It was like a fairy tale come true, a lovely romantic evening under a moonlit sky, talk of love and a meaningful relationship, a union of two personalities into a marriage made in Heaven. The conflict that reared its ugly head that night is one that has haunted our relationship for months, never enough to cool the fires of passion, but enough to dampen the spirits. Now, my girlfriend is ready to end the relationship if I didn’t concede to find out what it is like to be her, to walk in her shoes. Maybe a little taste of what I wanted for her would open my eyes, was her request tonight.
My girlfriend and I have just celebrated our first year together, a lovely dinner with champagne in one of the best restaurants in Phoenix. The Green Gables restaurant has an excellent reputation operating for over 25 years, excellent food, and a medieval atmosphere, prime examples of their success. We enjoyed the prime rib, served with asparagus, sweetened carrots, and a delightful Caesar salad.
The show that they provide is entertaining, a favorite of a lot of Phoenicians, horses and medieval sparring a tradition at the restaurant. Two magnificent white horses galloping toward each other, their riders armed with a lance, ready to do battle, a most entertaining show. Of course, they had the pretty maidens also waiting at the ends of the field of battle to welcome their hero or console the loser.
Veronica seemed to enjoy herself immensely, judging by her attention to me, with most of the evening spent with us hugging and sneaking kisses. Her head is on my shoulder as we walked out of the restaurant, with me giving the attendant the ticket for my car. He hustled off to retrieve it as my girlfriend is trying to clear my lungs while we are waiting. Now if I can keep her in the mood, maybe I can make the proposal and give her the ring tonight, something I have been working at for quite some time.
Hopefully, what I have in mind next, will also set well with her. The attendant brought up my car, and I opened the passenger door for her. She slid her gorgeous rear end into the seat, and I made my way to the driver’s side. Ronnie’s beauty quite often took my breath away since she is the quintessential female. She dresses a little plainly for my tastes since although her beauty is top notch. Her confidence in herself, allowed her to dress for comfort, not to make a catch or set the fashion world on edge.
She is slightly taller than me, but with a figure that is exquisite. I believe they call it an hour-glass figure since she is narrow in the waist, but with gorgeous C-cup breasts and wide womanly hips. When she puts her mind to it, she dresses to the nines, but most of the time she prefers the more casual, but female look. For work, she mostly wears jeans and blouses or sweaters, a comfortable look but not the gorgeous female presentation that she is capable of doing.
Tonight was a prime example of her casual dress, a LBD that fit her to a T, but her gorgeous breasts and tall shapely legs hid from view, her makeup quite feminine, but understated. She had polish on her nails, but the long elegant nails I have seen her wear before not there tonight. I love her for herself, but she could be such a knockout if she would embrace her gorgeous body and face.
Leaving the restaurant, we headed north and east towards Scottsdale, through some of the desert foothills into Paradise Valley. Once we got to Cave Creek Road, I headed north towards the town. This way through Paradise Valley is very scenic, first crossing the canal of the Central Arizona Project, then through some of the cactus infested desert with its dry streams and majestic Saguaros.
The horizon is dotted with small hills, adding to the scenic horizon. With twilight fast approaching the twinkling of lights are evident as if they are stars leading the way. Right before we arrived in Cave Creek, I turned onto a dirt road that leads into the foothills surrounding the valley, remembering a spot that overlooks the Valley of the Sun, that name a tourist phrase that seemed to resonate with a lot of the locals.
With over three hundred days of sunshine a year, a likely nickname for a picturesque valley. About 20 minutes later I pulled off the road into a small clearing. The clear blue sky, changing slowly into pinks and reds before the night sky finally takes over. As is usual this time of year the visibility is superb, the mountains in the distance quite clear and distinct, although they are over fifty miles away.
A cool but pleasant temperature lingered in the foothills, a welcome relief from the oppressing desert heat of summer. In the desert, nights chilled quickly since there isn’t anything to keep the heat from radiating to the sky. It is not unusual to go from ninety degrees in the heat of the afternoon to a temperature in the fifties by early morning.
With the lights of the city sparkling, the panorama view is breathtaking. As I parked at the end of the clearing, Veronica is firmly attached to my right arm, with her head on my shoulder. “I had a wonderful time tonight Eric, it was magical.”
“I glad you liked it, if any woman deserves a night like tonight it is you.” Of course, we kissed, the moment demanded it. The kiss was felt all through our bodies, as soft tingles ran up and down our limbs. We returned to the night sky, but my mind was still savoring the kiss.
The view is beautiful, a perfect setting for a wonderful evening. We set there for hours, gazing at the lights and eventually seeing the moonrise on the eastern horizon. As we watched the moon make its way across the sky, we reminisced on some shared memories, our hopes, our dreams, and our love for each other. Of course, we kissed many more times that evening, our lips savoring the contact with each other. A lot more than just lips, were involved that evening, our tongues not missing much of the action.
I very much love my girlfriend, maybe more than any woman that I have known. We seem to be right for each other, we like the same things, our interests are the same pretty much, and it just seems a perfect match. The only stumbling block I can see is our differences about the role of a man and a woman. I know that can tear a relationship apart, and, in fact, it has reared its ugly head several times in our relationship, already.
The main problem seems to be my stubbornness. We get along fine when I just let the discussion be, without any comment. At the moment, it is a moot argument because both of us live our lives independently. She enjoys her job, trying to make a career out of it. I have my own internet based business, working from home most of the time. When our future together comes up, I just can’t keep my mouth shut, and it starts the disagreement all over again.
I believe that a wife should stay at home, maintaining the household, raising the kids, and looking ravishing for her hubby. Veronica, I usually called her Ronnie, believes in shared responsibilities with the kids and household chores. “I love my femininity but dislike being pushed to present myself as a model type all the time. There is a time for it, but being a wife, constantly striving to keep up some perfect idea of feminine beauty, is outrageous.”
I knew that her job was important to her, too precious to give it up to be a perfect housewife for me. I have lost that part of the discussion before it even gets to that point, but I held out for the beautiful woman image for her. “I see no reason why you can’t be pretty for me, even if you have to go to work that way. Surely that is not too much to ask.” That is where the discussion usually ends because by then both of us are digging in, resulting in a no-win situation for both of us.
Unfortunately, that night we said those exact words to each other. Again the discussion had turned to our future and I couldn’t keep my big mouth shut. Maybe it is trait of males, making the same mistake over and over never learning that if it didn’t fly the first time it is unlikely to fly later.
Veronica is an Aries, born in Tucson, Arizona, a daughter of the Chancellor of the University of Arizona. Her mother also taught at the University, a specialist in linguistics. Ronnie succeeded in getting her Master’s in Business Management in 2009, two years ahead of my Master’s in computer science in 2011. She made plans during her freshman year of college and made sure that her goals were reached during her remaining years of school. To say that she is goal orientated is only stating the obvious.
She started working for an electronics company in Scottsdale, a mid-range executive in their management team. Since she is the first employee on the job in the morning and usually the last one to leave at night you can safely say she is motivated to make a place for herself. During the last year, she has attained two promotions, both resulting in substantial increases in pay. Quite often a change in direction is needed to be implemented in her area, a task that all others left to her.
She is not afraid to make the hard decisions, and the secondary decisions to make sure that the objective is met. She never guesses at a solution to a problem, research into all of the nuances of the problem before she ever takes a stand or implements a solution. Her bosses love her, reminding her often that she is on a fast track for upper level management.
She works hard, but also plays hard. No less than a hundred percent effort is made to make our relationship a success. On the weekends, we usually travel to some scenic attraction in Arizona, trying to get away from our busy week and enjoy each other’s company. She never lets work or personal affairs interfere with our time together. In fact, on the weekend I have never heard her discuss her job or any part of her work.
Tonight in the foothills of Phoenix we have ended our conversation again in that familiar standoff. She wants her life, without all of my add-ons that I feel are important. Her frustrations came to a boiling point, with Ronnie holding up her hands telling me to be quiet. We sat there looking at each other, waiting for one of us to say something. I knew better than to respond when she gets this way, her frustration at its max, and her ability to deal with it compromised.
“We have to do something or this difference of opinion is going to end our relationship.” My brain luckily managed not to engage itself, and I just listened. “I want you to spend sixty days in my shoes, doing the things I do every day. After sixty days, if you are still persistent in your ideas I will relent and be the beautiful wife and mother of our children with no questions asked.”
I immediately plastered a big smile on my face, thinking that I have succeeded in my quest. After she explains herself, I realize how wrong I am. She wants me to be her in all ways except for her job. “You will have to dress like me, doing all the things that I want her to do for me. Number one is dressing like I want her to dress, fashionable clothing, always in makeup, with hair and nails to perfection.”
“Impersonating her is to be a 24/7 task until the sixty days is up. If I don’t complete the full sixty days as the feminine wife, you will concede defeat and allow me to be the wife I deem appropriate, with no more said for our married life.” She suggests that we each think through the proposal and meet tomorrow to work out the details. A couple of times I tried in initiate a conversation, but she persisted in her quest. No more talk until tomorrow, and then a decision as to whether I am in or out. The out is said a little too strongly, and I shuddered at the implication of that word.
She is adamant that we come up with a solution, sooner better than later. “Let me be crystal clear about this, if you bow out there will be no more said about this during our marriage, and I mean no more.” We agreed to meet Sunday at her home to discuss the deal. When I dropped her off, I received a warm, yet passionate kiss. “I can’t wait to be on the receiving end of such a kiss delivered by my gorgeous and beautiful new wife, Erica.” The couple of giggles that escaped the corners of her mouth, signaled my soon to be new status as Erica.
I was surprised that Ronnie had got that far in her thoughts to consider me as a wife to her. I didn’t think myself better than her but had always considered a female to be the companion to the male. This meant taking care of him, cooking for him and raising his children. To do that it meant she couldn’t have a job since her career is as a wife to her husband.
Of course, the husband, in my thinking, had to be supportive of the wife and provide for her every need. Seeing to her needs both emotionally and financially. I really don’t where I came up with that belief, though definitely not from my parents. They each had independent lives, coming together as a family for meals or some other type of function. They loved each other, just didn’t show it in all the conventional ways.
I started to respond, but she suggested that I withhold my thoughts until tomorrow. She is serious about this, and the differences of opinion have to be solved, somehow. She told me that it was time that Erica learned the truth about being a woman. I figured that reference is regarding me since my male name is Eric and this is the third time she has used it tonight.
Eric is a child of one of the most influential families in Arizona. My father is a photographer for the Arizona Biways magazine, one of the first and one of the most widely known local magazines featuring the scenery of the state. My mother is a member of every society, charity, woman’s organization in the state. She managed to become the president or leader of most of these groups. She knows everybody that is somebody and more than a few that are not.
My childhood somewhat normal, eventually going to Arizona State University for my degree in computer science. Let’s face it I am a nerd, but a smart one and quite aware of it. In my classes, I have a 4.0 average, knowing quite a bit more than most of my professors, especially my computer classes. Ronnie and I met when I attended a software seminar held at the University of Arizona in Tucson. She was looking for a person to modify a program that would fit her needs better, and I had the skills to do it for her.
I took the job, and, as they say, the rest is history. When she moved to Scottsdale for her job a few months later, we started dating, and after several dates, we decided to go steady. I am old-fashioned in some ways, one being that we will not have sex until we are married. An idea that Ronnie is very pleased about sharing. That does not mean we can’t share our love in other ways.
Back to the present, the trip back to her home is in total silence, an eerie funny kind of silence, a lot to be said, but no one willing to get out the first word. After dropping her off, I made my way to my apartment. I am awake for most of the night, her proposed solution to the problem occupying all of my limited mental capacity. So smart supposedly, but this has me totally shut down mentally.
The concern about her proposal taking far more space in my mind than it should. Several times I almost conceded defeat before we even started the exercise. It is a lot to ask of me, to pretend to be her girlfriend for two months. The longer I thought about the problem, the more I could see her point. Having to deal with a job, a boyfriend, and a house is a handful.
Then to add kids and a perpetual beauty contest, I can see where she is agitated. I decided to give in to her tomorrow, drop all my requests, and hope she can see her way to becoming my wife. I finally succumbed to sleep about four in the morning, hoping my dreams might come true. It was not a restful sleep, a little later that morning I was wrapped up in my bedding almost to the point of not being able to get out.
My clock radio was the culprit that morning signifying that another day had started. I did my daily bathroom tasks and then slipped on a pair of Dockers and a polo shirt. I am apprehensive about the meeting, Ronnie seeming quite agitated about things last night, a side of her that I seldom see. Maybe I have pushed things too fast and made her rethink her love for me.
I decide to buy breakfast on the way over, maybe smooth out a few ruffled feathers in the process. Twenty minutes later, I am ringing her doorbell with a smile on my face. She opened the door, smiled back at me. “Breakfast will not put off the discussion we needed to have. I am still focused on our difficulties, so there will be no forgetting about what has happened and a need to find a solution.” After that statement I did receive a pleasant kiss on the lips as I made my way inside. She had coffee ready, so we set the kitchen table and ate our breakfast. I helped her clear the table and then we moved to the living room.
Her living room is comfortable, no matter what chair or sofa you set in the effect is like sitting on a stack of billowy pillows. My body sank into the sofa that I chose, and I felt like I could hear the air escaping as my weight settled itself on the sofa. Ronnie set down next to me, leaning over to nibble my lips as she tried to get comfortable.
In between the nibbles I tried to start the conversation, getting my ideas across before she could counter my points. “I will concede the points and keep my mouth shut in the future if only you will marry me” I even pulled the ring out of my pocket that I purchased two months ago just for this purpose.
She put her hand on mine, keeping the ring covered up. “I will most likely marry you, but that is not an item for discussion today. However, I do want you to do the sixty days for me, to become aware of what the other half does to live their life. I don’t want some of this to surface in a few years during a heated argument with emotions involved because we never worked out the problem in the first place.”
“I am a believer in solving problems when they arise, not later in the relationship when kids or relatives are involved.” She handed me a detailed list of what she wanted me to do to experience what it was like for a female. I looked it over and was surprised at quite a few of the items listed. I finished the list, a very detailed and thought out compilation of everything that females normally experience, and then looked up at Ronnie.
From the items on the list, I could tell that she is very serious about this. Also as Ronnie usually does it is well organized and researched, even listing where some of the services could be obtained to fulfill my part in this. It apparently meant a lot to her for me to see what it is like for her.
“I accept the proposition you have made without negotiating about each item.” When I told her that she seemed surprised, apparently she was expecting a vigorous discussion about the terms of the deal. She went over the list item by item explaining the details about each. After she had finished, I asked her how I can accomplish these things.
“I truly know nothing about any of this. I knew how I would like you to look, but not how to experience it.” In a way, I had disarmed her, her arguments not needed, her resolve to convince me that this was important, now moot. I wanted to convince Ronnie that I cared, that my requests were more along the lines of if you are beautiful, you should live it. Her only response is that living the beautiful life can be exasperating and a full-time job in itself.
She suggested that I use her beauty salon for starters, as they offered most of the services that I will need. It was noted on my list with the address and who to see there. For the first visit, she would call and talk to Stephanie, letting her know about the deal and what she would like me to experience. Stephanie could explain the treatments to you, and then you will decide for yourself what things you would do. I tried to ask that she just to tell Stephanie what I was to do. “All the decisions about what you will do are to be yours and yours alone. Time to face up to some difficult decisions and their implications on our lives and others.”
“They could even help with some of your clothes, but for the rest, I expect you to go shopping and to buy them yourself, and that includes trying them on in the store to see if they fit properly.” She did furnish a list of the minimum that I will need for each item plus some suggested colors for me. She suggested that I move in with her so that she could be sure that I was complying with the spirit of the deal, this said, with the biggest grin I have ever seen on her face.
Of course, if she were on site, she could assist me if something came up requiring help. We would still date but as two females, instead of male and female. She stared at me for quite some time, trying to gauge my reaction to all of this. She had won in her presentation, overloading my mind with data, causing it to stutter and eventually shut down.
Then a little shock therapy as Ronnie suggested that we could make out like a couple of lesbians during this time if I am so inclined. My face took quite a while for the color to leave it, red is not my best color. I am not even aware of how two lesbians experience a romantic relationship.
I figured I have to say something, so resigned myself to be truthful to her. “I love you very much, also being aware of how much this means to you. I realize my mistake since I hadn’t considered your viewpoint and feelings in the things that I had asked you to do for me. I will comply with your request, with no comment or griping at what you requested me to do. I know it will open my eyes even more to what I just assumed was the case in a lot of matters. I do ask you to consider my marriage proposal, I do love you, and I do want to marry you.”
I was amazed that I could string together that many words in the proper order, my head hurt, I couldn’t think straight, and at times my vision seemed blurred. Definitely not my best day.
“At the end of the sixty days, I will give you my answer, but at this stage, it most likely will be yes. I will leave the door open, though as my response would depend on your sincerity, your lovemaking skills, and how well you performed your new duties.”
I couldn’t be sure if she was kidding or serious, so I kept quiet. We kissed so hard that I was afraid my lips were permanently smashed flat. After finally coming up for air, “I will start tomorrow, hinting that maybe I could move in tomorrow night.”
“I have no trouble with that as long as you are sporting boobs and a vagina.” That phrase hit below the belt, since I thought that I would be just fashionably dressed as a female, maybe a little makeup, a wig to wear, and then get down to doing some of the things that Ronnie did every day. I thought back to the list again that Ronnie had supplied, remembering that several of the items did mention prosthetics to mimic the female body. The phrase in for a penny, in for a pound seems very appropriate now, and very scary.
She called her stylist at the salon and got an appointment for eight-thirty tomorrow morning for me. With all the details worked out for the moment, we had a pleasant afternoon watching a little TV, then a leisurely walk through the nearby park, I received some very passionate kisses when we parted, to head home, plus a sincere thank you for attempting to understand her. I am determined to show her my devotion, but I realized that it would entail more than I originally thought and be a more daunting task than I had visualized.
She reminded me of a few facts. “I am not going to tell you what and when to do something; all of these decisions are yours and yours alone. Decisions that affected body issues, lifestyles, clothing, influenced both of our lives, not just your own. You need to be aware that things you decide do affect other people, not just yourself.”
