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Bobby's Story - Chapter 13
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 13)
Organization: Somewhere just far enough out of Toronto
Date: Wed, 6 May 1992 04:12:13 GMT
Approved: [email protected]
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
Sender: [email protected] (Evan Leibovitch)
Lines: 974
Archive-Name: bobbi-13
(Note: the original author of these stories prefers to remain anonymous)
H E L P W A N T E D
Edith had given me a week of freedom before she would insist on me fin-
ding a real job, and that time was up. There would be some modeling
assignments, and a few tricks as one of Helen's call-girls, but none of
that would provide a steady income yet. The job of modeling coats was
for the coat company's spring line, and it would be four to six weeks
more before we actually started any shooting. I could have just barely
existed on the money I could get out of these part-time jobs, including
paying rent to Edith, but only if I also turned at least four tricks a
week down at "The Gilded Grape." That would not, however, leave any
money at all for such things as clothing, hormone shots, and saving for
my operation. A real job was a real necessity.
My first problem was trying to decide on what kind of job I wanted. It
had to be regular "nine-to-five" hours, or close to it, with weekends
off, so that I could do all the things in my life like dance classes,
doctor's appointments, and Friday/Saturday night assignments from
Helen. It had to be flexible enough to allow me to take a day or two
off once in a while for modeling assignments. It could not involve any
real degree of manual labor because of the demands of photographic mod-
eling to keep my hands and body free of marks from accident or strain.
Lastly, it should be in Manhattan, so that I would be reasonably close
to all the things I had to do. There were not many jobs that fit into
those criteria, but I to have a place to start from.
The next part of this was to decide on what jobs I was qualified for.
The jobs I had in the past were not much good as training. Before be-
ing a stock-boy at the department store, I had swept floors in an dress
factory, and worked as a general clerk in the office of a glass shop in
my home neighborhood. I could not use those as references either. Few
employers will hire a girl, no matter how qualified she is, if all of
her references say she is a boy. They usually do not take it as a joke
either. I would have to start off as a girl trying to get her very
first job. The only qualification I had was a typing and filing class
I had taken in high school that taught me to type twenty words a min-
ute, and how to alphabetize file cards. It was a very slim portfolio,
but it was all I had to go on.
It seemed like there were only two options open to me. I could be a
salesgirl in a store of some kind. That would give me all I needed,
except that the hours would not be quite what I wanted, but jobs like
that were relatively easy to get. I could also work in an office as a
receptionist or file clerk with some light typing on the side. The
problem there would be in taking time off for modeling assignments if I
needed to, but the pay would be better than working in a store. In any
case, those two areas of endeavor looked like my best possibilities.
"My, but you're so deep in thought this morning," came Edith's voice to
jar me out of my reverie. "Care to share what you're thinking about?"
I had been sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee, and staring
out the window at the shreds of sunrise over Long Island Sound that I
could see in the distance. It was the morning of the Monday after my
date with Dan, and it had been my turn to make breakfast. Sarah was
just coming in to have her breakfast too. I was still in my robe and
slippers, but Edith was already dressed to go to work.
"Oh, nothing much," I replied. "I was just thinking about what sort of
job I should get. I think I'll go into The City, and start looking
today." Edith poured some coffee, and sat down at the table with me.
"That's a good thought," she said. "If you want some advice, I'd say
to buy The Times, and see what's in there before you go running all
over the place. I still also say that you should try calling Paul, the
personnel manager that used to be with the department store, and see
what he has to say. You told me he liked you, so he might be willing
to help."
Edith was always there with the motherly advice whether I wanted it or
not, but I did very much appreciate it most of the time. Calling Paul
might be a good idea too. He now worked for a very large company in
Manhattan on Park Avenue, and he might have something for me. The only
trouble was that I might have to go back to being his part-time mis-
tress to get it. That was not really so bad, but I would have liked to
get away from using sex to get what I wanted. "Maybe he would not want
that anymore," I thought, knowing full well that I was kidding myself.
"Thanks," I said to Edith. "I'll do it. I shouldn't be late coming
home tonight, but I may have a rehearsal for the G.G.Girls tomorrow.
We should have a show to do on Saturday night at the club." A sly grin
crossed Edith's face, and she said, "If you do, can I come to the show?
I've never seen you dance on stage, and I think I'd like to." This
took me by surprise. I just could not imagine proper Edith sitting in
the audience with all the campy drag queens, but I knew if she asked
like this, her mind was made up to do it. "Sure," I said. "I'll even
get you a table down front." Edith got up to leave for work. "That
would be nice," she said.
Edith left for work, and I went to my room, leaving Sarah in the kit-
chen to finish her coffee. It was quite normal for us to do that.
Sarah was a very independent lady. I am sure that came of the years of
struggle in her homeland of Estonia, and the restless wandering across
half of the world that she and Edith had done for the last thirty years
or so. I never knew all that much about Sarah in Estonia before Edith
was born. I knew that she came from an upper class family, and had
been well educated at a famous European university. I knew that she
was married to an officer in the Russian army under the Czar, and that
her family had not approved of the marriage, but I was not clear, at
that time, as to if this had been Edith's father. Sarah was, and al-
ways has been, a mystery to me. I only wish I had taken the time to
learn more while I was with her.
It only took me a little while to change from my robe and nightie into
something suitable for job hunting. My dark blue dress with the high
neckline and three-quarter sleeves seemed best for this purpose. This
might have been the era of the mini-skirt, but there were better ways
to dress for a job interview. I like showing off my body, but I did
not want to appear as some little chippie who would spend most of her
time by the water cooler flirting with the office-boy. The dress had a
skirt that fell to just the top of my knees. That would show enough to
get the personnel manager interested, but not enough to get him to make
a pass at me.
The dress had a little trim of white lace at the neckline and cuffs,
and a white leather belt, so white leather pumps with three inch heels
were the order of the day along with a white leather handbag. Red lip-
stick was my favorite, but I did not want to come on that strong. A
dark shade of pink did the job nicely, and did went fine with the clear
nail polish that I had used to do my nails on Sunday. It was still
only eight-thirty in the morning when I emerged from my room for my day
of job hunting.
