesn’t answer my question."
Several seconds of silence followed, then I added, with very little energy, "We’re still friends."
She reached over and put her right hand on my left. "Still GOOD friends?" she pressed. She wrapped her fingertips under my hand, exerting a slight lifting pressure. I turned my wrist to let her get a full grip. She squeezed my hand gently.
I gave her hand a return squeeze and said, "Still GOOD friends," albeit not without some misgivings that I was being way too easy.
She must have sensed my reservations, and she asked, as we approached my driveway, "Would you prefer that I stay at my own place tonight?"
I honestly didn’t care, I was still numb from Janet’s verbal pummeling her apologies notwithstanding. I told her she was welcome to stay wherever she wanted to stay.
Kate stopped the car and, rather than release her grip on my hand, reached across the steering wheel to put the transmission in ‘park’. "One last thing," she said, then after a pregnant pause, followed with, "What did you learn from tonight’s excursion?"
A miniature gasp escaped my nose, then I countered, "Are you sure you want me to tell you?"
"You did say that we’re still friends," she responded, "Good friends, even." She continued, "Seriously, there were at least two important lessons about how women act, versus the way men do, that could have been learned tonight." She gave my hand a gentle squeeze of encouragement. "Tell me one of them."
I was tired too tired to concentrate, really. I grabbed at an easy one. "Well, I didn’t get beaten up and thrown out into the alley tonight."
She let out a half-chuckle, "That wasn’t one of the ones I was thinking of, but it’s a good one too. And there were a couple of sisters there who could have managed it, too."
"I saw," I acknowledged.
"Got another?" she asked, with another squeeze.
I just shrugged my shoulders.
"One has to do with the way women perceive one another," she hinted, as she brought her other hand over to sandwich mine between hers.
"Can’t we do this inside?" I protested.
Her grip tightened slightly, carrying with it a definite sense of restrained power. Kate wasn’t particularly large, but I always did think of her as being a little stronger than most women I knew. Right now, her strength reminded me of a guy I knew in college. He was only 5’6" & 130 lbs.., with nothing spectacular about his muscular development, but he could jump head and shoulders above a regulation volleyball net, from a static position. We used to joke that his muscles were made of piano wire.
"Nope. Once we go inside, you’ll want to get ready for bed. It has to be here. It’ll only take a minute or so."
If Kate didn’t want me to go, I knew I wasn’t going inside without one heck of a struggle. When I didn’t try, her grip relaxed slightly, and I noticed another sensation. It was as if there were some kind of circuit completed through our hands, and an inner warmth was being transmitted up my arm. With a sigh of resignation, I slumped back in the seat.
"What did you notice about the way that women see each other, that you hadn’t before?" she prompted.
I was too tired. I started to shake my head, but then caught at a thought, "The way Janet regarded how I was dressed," I offered.
"And".
"I ... I don’t know. I mean, she seemed to have been offended by it. She was. But then, again, it is an awfully provocative way to dress."
Kate offered another hint, "So, do you dress differently if you want to impress a woman than if you want to impress a man?"
"Yeah, I guess SO," I agreed. "I wouldn’t have dressed like this if I’d been left a choice."
"Oh, now," Kate pressed, "didn’t you find it at least a little bit fun, at least some of the time? You didn’t enjoy the swiveling heads, the envious glances?"
"I don’t think so," I started to answer. A change in her grip on my hand bespoke a silent, "tell me the truth."
"Really! Well ... maybe if I hadn’t been so worried about being found out, it might have been a little fun."
"Now we're getting somewhere," Kate announced. The pressure between her hands relaxed to barely touching. I could have easily slid mine out from between them if I had wanted to. "Ready to go in? Or do you want to sit and talk a while?"
We got inside far later than I would have chosen for a workday eve, and I still had my feminine routine to deal with before I could go to sleep. When I finally did get to bed, I didn’t move again until Kate awakened me.
I walked from my car to the office, Thursday morning, wondering if my lingerie showed through my white satin charmeuse blouse. Everything underneath was pastel floral. Moreover, the short pleated skirt, in glen plaid, fluttered not only from the light breeze but from the sway imparted by trying to walk in pumps that had three and a half-inch heels.
That day differed from the others only in the details. At day’s end, I was tired, and ached from the hips down, no doubt from being on such tall heels all day. I would have gladly passed upon eating, altogether let alone away from home in favor of a relaxing soak in the tub and an early bedtime. No such luck.
I arrived at Diane’s at 6:30 to be greeted with a warm hug. Dinner was still in the preparation stage, and it progressed slowly, while she tried to pump me for details of my transformation. She was full of questions about where my clothes had come from, how I’d managed to look so authentic each morning, and what I’d been doing in the evenings.
Not quite sure how much Kate wanted to know, I was mostly evasive. I plead ignorance, telling her that Kate had arranged most of it, which she already knew anyway.
Kate was waiting for me when I got home. She smiled mischievously, as I recounted the way I’d sidestepped Diane’s questions.
"You didn’t have to be so mysterious," she told me, when I’d finished, "I’m not trying to keep this any big secret."
Shortly before bedtime, I found an opportunity to present Kate with the nightgown I’d bought for her. I’d already gotten over my feelings from the night before. The kiss she gave me was hardly in character for a "sisterly" relationship.
Friday, I went to the office in the outfit I’d tried on Tuesday evening. I was greeted with quiet stares. Kate had done a fantastic job on me that morning. I doubt that I could have hoped for better from a Hollywood professional. My low-key makeup and minimal jewelry combined with the dress/blazer duo to produce a feminine, yet businesslike appearance.
As had been anticipated by Kate, Jean wanted to go out to a fancy restaurant for dinner, just like last Friday. Thus, after work, I found myself once again redoing my makeup to an evening style.
Again, she chose a restaurant which offered dancing. We hadn’t even finished eating when the band started, and before our dessert order could be taken, we were approached with offers to dance. To my shock, "Tess" was the first asked. To the surprise of everyone except Kate, "she" accepted.
Jean was open-mouthed. Even after she was invited onto the floor, she kept looking to see where I was, seemingly astonished at how well I was doing.
I will never forget the expressions on her face that evening. They were so precious that all the hassles I’d put up with - even the ungentlemanly attention I got from some of the guys I ended up dancing with - seemed, afterward, a small price to pay.
It was nearly midnight when our group finally left the restaurant. During the drive home, Jean was effusive in her comments about my activities of that afternoon and evening.
I was getting a warm feeling inside, partly from all the attention, but mainly because I felt accepted as an intimate friend. I had never been party to such discussions with females as "Ted" the way I had been involved in them the past few days, as "Tess". The feeling lasted all the way through the change of cars at Jean’s, the ride home in Kate’s car, and into bed.
Comments
Jerry
Tess is amazing. Good for her
Alexandra Shiach
Great story Ted is taking to Tess like a duck to water depite his early reluctance
Amanda
Loving Tess.❤️🫠😂💁♀️