The invitation to dinner tomorrow night is extended, and then after dinner, she would help me move in with her. Since I only have a one-bedroom apartment, a studio more accurately, it would not take much to accomplish the move. Two suitcases and maybe ten boxes of assorted accumulated junk is all there is.
When I arrived back at my apartment, I started packing, putting only the things I would need as Erica in one of the suitcases. That thought brought a little reality into the scenario. Eric will not be the one around after tomorrow, Erica is the new person, hell I am not even sure I will look like an Erica. I wonder what I will look like, I am sure quite comical, a male dressing as a female.
I debated about my male clothes, should I pack them and put them in storage or take them along. I favored the taking along, but that option also would make Ronnie think that I was not serious about this. I did pack them up and decided they would be put in storage. I just hoped that is the right decision. I saved one outfit for the salon, figuring I could get rid of it there. Maybe if I leave myself only one way to go, things will work themselves out in my favor.
I managed to get all of the other items packed in boxes for storage. My laptop and printer are packed in the other suitcase, along with my business supplies. My lease is up soon, so I decided to leave notice, figuring that I would be living with Ronnie for two months, and not needing the apartment.
The thought did cross my mind if Ronnie is unhappy with my effort, or my lack of control over my mouth it might cause a breakup but decided that I would take my chances. Ronnie is too special to not to make the maximum effort to appease. I just hoped that I could do enough to mend the situation that I have created. I am apprehensive about all of this, becoming a female version of Ronnie scares me to death since a male who never dressed as a woman living as a female for two months is a very scary scenario to start with.
I am very unsure what will happen after the sixty days, but hoped for the best. I loaded the things for storage, drove to one of those storage places, and rented a small storage locker. I placed them in the locker and locked it up. When the lock clicked shut, I swallowed hard, a part of my life now over.
With Eric’s things put into storage, Erica is the new persona in town. When I returned, I cleaned up the apartment so that I have only to remove the sheets and the few bathroom items in the morning. I decided to leave the letter of notice at the apartment office, giving them my private cell phone number if there is any problem. I had paid ahead through the lease term, so other than getting my deposit back all of the conditions of the lease have been met.
I made a note to cancel the phone and electric at the apartment the following morning when the utilities opened. I hoped that cutting off a place for Eric to live would not come back and bite me. It is like burning a bridge in a way; you just hope that you don’t need to cross that bridge later.
Sleep that night is sporadic, I just could not get comfortable, and when I did, my mind would not shut down, making sleep nearly impossible. Apparently at some point I did manage to get asleep, but the dream that occupied my mind the majority of the night was downright scary. I was an identical match to Ronnie, only blonde and more buxom. The look was extremely girly, long nails, hair past my shoulders, long thick eyelashes, and puffy sensuous lips. Everywhere I went I was ogled, pure desire on every face that looked at me. I was exactly like my ideas of how Ronnie should look, and was not sure that I liked it. A totally different feeling for a male, vulnerable and desired.
Morning came excessively early as I tried to get myself ready. I ended up wearing a golf shirt and a pair of shorts, nothing fancy, just comfortable. My linens and the two suitcases the only items put in the trunk of my car as I headed to the salon.
I am more than a little apprehensive about the events scheduled for the day, but I did manage to get to the salon on time. It is a very upscale salon, just off Fifth Avenue in Scottsdale. I hesitated at the door, found the courage to enter, and as I came through the door. “Well Erica it’s nice to finally meet you, Ronnie has told me so much about you, I feel that I would recognize you anywhere.” I briefly looked down at my body, I couldn’t see any Erica yet, but knew it is inevitable. She then led me back to a private room for my appointment. Since Stephanie is Ronnie’s stylist, I guess that she pulled the short straw, the job of converting Eric to Erica her task.
The Turnabout Gurl Salon is an experience in femininity. Everywhere you looked the curtains, the colors used, the furniture; all screamed feminine. It is a large salon with each technician having a separate styling area in the center of the salon. A sink, styling chair, and tons of mirrors are at every station. So many mirrors are present that every one of them presented a multitude of images reflecting from mirror to mirror throughout the salon.
The stylists themselves are also part of the décor, all wearing retro pink dresses with very short billowy skirts. Their hair and makeup are bold, beehives for hairdos and bright colors used in their makeup. I did have to ask about the hairdos since I remember the style but not the name of it. Their appearance certainly added to the femininity of the salon. As I walked through the salon, I became aware that the dresses are a bit on the short side, the amount of leg showing is very impressive. When Stephanie saw my puzzlement at the hair and costumes she said it had to do with the era, when a female dressed as one. The female of that era more often in dresses, hair styled, makeup on the majority of the time, the word feminine meaning something then.
Bright but subdued lighting made it a cheerful experience, an overall comfortable place to be. The styling stations have a ring of bright light, around the mirrors, a necessity for makeup and hair styling it seems. Along the side of the central salon were private rooms, each with the same styling setup as the main salon. Since most of the styling stations are occupied, this early hour seems not to be a deterrent to their customers.
The stockier physiques of the patrons and the slightly husky voices a hint at the gender of these customers. I had dragged a little behind Stephanie, fascinated by the males in the salon. They are not getting male haircuts either, most getting their nails worked on or things done to their hair. One even having makeup applied to his face. I wondered how many of the female customers that I am looking at are male but dressed as a female. I am definitely in the right place, a feminine gender a most likely outcome after a visit here.
Stephanie led me into a private room, asking me to set in one of the chairs. “I have talked to your girlfriend, understood what she is after, but wanted to know what you wanted.” That surprised me a little. She is Ronnie’s hairstylist, but she still wanted to know what I wanted to do or have done. I figured that Ronnie would just tell her what to do, and that would be the end of it, at least that is what I hoped would happen.
“I do not know what I wanted to be done. I want to do enough to please Ronnie, but I am not sure what that will involve.” I tried to tell her how I felt about Ronnie, how I loved her and wanted to marry her. I am aware that I have pushed things too much with her, conveniently forgetting that it is our relationship, not my relationship.
“I enjoy when she dresses nice, okay sexy will be a better word, in this case. I just never thought of what it would entail, on her part, to play the sexy role. With her job added to the above, I have obviously irritated her a little too much. I now realize that a lot of my ideas are outdated, based on my desires instead of real world living.”
“Well, we can literally change your sex, temporary in the realm of permanence, but realistic in looks. That will allow you to see how the other half lives.” The things that modern technology make possible are out of this world fantastic. For the next hour, Stephanie explained and showed me pictures of all the treatments that they could furnish.
They have a treatment for almost everything, realistic boobs, vagina, face reconstruction, body shaping, leg tendon shortening, plus the normal services of a beauty salon. For every beauty service, they have a treatment to add to or enhance it. I thought about it for a moment while Stephanie checked in on another customer but when she came back, I am still no closer to a decision.
“Why don’t you take the plunge, find out what the other gender experiences. If you go for the full package and decide later that it is a bit too much, we can back off. That would show your girlfriend how much you care about your relationship. If you honestly want to find out what females think and act, you have to stick your feet in the water, not just your toe.
Taking the easy way out may be acceptable in the end, but might establish some doubt of how much you care. Going overboard would eliminate some of those concerns, convincing her that you do care and will do everything to show her that care.” It did make sense, but some of the things that Stephanie has mentioned are way out there. She could read my mind, my hesitation, but assured me that the mental effects due to the treatments would ease after a few days.
Then she told me that the extreme route might allow me to see a side of myself not seen before. I gave her a funny look, but she reiterated that she saw a side of me that seemed repressed. In our discussions the last hour, you have exposed a different side of your personality than when you first came in. I wondered about that comment since I am unaware of any hidden feelings.
“I am still not sure, but doing things half way will only make things worse, let’s go for the whole package, just nothing irreversible.” I did receive a big smile from her and a hug and kiss on the cheek.
Surprisingly the first part of the transformation is paperwork. She had left me for about fifteen minutes and returned with what we had agreed on stated clearly on an agreement between the salon and me. Both of my names appeared on the agreement, Eric and Erica, along with each treatment and procedure. She had me read it over and sign, giving me a copy for myself. As I had looked at her in a quizzical manner, she explained that anything done at the salon is done above board and with each party’s consent and acceptance. I notice her signature on the form too before I placed it in my wallet.
Within a few minutes, I am naked on a table, and the hair on my body is being waxed off. Thankfully, my body hair is light, so it is not that much of an ordeal. It is, however, very painful with it only becoming bearable as she is waxing the last of my pubic hair. I guess the mind stops a lot of the pain messages after a while, too many and too intense to handle. Believe me, I am aware of each hair that is removed from my body. The sting from every hair follicle and the red marks on my skin a reminder of my ordeal.
I still possessed a small triangle of genital hair, a landing strip I am told, and in Stephanie’s words, it is so cute, it might be cute but very unmanly never the less. My eyebrows then shaped to a very fine line of hair, arched high over my eyes. As I looked at the image in the mirror, it couldn’t be over one or two hairs wide. It did change the look of my face to that of a feminine individual, no longer mannish in any way.
Another technician brought in several boxes of something resembling some kind of tissue. I later learned that it’s the fat that the salon uses in the machines to enhance a figure. From her attention to specific areas of my body, it looks like I will receive help in the breasts, and hips.
The breasts seemed to be the first target of Stephanie. The material that is used in the process is not in the shape of a breast but appeared just like a blob of tissue. An apparatus with a set of forms attached to the hoses is brought into the room. They slid it over the table I am laying on, and the forms lowered to my body.
The material is inserted in the form, the cups sealed to my chest and the machine turned on. My tissue directly below the cups sucked into the form. Stephanie after checking to see that the forms are positioned correctly, hit a switch causing the machine to start to pulsate. After a few minutes, the whole cup and my skin heated up. The sensation is not unpleasant, but as time goes by, more of my tissue slips into the forms.
It is a funny feeling, I seem to be able to feel the tissue slip into the forms, and then the machine starts pulsating alternating suction and nothing but much slower. It startles me, Stephanie holding my hand tightly, comforting me.
My mind is in panic, Stephanie is giving me breasts, and I am just lying there letting it happen. I glance at the cups, more of my tissue is sliding into the cups every minute. Will Ronnie reject me if I have breasts like her, will it change our relationship? Stephanie kept an eye on me quite often, holding my hand to reassure me at times. I finally closed my eyes and thought of Ronnie, in her wedding dress, saying yes to being my wife.
Waking up from my dream, my feet are then placed in some stirrups allowing her to spread my legs wide apart as she started working in the area of my crotch. I could feel her manipulating my testicles for a while, and then a cool spray settled on the area, and I could no longer feel anything. About an hour later, she had secured the vulva (my pussy) to my groin.
I caught a glimpse every once in a while, but with the breast forms and the suction machine between them and me, it is difficult to observe much. I saw the glue she used to apply the appliance, and Stephanie showed me the makeup used to conceal all the seams. I am now essentially a female at least in the body looks department, an unusual feeling, but not as scary as I would have thought, but then my mind had not processed everything yet. The numbing spray keeping things down there calm and flaccid.
After four and a half hours, the breast forms pump turned off, and the hoses are released. The filled forms remain on my new breast tissue, still under a vacuum. According to Stephanie, a necessity to maintain shape until the new tissue is stabilized. The result would be a cup size in the B to C range after the forms are released. She helped me to my feet and encouraged me to stand. The additional weight on my chest and the absence of anything in my crotch are very apparent. As I try to straighten up the new weight on my chest makes standing straight awkward. Stephanie asked me if I had to use the bathroom since the next treatment would require about four hours. I decided that it was better to take advantage of the opportunity and headed to the bathroom after slipping on a robe.
“You now have to sit to use the toilet and wipe afterward since things can get somewhat messy down there.” That was Stephanie’s warning as I slipped on the robe. On the way to the bathroom, I felt like there is something missing between my legs, but the bouncing of my new breasts and the forms still attached is keeping my mind occupied elsewhere. The trip is necessary, the effect of the new appliance quite a difference from before. It did take me awhile before the need overcame the reluctance of having something new and foreign to work with.
A cup of hot chocolate is given to me on my return, as we chatted while I sipped the drink. Stephanie wanted to know if I had any problems. “No everything is functional. It just took a while to persuade it to work.” She giggled at me, wanting to know if it was as enjoyable as a man’s climax. I blushed a bright red, all the way down my body, causing Stephanie to giggle more. How she knew that I had succumbed to the desire to see how it feels is beyond me. All it took one was one touch and my body betrayed me, I may not ever want to do it as a male again.
She apologized to me, knowing that I am trying to adjust to my new body. “You need to relax some more. It is going to be your body for a while, and if any sexual pleasure is gained, it is necessary for you to be comfortable with it.”
With the drink finished off, the blush fading a little, she suggested that we continue. “Lie down on the table on your stomach, and then spread your legs a little so I can work on your hips and butt.” A large billowy pillow with a hole in the center is placed on the bench before I laid down, allowing the breast forms to settle in that space. That made it much more comfortable to lie there.
The hip area is then cleaned to assure proper adhesion. The machine put back in place, and a larger set of forms attached. These cover my butt and around the side of it, where a woman’s hips would be. More of the color matched material added to the forms, and the machine lowered and started. The suction seems to be more powerful, and soon my skin is rising up to meet the forms. The heat started, and the regular pulsations began, the length of the pulsation is a little longer, causing my tissue to be pulled harder and deeper into the forms. The machine‘s suction will add a couple of inches to my butt and an inch to the side of each hip.
Stephanie pulled my hands out in front of me so that she could work on my nails. Lying the way I was I found myself unable to move, my breasts still in the forms in the middle of the pillow, my butt being sucked into the forms and her working on my nails made me quite helpless. She filed my nails into neat ovals and then applied two coats of a type of glue to those ovals. Then a nail extension placed on each of my fingertips. Another layer of glue is applied over the new nails, and my hands placed under a UV light.
Twenty minutes later, she worked on them again with a very fine file. The nail extension had turned nearly transparent, looking like I had grown nails this long myself, a result of my hands being placed under a UV light. Then a base coat added, followed by three coats of burgundy polish appropriately called Sunset in the Painted Desert. A clear coat came after that making my nails sparkle like diamonds. This time, I was under the UV light for another twenty minutes. The extensions are a half-inch beyond my fingertips, being very obvious and difficult to maneuver with.
I could no longer make much of a fist since when I curled my fingers back, the tips struck my palm. I knew that my work on my computer would suffer until I got used to the new nails. The look though is fantastic; not much could make me more feminine than these beautiful long fingernails.
All, this time, the suction was doing a good job of expanding my rear end. It felt weird as if I have a pillow attached to my butt. Once the UV light had set my nails, a massage with a rich and creamy liquid finished the job. It felt heavenly as she massaged it into my skin. All areas of my body covered, except where the forms are still in place.
It felt so good, so relaxing that I am soon asleep. When I awake, with Stephanie whispering in my ear, I noticed it is very quiet in the room. The machine is no longer sucking at my skin, and the warmth of the process has cooled some. She is helping me to stand on my feet, with the two sets of forms still attached. I am led over to rack mounted on the wall and am backed into it, my butt with the forms fitted into a hollowed out area. A strap attached to my upper thighs and another one at each side of my upper arms.
She used a tool to release the vacuum in my breast forms and removes the cups. I have breasts; I am in a state of shock, and they are real-looking breasts. She gently lifted up each one rubbing the cream into them, paying special attention to the nipples. I closed my eyes and moaned, that felt so good, my nipples puckering up into small little peaks. “You now have a D cup breast, totally proportionate to your body size.” I wonder where the B to C cup size vanished to, but she is right they are proportional to my body.
Being very preoccupied with my recent additions, I did not notice her enter with a formidable looking garment in her hands. I am turned around in the frame, my face towards the wall. Stephanie had fastened the front busk before turning me around and then moved to the back to lace it up. Ronnie sometimes wore a corset, usually a lace number that exuded sex, so I am familiar what they look like, also very fond of the look, but not sure I would be fond of it on me.
This corset is quite a bit different, the material almost felt like skin, as she wrapped it around my waist. The laces inserted into rings on either side of my body, and a switch flipped. The laces slowly tightened as the rings pulled them tighter. The rings are attached to a machine that is tightening the corset. After a couple of minutes, the machine would stop and then start again after five minutes, apparently to let me get accustomed to the tightness.
It is tight, believe me, the rest period is needed since it feels like I could not take a breath. Quickly I learned to take short breaths, just more of them. Stephanie offered me a drink of water from a bottle, and I drank a copious amount of it. As she finished, a lever on the rack pushed, and a slow lifting of my arms is causing my body to stretch. The weight of my body pulling down and the rack trying to pull up on my shoulders caused my torso to stretch out some.
My waist is getting smaller, and it is almost as if I am being slowly squeezed to death. Every time I exhaled, the rings would take in the slack. Steph told me not to go anywhere; she would be back in a while. Just where she expected me to go is a mystery, my thighs, my upper arms secured, and that damn corset is trying to cut me in half. In times of stress, yes, I am in stress, and then the comedians just seem to pop out.
When she returned, she is all smiles, glad that I am still here. That girl has a very sadistic sense of humor, obviously enjoying herself with her antics. The rings are still trying to remove any slack, but the truth be known there is no slack to remove. According to Stephanie, the corset is fully closed. I am detached from the machine that tightened the laces and she ties off the laces behind me.
Stephanie in one of the quieter moments has told me how their suction/fat process worked, a development of the research department of the Turnabout Gurl Salon. Yes, they were a large enough corporation to have a research department, devoted to developing new procedures to advance beauty treatments.
The fat introduced into the forms is then heated up and absorbed through the skin, deposited in the suctioned portions of the target area. The forms left on past the pumping stage allowed the target area to maintain the desired shape. For the next several days, I would wear garments designed to help maintain the shape of the body parts until the fat became attached to the cells in that area.
I quickly thought of what it would require to reverse the procedure, but no scenarios I came up with seemed to have an easy fix, so I quit thinking about it. In the remaining few hours, the hip forms are removed, and I had a chance to see myself in the mirror, the look of a very feminine body reflecting back. Since it is the first time that I have been able to see my groin, because of the various forms, I nearly fainted.