"That's for you from Edith," said Sarah pointing to something on the
kitchen table. "She said Thomas get it for you." On the table was a
copy of today's New York Times. Edith had apparently sent Thomas, the
doorman, to get it, and bring it up here while I was dressing. At
least she had not told him to open it to the "help wanted" ads, but the
message was still clear. Edith was pushing, but she had good reason to
push. It was what I needed, and she knew it. I had always needed some
sort of push to get me to do anything. I did not know why that was.
Maybe if I had been different, things would have gone in another direc-
tion. There is no way of knowing. I do know, however, that no matter
how much it annoyed me at times, Edith was there to give me the mother-
ly push I needed, and no matter how much it annoyed me at times, I was
always grateful afterwards that she had been there to do it. Now was
no exception.
The "help wanted" ads that I felt I could confidently answer were few.
Most of what was in the newspaper specified that experience at the job
was necessary. Those are the most daunting words that any job hunter
can see. That is especially true for someone like me who was looking
for their "first" job. How does one get experience if no one will hire
you in the first place? That is actually a rationalization, for there
are many entry level jobs available, but they are not always advertised
in the newspaper. They are found through schools, personal referrals,
and word of mouth. My problem was that I did not seem to have any ac-
cess to those sources. The newspaper was my only doorway into the job
market.
I did manage to find five ads that appeared as if I might fit the jobs
they described. Three were from stores looking for salesgirls, and two
were office jobs. All were in mid-town Manhattan either in the Times
Square or the Rockefeller Center areas, so I could get to all the other
things in my life easily if I got one of them. I cut the ads out of
the newspaper, and tucked them into my purse. It was time to head into
The City, and get started.
It was not about ten minutes after nine, so I thought I might take the
chance of trying to phone Paul to see if he could help. Edith had
given me the name of the large chemical company on Park Avenue that he
now worked for, so I called information to get the number. A few min-
utes later I was asking the switchboard operator at the chemical com-
pany for his extension. A female voice then said, "Hello?" "Yes," I
replied, "is Paul there?" Her voice was very businesslike as she said,
"No, I'm sorry, but Paul won't be in until Wednesday. May I take a
message?" I gave her my name and number, saying that I wanted to apply
for a job, and she said Paul would get back to me. I thanked her, and
hung up. I would have to wait a few days to see if Paul could, or even
would help me.
"You going out now?," asked Sarah when she saw me putting on my coat.
"Yes," I replied. "I'm going out to start looking for a job. I won't
be too late tonight, so I should see you at dinner later. Wish me
good luck!" Sarah shook her head. "I pray for you instead," she said.
"It's better than luck." Sarah was a grandmother clear to the bone. I
finished adjusting my coat, primped my hair one last time, and headed
out the door. "Bye, grandma," I called as I left. "Have a good day,
grandchild," she replied as the door closed.
It was only a few blocks to the subway station, so I walked there quic-
kly. This part of Queens was a nice sort of neighborhood for New York
City. It was a bit like the towns in Hudson County, New Jersey that I
had grown up in. That was not at all surprising. Hudson County is on
the west bank of the Hudson River across from Manhattan, and the Boro
of Queens is on the east bank of the East River across from Manhattan.
The two places flank the downtown areas of Manhattan Island like a pair
of bookends. It only follows that they should be alike in many res-
pects. It was, however, very different from living in mid-town Manhat-
tan the way I had when I shared the apartment with Margo. I liked liv-
ing here in Queens a lot better.
The subway was not crowded when I got there, but it was well after the
rush-hour, and our stop was almost at the end of the line. I too a
seat, and was enveloped in the never ending roar that filled every tun-
nel, station, and car of the New York City Subway System as the train
jerked into motion, and plunged through the thick, grimy blackness of
the vein-like network of tunnels that stretched like the web of a de-
mented spider, beneath the streets of The City and its Boros, unifying
the polyglot of neighborhoods that make it up, into one, at least semi-
coherent, municipal entity. I received a few passing glances from my
fellow riders as we went along, but those were merely a lustful look or
two, or an attempt to determine if I posed a threat of some sort or
not. It was all quite normal for a subway ride.
Before long, I found myself out of the subway, and working through the
throng and push of the mid-town Manhattan crowds on my way to the first
job opportunity of the five I had chosen. That was an office job as a
file clerk and typist for a music publisher in the Brill Building on
Broadway at 51st Street. I told the receptionist why I had come, and
she just handed me a job application, telling me to fill it out. About
twenty minutes after I had finished, I was escorted to see the Office
Manager. The interview did not take long at all. There was just some-
thing in the way he handled it that told me they were looking for some-
one with more office skills and experience than I had. The Office Man-
ager's eyes, however, did not leave my legs for the whole time I was
there. He might not have been interested in my office skills, but
there were other skills that I was adept at that he was very much in-
terested in. At the end of the interview, he gave me the standard lie
about having other applicants to see before he made a final decision.
I thanked him, and left. Job hunting is just not fun.
My second stop was a large stationary store on one of the side streets
between Times Square and Rockefeller Center. It took me fifteen min-
utes to find someone who was not too busy to tell me where I could find
the store manager. Then it was still another fifteen minutes to find
him. When I finally got to talk to him, all he said was, "Sorry, but
the job is taken," and abruptly went back to his work. That was two
down, and three to go.
The other office job was in one of the Rockefeller Center buildings as
a clerk/typist for a large, western railroad in their east coast,
freight traffic office. Again I filled out an application with the
receptionist, and she gave me a typing test. Then she told me that the
Chief Clerk, who would have to interview me, was on a sudden business
trip to the main office in Omaha that week, and that he would call any
applicants that he wanted to see next week. I left to try the next
place on my list.
