|
New Girl in Town #4
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Newsgroups: rec.arts.erotica
From: [email protected].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: [email protected]
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Sender: [email protected] (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: [email protected].org FidoNet: 1:107/565
--
Mail rec.arts.erotica submissions to [email protected].
Most software will automatically mail your postings to that address.
|
|