I had a gorgeous slit just like my fiancée, with a cute patch of hair showing the way. Yes, I had on occasion been allowed to see Veronica’s body naked, just not able to sample the merchandise. My wider hips, seeming to accent the new erogenous zone, causing me to wonder if this will be enough for Ronnie. I certainly hope so, after all that I have been put through today.
Released from the rack, Stephanie covered me again in that cream, causing me several periods of intense air intake when rubbing certain areas. The air intake was strained, the corset only allowing short breaths. I could foresee many problems later if Ronnie persisted in playing around a little. Offered a robe, and then slipping it on, I went out to the lounge area. Steph was there, along with another woman.
Stephanie made the introductions with the lady being Francine, the owner, and CEO of the Turnabout Gurl Salons. She asked me some questions, trying to get a feel for how I was adapting. She told me that the change of gender is no little task, with looks, emotions, and perceptions each having a major impact on the end product.
I was asked to tell her my story of why I am here, they did a lot of transformations for Gender Dysphoria, some crossdressers, but seldom, for this reason. I explained the circumstances of the deal, my comments that got everything started, and my commitment to seeing it through to show her that I do love and care for her. Several times Stephanie and Francine exchanged looks, but comments at that time were left unsaid. We talked for over an hour, getting to know each other and talking about my upcoming two months as a female.
It was a pleasant conversation both of them listening intently, but offering very few comments in return. Stephanie mentioned that Francine often delves into the reasons for what services her customer’s desire, always interested and available to talk to if I had a question.
Since it is getting late, an hour before they closed, Steph got me a wig to wear home. I was going to protest until I got another look at myself in a mirror. Yes, a wig would be necessary since my body is now female, that the male head sticking up from the shoulders is a little obvious. I did have longer hair, almost to my shoulders, but they felt it would be easier to do the wig rather than style my hair. She used three spots of glue to secure it to my head, and then got me some clothes to wear.
The corset with built-in cups for my breasts, is gorgeous, a concoction of material that almost looks like skin, but a necessary item until the fat stabilized since the fat needed to be secure until the body can process it. The addition of a girdle is necessary to support the hips that were not covered with the corset. I am to wear it all the time for the next three days. Next followed a tunic type blouse and a pair of leggings. Once outfitted, a look in the mirror, the image, proof that I am now a member of the female population. I never missed the clothes that I had worn to the salon, never looked for them, never even thought of them.
Francine suggested that she might drop me at my house since my ID did not match my present looks. Tomorrow they could straighten that out, getting me a new ID. After retrieving my suitcases from the trunk of my car we walked over to her car, a Lexus and I set in the passenger seat. I had placed the suitcases in the back seat before I got in.
I did remember to sit first, and then twist my legs into the car like a woman has to do to protect her modesty. The heels that Steph had found for me to wear were a little extreme, being almost four inches high. The straps that fastened them to my feet made my feet look delicate, also nearly impossible to get buckled with my new nails.
As we got closer to her house, I wondered what Ronnie would say about my new looks. I know she wanted me to experience what her life is about, to find out what it entails, and not just make assumptions. I knew there is quite a discrepancy there, but my needless comments have made everything worse. I realized I am paying for that now, and in the weeks to come.
There was a lot of pain today, not overwhelming, but persistent. That damn machine with its pulsating rhythm, I can still close my eyes and here that infernal machine. I did look good as a female, much better than I would have liked. As we turned down her street, the moment had come, time to face Ronnie and see if I have achieved a passing grade.
Francine pulled into Ronnie’s drive, handed me my purse, and told me that she would pick me up in the morning at nine A.M. I hesitated, with her asking me if I am alright. I told her I am fine, thanking her and Stephanie for all the work they had done on me and the conversation that seemed to help me adjust some. After another two days of treatments and training; then I could be let loose on the world.
She then wished me luck, leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek. She helped me with the suitcases after I got out, making my way to the door, then stopped to get my keys from my purse. Before I could get them in the door, Ronnie had opened it.
Ronnie greeted me with a squeal, then hugged me with a vengeance. “Erica, you are so pretty and such a female.” Two minutes later, I am still being hugged and kissed. I guess my looks pleased her. Finally, she regained her composure and dragged me into the living room. She surveyed every inch of my body, gently cupping each breast, then kissed me again with such force that I nearly fell over. I did notice that Francine had managed to slide my suitcases into the house.
Every few minutes she would squeal again, and then kiss me passionately. Through it all, I am quiet, I loved her reaction to the changes, kind of made me feel better for what I am doing. Are you hungry, I have dinner ready, just need to serve it up? My stomach growled in response. I hadn’t eaten all day, except for the power bar that Stephanie had offered me around 3 P.M.
We adjourned to the kitchen, our usual place to eat, Ronnie already having everything set up. There was a mini cauldron of soup, a potato base with broccoli, a delicious looking salad with chicken and shredded cheese sprinkled on top. The dressing is a ranch type that we adored, one we used almost exclusively in our eating.
Throughout the dinner Ronnie kept glancing my way, taking in all aspects of my transformation. When we finished, we picked up our dishes and took them to the sink. I started running the hot water so that I could do the dishes, with Ronnie just staring at me. Self-consciously, I asked if my hair is messed up. She giggled quietly pointing out that I had never offered to do the dishes, so she is astounded at my actions.
I gave her a peck on the cheek. “I love you, wanting her to know how serious I am in my desire to learn about her life.” I am suddenly attacked again by my girlfriend, hugging and kissing me in a very passionate way.
She started dragging me to her bedroom, I stopped dead in my tracks. “It is my time of the month. No sex or loving is allowed for at least two more days. The corset and girdle are necessary until the newly added fat is stabilized within my body.” She laughed out loud but released my hand, both of us heading back to the kitchen and the dirty dishes.
“No hanky-panky until later in the week.” She smiled, then handed me the sponge to wash the dishes while she dried and put them away. Doing dishes with sculptured nails is a real trip, believe me, several times my nails got to an object way before they should have causing quite a bit of pain. After we had the leftovers put away, the counters cleaned she grabbed a hold of my hand, leading me towards her bedroom, I pulled back some. The sparkle in her eyes said it all. “If I can’t play, at least, I am going to get a peek at the new equipment.”
We ended up next to her bed, as she started removing my clothes. With the blouse off and the leggings down around my ankles, she ran her hand all over my body. As she touched my breasts, I let out a moan, even though the corset, my nipples reacted getting hard and pointy. The next area of her exploration is my vagina, make that vulva, the correct term for the correct piece of equipment.
As she slowly moved her hand over my puffy lips, I shuddered, every part of my body suddenly is on sensory overload. Mind you this is through my girdle as it keeps the fat in the right spots. She helped me to lay on the bed and continued her assault with her hands. I didn’t think I could experience any more stimulation, my erotic feelings already on max.
Finally, she tired of her games of exploration and just laid next to me on the bed. We cuddled, something we have not done much of recently. It felt right, the two of us enjoying each other’s company, oblivious to the rest of the world. We talked some as we stared at the ceiling, lost in our thoughts, our life together. Ronnie thanked me for making the commitment; she is aware of my doubts and feelings, but proud that I could put those all aside to experience her life.
She knew a little about the treatments, very thankful for my commitment to the program. We talked a little about what I would do for the two months since she wanted to stay at her job. We decided that I would get a job, not necessarily a full-time job, but, at least, thirty hours a week. That would substitute for her job, in the scheme of things.
I would still have time for my business, squeezed in here and there. Ronnie asked if had to do more at the salon, me telling her that I have two more days in the transformation. She knew a little of what they offered and was impressed that I have decided to do the complete package. She appreciated me more knowing that I cared for her that much. “You know I would have settled for much less, but I am ecstatic at what you had agreed to.”
She offered me a robe; then we headed to the kitchen for some tea. She kept looking my way, taking in all of the new sights. I do wonder if there was a little more to this than me seeing what her life entailed. It seems that she can’t stop looking or touching me in some way; I wasn’t complaining since the attention and feelings are so awesome. We finally wound down later, for me, it is about ten-thirty when my eyes started getting heavy. By midnight, I am asleep sitting up. Ronnie got me into bed, then snuggled next to me, playing with my nipples as I zonked out.
The morning came way too soon, with Ronnie working the controls on my breasts to get my attention. Then she helped with the removal of my lingerie so that I could shower. I was short of breath, almost panting as she removed the corset so that I could bathe. I am sure she got a lot more out of the removal of my clothes than I did. As I entered the shower, my nipples were standing out like beacons in the night. Then the pulse of the shower left me panting and short of breath again. I have doubts that I could take the sexual feelings that my body is having, especially for the whole two months.
I had even resorted to turning the cold water on, trying to cool down the furnace inside. I towel dried, the feel of soft skin making me all hot and bothered again. Luckily I didn’t get my hair wet, so once dry all I had to do is get dressed.
I slipped back into the corset and girdle; the support felt good to my breasts. Steph had told me I could remove it for a short time, like for a shower, but then it would have to be put back on. I did manage to get the corset tightened a little but not near to the degree that it was yesterday. It turns out that Ronnie is delighted to be able to help in the matter. It ended up with her knee on my back as she tightened the corset to its max. Way too much enthusiasm on her part, I swear I could hear her giggling as she cinched me down.
I fussed with my hair a little, but my lack of experience showed. I was able to get it somewhat like it was yesterday, better than the bed head that greeted my reflection this morning. I applied the lipstick but left off the mascara, too much work just for the ride to the salon. I went downstairs, making my way to the kitchen when I heard a knock on the door. Ronnie had headed to work about an hour ago, so I answered the door. It is Francine, wanting to know if I was ready to go. I had forgotten my purse, so I had to go back upstairs to get it.
“While you are up there you need to apply your mascara before you come down.” Well, so much for getting by without it, I removed my mascara from my purse and applied three coats. I will have to admit that I did look better, but just to go to the salon.
When I rejoined her, a smile appeared, then she reached for my hand, and we headed to her car. As I daintily entered the car she asked how it had gone last night, I moaned a little, but smiled this huge smile, almost ear to ear. Francine giggled at my looks. “Must have gone pretty well then.” I nodded but tried to change the subject. About halfway there she pulled into a diner.
Unfortunately, it was one that I frequent quite often. I am hesitant to get out, but Francine assured me that no one is going to recognize you. I swung my legs out and perched myself on my heels. I did remember to get my purse, but only after she had given me a sly smile.
As we approached the door, a male customer held the door for us. I was flattered but allowed Francine to go first. She did but gave me a look. “Ladies first and you are now one of them, so get with the program.” Old habits are hard to break, I guess, especially if you have never done anything different in your life.
We made it to the booth, received menus and coffee, and ordered fruit and toast. I was in the mood for a full breakfast, but with the corset, she said there is no way. As I looked around the diner, there seemed to be very little interest in us, except for the males. I did recognize several of Ronnie’s fellow male employees in a booth on the opposite wall.
They were just acquaintances, Ronnie had introduced them to me at one time, but that had been the only time. The guy’s had kept their eyes on us since we had set down. Francine was shaking her head, pointing out to me that the best way to get a male to come over is to make eye contact; sure enough, one of the guys approached the table. Francine is a very good looking woman; I knew that I now have the same female figure, but I am far from being attractive, at least in my opinion.
To my horror, the guy came right up to me, giving me a line that is so horrible that I didn’t even remember what he said. Something about a conference that he thought I had attended a few years back. Francine just sat there, smiling and giggling, enjoying my predicament. I would think that she would give me a hand in getting rid of this guy, but she wanted me to learn to handle it myself. I tried to think of things Ronnie has used over the years, but nothing came to mind.
I finally got a little pissed off. I told the guy that I would remember meeting him, of that I am sure, but since I didn’t I am sure he is mistaken. I thanked him for his concern, asking Francine if she is ready to go.” Giggling all the way to the register, she paid the check, and we left. Once we got outside, she burst into laughter, telling me that it was a little crude, but effective.
We arrived at the salon a few minutes before my appointment, but Stephanie is there and ready. She asked how I was, but before I could respond, Francine is telling her about me picking up men in the diner. Steph giggled pointing at me. “At least, wait until you are complete as a female before you start a second career.”
At that, I started giggling, as Steph led me back to the room. Both of them kidded me, but it is friendly banter between the three of us, a different situation than if I was a male. Already I am viewing myself as a female and this is only the second day. As Steph is getting ready, I thought of the enjoyable morning that I have had. It was nice.
The wig removed, she brushed my shoulder length locks, and then she held up lengths of hair to find the perfect match for my dark blonde color. Annette, another technician, joined her and with one of them on each side of me, started tying the lengths of hair onto my head. The new length is almost at my shoulder blades, adding quite a bit of weight to my head.
The process required almost four hours, although we did take a fifteen-minute break half way through. The additional strands of hair changed my look considerably, making my face seem smaller, also softening the edges some. When they finished the last knots, I was stunned, looking in the mirror is a very attractive woman. Gone are the few remaining masculine traces of my Eric persona, surprisingly I was not upset about it.
They treated me to lunch in the salon, a lettuce and tomato salad with cold cuts sprinkled on top, and then I used the ladies’ room before the afternoon agenda. I have been sitting since the fake vulva installation. It is a very different experience, the clothes that have to be removed or lowered, the sensation as you relaxed and the water splashing everywhere.
Then the cleanup, not that bad except for the lack of feeling my penis. There is a pleasant sensation when I touched myself down there, but never a swelling that I am used to. It seems to have disappeared completely, I decided to ask Steph what has been done to my male member, something I should have asked that first day. The changes have made me shy, my masculine aggressiveness has vanished, and I am much more submissive, willing to accept what has transpired without question.
I was the one that had decided to go the whole route, out of my love to Ronnie, an experience that seemed to be expanding exponentially by the minute. A normal male would be in panic mode, his masculine side disappearing in front of his very eyes, but I wasn’t. There is just something relaxing about all of this as if it is the right thing to do.
Steph has taken the time to use the ladies’ room also and then rejoined me in the treatment room. I had questions so I cleared my throat and asked. “What had been done yesterday about my male equipment? I now it is covered up, but how was it handled.”
“We had cut it off since it was obvious that you would no longer need it. Since you have joined the female side, that organ is not a female accessory, nor does it look good on such a feminine body.”
I thought she was kidding, but there is that little doubt in the back of my mind. She told me it is a new treatment they were working on. “A lotion that dissolves any tissue, usually within twenty-four hours. No blood, no stitches, the unneeded item just vanishes.”
My mouth is working feverishly, but no audible word is coming out. I am apparently now a female in body, but not yet in spirit. I don’t know what to think; it’s gone by now, a day after the treatment. I didn’t notice Francine as she entered the room but became aware of her as she whispered in my ear that Steph is just pulling my leg.
I let out a breath of air, as my heartbeat returned to a more normal rate. Steph is giggling. “That look on your face is worth a million dollars.” Francine had seen the look as she had come in and heard part of Stephanie’s explanation. She set on a stool and decided to tell me herself what has been done to my male bulge, fearing if she allowed Steph to continue I might have a heart attack.
She explained that they did indeed coat my organ with a liquid, which numbs it, so there is no feeling, allowing them to glue it back against my groin to make it less conspicuous. Then the vulva appliance is glued over that covering it all up. The tip of my penis has been spared the numbing liquid so that when penetrated I will experience pleasure. It is glued into a place where any penetration would cause it to be rubbed over. The numbing liquid is active until the vulva is removed allowing air to affect the lotion.
I set there for a few moments trying to process the information I just received. I could get pleasure from having sex if penetrated, but no way is my male organ going to be able to erect itself in the foreseeable future. That calm demeanor returned, the info is helpful, but I am not panicky about it. Now that is weird.
Francine smiled, knowing that I am confused about my lack of concern over not being able to function as a male. For now, she pointed out that Ronnie, Steph and she are aware of parts of my personality that fit with my female persona. “Relax, enjoy the ride, and let things happen, in two months you can decide the heavy stuff.” You know what, I did relax, way too soon for a decision.
Next, on the agenda is some lessons in female 101. Steph brought in a cart of makeup; then she adjusted my salon chair so that I could easily see the mirror on the cart. She plugged in the cord for the makeup mirror and switched it on. There in the mirror is my image, not very feminine, but with my extensions, definitely not a male face anymore.
After removing my mascara and lipstick she started off with a concealer, telling me its function, how to select the correct color, and how to apply. I thought she would do it for me, but she handed me the bottle and told me to get busy. I kind of stared at her. “I already know how to use it, you are the one that needs the practice.”
That is the script for the rest of the day, as we went through all of the cosmetics that are used to make the female appear feminine. It is fun at times, but after she has made me wash it all off and start again, it became just a task that needed to be done. Three more washes and reapplies later she is approving of my results. This time, when I looked at my reflection there is no doubt about my gender, I am totally female.
With the makeup lessons over for the day, I am strapped into a pair of four-inch stilettos, with an ankle strap and told to get walking. I walked around the room for a while, then made a few laps of the salon. Steph has me change into a pencil skirt, telling me that it would be easier when my stride is limited. She is right; I also noticed that after a while that my rear swayed a little as I made my rounds.
It also became obvious that walking in these shoes for any time would become painful. I mentioned this to Steph, another joy of womanhood is her only reply. I am led to their clothing store, through a door at the rear of the salon. I am astounded at the size of that portion of the store, nearly twice the size of the salon. I was totally unaware it even existed, since it is directly behind the salon.
Shown to a changing room, Stephanie has me remove my clothes; then she produced a tape measure to check my sizes. After recording all my sizes she is off to get me an outfit for tonight, I will be able to shop for myself tomorrow, after my treatments.
Of course, it turned out to be a dress, a bare-shouldered sundress with a full ruffled skirt. The color is a light pink, with a pink and burgundy rose print. Very feminine, fitting like a glove over my new enhancements. Since my corset has no straps, it is perfect for the dress although the tops of my breasts seemed to peak over the top of the dress way too often. The feeling of wearing the dress with nothing on my shoulders and my breasts just lying in the cups of the corset quite unnerving.