Just outside of the Rockefeller Center area, on a side street off of
5th Avenue, was the next stop of the five I had picked. The classified
advertisement had said that it was a fashionable ladieswear shop, and
it looked like it might have been fashionable in the depression, but
not since. A look through the windows told me that the store's very
existence depended more on the inertia of the owner in not disturbing
his state of rest long enough to put up a "Closed" sign, than from any
influx of customers. The fixtures were old and out of date, and the
display was unimaginative. The owner, or at least an old man who
looked like he was, sat in a chair by the cash register while a woman
of about his age pretended to be busy by fiddling with the stock. I
did not bother to go in. I needed a job, but not here. I was not that
desperate yet.
The last place on my list was a boutique for a world famous design
label in a store on 5th Avenue near 55th Street. This was more to my
taste than any of the others. It was clean, elegant, and very up-mar-
ket. If I got any job today, this was the one I wanted it to be. A
salesman showed me the way to the manager's office, and I filled out
another application. The manager and I talked for a while in a sort of
interview until at last he said, "Well, Bobbi, we were hoping for some-
one with some experience, but we might do a trainee... if she had the
right... qualifications." His eyes wandered from my legs to my chest
all the time he talked, and fixed on my breasts as he said "qualifica-
tions" with a wry smile. If that was the way to get a job, I would
give it a try. I leaned over toward him, so he could see a little fur-
ther down the front of my dress, and said, "You know all the qualifica-
tions I have now. I can perform an the job too." He nodded. "We make
a decision by Friday," he said. "I'll call you then." I stood to
leave, and said, "I hope so. I'd really like working under you." Then
I turned quickly, and left. I know he was watching the jiggle of my
backside as I walked away.
That was the end of my list for today. I started walking back down 5th
Avenue with no particular purpose in mind. My wristwatch said it was
about three o'clock. I only had to be home when Edith got there around
five-forty-five, so there was lots of time to kill. I liked window-
shopping on 5th Avenue, so that is what I did. I just killed an hour
or so walking down the street, and drifting in and out of the stores.
I got lots of admiring glances from the men as I walked, and I liked
that. About twenty minutes after four, I found myself on the west side
of 5th Avenue, between 37th and 38th Streets. I was in front of the
department store where Edith worked, and from which I had recently been
fired. On a whim, I walked in. I would meet Edith, and go home with
her.
It seemed strange to be in the store again. It all looked so familiar,
and yet there was something very different about it. I knew every
department and stockroom in the building because I had been in each of
them at one time or another during the time I had been there, but then,
I had never been there in a dress before. The last time I was in the
store, I had been just one of the lowly stockboys who hauled things
from stockroom to selling floor and back again. Little notice was ever
taken of us except in the breech when we got in the way, or neglected
something. Now I was a potential female customer to be waited on, and
sold to.
There was nothing moralistic in the distinction between stockboy and
female customer. Neither role was more or less right to play when set
against the overall system of right and wrong in our society. They
were just very different, and it was interesting for me to compare
those differences. Few of us ever get to see two sides of a situation
on a first person basis the way I now could. More than anything else,
I counted myself quite fortunate at that moment.
I was a little concerned that Edith would leave before she knew I was
there. Then I saw one of the floor-walkers leaning on his desk. I
recognized him as one who had worked on the same floor as I had for a
little while. He had never liked me, seeing me as just a "queer," and
quite below his own social standing. Feeling very brazen, I walked
over to him, and asked if he would help me. His eyes got big, and I
thought for a moment he had recognized me too, but the drift of his
eyes from my chest to my ankles along with the expression of lust that
glinted in them, told me that his mind was on things other than the
little "faggot" stockboy who had bothered him so much.
He was both professionally and personally eager to do all he could for
me, so I asked if he would phone Edith in her office, and tell her that
her "daughter" would meet her at the employee's entrance on her way
out. "Her daughter?," he said. "I didn't know Edith had a daughter,
and such a lovely one at that." I smiled sweetly, and said, "Well...
I'm not actually her 'daughter.' I'm a very close friend, and she
sometimes calls me that. My name is Bobbi." The stars were growing in
his eyes, no matter how ironical that was. "That's a pretty name," he
said. "Could I show you anything after I call Edith for you?" With a
toss of my head, I replied, "No... Not this time anyway. I'll be back
when I have more time to spend letting you show me around." He started
dialing the phone, and said, "I hope so. I'm sure I have some things
you might like." I walked away wondering if he would ever know the
truth of what just happened. Seeing things from both sides was cer-
tainly an enlightening experience.
I walked almost aimlessly through the store for a while, and stopped at
a few counters to look over merchandise that I already knew well. Now
I could look at it as something to buy, and not just another load of
stock to be moved. I even bought a couple of scarfs that I particu-
larly liked.
My walking took me to the floor where the children's departments were,
and past the children's shoes department at the end of the floor by the
elevators where I used to work. Just to have a longer look there, I
picked up a knit slipper from a display as if to admire it. Mrs. Ad-
ams, always quick to grab a sale, appeared as if from nowhere, and
said, "May I help you?" With a mildly disdainful look, I said, "No, I
don't think so. These vile things would never do for my niece. The
material is just too coarse for her tender skin," and walked away with
a flip of my hips that got a few stares from two salesmen in the boy's
clothing department across the aisle.
I could hear the little bang of Mrs. Adams' sales-book being thrown on
a counter as I walked away. That was her signal that a customer had
annoyed her in some way. It sounded like music to me. I knew that
what I had said would bother her. She loved those ridiculous knit
slippers for some reason, and Mr. Conlin, the buyer, had given her
buying responsibility for them. I think they were called Mukluks, or
something like that, but they were absolutely awful. They were the
sort of thing that were given on Christmas by maiden aunts to children
whom they saw only once a year. While they were auntie's dream gift,
they were a kid's, any kid's, nightmare. I had a picture in my mind of
Mrs. Adams' family on Christmas. All were wearing last year's batch of
Mukluks while eagerly awaiting her arrival with a new shipment wrapped
in paper covered with syrupy sweet Christmas images of Mickey Mouse
perched on Santa's sleigh. I always thought about that whenever I ne-
eded to throw up.