The heels I have been practicing in are replaced by a pink pair with five-inch heels, a cute lace bow on the vamp. Seeing myself in the mirror, I wondered where the male that I used to be has gone. Not a trace of that individual is visible. Steph complimented me on my looks, then dragged me back to the salon. She brushed my hair, using a couple of barrettes to keep the hair off my face.
I was pronounced ready to go; then she led me to Francine’s office. I was asked to sit, and then Steph took a few minutes to go over what has been done and the tasks to be completed for tomorrow. I am listening, but my mind is on how I look; I just couldn’t get over the change from a somewhat masculine male to a gorgeous female. I knew that I wasn’t the macho type, never was, never will be. I did, however, look like a male, never addressed as anything else. My wardrobe was pants and shirts with usually a sport coat to dress it up. I never got into athletic shoes, almost my entire selection of shoes was the conventional men’s shoe leather and mostly black in color.
“Are you planning on joining the conversation or are you going to continue to obsess on your looks?” I immediately blushed red, but how did she know what I am thinking. She asked how I am holding up since the changes have had startling success. I replied in the positive, my mind hasn’t come to terms with everything yet, plus I am still worried about what Ronnie will think.
She smiled, then surprised me offering me a job. She knew from her conversations with Ronnie that I wouldn’t be taking her place at work, but confided that she still would like for me to work as a woman to see what it is like. Both Steph and she like me, my caring and patience being my strong points.
I am told about the job, a receptionist at the salon booking appointments, and in my slack moments learning manicuring, shampooing hair for clients, and helping in the clothing store. They would furnish me all the clothing that I needed, plus free beauty services. It sounded good, almost too good to be true, and then came the clincher.
“Your salary will be six hundred dollars a week, based on an average of forty hours.” I pinched myself, both Francine and Steph breaking into giggles, and so I asked the obvious question. What is the catch? I am told there is no catch; they both liked me, and I deserved a little pampering for being so good.
Before she could change her mind, I told her that I would love to work for her. They both smiled; then a stack of forms are pushed over to me on the desk. I looked at her; she knew that I would accept because the applications are ready for me with my name typed in in several places. I am in a daze now earning almost as much money as I made at my in home business, plus clothes and beauty services.
I have seen the price tags on the clothes that Steph has picked out for me and living as a female is not cheap. Tomorrow they would finish my initial training, and shop for my wardrobe. The next day I started work, nine to three six days a week. That way I would have time to get home and get my spouses dinner before I did my other wifely duties. I began to get a glimpse of what Ronnie is going through, now her life is mine, at least for the next two months.
Francine told me to check my makeup, grab a purse and get ready to head home. Steph has put together a light brown purse for me, a new feminine wallet is in it, containing my SS card, my credit cards, and a new Driver’s License. The license has all of my info on it except for the name and sex. The sex had been changed to female, and my name is now Erica Ann Brown.
I looked at it funny, the name and sex surprising me, but the fact that the salon was able to obtain this for me is weird. Steph explained since they did so many transformations the state had allowed them to issue a temporary D.L. as long as all of the other information is the same. They could only change the sex and the first and middle name of the client.
Francine showed up, wanting to know if I am ready to go. I checked my makeup again in the mirror, applying a new coat of lipstick, with both of them giggling behind my back. Stephanie’s only comment, we have created another diva, but a pretty one at that.
Francine drove me home, letting me out in the driveway. They have managed to get done early today, so I could be at home when Ronnie arrived. I thanked her for everything, the new job, the reality check, and for being such a good friend. I received a kiss on the cheek and was told she would see me at eight-thirty in the morning. I remembered my purse, made my way to the door and unlocked it.
As I entered the house, my first thought is to remove my heels as they were killing my feet. I thought back to when I had insisted that Ronnie wear them for me since her legs looked so good in them. Another reality check, I decided to leave them on, if I could ask her to do this for me, surely I could reciprocate by wearing them for her.
I also decided to stay dressed as I made supper, tonight a stew made with leftovers from the last three or four meals that we had. Yes, I did put on an apron to protect my new clothes. I even checked my hair and applied a fresh coat of lipstick before she came in.
She unlocked the door, came into the hall, announcing that she is home. I rushed from the kitchen, my heels making a tapping noise on the floor tiles as I approached. I gave her a big hug, and air kisses to avoid messing up my makeup. Well, that wouldn’t work for her, as she grabbed me and pulled me into a hug and passionate kiss. I responded in kind, finally breaking off the kiss when I needed some air to breathe.
I am told that I could expect that same response every time she came home, so get used to it. I smiled then did a curtsy, asking her if she liked what she saw. She almost knocked me down, as she attacked me again, proving that she liked the new me. I told her dinner is served in the dining room, but she had to check her makeup first since we don’t just let anyone sit at the table. She hurried off to the downstairs bath and is soon back to the table.
I have served the dinner and am waiting for her. I gave her a peck on the cheek as she came in, then hurried to my seat before she could attack me. She is overwhelmed by the meal, my looks, and my behavior but did manage to eat quite a bit of the offered fare.
After dinner, she offered to help clean up, but I declined since that falls under new wife’s responsibilities. She did stay sitting at one of the kitchen bar stools watching me work. Several more times she offered to help me, but I reminded her that the purpose of this exercise was to teach me what her life is all about. Hence it is my job. I did get several really big smiles, and a pinch on the butt, if I got a little too close to her chair, though.
After the kitchen is cleaned up, and the leftovers put up, I am literally dragged into the living room. She pulled me down on her lap, trying to see how many erogenous zones she could stimulate in less than fifteen minutes. She did a good job finding each and every one, with only a few that are missed, since my panties were very moist. I must ask Steph why that is, I hadn’t orgasmed that I am aware of, but I am moist just like Ronnie gets when I play around a lot.
Ronnie wanted to know all about my day, what things had been done and how I felt about them. I told her about the diner, the guy with the corny pickup line, and how I had ditched him. After she had quit laughing, I asked her if I had ever been that lame in my approach to her. She assured me that I am one in a million, an honest and straight forward individual that cared a lot about the people in their life.
I mentioned the treatments performed today, about my skills at makeup, and the ability now to walk in my high heels. She looked at my feet, wanting to know if I had worn them all day. I responded in the affirmative, a necessary part of the arrangement. She tried to assure me that she would have no problem with me slipping out of the shoes for a while, but I just smiled and kept them on my feet.
They weren’t too bad, as long as I could sit for a while every so often. She wanted to play again, trying to get her hands under my dress, or pull down the top of my dress. I managed to wiggle away from her, then when I saw a chance took off for the stairs and our bedroom. I almost made it, with her catching me at the bedroom door. Running in heels kind of slows you down, especially when the dress starts to slip off my breasts.
I grabbed it trying to keep it up, but with my concentration broken, I got caught. She pushed me up against the unopened door, making short work of getting my zipper down then slipping my dress off. I am kissed, hugged, and otherwise groped in almost every place possible. I enjoyed it, wondering if the whole two months were going to be like this. Surely she will tire of the newness of this and resort back to our normal behavior before long. We were both short of breath, not necessarily from the running up the stairs, and had to retreat to the bedroom to lie down.
Thirty minutes later, she suggested that we get dressed for bed, I went first, taking off my clothes and slipping out of my heels. With just the corset and girdle on I brushed my teeth, then removed my makeup using some of Ronnie’s makeup wipes. I attempted to put my hair up in a bun but failed, since some of it is always dropping out of the bun.
When Ronnie came in, she released the bun and braided my hair at the back of my head. She said it worked just as good as a bun to keep my hair from tangling as I slept. I returned the favor for her with her hair, but obviously not as good as job as she did on mine. I am loaned a short baby doll nightie, like last night, but much skimpier. A pink one, wondering why couldn’t it be a red one or even a blue one, but pink it is. The snicker from Ronnie pointed to the fact that if she had other colors to loan me, the pink one was her first and only choice.
The problem that I had is that it didn’t cover up much. If it isn’t for the corset, I would be ninety percent naked. When we got into bed, Ronnie automatically assumed a spoon position behind me, with her hands on my titties. I liked the closeness, but her fingers are not still, circling my nipples and pinching my nubs kept me at a heightened awareness, even though it is through the cups of the corset.
I got lucky, about forty minutes later she laid still, presumably asleep. I let out a deep sigh, being a woman with a responsive body like mine is a curse, how can you get any sleep with your partner rubbing your erogenous zones? I laid there for quite a while, trying to figure out why I had agreed to do this. I loved Ronnie more than anything that being the first reason, but changing my sex for two whole months, maybe a hint of some insanity in my family.
So far I am coping, the new body parts fine after I got used to them, the extra skills required to keep the look, are in truth a pain in the ass. When I am doing my makeup, I loved the look, after the application, but it took me almost an hour to put it on. Somehow I had been coerced into being as vain as any female since my looks are now important to me, a lot more so than anything else. But then I remembered the many times I asked Ronnie to wear makeup for me.
Further proof surfaced as I went to the bathroom. Still not used to sitting, I did manage to complete my task, and then sneaked a peek at my reflection in the mirror. That wasn’t bad in itself, but I had to take a brush to my hair because it has come down out of the braid. No one is there to see how I looked, but fixing my hair, suddenly became a necessity to me in the middle of the night.
It is too early to get up, the clock showing a little past five-thirty, but I am now awake. I tried to slip back into bed, but Ronnie is awake now, having watched my antics in the bathroom. I got a wet, clean out your mouth kiss from her, along with a giggle. She assured me that I still looked like a goddess, albeit a tired one. Thinking back to how I treated her in the past, I remember doing some of the same things to her when I was sure that she was tired from work. Payback is always just, even when you dole it out yourself.
I am experiencing what I had done to her in the past, exactly what Ronnie wanted me to see now. I felt bad, pushing my fantasies on her, not taking into account how she felt. I do remember that she never protested my toying with her, whether she was tired, on her period or just frustrated. All I received from her was smiles, hugs, and some kisses.
The alarm rang, now it is time to get going. I slipped on a robe and then proceeded to the kitchen to get her some breakfast. I made a small bowl of oatmeal for her, sprinkling some cut up peaches on top. I even made a fresh pot of coffee, since what is left, is from yesterday at breakfast. I did the dishes from last night while I am waiting, then selected some items for tonight’s dinner from the freezer to defrost.
Ronnie came in a little later, waltzed right up to me, and probed my windpipe for obstructions. “Good morning gorgeous.” It truly was a passionate kiss, leaving me tingly all over, including my nipples. I hadn’t realized that they could get that hard and pointy. It felt like her tongue is so far down my throat, that if there had been any obstructions, they would have been easily cleaned out.
I remembered doing this to Ronnie on occasion but obviously was not aware of what she was feeling. My mind seemed to be nothing more than this big bowl of gush. Any type of concentration on anything is impossible.
Ronnie finished breakfast; I received a couple of more kisses, and she headed to work. I made my way back upstairs and proceeded to get dressed. I wore the same dress as yesterday and even remembered my mascara this time. On time, Francine beeped her horn; I am already heading for the door as she honked. I did get passing marks this morning since I was dressed, messed with my hair, and had put on makeup. I had put on more than just mascara; eyeliner, rouge, eye shadow, lip liner, and lipstick completed the look.
We talked on the way in, Francine could tell from my look that I had a good time last night. “Are all interaction with spouses that erotic to a woman?” A big smile, then the admission that a woman’s body is very sensitive to touch, especially if there is love involved. I take it you found out that last night.
I nodded my head, another realization that what I had done and proposed for Ronnie never took into account her desires or capacity to handle another person’s love. Francine could tell that I had learned another lesson, and I have only been a woman for three days. As we reached the salon, Steph is waiting again at the front door. I decided to find out how she did that, so I asked.
Steph and Francine shared a smile, then broke into a fit of giggles. “Francine’s car has a tracking device that signaled the salon when they were within a mile of their destination.” Now with that important matter settled, Steph led me to the treatment room. She asked how my feet have been since I have been wearing the heels.
I told her that they hurt, somewhat around the vamp of the shoe and back of the ankle if the shoe is loose or overly tight. Then I told her that the worst was the ache in the calf of my leg. After a couple of hours, the pain seemed to radiate all through the rest of my body. “I can fix that ache in the calf problem, but the sore feet are just what comes with the territory.
I am helped up onto the table; then my feet are placed in the stirrups. She slipped a pair of five-inch stiletto on my feet, then secured them to the stirrup. With my feet in the heels, my legs have that feminine look of a gorgeous woman. Steph took a syringe of liquid and gave me a shot into the muscle of each calf. As she completed the shot on the other leg, she told me that after thirty minutes those muscles would contract to keep the slim and gorgeous contour of the leg without as much pain as before.
Unfortunately, to get the relief you have to sacrifice something. The sacrifice, in this case, is you have to wear heels all the time to be able to walk. After an hour, Steph released my feet from the stirrups. Steph helped me down, having me stand on the heels, as I walked around there seemed to be no problem, my leg felt better somehow.
“They feel much better; the pain seems to have gone away. I just hope that they continue feeling good.” Before you get super excited, try walking without the heels. I slipped them off and tried to place my foot flat on the floor. It wouldn’t go down that far, and when I tried to walk flat footed my calf’s screamed in pain. You can’t have your cake and eat it too, came to mind.
She told me that she could reverse the procedure, but then the pain of walking in heels would be back. I thought back to the numerous times that I have requested that Ronnie wear higher heels for me, then decided to go with the high heels and keep the comfort. She suggested that I obtain a pair of mules to keep at the bedside or bathroom since I would need them to be able to walk to the bathroom.
Next, on the agenda is my voice, never really a masculine voice, it is I guess, on the borderline between male and female. Steph worked with me on modulating my voice like I am singing, up and down, with emphasis usually at the end of the sentence or statement. As she had me read from a book, and then a newspaper, she is pointing out words that females tend to use more, like cute, gorgeous, adorable and delicate.
She seemed to be pleased with my progress, never spending too much time on one part of the voice lessons. About ten, Francine came up to the station, asking Steph if we were ready. She grabbed her purse, handed me mine, and then we all headed out to Francine’s car. A short drive to the mall, just off Camelback Road is Scottsdale Fashion Plaza, one of the largest in Arizona. Francine parked about as far from an entrance as she could.
We set in the car, for a minute as they told me the purpose of this trip. I needed to test my new found skills, but more than anything to gain confidence in my presentation and gender. I am a woman now, to all that see me, just act like one and I will be good to go. We walked across the huge parking lot, as other shoppers checked out the three females in shopping mode. I am to buy clothes that I liked in the sizes that fit me, paying attention to match outfits and colors.
They would advise, but the choices were mine and mine alone. We would visit stores that I had an interest in, shop for outfits, try them on, and if satisfactory, buy them. I would do all the talking, any interaction between the SA and I would be of my own volition. They did suggest lunch around one P.M. though in the restaurant of my choice. I would be paying for everything today, by credit card in my new name.
It sounded scary as hell, on my own, and as a female. Although I would have my two mentors to giggle and laugh if I messed up. As we entered the mall, I am more than apprehensive about this, a test of my ability to blend in. I started walking down the concourse looking at the shops and the displays in the window. About the third shop in, I spotted a dress that attracted my attention; it is LBD with three-quarter length sleeves, a plunging neckline, and an A-line skirt that came mid-thigh.
Without too much thought, I entered the store looking for the rack it is on. A young associate asked if she could help. I told her that I wanted to see the LBD that is in the window. She led me to a rack of dresses on the wall, asking what size I took. I told her that I am a size 12, and she pulled out the appropriate dress.
I told her that I wanted to look some more, asking her if she could start a room for me. She nodded and went to the back. Meanwhile, Francine and Steph both had their mouths open as they watched the goings on. I glanced over at them, just stared at them, asking if they have a problem. They responded no, but Steph’s comment to Francine is we have created a monster. I giggled and went through the entire rack looking for what else might pique my curiosity.
I have selected three more dresses to try on, left them with the associate and moved on to skirts. By the time I have scanned the store, I had ten garments to try on. The sales associate showed me to the fitting room, and I tried each and every one, then modeled them for the girls. After I had tried them all on, I decided on three that I had to have. I paid for them, then went back out into the mall, deciding that it was time for lunch. Looking at my watch, I am surprised that I had spent over two hours in that dress shop. My selections are perfect for me, flattering my body and looks.
As we approached the restaurant, I asked the girls if this is alright. They nodded, and we entered, and I walked up to the hostess. I told the hostess that we wanted a table for three for lunch, then followed her to the table. It was right up front overlooking the window to the mall. I pulled out my chair, sat down and started going through the menu. I decided on a shrimp dish over pasta with a browned butter sauce. The meal came with a house salad accompanied by Italian dressing and bread sticks.
All, this time, both of my cohorts were staring at me. I looked up at them asking them if they had decided on what they were having. Again the look, then Steph broke into giggles, my confidence and decision-making have them totally flustered. She stared me down after the waiter had taken our orders, a cute college student that I enjoyed teasing as I touched him while ordering my meal.
I would point to the item on the menu, and then touch his arm or hold his wrist, as he explained what that item is. I was so flirting with him, and from the bulge in his pants, I am doing a good job of it. After the waiter had brought us our drinks, Francine had seen enough, the fact that I have been paying attention in class judging from my behavior today. That comment made me feel good.
We discussed how I felt, about the shopping, and about me. I told them that I had an epiphany as we left the salon this morning, up to this time I still saw myself as a male dressed as a female. “That is really not the case as I am still male underneath all of the appliances glued to my male body, but for the next two months, it as an honest to goodness female. The saying if it looks like a duck, sounds like a duck, then it must be a duck. I certainly do not look anything like Eric, in fact, I have a little trouble remembering what Eric looked like. Erica has entered into all parts of my life and mind, with Ronnie occupying the rest of my being.”
We had a good time over lunch, taking longer than we planned, but the girls now had confidence that I am Erica, right down to the bone. Steph mentioned that there was still time to do some shopping, but I begged off. I told them that I have to get home, get changed and be ready when my female hubby got home.
Francine just about split a gut laughing at me. “I love Ronnie with all my heart and will do anything to prove that I am the only one for her. After the two months, I have been told that she will let me know her decision about marrying me. I intend to be married to her, and nothing will get in my way. By the way, will you two be my bridesmaids, came tumbling out of my mouth?”