It was just about closing time for the store, so I made my way down to
the first floor again. I went out through the front door on 5th Avenue
turning left to 38th Street where the employee's entrance was. The
usual tiny crowd of departing employees and people meeting them was
gathering around this side door to the building, and I joined them to
wait for Edith to come out. It would only be a few minutes.
I waved to her as Edith emerged from the door, and she came straight
over to me. "Bobbi," she said in a tone that could have been either
surprise or mild annoyance, "what are you doing here? I thought you
were looking for a job?" "I was," I replied. "I've been to five
places that I found in the paper today. It started getting late, and I
was in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd see if you'd like to ride
home together." Edith looked more at ease after I said that. "What a
nice idea," she said pleasantly, and we walked to 5th Avenue. "Let's
take a cab," she added.
The taxi, with us in its rear seat, was soon ensnared in the evening
version of the twice daily snarl of traffic that gripped mid-town Man-
hattan and the roads leading out from it as millions of people tried to
travel between where they worked and where they lived. The subway
probably would have been a bit faster and a lot cheaper than the cab,
but this was more comfortable even if we did have to sit in traffic for
a while. It would be nice to be able to commute this way every day,
but it was good as a treat too. We just sat back, and enjoyed the
ride.
"How was work today?," I asked to make conversation. "Oh, it was kind
of ordinary," Edith answered. "Most of it was quiet, except for Mrs.
Adams. She had some bee in her bonnet about her son-in-law when she
came in, and had the sales people going all day. You know how she
gets. She didn't start to get calmed down until well after lunch, and
then, just before closing, some customer said something that set her
off again." I gave a sly smile.
"What did the customer say?," I asked. "I don't know," Edith replied,
"but Alicia said it was something about her blessed slipper display."
I was laughing now. "That was me," I said. "YOU!," Edith exclaimed.
"Yes," I replied through my laughter. "I told her that her Mukluks
were vile and coarse things that irritated the skin, and made the per-
son wearing them look foolish. I thought that would get her." Edith
was shaking her head, and laughing a little too. "It did, and I'm bet-
ting she takes it out on her son-in-law tonight. You took a big chance
of being recognized, you know. Alicia said that she couldn't place
her, but the customer looked familiar from somewhere. She might have
given you away." I cocked my head to one side, and said, "Maybe... but
she didn't!" We both laughed.
"How did the job hunting go?," Edith asked. "Not bad for a first day,"
I answered. "I went to five places, and two of those said they might
call me back for a second interview. The others were the pits anyway,
but I really didn't like any of them. I'll check the paper again to-
morrow." Edith shook her head, and said, "The ads won't be any differ-
ent. Tomorrow you just go to all the big offices, and put in an appli-
cation. They are always turning over people, so they will call you
sometime, and they don't always advertise unless they need some special
talents." She was right as usual. I was lucky to have a "mother' who
was so smart.
The skyscrapers of The City soon dropped behind us, and we drew closer
to home. "Did you call Paul?," asked Edith. "I tried," I answered
with a sigh. "He wasn't in his office, but I left a message, and his
secretary said she would ask him to call. I don't know about him,
though." Edith looked puzzled. "Why? He seemed like a nice enough
guy to me," she said. "Yes," I replied, "but... Look, mom, please
don't tell this to anyone, but Paul keeps trying to seduce me. He is
not really Gay, but he isn't Straight either. He had me in his office
at the store, and if I ask him for a job, he might want more as a sort
of payment of some kind. I like sex well enough, but I'm not sure I
want to get that involved with him again."
I was expecting Edith to be shocked, but there was only a motherly
smile on her face. "I didn't know it had gone that far," she said,
"but that's all right. You can talk to me about things like that, you
know. I know about it. I'm not a virgin myself, and we are friends.
Friends don't judge friends, so I wouldn't criticize you." Edith tur-
ned on the seat to face me. and said, "Look, Bobbi, women have to do a
lot of things to get what they want. Even with all this Women's Lib
talk that's going around now, men still control things. The secret is
to learn how to control men. What a man might want from you as a woman
doesn't have to be what he gets from you. Give him only what you can
give him, but if you just don't say that you're not giving him the
rest, he will still keep coming back for more. Do you understand what
I mean?"
I did understand. I understood more about myself, more about Edith,
and more about being a woman. Edith was always just a little bit wiser
than I would at first give her credit for at any moment. She gave the
impression of being a sweet, middle-aged lady, but inside beat the
fiery heart of a philosopher. I liked being around her.
== * ==
The smell of coffee wafting into my room finished the job that my alarm
clock had started a few minutes earlier. I really did not want to get
up, but I still had some job hunting to do. Had it been up to me, I
would have taken today to just be lazy, but Edith would not have let me
do that. She had told me that I needed to find a job soon, so I had to
work at it. My "mom" was sweet and gentle in a lot of ways, but she
could be a stern task-mistress when she wanted to be. This was one of
those times she wanted to be.
I dragged myself out of bed, and put a robe over the skimpy, baby-doll
nightie that I had slept in. I did not have to dress for breakfast,
and I was going to go back to bed for a little while after Edith left
anyway. The only job hunting I was going to do today was putting in
applications at some of the larger companies in Manhattan. I also had
a rehearsal for the G.G.Girls chorus line this evening, so I would not
leave until just after lunch, go to two or three offices in mid-town to
put in applications, and then directly to "The Gilded Grape" for the
rehearsal. I ran my fingers through my hair to straighten it enough
for breakfast, and headed for the kitchen.
Sarah was in the kitchen, and poured me a cup of coffee when I arrived.
"Drink," she said. "You will feel more of awake. You are not getting
dressed? You are not going into The City today?" I took a sip of cof-
fee, and said, "Later, grandma. I'm going in later to look for a job,
and I've got a dance rehearsal tonight, so I'll be a little late."
Sarah nodded, and poured a third cup of coffee. I turned to see Edith
coming in for her breakfast. "Try not to be too late at rehearsal,
dear," she said. "You may have to get up early again tomorrow. Job
hunting is not something you should let up on if you're serious about
it. It's good to do some every day until you find one. It's the only
way." Edith would not say anything that was directly critical of me,
so that was her way of reminding me that I had to keep on looking for a
job. She obviously thought I should be out doing that this morning,
and was mildly displeased that I was waiting until after lunch. She
was probably right, but I just wanted to stay home this morning. Some-
thing inside said it was right to do it.
Edith left for work, and I headed back to my bedroom. I do not think I
actually slept, but I lay there for a couple of hours in a sort of
daze, thinking about everything and nothing, and dozing on and off.
Around ten-thirty I heard the telephone ring, and a moment later Sarah
at the door to my room, saying, "Bobbi, a man is wanting to talk on the
phone. He say his name is Paul."
In a flash I was up, and pulling my robe on again. I had not expected
to hear from Paul until tomorrow. A minute later I had the telephone
in my hand, and said, "Hello?," into the receiver as sweetly as I
could. "Hi, cutie," Paul's voice replied, "what's up? I didn't expect
you to, err... call me. What can I do to, err... for you?" I caught
his joke, but passed it off. We caught up on a little news first, and
then I asked him, "Paul, I need to ask you something. I need a job.
You helped me once already with the modeling job, but I need something
almost full-time to fill in. Can you give me some ideas of what to
do?"
"A job, eh?," he said. "As a woman?" I told him that it would have to
be, so I could do my Real Life Test properly. "Hmmm...," he said.
"There might be something. Can you, err... come to my office today? I
don't know yet, but I, err... might be able to help if you look and act
as much, err... like a real woman as you did the last time I saw you.
We started working, err... well together, if you recall our, err... ar-
rangement. Maybe there is something I can do. Can you, err... type?"
I remembered our "arrangement" all too well. Paul was not bad as a
lover, but that just was not the sort of thing I wanted to do just to
get and hold a job. I did, however, need a job. I needed it to live,
but I also needed a job as a woman. It would not be easy to get one
with no references from other jobs as a woman. Even if I had to put up
with Paul's sexual advances to get a job, it might be worth it just to
get things started. That way I would have a reference for any other
job I might move to. The other five places I had gone to did not seem
all that promising. If Paul could get me a job, then that would be a
start.
"I can type about twenty words a minute, but I haven't had much prac-
tice lately," I answered. "That's, err... fine," he said flatly. "You
come to my office, err... about two o'clock, and we'll, err... see what
we can do. Wear, err... something pretty. A lot of people might be,
err... seeing you." We exchanged a few more pleasantries, and hung up.
I sat in the chair by the telephone for a few minutes to think. It was
obvious that Paul had a job for me in mind already. It was also ob-
vious that he expected a few sexual favors in return for it. At least
he would not, and could not come here with Edith and Sarah around. He
would probably want me in his office, though. I went to dress in some-
thing pretty for him. It was time to go to work.
The subway was noisy as usual, but it was getting me where I needed to
be. The dark blue dress I wore got quite a few looks from my fellow
riders even if it was mostly covered by my coat. I guess the short
skirt the dress had could account for some of that. It was getting
into the late fall, and the skirt was perhaps a little shorter than I
would be wearing as the weather turned progressively colder, but it was
just fun to wear it. The hem came to a tiny bit more than an inch
above my knee. I have good legs, and I do not mind showing them off.
A number of the men in the subway car were very appreciative of that.
The building on Park Avenue that was owned by the company Paul worked
for was only a few blocks from the Lexington Avenue Line subway station
so it took little time for me to walk there. It was a large chemical
company, and their building had won some architectual awards when it
was built. Park Avenue was also a good neighborhood to work in. It
was very high class, and close enough to all the places I had to go for
dance class and modeling. I sort of hoped I would be working here even
with my "arrangement" with Paul. It would fit in with the rest of my
life nicely.
"May I help you?," said the Personnel Department's receptionist when I
approached her desk. I set the Kelly green canvas bag that held my
dancing clothes for the G.G.Girls rehearsal later that evening on the
table in the reception area, and told her that I was here to see Paul.
She picked up a telephone, spoke for a moment, and then said as she
hung up, "He says for you to fill out one of our applications here, and
then I'll take you back." She handed me a clipboard with an applica-
tion form on it, and I sat to fill it out. I thought this could be a
good sign. If Paul was having me fill out an application, then he
might have a job for me here. It was either that or a ruse to throw
the receptionist off the real reason he wanted to get me into his of-
fice alone. I would find out the answer very soon.
After I had finished the application, I handed it back to the recep-
tionist. "You just got to take a typing test before we go back," she
said with the music of Brooklyn echoing in her voice. She directed me
to a desk on one side of the reception area. The desk had an electric
typewriter on it, and I got things ready for the test. She handed me
the text I was supposed to type, and I worked the keys feverishly for
five minutes. She took what I had typed, put it with my application,
and said, "Now we can go back to see Paul. Follow me." I retrieved my
canvas bag and coat, and walked after her down a short hall to Paul's
office. The door was open, and she walked straight in, handing my form
to Paul. I stepped in too, and she left, closing the door behind her.
"Hi, cutie!," Paul said excitedly after the door had closed. He walked
over, and kissed me in greeting. I kissed back. I did like him as a
friend anyway. "You look great!," he said. "Sit down. Sit down.
Relax. We've got, err... lots of time to talk. You sort of surprised
me by, err... calling. I thought I wasn't going to hear from those
gorgeous lips of your's again. What can I do, err... for you?" There
was only one thing I wanted him to do for me. "I need a job," I said.
"Sure sure, cutie," he said, "but can't we talk, err... about some
other things first? We've got, err... a lot of catching up to do." I
knew what he wanted to catch up on. "I'd really rather talk about the
job first," I said. "Then maybe we can relax."
Paul looked a little exasperated, but not angry. He sat down behind
his desk, and started reading my application. He said nothing, but
after a few minutes, he started going over my typing test. He took out
a file folder, wrote some things on the form inside, and put my appli-
cation and typing test in it. He filled out another form, and said,
"You start Monday morning at nine o'clock. Report here then, and I'll
take you to an orientation class, and then to your job. Here's your
hiring form. Your starting salary is on it."