Francine and Steph both nodded as they were laughing and giggling at this new entry in the female category. We drove back to the salon, and I received hugs and kisses, before going to my own car. I am reminded that I have to work tomorrow, so please be on time. I did ask about what to wear with the reply being a skirt or dress since I will be at reception all day.
The ride home is uneventful, with all the new sensations and feelings I am surprised that I am able to keep focused. I parked in the space next to the driveway, grabbed my purse and keys and went to the front door. Ronnie’s next door neighbor was just leaving her door when I approached. After locking her door, she came over to me, introducing herself. I have met her once before but as Eric.
We introduced ourselves; her name is Sylvia, another married female working as a hostess at a local restaurant. When I told her my name is Erica, I could tell that she might know the truth, at least, some parts of it, by the expression on her face. She smiled, asking if I might have a little time to chat in the next few days.
I am sure that the truth would get out anyway, but I was hoping it wouldn’t happen for a few weeks. I told her early in the morning, or late at night might be the best, but I would be delighted to chat with her. She had suggested early tomorrow morning before she had to go to work. I suggested seven-thirty, and I would have the coffee ready. She agreed, giving me a hug and cheek kiss, then off she went.
Well, the first day out of the salon and I am discovered and would now be the talk of the neighborhood. You can’t win them all. Now in the past, something like this would have me in panic mode from the time it started. Now, so what, I am a woman, I love Ronnie, and that is all she wrote. No more obsessing over what people say or do.
I entered the house, setting down my purse, then headed for the kitchen. A quick check of the refrigerator showed no leftovers, but the two hamburger patties I had removed from the freezer were there waiting for me. The French fries from the freezer completed the meal. The patties are broiled then their buns are laid out under the broiler to toast. The French fries are baked, a way that I much preferred, definitely less greasy. I had baked them first before broiling the burgers, then kept them in a crock pot to stay warm.
The burgers received three types of cheese, tomato, pickles, mustard, lettuce, mayonnaise, and some stuffed olives as accouterments. With all that added, the burgers are now almost three inches high. I remove the fries from the crock pot, then placed them under the broiler for a minute to get them hot again; there is nothing worse than cold fries.
The welcome I received is the same as yesterday, maybe a little less grabby, that is her hands on my butt and titties. I had turned off the oven but left the fries in so they would stay hot. I guess that I would now have to train Ronnie to delay the welcome routine until after dinner. We ate at the kitchen bar, consuming everything that I have prepared. I removed the dishes, washed them, and put them away. With the kitchen counters clean, I paused a moment to think what else might have to be done.
The first thing that came to mind is the laundry. None of it had been done in the last three days. I went to the laundry room and sorted the clothes, three loads in all, then started the first load. I thank my lucky stars for the training in doing laundry that my Mom had forced me to do. After I have got the first load going, I made my way to the living room, seeing if any tasks are there that needed to be done. It looked good, so I made my way to the bedroom.
Ronnie had undressed, washed off her makeup, slipped on a robe and was brushing her teeth when I came in. As soon as she rinsed her mouth, she used it to attack my body. Hugs and kisses were the apparent choices, but there were a lot of grabby hands involved too. I attempted to declare a truce so that I could get undressed, but Ronnie would have none of that.
Quickly all of my clothes are removed, that of itself was not be too bad, but the lingering caresses as she did it was unnerving. She did have to take a break, to catch her breath, and I made it to the bathroom, entered it and locked the door. She whines that is cruel, punishing a loving husband from paying tribute to his beautiful wife.
My only thought is whether I would be able to last the sixty days. I could die from a severe case of erotic overload. I did manage to get my makeup off, teeth brushed, and a brush through my hair before I attempted to re-enter the bedroom. Ronnie is waiting on the bed, but before she could grab me, I took off for the laundry room.
The first load is done, I put it in the dryer and started the second load before meandering my way back to the bedroom. The look on Ronnie’s face is priceless; a sad puppy dog look who is waiting for its master. I wiggled my bottom a little more as I sauntered over to the bed. I had selected a light burgundy baby doll nightie to wear while leaving my hair down. The nightie had come from the salon, something that Stephanie had picked for me so that I had something to sleep in. Incidentally, this is all performed with me still in my heels, a necessary evil now that my tendons have been shortened.
I had got a quick kiss in, before Ronnie started again, seeming to get wound up as she sat there. It took thirty minutes for the wind-up doll to wear down. I meanwhile am an erotic mess, my nipples are sore, also hard as a rock, and I tingled all over. My vulva is moist, don’t ask me how that is even possible, and although not penetrated, the lips of it were sore and tender.
During another lull as the doll is winding up again, I did manage to get the second load of laundry in the dryer. The third load would have to wait till tomorrow. When I returned, Ronnie is just lying there smiling like she had just had a wonderful and delicious treat. I slipped into the bed next to her and started reciprocating her ministrations. I was persistent, managing to give her three orgasms before she gave up.
I never even missed my male appendage, my tongue more than made up for the lack of a penis. I sought out her clitoris and centered my attention there, driving her up the wall, a sort of revenge for what she has done to me in the last few days.
We laid in bed discussing everything and anything, the salon’s adventures, my trip to the mall, and my love for her. She thanked me for experiencing all the things in her life, thinking that I would just do the basics, blowing off the rest. After a quiet moment, as both of us are contemplating our lives, she asked me if she dropped her request for me to experience her life, how I would behave. I quickly answered that I would continue, just as I am doing, getting closer to her as I experience the day to day happenings.
She surprised me with her next comment, and that doesn’t often happen. Her comment that I am better at being female than she is. I protested but am hushed; then she went on to explain. Like tonight, your preparation of dinner, doing the laundry, and still you surrendered yourself to my erotic attack. I know it is all new to you, yet you are dealing with it in a most satisfactory way.
I reiterated that my sole purpose is to make my Ronnie hubby happy and glad she has married me. I cocked my head to see if I might have gotten an indication of her decision, but she just smiled. Damn, she can be so frustrating at times. I reminded her that I start work tomorrow but will be home in time to start dinner.
I asked what other things she would want me to experience in her life, but she assured me that experiencing the things she does is enough for her. We decided on Friday and Saturday as our date nights, her taking me out to dinner or dancing, then home to fun and games. Sunday is reserved for a quick trip, sightseeing, maybe a picnic. During the week, we both have our jobs, and I have the house to take care of, making for a full schedule.
“I am happy about all the things that you have taken over, cooking the meals, doing laundry, but you have to find time for shopping. That included things for the house, food, and clothes for yourself.” As we talked about all of these things, I began to see where I had dumped a lot more pressure on Ronnie than I realized.
“I have enough clothes for Erica for now, but Ronnie poo-pooed that idea. A female never willingly wears the same outfit twice in a month, it just never happens. Since you do not have enough clothes to accomplish that, you will need to obtain more clothes, hence shopping.
Since Ronnie usually works till six on most nights, shopping will have to be squeezed in between work and dinner preparation. That means that I will have to start the preparation of dinner that morning before I go to work. Otherwise, the dinner will be later than usual, cutting into our personal time, a no-no with a marriage decision in play.
I did ask about what was going to happen to all the new clothes for me after the two months. Ronnie got that Cheshire cat look, telling me to figure it out myself. A thought way in the dark recesses of my mind briefly became lucid, nah that can’t be what she has in mind. As quickly as that thought had entered my mind, it had vanished again.
Very quickly, my schedule is filling up, taking into consideration time to get ready every day; it would require me to get up at six A.M., and I will be going strong until ten or eleven every night. Maybe the idiot that I was before this could learn a few things from these experiences. I certainly hope so, how I could have been so wrong and uncaring before, and then expect Ronnie to yield to my wishes without protest. As I said, I was one conceited idiot in my actions.
I sat there trying to figure how to squeeze all of this into my waking hours, a nearly impossible task. Even if I did perform the miracle that it required, I would be doing something every minute I am awake. In my business, when I ran into trouble, I made a plan, some type of action to handle the problem.
I started writing down what I felt I had to do, and then the time that I might have available to perform these tasks. When I finished, there are only a couple of open slots for either me personally or some added task.
With the plan in place, yes that is a joke, I did have some things written down, but there are too many variables to rely on it for any results. When Ronnie went off to take a bath, I made my way to the freezer to find something for dinner tomorrow. I lucked out finding a roast that I could unthaw tonight and put in a slow cooker tomorrow morning.
In the refrigerator, I found some celery, carrots, and some potatoes to go with the roast. I got them all cut up and placed in a storage container until tomorrow. From the kitchen cabinets a can of soup, beefy mushroom for the sauce/gravy to make all of this a pleasant dinner. Then from the refrigerator, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, bell peppers, essential ingredients for a nice salad are there to round out the meal.
Then I had to face the fact that the groceries I am using have to be replaced. So shopping for food is now added to the many other tasks that I have managed to acquire as wife and sex goddess. Well the sex goddess part is still highly unlikely, but a female has to have confidence and dream a little.
I made my way back to the bedroom, after successfully getting tomorrow’s dinner planned. I stripped getting myself ready for a bath as soon as Ronnie got out. Looking over at the clock radio, it was already ten thirty, six A.M. coming way too fast. As Ronnie made her way out of the bathroom, I am right behind her, sneaking in and closing the door before she could grab something of mine. Her usual protests of being unfair in my actions disregarded as usual. I did enjoy the bath, soaking in the water that I have applied a liberal amount of bath salts too, pure heaven.
I saw that I needed to add that to the shopping list since we would be both using the salts now. Reluctantly I got out of the tub before I turned into a prune. I patted dry like I have been told to do and then slipped my nightie back on. The corset had to be slipped on too, but I was hoping that tomorrow it would be one of the things I could dispense with at night.
As I made my way to the bed, a certain individual was eyeing my body. She patted the bed next to her, and I slipped under the covers. Immediately I am accosted by her overactive hands and fingers, causing my body to shudder.
Dealing with the emotions is the hardest part of living Ronnie’s life. I adored the attention, but I am tired, a million things running through my mind, and she wants to play. I knew she was just getting back at me because I used to do the same to her whenever she would allow it. I couldn’t protest since this is what I had stated to her that I wanted, a gorgeous and sexy woman all the time.
As Ronnie wound down, sleep took hold of me. Before the eyelids closed, I did spend a few moments wondering where this is going. Tonight’s thought is why I am so happy doing these things that Ronnie used to do for me. A disturbing, but I guess a relevant thought.
Next morning came way too early; as I laid there, relaxing for a while, I suddenly remembered all the things that I had to do this morning. I dragged my body out of bed, slipped on my heels and made my way to the kitchen. Ronnie was still in bed enjoying the last few winks that were available for the day. I got the roast put together in the slow cooker, turned it on low, and then made my way back to the bedroom.
Ronnie had her eyes open, so I planted a passionate kiss on her lips, then dashed to the safety of the bathroom. The heels are obviously not made for dashing, and I almost fell. This time, I am lucky, as I heard her complaining about my total disregard for her needs. I think I remembered my use of that phrase a few months ago; payback is sweet. Unfortunately, I had to come out of the bathroom; I am sure she would be ready to see that I paid for my transgressions.
I performed all of my daily routine, plus a few new ones, resulting from my new femininity. Slipping into a clean pair of panties, I then made my way to the bedroom. Of course, the girdle and corset was required, for a few more days it would be a constant companion. The corset was done up as tight as I could get it, a female has to be self-sufficient.
I went thru my closet looking for what would be appropriate for my first day of work. Ronnie is busy with her makeup, so I was able to concentrate on my selection. I decided on a red check print shirtwaist dress and a gold chain belt for the waist. My light red stiletto heels completed the look.
As I am looking in the mirror, Ronnie suggested a pair of stockings since I had not broken in the heels yet. The stockings would help prevent sore spots on my toes and heels. I hadn’t thought about that, but it made sense. I slipped on a girdle, with attached garters and added a pair of nude stockings. I felt the difference the hose made, after slipping back into the heels. Ronnie had finished with her makeup, gathered her purse and kissed me goodbye.
I am forewarned that if I had harbored any thoughts tonight of being left alone sexually, I should get them out of my mind now. She sauntered out of the bedroom, poured her a cup of coffee, and left. She had begged off of breakfast since she was running late, a cup of coffee as she left the house would be enough. I changed my purse to a more compatible color and made my way to the kitchen. I still had a little time since I did not have to be at work until nine.
As I am pouring my cup of coffee, the doorbell rang. I made my way to the door, checking the peephole to see who it was. The lady next door is there; I had completely forgotten my encounter with her yesterday. I let my neighbor in and invited her into the kitchen, offering her a cup of coffee, and asked her what I could do for her.
She hemmed and hawed a bit, so I figured what might be the subject of her curiosity. I suggested that if she wanted to know something she should just ask. She asked if I was Eric, I calmly told her that my name is Erica, a girlfriend of Ronnie and that I am experiencing what it is like to live as a woman. A gave her a big smile, asking her if that is what she wanted to know.
She nodded her head, then asked if I could possibly be kind enough to go shopping with her sometime. I looked at her a little funny, but she just wanted someone to go shopping with since she has no friends in the area. She loved my look, my hair, and my makeup and would be proud to be seen with me. Before I could say anything, she wanted to know who did my hair.
I told her the Turnabout Gurl Salon; Stephanie is my stylist. She said that she would have to make an appointment; I responded that I could help her since I am the receptionist there. That amused her, but she told me any day but Friday and anytime during the day before four P.M. I got her phone number and told her I would let her know about the appointment as soon as I got to the salon.
As we finished the coffee, she admitted that she is very curious about me, but not in the way that I thought. She is hoping to be able to get enough information so that she could talk her husband into doing the same for her. I had seen him a couple of times in the yard but never met him. From what I remembered, he could easily pass as a female.
I gathered my things and made my way to the car. As I closed the front door, the fact of being out dressed as a female suddenly became apparent. I have been doing this for several days now, but for some reason today seemed different. The main difference is that I am alone, no Francine giving me a ride to and from the salon. I was looking at the world with a different perspective, things that I have never paid any attention to, took on a life of their own.
I noticed the people around me more, particularly males. I saw the obvious looks at my endowed figure, especially my breasts. I guess it is true that a female’s chest area is the obvious prime target of a male. In the past I looked at other males as fellow beings; now the changes that I chose changed all of that.
They were the other sex now, more concerned with my figure than what I might have to say. At several of the stop lights, I noticed male drivers sneaking peeks at my figure. That is totally opposite from past experiences, whereas I am ignored as a male. My mind is in active mode the rest of the trip, noticing lots of new things around me. It will take some time to make adjustments to this awareness of vulnerability. I arrived at the salon a few minutes early and made my way inside.
Stephanie is waiting for me as I entered, checking me over for any deficiencies in my makeup, dress, and hair. She marched me over to a chair. “Your lipstick is not up to my standards, the coating is not uniform and there is no gloss applied.” I removed my lipstick, and she watched as I reapplied it, this time I took more time and managed to correct the mistakes I had made. Talk about being picky, I am still a little new at this, but apparently will not be able to get by with anything. Her reason for pointing out my errors is now that I am working in the salon, I need to always portray a professional appearance especially the pretty and beautiful part.
Besides being uneven, I hadn’t blotted it after the first application, also failing to apply lip gloss as a final step. Boy, working here is not going to be an easy task. After straightening the makeup problems, she led me to the reception area so that I could be shown what I needed to do. I told her about my neighbor that requested an appointment, with her showing me how to log in the request.
That morning, business suddenly picked up. Both Stephanie and I were busy as we greeted people and made future appointments for new customers and ones that have called. When Stephanie’s first appointment showed up, she had to leave, leaving me on my own. I managed to get through another rush of customers, thanking everybody for being patient with me. A short while later the regular receptionist arrived and relieved me.
I went back to Stephanie’s station, with her putting me to work right away. The proper way to shampoo a client’s hair is shown to me and then repeated with the conditioner. As I wrapped a towel around her hair, Stephanie led her off and left me with another customer. As I turned to greet the customer, I did a double take. The customer had a lot of feminine features but is fairly flat chested.
I am intrigued but know that I had to keep quiet and perform my job as well as I could. I washed the customer’s hair, actually performing the process twice since the hair didn’t look clean after the first shampoo. Then repeated with the conditioner, finally wrapping a fresh towel around her head. I decided that the customer resembled a female more than a male, thus a female pronoun.
Since Stephanie was still busy, I asked her what she is having done. Her name is Stevie, and she wanted her split ends tidied up and given some blonde highlights. I told her that the highlights would be quite attractive for her. We chatted back and forth for about twenty minutes, with each of us giving the other a little background information.
Stephanie showed up, after getting her last customer under the dryer, and took both of us to her station. She started on Stevie while explaining to me what she is doing as she got rid of the split ends. Then she started on the highlights, explaining how they are done and how they brought out the true beauty of a hair style.
Stevie is kind of quiet as the conversation moved along, then asked me if I am training to be a stylist. Stephanie told her, no, just learning more about being a woman. Stevie looked at me; I am sure she has figured that I am a male dressed as a female, but there apparently is some doubt. I know my breasts are looked at several times, as she tried to put the pieces together.
I told Stevie that I am a male trying to see what life as a female is all about. Stevie’s jaw opened wide as she is obviously surprised at the revelation. She told me that she was suspicious, but looking at my appearance especially my breasts, she thought that is no way that I am a male masquerading as a female.
After Stephanie finished getting the foil in Stevie’s hair, then colored she moved us to an empty station so we could talk as the color processed under the plastic bag that holds in the moisture and humidity. Stevie and I talked for quite a while, with me explaining all about the relationship between myself and Ronnie. She is touched that I felt so much love of Ronnie that I would do this for her.
We also found out that Stevie is really a female, just never expressing her girly side unto now. A new male interest is helping her explore her femininity, and the Turnabout Gurl Salon is making it happen. She later confided in me. “I hope that they could do as good a job on me as they have done for you.”
As Stephanie is finishing Stevie, several more of her appointments showed up pushing me back into service. I washed and conditioned hair for another forty minutes, before finally catching up. When things slowed up again, I managed to clean up around several stations and the sinks. When Francine showed up with some lunch, I am grateful.