He handed me the last form he had filled out. The form said "Recep-
tionist" in the box marked Job Title, and the starting salary as a bit
more than I had been making as a stockboy. I looked further, and found
the box marked Sex. There was a big, glorious "F" where all my prev-
ious employment forms had shown an "M." I had made it! I had a real
job as a woman, but what would Paul want for it?
"What do I have to do?," I asked. "Work hard, and be a good employee,"
he said. "You're our new fourth floor receptionist. That's the Traf-
fic Department. You greet visitors, err... answer the phone, type a
little, and, err... look pretty. That's all. I know, err... what
you're thinking, and that's not, err... the case. I had a job opening,
and you meet the, err... qualifications. That's all. If there's,
err... anything more between us, that's just as, err... friends. Your
new job, err... doesn't depend on it. Okay?" My estimation of Paul
went up a lot. I had the job I wanted, and a friend too. This was all
working out very well.
"That's... it?," I asked. "I got the job?" Paul stood in front of me,
and replied, "That's it. I like helping friends. It isn't much of a
job, but you can't expect, err... big things on your first job, err...
ever, Miss." He was playing a little happy game with me. Of course I
had worked before, but I had filled out my application as if I were
really a young woman looking for her very first job. Paul was just
sweetly going along with that. He was just being a good friend.
I was not sure what to say. "I'm so happy, I could kiss you!," I said.
"I, err... wouldn't say no," answered Paul. I stood, and pressed my
lips to his, letting my arms snake about his neck to embrace him. His
arms enfolded me, and pulled me close. I could feel his cock stiffen-
ing against my thigh, so I parted my lips to allow our tongues some
room to play. I did not have to do this. The job was mine with no
strings attached, but something in me just wanted to. Perhaps it was
the excitement of getting a job as a woman at last. Perhaps it was the
fact that I was beginning to be accepted as the woman I am by the
world. Perhaps I just liked Paul, and wanted to show that to him. I
do not know. I just knew it felt right, and I wanted to do it.
Paul's hands were roaming all over my body, and the pressure of his
cock against my thigh was increasing. "I can't, err... spend too much,
err... time with you," he said breathing heavily. "That's all right,"
I replied. "We've always found a way in the past. Sit down." He sat
in his chair, and I dropped to my knees in front of him. "This won't
take very long," I said in my sweetest tone, looking up at him. I un-
buckled his belt, and pulled down the zipper of his fly. "Up just a
tiny bit, lover," I said, and soon had his pants at his ankles. The
sight of the bulge in his briefs made my own little penis twitch in its
tuck back between my legs in my crotch, and I took hold of the elastic
waistband with my fingers. "Up one more time," I said, and when he
did, I tugged his briefs down too.
Paul's hard cock pointed straight at my face, and I lost no time in
making the most of that. I opened my mouth to take the whole shaft in
at once, letting my lips slide smoothly along the entire length until I
felt the head bump the back of my throat. I held it that way for a
moment, rubbing my tongue against it the whole time, and then slowly
withdrew it from my mouth, letting my lips again run along the entire
length until the head left my mouth with a tiny pop. I placed the tip
of my tongue at the base of the glans, and trailed it down the under-
side of Paul's cock, all the way to his balls. I licked his balls all
over, getting them as wet as I could, and gently nibbling at his scro-
tum. I could hear Paul softly moaning with pleasure all the while.
I returned my mouth to the tip of Paul's cock, but let my long finger-
nails continue to excite his balls. I flicked my tongue, and licked
all around the head in the same way I had just done to his balls. Then
I took the shaft back into my mouth. Paul's hands gripped my head, and
pushed it down on his cock. It went willingly. I started to work his
cock in and out of my mouth by bobbing my head up and down with a lit-
tle help from Paul's hands.
Suddenly, he held my head still, and I knew what was going to happen.
I heard him moan deeply, and felt the slow flowing of his cum filling
my oral cavity. Paul never came in spurts, but in one long flow. It
usually filled my entire mouth, but this time was more copious than
ever. I had to swallow twice to keep from loosing any, or having it
run out of my nose! I held the last bit of it in my mouth as I let
Paul's cock slip from my lips. Then I swallowed that too. It was a
pleasant feeling to have his cum in my tummy.
I stood, and took a few moments to adjust my clothes back to normal.
Paul did not move. I took my seat in his side-chair again, and took
out my compact and lipstick to fix my hair and make-up. It was a few
minutes before Paul wiped off his cock with some tissues, and got his
briefs and pants back up. Soon we looked just like any other two peo-
ple sitting in an office.
"You didn't, err... have to do that," Paul said at last. "I know," I
replied. "I just wanted to. I was once supposed to be your mistress,
wasn't I?" Paul nodded. "Yes," he said, "you were, but I, err...
thought you might not want to, err... be anymore." "Well," I said, "I
don't have an apartment we can use anymore, but we can go out once in a
while if you like. We are friends." Paul smiled, and said, "You're an
interesting woman, Bobbi. I, err... don't know how to say what, err...
you are, but you're, err... not like anyone else I've, err... ever met.
I'll see you on Monday morning. Don't, err... be late."
I kissed him one last time, and left. I was really feeling good about
myself. I passed into the throng of office workers on Park Avenue,
knowing that I had just joined their ranks. I turned onto one of the
side streets, heading west toward 5th Avenue, and the shops that lined
it. It was only about three-thirty, and the G.G.Girls rehearsal would
not start until six or seven. I had some time to kill before I had to
be there, so there was only one sensible thing to do: go shop-ping! I
love to shop, and my new job would soon give me some money to buy as
well.
I did not buy anything at the shops, but it was just fun being there.
The high heels of my shoes clicked happily on the pavement as I walked
along. I had come a long way. A short time ago I was a stockboy in
jeans, living at home, and sneaking around to dress secretly in my
mother's and sister's clothes. Now I was a very female appearing re-
ceptionist for a major chemical company, walking on 5th Avenue in a
mini-skirt and heels, and turning male heads for blocks around with the
wiggle in my hips. Before, I was only a stockboy who was discretely
homosexual with a few men. Now, I was a model who was also a dancer,
and a pre-operative transexual call-girl with anyone who wished to rent
her sexual favors. As a boy I was unhappy and moody with no interest
in anything in particular. As a girl I was finding ways of becoming
all the things I could be, and feeling better about it each day.
I had not realized the road I was starting to walk that first night
Margo talked me into going out in public in drag, but now I was glad I
had started to walk it. I had always felt more like a girl than a boy,
and I now knew why. I was finally being accepted as the woman I really
was. I had just gotten a job as a woman, and was making a woman's life
for myself. Things were working out very well.
It actually felt a little strange to walk into "The Gilded Grape" that
evening. This was where I had started my climb to womanhood, but I had
gone beyond this now. This was where the Transvestites who did not
always pass well in public could come, and be accepted for what they
were. I did not need that. I was accepted as the woman I really was
in virtually any situation. I almost felt uncomfortable here. I liked
being in the G.G.Girls chorus line, but the time was coming soon when I
should move on. I was almost out of place here. I thought I should
talk to Tina about it soon.
I waved a greeting to Edie at the front bar, and told her I would be in
the dressing room if anyone was looking for me. I did not feel like
sitting at the bar, and being hit on by the Bisexual men who came in
for a drink on their way home from work. The others would be here soon
enough, and there would be some good "girl talk" in the dressing room
when they arrived. In the dressing room, I stripped to my bra and pan-
ties, putting my dress in my locker, and wrapping myself in a long,
blue, satin robe. I took a fashion magazine out of my bag to read
until the others got there, and settled into a chair.
After a few minutes I started to hear some sounds. The door to the
hallway was open a bit, and the sounds seemed to be coming from the bar
office across the hall. I was in a mood for some talk, so I went to
see who it was. The sounds got more distinct as I got closer to the
office, and it sounded like a series of deep, guttural moans. I opened
the door to the office just enough to peek in. I was not quite pre-
pared for what I saw.
Tina was on her back on the desk. She was wearing a black lace bra
that had her wonderful breasts standing up on her chest even in her re-
clined position, and a black lace garter-belt that held up a pair of
black fishnet stockings on her legs. Under the garter-belt were black
crotchless panties, and her huge penis was hard and pointing straight
up through the opening. Toni was standing by the desk dressed in very
mannish attire. Her pants were around her ankles, and she stepped out
of them as she pulled down the pair of men's briefs she wore to reveal
her pussy gleaming with droplets of lubrication.
As I watched, Toni climbed up on the desk, and straddled Tina, saying,
"Time for your wifely duties, darling." She lowered her pussy over
Tina's hard penis, and mounted her as a any man would mount a woman.
Tina's head was thrown back in ecstasy, and she cried out, "Yes, hus-
band! Fuck me! Fuck your wife good!" Toni moved her body up and down
on Tina's large penis, but not in the way a woman would on top of a
man. Her movements were those of a man who had his cock buried in a
woman rather than the other way around. She was fucking Tina, and
fucking her hard. It was just the way Tina had fucked me in the apart-
ment I had shared with Margo. The movements were hard and fast, and in
no time at all Tina was pumping hot cum up into Toni's pussy. I was
transfixed, and breathing hard.
Toni got off of Tina, and sat in a chair. Her pussy was dripping with
white, hot cum. "Time for my blow-job, wife," she said. Tina went
over, and kneeled before her. Toni's clit was large, and seemed to
protrude from her pussy like a tiny, hard penis. Tina took it in her
lips to suck it, and then licked her own semen from Toni's pussy. My
own little penis was hard now, and twitching like crazy in its tuck. I
realized that neither of the lovers I was watching would appreciate
having as audience this way, so I closed the door as silently as I
could. Between what I had just witnessed and the blow-job I had given
Paul, I was feeling very randy. I wondered if I too could get laid
that night.
Somehow the magazine was not all that interesting anymore. I had tried
to get on with reading it back in the dressing room, but all I could
think of was Tina and Toni. The image of it would just not leave my
mind. It had me more horny than I had been in a long time. I wondered
if I could just slip into the shower room, and quickly jerk-off before
the others arrived. The dressing room door, however, started to open
just then, so I pretended to be reading. Tina entered wearing a short,
black, silk and lace robe over her lingerie. She smiled at me, and
said, "Well, did you enjoy the show? I hope we put on a good one for
you."
"Wa... what?," I stammered. "It's all right," Tina said stopping me.
"I don't mind being watched when Toni fucks me. I even enjoy it. It
adds to the excitement." I did not know what to say. There was no way
to deny it, and I was not sure of what to do. "Did Toni see me too?,"
I asked. "She did," Tina answered, "but she doesn't mind either. We'd
even like you to join us sometime. I'd love another chance at that
sweet little ass of your's."
I could hardly believe what was happening. "What do you mean, Tina?,"
I asked, trying to get a handle on the situation. "I'll be blunt with
you," Tina said with a playfully evil laugh, "as if I haven't been
already. I've wanted you in bed again for a long time, and Toni want's
to watch. She'll bring along her girlfriend, so we get a show too.
Toni and I like foursomes like that. She might want a little of you
too, but nothing you can't handle." I was confused, and I could not
think of anything to say but, "I did not know you two were lovers."
Tina laughed loudly. "Lovers?," she said. "We're more than lovers.
We're married!"
"Married?!," I exclaimed. "Yes," Tina replied. "We're husband and
wife, bur we have the roles a little reversed. We don't tell many
people, but I think we can trust you. We were both dancers, and Toni
found out I was a TV. She walked in on me in a dressing room before I
had gotten my pants on over my lace panties. Toni's a Lesbian, but she
likes a real dick in her once in a while. She asked me on a date, but
only if I wore a dress. I like a woman once in a while too, although I
prefer other boys in skirts, so I went along with it. She seduced me
that first night, and she's been fucking me the way you saw ever since.