The work is not hard, but working in heels and a dress is not what I am used to. Francine and I started eating and was joined by Stephanie shortly after that. Stephanie is thrilled with my help, thanking me many times for bailing her out when it got busy. We chatted about some of the customers, what hairstyles they wanted and which ones picked out a style that actually looked good on them.
Lunch turned out to be salads with cold cuts and cheese sliced on top. It is filling, and satisfying. I was preoccupied with my thoughts when Stephanie asked me how I liked the job. I told her that I loved it, especially interacting with all the customers. Everybody seemed to accept me, and I felt that I am a part of something. I am told to fix my makeup and return to reception so that I could relieve the girl for lunch.
I went to the bathroom, not sure if I will ever get used to peeing like that. It is so messy, not like I have previously experienced as a male. So much to undo then redo just to be able to go to the bathroom. Of course, I have to fix my makeup, lipstick and mascara primarily. Then on to reception, Joan, the regular receptionist, is ready for her lunch and after finding out what customers were still in the salon, I took over.
I did remember to call Sylvia and tell her that I had made an appointment for her and when it is. That done I answered the phones for a while, making appointments as needed. I was amazed at the number of males using the services of the Turnabout Gurl Salon. That afternoon alone, I booked six appointments for the salon with male customers.
None of them are for regular male services. Two were for manicures, one for waxing, the other three are for wet sets. In between the phones, I checked out customers, after scheduling follow-up appointments for them. In this salon, the afternoons seemed to be quieter, I presume because of people working. Stephanie is handling things well, current with her customers and able to relax a bit in between.
So out comes my compact and lipstick, makeup repairs now in progress. I seem to have found a niche that I fit in very comfortably, only time will tell if it is the right niche.
I found a nail care magazine showing new colors and patterns for nail polish, which I browsed through. One particular nail art pattern of vines running along the edges and tips of the nail is quite attractive. The vines are in an apple green color while the background is a deep burgundy. Since the nail polish display was near the reception desk, I found the apple green color and started doing the vines on my nails.
I watched for customers that were almost done so that I would not get caught trying to check them out with wet nails. The phone I could handle, but I had to be extra careful. It took me awhile, but I managed to complete all ten nails. My hand is not very steady, but the little mistakes helped make the vines a little more realistic. Stephanie finished up her last customer for the day and came up with her to check out.
She glanced at my nails, to see what I was doing and smiled. “Have you been holding back on me, apparently, a young and experienced manicurist is working here, and no one knew?” I just figured she is kidding me; my nails looked pretty but not professionally done.
A few minutes later Francine appeared and wanted to see my nails. I tentatively put my hand out, not sure if I wanted to show her my nails. I am figuring that she would take one look and make fun of me. Instead, I received quite a shock; she is ecstatic at how they looked and started asking questions about how I did them, how long it took, and where did I get the idea from.
I showed her the article in the nail publication, then the polish I used. I quickly informed her that I would pay for the polish since it was my idea. She is not worried about who pays for the polish, but if I could do the vines on someone else. Before I could respond, she volunteered Stephanie, telling me to move over to one of the manicure stations. Stephanie is giggling at my nervousness, confiding in me that everything is going to be okay, just do your magic on my fingernails.
I sat down, opened the green polish and started on Stephanie’s nails. She had a medium pink polish, which I was sure would not look as good as a darker color. With all the attention, I am even more nervous, but being able to use both hands to do the work I squeaked by barely. Since the effect is not as good as on my nails, I moved over to the polish rack and retrieved a dark brown polish.
Going back to Stephanie’s nails I had highlighted the stems of the vines with a shadow of brown along the stem thus making the vines stand out a little. Then a brown base is drawn along the bottom of the nail. Not all the way across the nail, just a small area at the bottom where the vine ran up to the cuticle. As I worked, Stephanie asked where I learned to do the nails.
My response is that I saw the article and wanted to see what it would look like on my nails. I got the polish and started drawing the vines. Both Stephanie and Francine looked at me and asked if I could do this for other customers. I replied that I probably could, but I would prefer to practice some before I worked on other women.
Francine told me to go to her office, taking one of the portable manicure stations with me and practice. We have some dummy hands that cosmetologists use for training, and you can practice on them. Practice the vines and any other design you want, but let Stephanie or me see the result before you start again.
I asked about my duties at the reception desk but am told this is more important than being a receptionist. I tried to ascertain what they have in mind, but am just told to get busy and practice, practice, and then practice some more. I am a little confused, why this is taking priority over my duties as a receptionist. I did as I am told on the dummy hands, trying to perfect the look.
A burgundy nail polish as a base, then painting the vines from the base of the nail along one edge then towards the center of the tip. I had found a small brush, presumably what a technician uses for nail art, to apply the green vines. It allowed me to make a more delicate and smaller vine which made the effect more dramatic.
Then I tried a light pink polish to accent the stems of the vines, remembering how I had used the brown to do the same on the lighter shade of pink on Stephanie’s nails. With the petite brush, I was able to create a leaf or two along the vine which added to the look. When I finished, I took the dummy hand to show the girls.
Stephanie had a customer at the sinks, so I went to Francine’s office. I knocked then entered as she got up from her desk and came over. She took one look at the hand and got on the phone. A few moments later she was talking to her manicurist, Rose, who was off today. She had been shopping at the mall, and Francine asked her if she could stop by on the way home.
She said she could and would be there in ten minutes. I asked Francine what was this all about. She wanted to wait until Rose got there but told me that what I am doing is very good for an experienced manicurist and since I have had no training it is exceptional. Being a female for the last four days, my first thought do I still have a job here. That was conveyed to Francine she just giggled and laughed telling me that having a job is assured, just maybe not what I had before.
Rose arrived about fifteen minutes later since traffic had been unbearable. We were still in Francine’s office, and Stephanie has just joined us. Francine showed everybody the practice hand and asked their opinion. Rose took one look and suggested that she hire her on the spot at whatever salary she desired. Then Stephanie’s and my nails were shown to Rose; she was amazed that such a talent is not working somewhere.
Stephanie giggled some knowing that I had done the work but kept quiet. Francine pointed over to me, telling Rose that I am the one that had done all the work. I was barraged with questions. “Where did you go to school, who did you study with, and what salons have you worked at?” I kept quiet since I hadn’t the slightest idea what to say in response.
The silence is deafening. Finally, Stephanie telling Rose that I am the receptionist. Rose mouthed a few words, most of them indistinguishable, then sat down in a chair. Francine went into business mode, wanting to know if Rose has any idea how they could get me nail technician license in as short a time as possible. Rose asked if I had any training in cosmetology, my reply not a bit.
She next asked me how I am with technical materials, my reply that I have a computer consulting business. She smiled then hurried out of the office. A few minutes later she returned carrying a textbook and handed it to me. “As of now, you have a week to memorize everything in this book good enough to take a test.” She looked at me waiting to see what I would say. I told her it should not be too much of a problem, but could I ask questions if I have any problems? A definite yes is her answer.
Then Rose told Francine that there is an old regulation still on the books at the cosmetologist licensing board for a waving of the 700-hour student course if the applicant had a thorough knowledge of the requirements if they could pass the test and show exceptional skills in the practical test. They decided that would be the course of action over the next few days.
Since it is getting late, I am reminded about the textbook, and how important it is to absorb all of the materials in the shortest possible time. I joked with them that I am willing, but Ronnie might have other ideas about what I should be studying at night. Francine told me that she would speak with her since this is very important.
It is suggested that I take some polish home, enough to do Ronnie’s nails so that she could see what I am capable of doing. With all of my supplies, I am pushed out of the door, being reminded that I am to go straight home.
As I am heading home, the afternoon’s adventures are being played over and over in my mind. Why all of the fuss over me doing some nail art, surely it couldn’t be that big a deal, to paint some designs on someone’s nails. With me obsessing over my nail art, I failed to see the blinking blue lights behind me until I heard the siren. Oh, shit is my first thought, then thankful for the salon getting me some kind of I.D. I pulled over to the side of the road, putting my emergency blinkers on.
I waited for the officer to come to the side window and then asked her if I had done something wrong. No response from her. She asked to see my driver’s license, registration, and proof of insurance. I retrieved the items from my purse and handed them to the officer. She took them back to the patrol car, apparently checking them against the state’s computers. She returned some minutes later, handing them back to me, saying that a car similar to mine had been recently reported stolen, and they were checking all cars of this make and model.
She thanked me for my cooperation and wished me a pleasant afternoon. She added that I am much better looking as a female than as a male. Before I could respond, she told me that the computer showed that I have been issued a temporary driver’s license and flashed a picture of Eric on her screen. She did tell me that my license plate number is being broadcast as have already been checked, so I shouldn’t be stopped again.
I thanked her for her comment and courtesy. As she turned to return to her patrol car, she asked where did you get those nails done at, they are gorgeous. I told her that I was the artist and gave her a card for the salon. I finished making my way home, though I did pay a lot more attention to what I am doing and who is behind me in traffic, though. At one time there, I thought she would have to summon an ambulance to restart my heart, for it was touch and go for several minutes. A short time later I arrived home, still a few minutes earlier than I am supposed to be.
I retrieved the dinner from the slow cooker, made us some salads that I put back into the refrigerator to chill, and set the table. Laundry is nearly caught up, so I ran the vacuum over the downstairs area, then dusted the living room. I decided that I should try to master the textbook until Ronnie arrives home.
The textbook is fairly straightforward, the first part mainly about hygiene and anatomy. I had a couple of courses in college dealing with anatomy before I decided that being a doctor is not in the cards. That part is mainly a refresher for me. When I heard Ronnie come through the front door, I am surprised that I had managed to get through about a quarter of the book.
I greeted her with a passionate kiss, then led her to the dining room. I held her chair for her, then slipped out to the kitchen to retrieve the salads. As I placed her salad in front of her, she reached for my hand to look at my nails. Apparently, Francine had called her about me doing nail art. She gushed about the designs and wanted me to tell her how this came to be.
I told her about the magazine and how I wanted to see if I could do the design on my nails. I was just trying to kill some time, to stay busy at doing something. Several times as we ate our salads, she would look at my nails again. Finally, she saw how nonchalant I was about this, deciding to clue me in about my ability.
She asked if I remembered her having some designs painted on her nails a few months ago. Thinking back I did remember her having some flowers on her nails for a time, but that was some time ago. Ronnie told me that her nail art and extensions cost her nearly $100. The nail art was about $60 of that total. Now take an average of one customer per hour, times that $60 total and that manicurist makes between $400 and $600 dollars a day. The salon does get a cut, but $2000 a week is not bad for wages.
My mouth is open as Ronnie told me all of this. Now I am getting why the girls are interested in my playing around. Then Ronnie told me the clincher, her manicurist although good could not even visualize such a design like I had attempted much less do the work.
I was quiet during the rest of dinner; I played with the food on my plate but eating very little of it. Ronnie did approve of my menu, eating everything on her plate. I got several gropes as I tried to bring her food to her, with two plates in my hands it is hard to defend myself or slip away from roving hands.
I managed to tell Ronnie that I am studying the textbook as requested but not sure what Francine had in mind for me. I just hoped that I would be able to retain my job with her. Ronnie assured me that my job was secure, maybe more so that I imagined.
I cleared the table off, getting the dishes washed and put away in a minimum of time. We have enough of tonight’s dinner left for tomorrow, so that is one task for tomorrow completed. I decided on some frozen Butternut Squash as a side dish, taking them out to unthaw. With the kitchen’s counters cleaned and polished I made my way to the living room.
Ronnie had changed into her nightie and is laying on the couch pointing to a place on the floor near her. I slipped out of my heels, then sat and leaned up against the couch. She ran her fingers through my hair, then played with my earrings for a while. The earrings were a gift from Stephanie when she was bored one day, I had protested when she wanted to do them, but as you see it was in vain. So far only studs, but I liked what Stephanie wore most of the time, long chandelier earrings that tickled the neck.
She wanted to know about my day, did I enjoy the work. I confided in her that it was wonderful. I loved the clothes, the people I got to meet and talk with, but most of all the comradery of having close female friends. They cared for me, not as a customer, but as a close personal friend. I thanked her for forcing me to enter into this arrangement, for without it I would be missing out on so much of what she is. She reminded me that it was not forced on me, a request from her to experience life as she lives it a better phrase.
I turned around, getting on my knees and moved her nightie up a little so I could show her my appreciation in a more personal way. Three orgasms later she begged me to stop for a while, I slowed down a little but teased her for another orgasm although it took me twenty minutes to extract it from her.
She suggested I study some more, and I went to retrieve my textbook. I think she just wanted me occupied so she could calm down some. On the way back Ronnie told me to grab her hairbrush from her purse and come sit on the floor. As I read the text she brushed my hair; it felt so good. I not sure if a human can purr, but I am making sounds indicative of that as she played with my hair. I did manage to get through half of the book before quitting for the night, although she was not brushing my hair all that time.
Finally, an hour and a half later we decided to call it a night. As we headed upstairs, I grabbed my bag of supplies and told Ronnie I could probably squeeze her in since I had a last minute cancellation. She gave me a little giggle, asking if she would have to pay extra for this after hour service. I laid her on the bed and made myself comfortable next to her while holding one of her hands.
I cleaned the nail thoroughly, then applied the base coat. I moved to her other hand and repeated the process. Then two coats of polish, a metallic silver shade, since that color will match her clothing choices for tomorrow. Then I took the green polish and started with the vines crawling up the side of her fingernail. I added the brown shadow to the vines then painted some small delicate pink flowers to the tips of the vines.
Ronnie watched with awe as I did her nails. Several times she complimented me on my ability, making sure that I have not been a manicurist in a past life.
With the excuse that she could not mess up her nails, I was able to play a little more, concentrating on her nipples. Several times she would make a move, but I told her no-no, not until we are sure your nails are dry. It worked for a while, but she finally became frustrated and attacked me with a vengeance. I received as good as I gave till we finally gave out and snuggled together. As I lay there staring at the ceiling, I thanked my lucky stars for ending up in this predicament.
It seems that Ronnie and I are so much closer, the relationship between us, more comfortable. I for one appreciate her much more than before, our love for each other more genuine, not storybook romantic. I am now eager to get home to do things for her, to care for her, to love her; something I hardly thought of before much less did anything about. With thoughts of nail polish, nipples, and kisses I finally fell asleep.
I definitely do not like mornings, once up and with a cup of coffee, I can handle them, but the first thing as I wake I want to scream. Luckily for me, Ronnie is already in the bathroom, and I managed to get to the kitchen. With the coffee started, I remembered the leftovers from last night for dinner, then sat at the breakfast bar to get the needed caffeine into my system.
The leftover roast with the Butternut Squash would be great for dinner. I decided a salad would be an appropriate side dish, with maybe some homemade rice pudding a suitable dessert. I checked the laundry, but it is at an acceptable level until tomorrow.
I heard Ronnie moving around upstairs, so I headed for the bathroom. I nearly made it but am ambushed by Ronnie as I made my way into the bedroom. She pushed me up against the wall and tried to probe the deepest regions of my throat without any remorse. I love the attention, but I have to go, I ducked a little and managed to slip out from the grip and made a mad dash for the bathroom, with Ronnie hot on my trail.
Ever since the additions of the female body parts, I have been much more submissive. As a male, I would love to be kissed, but would quickly return the kiss in an aggressive manner. Now due to my sex change, I just surrender to the kiss, but without the masculine response involved. I am content to be pursued, to be caressed, and to be fondled as a female as it feels so good, the necessary food for a female soul.
I did manage to make the safety of the bathroom, and it seemed like the stream would last forever. I wiped myself, still a little weird to have to do it this way, but every day it was becoming a little more normal to my mind. As I am brushing my teeth and cleaning my face, I thought about how the change has affected our relationship.
We seemed to be much more affectionate with each other and willing to do that something special for our partner. Also, it is often just fun to chase each other or see if we can probe each other’s throat looking for a new way to the Far East. That never happened between Eric and Veronica, I wished that something like that would be possible, but knew that Eric would never relax enough so that could be possible.
The times Ronnie has brushed my hair, a special treat that would never have happened between Eric and Ronnie. Last night when I did Ronnie’s nails, a time when I could do something special for her, to show her my love definitely a feat never to be done by Eric.
While Ronnie is getting her coffee, I found some clothes for today, making a mental note to find some new outfits for later in the week and the start of next. After makeup, my hair needed to be fussed with, I managed but barely as the girls at the salon could do so much better. I realized that I would have to get up to speed about taking care of and styling my hair since I would not have the expert help all the time.
I managed to gather everything up and made my way to my car, today being the second day that I drove myself. It is a very different feeling driving as a male versus as a female. Everything is so much more sensuous. My arm brushing against a breast, and a pleasant feeling spreads from my breast. My stockinged legs rubbing against each other is more than pleasant, an erotic overload for a mind under stress. A skirt forcing my thighs together closer than normal is also a turn on. Surprisingly, yesterday I didn’t notice these differences, maybe the first day I was too excited to notice the changes.
Sometimes it seems that a female body is just one large erogenous zone, to be stimulated for both parties benefit. The movements that the female uses to perform her normal daily functions are more fluid, more stimulating to her senses and totally erotic. When I sat in the car this morning, placing my butt on the seat and then swinging my legs and body into the car, it just felt wonderful somehow. My legs touching, the slip rubbing over my panties as I swiveled in the seat, way too many sensations for my mind to process and deal with.
I know a lot of the sensations resulted from the fact that all of this is so new to me, but to be constantly stimulated in some way sure messes with the male mind. I did reach the salon without having an orgasm or an accident, although it was touch and go for a minute or two. Francine was up front when I arrived asking me if things have settled down at home yet.
I let out a big sigh, telling her that I wish it would. Then asked her how a female lives with all the sensations that her body produces. She suggested that we adjourn to her office for that discussion, with me grabbing another coffee on the way. We sat on the small couch, and she asked me to clarify my question. I told her that almost every touch and rub seemed to cause an overload in my mind.
The feelings resulting from these actions are so erotic, causing my nipples to harden, and my pussy to get moister, a feminine reaction for sure. Then you have the waves of pleasure that overcome my body from time to time making my mind melt like it is goo. Her smile told me most of what I am interested in knowing. I am somehow behaving exactly like a woman would. These feelings and emotions along with their physical manifestations matched a female’s in many ways.