The story was fascinating. "How did you come to get married?," I as-
ked. "We fell in love," Tina answered. "She taught me to be a woman,
and got me living full time as one. I became an instructor in her
school, and she proposed to me. We even had a white wedding with me in
a gown, and Toni in a tuxedo. Patty was one of my bridesmaids. We
live as husband and wife, but we still like to fuck other people too.
Liz at the school is Toni's regular lover, though. I sometimes watch
them, and Liz likes to suck my dick once in a while. You're the most
feminine TV we know, and we'd all like to have a little fuck and suck
party with you. Think about it, and tell me later. Somebody's com-
ing."
I sat back in the chair as Janet arrived. I said hello to her, but my
mind was on the proposition Tina had just made me. In a strange way I
wanted to do it. When Tina fucked, she fucked hard, and I sort of
liked that. I would not mind letting her get me in bed again. The
sexual excitement I was feeling from Paul, Toni, and Tina had me really
randy, and was clouding my thoughts. I needed to get some release for
that, so I could think clearly. I really had to think about this.
All the others soon got there too, and the "G.G.Girls were assembled
for their rehearsal. There was the usual round of joking and gossip
while we changed into our dancing clothes, but I was a little more
quiet than usual. Patty noticed, and asked about it, but I put her
off, saying that I would tell her later.
The rehearsal was actually a good one. The show would be two Saturdays
from now, and we were doing three numbers as a group. Someone had
talked Gerry, the owner of "The Gilded Grape," into letting a magic act
try out his stuff on our stage, and we were going to just decorate the
area wearing sequined leotards. We were going to do our show-girl
moves as a back-up to a male singer in the show as well. Then we would
also do our big finish number as the G.G.Girls chorus line in high-kick
style. It was going to be a lot of work, and there would not be a lot
of time between numbers for changing. The only advantage was that
Gerry wanted us to do only one show. We got down to work quickly, and
Tina worked us hard. I wanted it to be a good show too. Edith would
be in the audience.
At last the rehearsal was over, and we were back in the dressing room.
I was tired. This had been a very long day for me, what with finding a
job and the other things that happened. I could hardly wait to get
home to bed, but I had another problem too. I was horny as hell! The
doctor had told me that the hormone therapy would lessen my sex drive
for a while, and that was the case most of the time, but it was not
working that way tonight. With the feelings still running through my
system from the blow-job I had given Paul, the passionate scene I had
witnessed between Toni and Tina, and the sexual proposition Tina had
made me, I really needed to do something about it. At least when I got
home I would be able to masturbate.
I stripped off all my clothes, and put on my robe. I was still being
very quiet, but Patty gave me a nudge, and asked, "What's the matter,
kiddo? You look like you have something on your mind." I came a lit-
tle way back to reality, and replied, "Oh, nothing... really. I guess
I'm just tired. It was a sort of strange day." Patty lit a cigarette,
and said, "Yeah, I know what days like that are like. I've been want-
ing to talk to you. I heard a story that said you got busted for pros-
titution. What happened?" I had wondered when someone was going to
ask about that, so I replied with a sigh, "The story's true. I didn't
listen to the advice everybody gave me, and I went out on the street,
and propositioned a cop." Patty started to laugh, but it was our turn
in the shower room by then. She giggled all the way inside.
Patty locked the door of the shower room behind us, and hung her robe
on a peg. I did the same. "Let's share one stall," suggested Patty.
"That way we can talk more." I did up my hair in a towel to keep it
dry, and stepped into the spray. It felt good on muscles tired from
the exertions of dancing, and I closed my eyes to enjoy it. I was just
loosing myself in the feelings when I felt warm, wet hands on my still
small but growing breasts. I opened my eyes, and looked straight into
Patty's face a few inches away. "I thought we could help each other
shower," she said. "That way we could talk. Your tits are coming
along very well."
I thanked her for the little compliment, and started soaping her shoul-
ders. She asked again about how I got arrested, and I told her the
story, leaving out the parts about Helen, and my working as a call-
girl. I did not want that all over this bar. We washed each other all
over, but Patty seemed to want to pay a lot of attention to my breasts.
"You really have a nice pair of tits, Bobbi," she said. "They feel
real nice."
Her hand went to my crotch where my little penis had slipped from its
tuck. It was as hard as it could get with the hormones I was taking,
but that was still enough to have it poking out prominently. Patty's
fingers wrapped around it. "This feels nice too," she said. "Is that
part of your little problem tonight? Well, we can take care of that."
Patty dropped quickly to her knees in front of me, and took my little
penis between her lips. I wanted to protest at first, but the feeling
of her tongue running all over my little penis was just what I needed
then. I leaned back against the wall of the shower stall, and let
Patty suck me until I came in her mouth. It did not take very long.
She was an expert cocksucker. "Is that better?," she asked as she
stood up after swallowing my load of cum. "Just ask if you ever want
that sort of help. I like sucking on that little pee-pee of your's.
Let's go get dressed."
I was dressed again in only a few minutes, and left the bar. Patty and
Billie asked me to stay for a drink, but I just wanted to get home. I
hailed a cab outside on 8th Avenue, and settled back for the ride to
Queens. I liked the idea of being in a chorus line, but I made up my
mind that the next show would be my last with the "G.G.Girls." I had
to get away from "The Gilded Grape" and this whole lifestyle. I was on
my way to becoming all the woman I could be in this life now, and this
would only hold me back. I did not want to be a TV. I wanted to be a
woman.
It was a little after eleven when I got home, and Edith was still up
watching television. "How did it go today?," she asked when I came in.
"Great!," I answered. "I got a job!" I, of course, had to tell her
all about it, and we talked until well after midnight. We finally
figured it was time to get to bed, but I said as we left the living
room, "Mom, do you still want to come the show at the club?" Edith
said that she did, so I told her that it was going to be the last one I
did, adding, "I just don't want to be around that life anymore." Edith
gave me her best motherly smile, and said, "You should get away from
it. You're a woman now, you know, and I'm glad to see you're finally
realizing that too. My little girl is growing up." Edith kissed me
good-night on the forehead. I slept very well that night.
--
Jon Grossberg - Internet: [email protected].org FidoNet: 1:107/565
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