I asked her how much of what they have done to me could be causing some of this. The moisture in the vagina, the hardening of the nipples are due to the prosthetics, but all the rest is a result of your mind, is her answer to my inquiry. She was quiet as she figured how to say what is on her mind. Everyone here at the salon has mentioned that your personality is that of a female. When you first came to us, we did see the male Eric, although looking back it is most likely a façade that you often used to hide the real you.
A few rough edges still exist, but you are not a typical male in looks or actions. I am asked how many men that I know would even consider portraying a female for two months because their fiancée wanted them to see what they had to go through. I blushed red at that since I had succumbed to the deal a little too easily, most of my male friends would never have even talked about it.
Before I could convict myself of unmanly behavior, Francine also told me that is why Ronnie loved me. A good balance of male and female characteristics that made me the person that I am. Francine confided in me that she believed I would change some more in the next two months as I find who the real me is.
She told me that a lot of males over analyzed things trying to lay the blame on someone or something instead of just living life as it is presented to us. You love Ronnie, and you want to care for her, don’t worry about what others say, just do it. As I thought rambled through my head, I asked Francine if after the two months, would I still be able to work at the salon as a manicurist.
Her smile lit up her face, as she came around the desk to hug me. Her reply surprised me as I am informed that she has no intention of allowing me to leave her employment now or in the future. I feel that you are more like a sister to me than a customer. I can see a side of you that has been hidden for years and is struggling to break out. Now that we have handled all the emotional issues this morning you need to get to work.
Stephanie showed up asking me to follow her. I was led to one of the treatment rooms, and Stephanie told me that I would be practicing my nail art today on the other beauticians. I am to start with her, and as the other technicians finished, they would come by for their turn. Each was to receive a full manicure with nail art of the technician’s choice. Don’t worry about the designs; this is like a classroom experience getting you the practice and confidence that you need.
I started on her nails cleaning them, then doing her cuticles. A coat of base coat then three coats of polish followed by the nail art. Then two coats of a high luster topcoat to seal the nail art on the nail. I did flowers on her hands in various colors and sizes. She was obviously pleased since she went to show Francine right away. That is how the remainder of the day went as I worked my way through all of the technicians.
I managed to do flowers, vines, stars, smiley faces, and even some cute little kitties. Everyone seemed to be happy, and with all of them sporting nail art the customers asked quite often where they could get their nails done like that. The decision was made to start taking appointments for next week, allowing me time to get my license. Before the day is out, I had twenty-three appointments for nail art for the following week.
Rose, her regular manicurist is my last person to practice on, and I am literally shaking as she sat down. Doing the nails on the other technicians is one thing but to do them on Rose, who regularly did this for a living is another thing entirely. She saw my apprehension, telling me just to do my thing since she seldom gets a free manicure, so she is just going to relax and enjoy the experience.
I cleaned off her nails, then checked her cuticles before I applied a base coat to her nails. I asked her what color she wanted, but she insisted that I pick the color. With her brunette hair, I decided a bolder color might look better. I decided on a deep red polish, almost a burgundy in color. Three coats of polish were applied; then I started on her nail art. I was, at first, going to do the vines, and then thought maybe something different.
I started doing a Victorian lady in a voluminous dress, painted in shades of pink and white. This is done on her middle finger of each hand with the lady facing away from Rose when her hand is extended. Then on the other fingers I did a high heel, a corset, a costume mask, and for the thumb, a ladies face with an up do. Rose never said anything during the whole manicure, watching what I am doing but never commenting.
I was afraid that I had messed up somehow, since Rose is one of the friendliest technicians in the salon, talking with everybody at the drop of a hat. She has not said a word since I started, so when I finished before she could berate me, I told her that I would take it off right away. She pulled her hands back, telling me that I will do no such thing. About that time Francine and Stephanie came up to the station, wanting to see what I had done.
Rose told Francine that I had wanted to remove my nail art right away from Rose’s hands and that I needed to be straightened out. Francine is giggling before Rose finished with her statement, asking me why I would want to remove my creation. I told her that Rose had not said a word during my manicure, so I figured that it is not worthy of her, so I wanted to remove it so I would not offend Rose.
Rose came around the table and hugged me tightly, whispering in my ear that the nail art is awesome, and nobody is going to remove it from her fingernails until she could get another appointment with the artist that did it. The reason for her silence is that she is left speechless as my skill and artistry. I have never seen anybody capable of your level of work, and you don’t even have your license yet.
She wanted to know if I had the textbook memorized yet; I responded that I am three-quarters finished with it, but certain romantic interests have occupied my time for longer than anticipated. One more day and I should be through all of the material. When ready she would go with me to take the test and apply for my license.
After doing Rose’s nail art, I did manage to find a little time to shop for some new outfits for me at the salon. In fact, several of her associates that work the clothes section helped pick out clothes for me while I am in the dressing room trying on the clothes. I didn’t want to take an advantage of Francine and only picked about three outfits with accessories to take home.
It was coming up on quitting time, so I started cleaning up my station then gathering up my things I hugged everybody and started to the car. As I approached the car, I noticed that the back seat is full of boxes and bags. I looked in a few of them and walked back into the salon. I walked straight to Francine’s office and told her that someone had filled my car with clothes.
She smiled, then asked if the clothes are not to my liking, I told her that they looked like the ones that I had tried but decided that it is too much for now. Her simple reply is then I see no problem though you do need to get going since you should get all of those clothes hung before you start dinner for Ronnie. I started to protest, but I am shushed and told to get home.
As I made my way back to the car, my eyes are watering and by the time I got to my car I am sobbing. I sat in the car for a time to try and get control of my emotions; everybody is so nice to me, and it left me feeling so inadequate. I felt that trying to return the items would be frowned upon, so I decided just to accept the gift and try to figure a way to repay her for her kindness.
Did I mention that my emotions were off the chart, I could cry at the drop of a hat and anything more serious usually got uncontrolled sobbing? Maybe this being a female is affecting me in other ways than just my appearance.
From the look of all the bags and boxes, I most likely will be in her debt for the rest of my life. I made my way home, and then it took me fourteen trips to move all the boxes and bags into the bedroom. Dinner preparation is first, and then after I had got it cooking, I would try and get the clothes hung up and folded in drawers.
When Ronnie made it home, she came looking for me, finding me in the bedroom hanging clothes. She asked if I won the lottery, and if so would I be willing to share in the winnings. I broke into tears again as I told her they are a gift from Francine, and I am so undeserving. She comforted me and helped wipe a few tears from my face.
She knew Francine is a good friend, but wanted me to realize that the gift of clothes is so much more. She cares about you, finds you are a true girlfriend and wants you to enjoy life as a female for a while, maybe forever. You don’t see the things that I and a lot of other females see in you. Your tenderness, naivety, caring, excitement, and joy that you exude when you are dressed as a female.
I saw it in you when you were a male, but since you have acted and dressed as a female everything is so much more intense. The fact that you care so much for me doing what so few males would ever do means a lot to me. Now that is handled will you allow me to borrow some of the clothes, they are so cute, and you can’t possibly wear them all at once. That remark said as she made her way into my closet, with the OMG’s started as she is taking in all the ones that I have already hung.
I received the biggest hug; then she whispered in my ear that she is never going to let me wear another stitch of male clothes for the rest of my life. In fact, with such a wardrobe she will probably marry me since it would be foolish to let a female with so many clothes stay single. Besides it is an unwritten law that girlfriends and significant others can borrow their spouse’s clothes without obligation or charge.
I dragged her to the kitchen before the meal ruined, still crying a little at the kindness shown to me by Francine. Ronnie took a tissue and wiped my eyes, telling me that I had to redo my makeup after dinner since most of it is on the tissues. We ate what I had prepared, the rice pudding I had prepared a big hit with her. She finished two bowls of it, probably would have had another bowl if I hadn’t removed the bowl from the table.
I washed the dishes, cleaned the kitchen and started a load of laundry before I headed to the bedroom. Ronnie has been busy hanging the remaining clothes in my closet while removing all of my male clothes. I gave her a wary look, but she assured me that there is no place in her life for Eric. Erica is fun, caring, beautiful, passionate, but most importantly Erica is the true me.
As I broke out in sobs again, she reassured me that Erica is the real person here, Eric just a façade that appeared once in a while. She loved me for who I am deep inside and that is as Erica. We are interrupted by the phone, Ronnie answered it and then handed the phone to me, telling me that it is my mom.
I answered in my feminine voice, saying hi and asking her how she is. There is silence for a minute and then she asked if something has changed. I asked her if she wasn’t busy for lunch tomorrow, that we needed to talk about some things. She tried to get answers from me then, but I told her tomorrow would be better. We agreed to eat a restaurant a little over a block from the salon at one o’clock for lunch. I told her all is well with me, but we had to talk about some things, so I would meet her there at one.
Ronnie wanted to know where we are going to eat at, and if I wanted her there to help in the explanation. She reminded me that the current situation was her doing, no need for me to go it alone. I asked Ronnie if she has told her mother, she smiled but declined to elaborate any further. My reply is surely you are not withholding secrets from your loving and beautiful soon to be wife. Her giggle is all I received in reply, maybe after my mother is informed she will fill me in on what she has told her Mom.
The restaurant is a favorite of the stylists at the salon as the food is awesome, and the booths are situated so that there is quite a bit of privacy. I don’t think I will have any problem with Mom, but best not take any chances, just the same. That evening passed with nothing much happening; I had finally completed studying the textbook, tomorrow I can tell Rose I am ready for the exam. I just hope I can pass it without a lot of difficulties. According to Rose, there are procedures in place so that the exam can be taken again for the students that do not pass it the first time.
I went in early to the salon, wanting to tell Francine that I am ready for the exam. Francine is thrilled, dollar signs appearing in her eyes, as she hoped I passed the exam first time out. Rose is right behind her, getting to the salon about ten minutes later. She told Rose that I am ready for the exam before I could figure out what to say. It seems that everyone is more excited about me getting my license than I am.
Well, Rose told me to get my brushes and some polish, and we were off. I am figuring on taking the exam later in the week, but Rose said there is no time like the present. We arrived at the state Cosmetology Board twenty minutes later, and Rose introduced me to the official that is going to test my skills. I am given a paper exam and seated in a separate room. There are about a hundred questions on the exam, but none that gave me any problem.
It took me about forty minutes to complete the exam; then I went back to the office to turn it in. The examiner is surprised I have finished so soon but graded the test; he went over it again to make sure he hadn’t made any mistakes. He then asked one of the secretaries to come in and instructed me to give her a manicure and apply nail art if I so wished. Apparently he and Rose had been talking about my skills. I started on her nails; they were in fairly good shape since I imagined she got quite a few free manicures in her job.
It didn’t take long to complete the basic manicure, although I made a point to be extra careful not to make any procedural mistakes. I asked her what kind of nail art she is interested in; she is quiet for a minute trying to think what would look good and what would make it more challenging for me. She decided on kittens since she is a cat lover. Rose had told me one time that very few nail artists did animals including cats or dogs.
The lady has larger hands than normal for a female, so I had plenty of nail area to utilize. I painted a mother cat on her middle finger, a Persian with white fur with gray accents, nursing a kitten with just the feet and the lower body of the kitten showing from under the mother’s fur. On each of her other fingers, a kitten is playing with a ball or a string in different poses all in the same color as the mother except for the thumb.
On the thumb, I painted two kittens, one dark gray with white feet, and the other a calico kitten with a toy mouse in his mouth. I noticed that the secretary had looked at the examiner several times during the manicure, but nothing is said. I am worried because I thought I had made a mistake and would end up falling to get my license. I finished up the nail art and protected it several times with a high gloss top coat.
I picked up my tools, making sure to wash out the brushes with acetone before I packed them up. The examiner nodded to the secretary, and she went back to her office to type something up. I just sat there, not knowing what to say or do. Finally, the examiner spoke to me telling me that he has never had a student applying for a license like me. I almost broke out in tears, but Rose grabbed my hand and squeezed it reassuring me. He saw how the wording was upsetting me and told me not to worry, my skills are exceptional, in fact, they were better than ninety percent of the manicurists holding licenses presently.
The secretary returned with my license in her hand, and he signed it, then passed it to me. I was thrilled, I am now legal, to do my nail art for the salon. The secretary asked me if I have a job yet, and Rose spoke up. She will be exclusively working at the Turnabout Gurl Salon and already has appointments scheduled for the next few weeks. She handed me her card and asked to be given regular appointments for her nails every three to four weeks. Preferably late Saturday if possible, Friday night if Saturday is not available.
The examiner also added his card, telling me to make appointments for his wife Beverly for the same time periods. He complimented me on my skill and ability, telling me that he was sure that I would have a profitable career in the business. I got a hug and kiss from the secretary, as she told me that I would have a lot more business as soon as she shows her friends her nails.
We made our way back to the car, it is a little after ten when we arrived back at the salon, and Francine greets me at the door. I beamed a thousand-watt smile and showed her my license. She handed it to the receptionist and told her to get it framed. The receptionist told me I had four more appointments scheduled in the last fifteen minutes, and then is interrupted again as the phone rang. I made the presumption that I am going to be busy, maybe a little too busy.
It was a little after eleven, so I excused myself and used one of the vacant rooms to reapply my makeup and make sure my own nails are immaculate. When Francine came by looking for me, she is surprised that I was doing this myself. I am told firmly that when we have something special that comes up, the other stylists will pitch in and make sure I am at my best. I told her that since lunch is with my Mother, I felt like I needed the preparations myself to show her that I am her daughter, for the present and that I am capable of performing as such.
Francine understood but sent in Stephanie to make sure all things were perfect, just in case. I received you can go now from Stephanie, although she did reapply my lipstick again, I think just to prove that she is still needed. Francine met me at reception and wished me luck, telling me that the bill has been handled, order whatever my Mom and I wanted. I started to protest but was told to behave and say hi for her to my Mom.
I walked the block to the restaurant, hoping I would be early before Mom could get there. No such luck, as Mom is waiting for me. The hostess asked if I had reservations and I told her yes they were in the name of the Turnabout Gurl Salon and my name is Erica. I glanced over at Mom, but she isn’t paying any attention to the hostess or me. I gently grasped her arm and told her that they are ready to seat us.
She looked at me and then recognition happened. OMG, you are gorgeous, was all she said but followed me as the hostess sat us in one of the most private booths. I asked for a bottle of white wine, and we are left alone with the menus. I am peeking at the menu but knew what I was going to have, the necessity to keep my hands occupied a prime objective suddenly. Mom asked what is good, and I suggested the chicken salad with avocado. The house dressing is a sweet ranch dressing that matched the salad to perfection.
After our order is taken Mom asked me to spill the beans, but first she wanted to know where Ronnie fitted into all of this, and second are we still getting married. I started at the beginning, telling her each episode of the story, then as I am using my hands to describe something to her, she noticed my nails. Well, that got her started, wanting to know where I had them done, and what was I charged for the work. The fact that her former son is sitting in front of her in a dress with boobs and heels is now a secondary concern. It seems that some things are more important, nails in particular much more important than a male that has changed gender.
I told her that I have connections at the salon where I worked as a receptionist, and I could get her an appointment, maybe even as soon as after lunch, but it would cost her. I told her that a manicurist at the salon I worked at did the nails, she is thrilled. She asked if I could call the salon now and get her an appointment as soon as possible.
I took out my cell phone and called the salon; Stephanie answered the phone, and I asked her to make an appointment with the nail artist. She knew that I am at lunch with my mother and presumed that I had not told her that I have done the work. She told me that I could squeeze her in at two-fifteen, but the rest of my day is booked solid. I asked her when that had happened; she informed me that the phone has been steady with requests for nail appointments with the new manicurist.
You and Rose are booked solid for the next six weeks. Francine had decided when the calls kept coming in that Rose would do the manicures, and I would only do nail art. Rose is thrilled with that arrangement, and the salon is now booked for manicure related services for weeks. I ended up telling Mom that I got her an appointment with the manicurist for two-fifteen.
When we had finished with the information on my nails, Mom wanted to hear the rest of the story. This time, I managed to get through the remainder of the story without any more interruptions. She asked if I was going to remain as a female after the two months, I told her that is Ronnie’s decision. The next statement surprised me the most; she wanted to know if the wedding is still on who is going to wear the wedding gown. My answer came from somewhere, but I swear that I have never contemplated the answer before.
I told her that if Ronnie would marry me that I would be thrilled to wear the gown and be her wife. As I finished the statement, I heard a clearing of the throat behind me and turned to see Ronnie standing there with her mother. She leaned down to kiss me, whispering in my ear that she would hold me to that promise.
Ronnie made the introductions, since she has previously met my Mom, and I received a gigantic hug from her mother. She told me a little birdie had told her that I was taking real good care of her daughter and for that, she is very appreciative. Grace, Ronnie’s mother told me that I am more beautiful than Ronnie has described, and so nice.
Then she noticed my nails, and we went through the whole spiel again. She also begged for an appointment with the manicurist that created those lovely nails so I called Stephanie again and asked if Rose could help with the basic manicure so that both moms could be worked in. Rose was close by and agreed, but told me that as soon as lunch is over, I needed to get back to the salon.
Ronnie and her Mom had already eaten, so they joined us for some wine and exotic tea as we ate. Everybody seemed to accept me as just another female, but I wondered about the lesbian relationship thingy if both Ronnie and I are both presenting as females. Ronnie saved the day, by informing both mothers that we will live as two females in our union, whether society blesses us or condemns us. My mother spoke right out saying that there is nothing wrong with two women living together, enjoying the rights of marriage without all the crap that comes from typical heterosexual relationships.
I looked at her, wondering where that came from; she smiled then told me a secret about her marriage. When she conceived me, she was having sex with my dad, but also having regular sex with a female roommate that was so cute and loving. If it hadn’t been for her getting pregnant, she would have selected the female roommate to share her life with instead of my dad. She loved my Dad, but Cynthia is her true love, a much better choice for a lifelong union.
She told me after my Dad had died in that car crash, she went looking for Cynthia again to see what she had done with her life. It turns out not much, so they are going to meet in a couple of days to see if the fires still smolder between them. I looked at my mother with mouth agape, a lesbian, and my mother in love with another woman. She pushed my mouth closed but added that she would find the time to help me shop for a beautiful wedding gown, her treat for a daughter that has finally embraced her true self.
Besides, you need the practice so you can be my bridesmaid in my wedding to Cynthia. I started to mention that she had just said if the fires were still smoldering, but she quickly replied without any thought that her fire is smoking hot, it is just Cynthia that might need a little stoking. We did manage to finish our lunch, and I signed the check, and we headed back to the salon. Ronnie had to go back to work, so the rest of us walked back to the salon.
Stephanie met us at the door and escorted Ronnie’s mother over to Rose’s manicure station. I had found out what nail art she might be interested in so that we could agree on a base polish that would be an adequate background for the nail art. I took my mother over to my station and started on her nails. She is very quiet as she watched me work on her nails.
I removed her old polish, then worked on her cuticles, Mother’s eyes are riveted to what I am doing, you are the nail artist aren’t you seeped out of her mouth. I pointed to my license hanging on the wall behind my station and told her it is something I found out that I am good at, similar to finding out that I liked to dress like a woman and care for my loving future wife, Ronnie.
I quickly got her nails prepped and started on the base polish; she is interested in the vines like I had on my nails, but she asked if I could do a few more flowers on her nails. I complied as I transformed her nails into a miniature vine-garden with flowers peeking out from behind the vines. She is mesmerized by the art watching intently as I added every little flower and tendril of the vine. I finally finished, topping off her nail art with two coats of high gloss polish to protect the design.
She moved over to the adjoining chair so Ronnie’s mother could sit down. Grace sat down at my station, and I started on her nail art. She wanted stars and zodiac signs on hers, so I started on her middle finger with a shooting star blazing its way across the sky. Then several Zodiac signs on each of her other fingers with the ram, her birth sign on her thumb. Then little twinkling stars all around the sign a couple of them partially imposed over the ram’s horns. Then I went back over the nail art adding some glitter highlights to the stars and Zodiac signs. Two coats of high gloss to preserve the work and they are done.
They both tried to pay me, but I shushed them by threatening not to do their nails again if they continued with their efforts. I got big hugs from each, with my mother whispering in my ear that she is very proud of her daughter, suggesting that we go dress shopping this weekend. I mentioned that Ronnie had not accepted my proposal, Grace saying that she will if she knows what is good for her. Then she winked at me informing me that Ronnie had already told her that she is going to marry me; it was just more fun keeping me hanging.
My next appointment came in, and I had to return to work. The afternoon flew by as I am extremely busy. Rose doing the basic manicure made things much easier, and since both of us went from one customer to another, we had no time to contemplate our situation. Francine approached as I finished my last customer, wanting to know how I am doing. I let out a sigh but told her things could not be better. She asked about Mom if there was any trouble over my revelation, but I told her that Mom seemed to accept me for what I was. My plight and circumstances are overshadowed by my nail art, a fact that both Ronnie’s and my Mom seemed to be infatuated with.
Rose appeared, having just cleaned up her station and gave me a big hug and kiss. I asked what that was about, as she told me it is a partial payment for making her future secure and profitable. Before I came along, she was busy, but frequently had times that she is not busy. Now she is totally booked for the next sixteen weeks, not even having time to take a leisurely lunch, a fact that she is happy to endure. Besides you are getting to do something you enjoy, and Francine is getting rich off our efforts.
I smiled a little but wondered how much I would end up making as a nail artist. I asked Francine, she pulled up the salon’s employee worksheet and pointed to a figure at the bottom of the worksheet. I was told that it is what I made today, doing my thing. I was amazed, but then she flipped to a couple of worksheets later and showed me the figures. This figure is what you will make the first full week of your appointments here at the salon. I almost choked, it was three times higher than I had ever made as a male. Both Francine and Rose giggled at my reaction, then asked if getting my license was worth it. I didn’t say anything, but my grin seemed to convey my thought that it is well worth it. I tidied up my station, then grabbed my purse to leave.
On our way out, Francine took both Rose and me to the back and showed us a room that had been laying idle for quite some time. She showed us a picture of what she had in mind, to transform the room into our domain. She asked if we had any suggestions and if it would be alright with us if she performed the changes and moved us back to this room.
It would allow us more room and an area that our next customers could relax in as we finished up. We both agreed to the changes, with Francine telling us the changes are scheduled for this weekend, and we could occupy the room Monday. She is adding two more stylists since the business is increasing, and they would take over our two stations. Rose hugged me thanking me again for being such a great talent. I thanked her for all her help, and we exited the building.
The drive home was uneventful, and as soon as I was in the house, I became Suzy homemaker and started dinner. It was a one skillet meal, and I added a salad with fresh avocados and homemade dressing. Ronnie made it home a few minutes early giving me a sensuous kiss and a couple of gropes for good measure. Since we had met at lunch, she knew how my day had gone, but wanted to know if I am happy as her wife and lover. I told her in the best way that I could come up with as my tongue sought out the deep recesses of her mouth and my hands played with her nipples. I breathed in her ear and whispered that I loved her so much and could not wait for our marriage.
She dragged me toward the bedroom, telling me that there are some things that she is not waiting until we got married for, so come along and spread those legs as she pushed me down on the bed. Since I am wearing a dress, they would not be any way that I could postpone her attention if I wanted to, which I didn’t.
It was an interesting evening, one filled with lots of moaning and giggling. I did manage to keep my hubby content, with Ronnie left gasping and out of breath more than once. I also found a new erotic spot for her, when I lick and suck her fingertips she becomes quite restless. Add to that a little nipple play, and she is soon bucking like a wild horse. The clincher is when I ran my tongue up the palm of her hand, then nibbled her little pinky.
With that secret weapon, I knew that I had regained control of the situation. When she takes me past my limits with me pleading for her to stop, I now know what to do to bring it to a truce. I did employ the secret weapon twice that night; you know testing to make sure the results were not a fluke.
We both slip off into a dream like sleep smiles plastered on our faces, cuddled to each other in a lover’s embrace. The next morning I reluctantly untwine myself from a myriad of arms and legs to do my business, then slip into the shower. The water feels so good, the pulsating jet invigorating my body, helping me face another day, but I am reluctant to leave this little slice of heaven. You have to remember I have not consumed my daily ration of coffee yet.
I finally decide what I am going to wear, and then slip down to the kitchen to get breakfast. Ronnie is just crawling out from the covers, stumbling to the bathroom for her share of invigoration. Fresh orange juice, a cantaloupe cut into bite-sized bits, and two pieces of toast round out the menu for today. I looked for some dinner ideas in the freezer, but the pickings are thin, so I decide that tonight is take out night.
Sometime in the next couple of days, I am going to have to grocery shop whether I want to or not. Maybe today at lunch, I can get what I need and lose a few pounds at the same time. Missing lunch will help with the figure, and keep me at least only a few days behind in my work. I send my hubby off to work, groping her ass and nipples as I push her out the door. The expletive remarks heard on the other side of the door, do make me smile. That is what a wife is for, helping my hubby get her daily dose of frustration.
I gathered my things and head for the salon. I am actually looking forward to work, something I love to do, lots of new people to meet and talk with, and making a good living at the same time. Since this is Saturday, one of our busiest days, all of the technicians are already there, setting up their stations. Usually, our first appointment is eight o’clock, but when I arrive the clock over reception shown only seven-thirty. As I make my way into the salon, I see Rose already has a customer, then look at my printout and see I will have her to as soon as Rose finishes.
I get everything set up, and get a second cup of coffee, then get ready for a busy day. Rose’s customer come right over, telling me how excited she is to be getting nail art. I ask what she wants, her expression comical. You mean that I can actually choose what I want, that is fantastic.
After looking at my nails, she decides on vines but wants more flowers and thinner vines. With the first stroke of the brush, I start to create her nail art. Since she wants thinner vines, I spread out the tendrils along both sides of her nails with the flowers along the sides and a few flower buds on the tips of the nails. She seems enthralled by the nail art, watching every stroke of the brush. When I finish, I ask if she is satisfied with the design.
She gets that huge smile on her face, one that transforms her face into a giddy young female, who has just kissed her first boyfriend. She moves up to the front to let her nails dry thoroughly, then pay her bill. I notice two receptionists now at the front, both fairly busy. I start with my next customer when the first lady returns to hand me a twenty dollar tip. I try to decline, but she is adamant that I take it. She is going out with her husband to celebrate their twentieth wedding anniversary tonight. The nails will make it perfect, and I have already made an appointment for three weeks from now for my next manicure.
On through the day, males and females taking advantage of my art, I don’t remember the salon being this busy before. Lunch is just a power bar between customers; Diet Pepsi’s a constant on my manicure table. One thing for sure, I should be able to drop several pounds with this self-imposed diet. I get to my last customer at fifteen till three, a male who is dressed in short shorts and a cami. He is curious about me; I can tell he has a million questions but doesn’t know how to start.
“If you need to ask questions the only way you are going to obtain those answers is if you ask the first one.” She smiled a cute innocent smile that made you relax. She wanted to know how I got started and if I was out to my wife. She confessed to seeing my wedding rings, a ploy that Ronnie and I used to keep males from bothering us. Ronnie vowed to give me real ones once we got married. I told her the entire story, only slightly edited to fit the time restraints. A silhouette of lips and eyes is her request, stumped, at first; I began to see an image in my mind that I thought she might like.
I did lip prints on several of her nails, and then mascara lashes on several more. The remaining nails I combined both of those subjects and finely arched eyebrows, although all in a more subdued size. She was ecstatic at my work, tipping me thirty dollars for a forty dollar service. Stephanie had made it by a couple of times, noticing me really concentrating on my work. She asked if she might get a picture or two for their salon, maybe in exchange for a free service in the future.
Jackie was agreeable but wanted in exchange a weekly appointment with me instead. Rose and I already booked for several weeks ahead made that quite a request. I told Stephanie I would stay late on Monday night’s for Jackie to fulfill her request. With everybody in agreement, I cleaned up and put everything away. Rose had made her way to the reception desk to see my latest creation as Jackie was paying, then over to me.
“You just get better and better, that design is fantastic; I know you didn’t copy it from a magazine, I presume it was a spur of the moment creation from your imagination,” I confessed to Rose’s statement and then finished closing up. Francine came rushing out of her office, with Stephanie right behind. She wanted to know how I came up with that design; I told her it just came to me as I was trying to do what the customer wanted.
“Let’s walk to your car, I have a proposition for you, a financial reward for your efforts.” As we walked out of the salon, she explained her idea. Since most of their customers are other than female, this type of design is very feminine and girly, something most of her customers would indulge in. She wanted to do a promotion, a free nail art, based on variations on this design when they opted for a full or partial transformation.
In the salon, a full transformation ran about nine hundred dollars, partials from five hundred, no small change by any means. The promotion will help keep her other stylists busy, plus the talk as more of this particular design made its appearance would be excellent advertising in the future for the salon. I have enough markup in the transformation package to pay you sixty dollars for each nail art completed, your share.
I asked about Rose’s and my already heavily booked appointments, but Francine said they just would have to be patient to get the princess treatment. She didn’t say it, but when she uttered that phrase I knew that that name would be interjected into the advertising. I told her that would be fine; I will start working on variations of that particular design to assure that not every customer leaving the salon will be wearing that same design.
Francine had one other request of me. The Turnabout Gurl Salon has a website, never really done much with, but a site never the less. If a certain individual could find the time to peruse it and make suggestions, it would be appreciated. I told her it would cost her; I don’t do computer work for small change. She giggled, then handed me a file with all the pertinent information within. As soon as I opened it and saw who did the original setup, I knew not to expect much. The outfit has a reputation for overcharging for a very minimal site, one that is barely functional.
I made it home a little later than planned, but still enough time to handle dinner and do some basic house cleaning. Imagine a wife cleaning windows in the dining room in heels and dress, then add long manicured nails and you know that it had to be a scene from a Hollywood movie, not real life.
Ronnie made it home on time, and I greeted her at the door, this time, I was the one pushing my lips into hers. I had taken a deep breath before initiating the kiss, determined to live her breathless and horny. I succeeded, I think since I had to help support her until she regained her balance caused from weak knees. I laid her purse on the hall table and led her to the downstairs bath.
Once inside I removed most of her clothes, nibbling and licking any interesting nubs I found as I did so. I allowed her to use the toilet, standing back with a robe to slip into when she finished. Of course, some protruding objects, breast high, had to be smoothed out before the robe could be slid over her shoulders. I led her to the table, pulling out her chair as she is seated, then leaned and made sure she could hear any sound that I might make, checking out her ears with my tongue. Her goose pimples and shuddering from my actions confirmed my success in doing so.
I brought her tonight’s fare, simple salads with broiled chicken and homemade dressing. I had popped into the oven earlier a frozen bread, that just needed to be lightly cooked, and served it with garlic butter and melted cheese. The fact that there were only a few scraps on her plate when she finished told me that the dinner was adequate. Ronnie didn’t say much, but the looks that I was receiving spoke for her. I could see and feel the love that she had for me, a carbon copy of that I had for her.
I mentioned Francine’s idea and Ronnie was pleased. Quiet for a while; she suggested that I quit my business, she knew this is who I am and loved the work and friends. Besides you are making more here that you ever did before. That way I can take advantage of your love and caring a little more. She had some good news too that she soon forgot when I accosted her at the door. I smiled, it felt good to make her lose her train of thought like she has done for me many times in the last few days.
This afternoon the CEO of the company came to her office, made some small talk then asked her to accompany her. Down the hall, up a floor to the executive level then down another hall to a rather spacious office. Ronnie thought the worse, probably her being let go since other electronic companies were already laying employees off. She was led in and asked to sit on the couch at the corner of the office. Mary her CEO asked if she liked it here, and then what might she change to improve the efficiency of the company.
Ronnie hesitated then dove straight in, making several suggestions, very different than how things are being done now. Mary asked how she would implement these changes if allowed. Well, Ronnie never makes statements that have not had lots of thought in them, so she laid it all out. Mary was quiet for some time then suggested that Ronnie set in the chair behind the desk.
Ronnie reluctantly did so, and then Mary pushed the intercom button and asked April to come in. April was a fairly new hire that on occasion worked with Ronnie’s group. Mary told Ronnie that April is her secretary now, the company would authorize anything that she needed. April returned to her desk; then Mary asked if seventy thousand a year is adequate to start with as a salary. Before Ronnie could respond, Mary continued with three weeks’ vacation, a company car, and expense account for any travel needed.
Of course, Ronnie is delighted, but also scared. Mary asks if she and her spouse could attend a dinner with her and her significant other tomorrow night at their home. Ronnie agrees then remembers Erica. There might be a problem there; we will be delighted to accept, but Eric is in the middle of a thing, and will be unable to attend. Mary smiles, you just tell her that this is important, get out a pretty dress and heels and both of you be on time.
Ronnie said she set there for quite some time trying to figure out how she knew and what to do about it. Finally, Mary told her that Francine is a good friend, in fact, for nearly ten years. Francine is relaying a story of a lovely romantic couple deep in love, in fact, a manicurist who works there, a part of that couple.
Anyway, the name Erica got mentioned once, the name to ask for if you want phenomenal nail art. I made an appointment, and the nail art is fantastic, showing me her nails as she made the remark. During the appointment, the name Ronnie is mentioned, and I put two and two together and came up with four. I think both of you ladies will fit in just fine with us, so I will see you and your spouse tomorrow night at eight P.M. at our house. I will not take no for an answer, so dress pretty.
Mary asked if you have any questions about your new job, Ronnie sat there dumbfounded. You might want to read the email sent out a few minutes ago to all of the employees; it should answer the reminder of your queries. Ronnie got a hug and Mary left. Ronnie said that she set there for several minutes trying to figure out what happened, and then April came in with the printed email, laid it on her desk and asked if she needed anything else.
Ronnie told me that she is now vice president of research and development, dealing with over five hundred employees, and three locations. One here in Scottsdale, one in Northern California, and one outside Beijing, China. Along with her base salary, she will receive a share of corporate profits, and a share of patents developed under her tutelage.
I hugged her; this is what Ronnie has been working for since she started. The company is apparently aware of her potential and drive. Ronnie said she was so bubbly when she hit the front door, and then a certain wife attacked her and left her speechless. Ronnie confessed to forgetting all about the promotion until dinner is almost over. Her exact words are, I received a searing kiss, and my mind went blank.
I dug out a bottle of champagne, and we celebrated, Ronnie decided to turn in early since she has yet to come to terms with all that has happened. I told her I have wifely duties to perform; then I wanted to look at the company’s website. I will be up shortly after that. I did accompany her to the bedroom and undressed her, then helped her into her nightgown. A kiss on the forehead, since she is already in dreamland.
I headed to the kitchen, cleaning up the mess, then doing a load of clothes to keep abreast of the laundry. Then to the study to check out the website. It is appalling, nothing more than some general information, and a few pictures. I am able to log into the server to make changes with the information that Francine furnished.
I started with one of the pictures on the original website, enlarged it and used it as a background, then added a place to make appointments using email. I thought maybe this would be a good place to launch Francine’s idea about the transformation/nail art package. I scanned in the picture that Stephanie had taken at the salon of the nail art, explaining about the new promotion.
I went into great detail of what the deal consisted of and the variations possible with the nail art. I decided to call it the Princess promotion, available only for a short time at the Scottsdale location only. I checked to see if the salon had a Facebook, Tumbler, etc. presence. I found none, so I put the salon on all of the social media sites.
I then went to a couple of the TG sites, announcing the Princess promotion, and the newly updated website. Happy with my work, I closed down my computer and went to bed. Ronnie was still soundly sleeping, although I wanted to arouse her, I decided to let her get some sleep. I made myself ready for bed, slipped in beside her and cuddled her sexy body. She stirred a little getting closer to me but did not wake up.
I slipped off to sleep shortly after that, but my mind is still processing ideas for the website. When I am writing code, this is my usual method of attack, total immersion in the project until it is completed. I eat, drink, and sleep with the project firmly in my grasp. About three in the morning, I woke with a new idea.
I promptly go down to my computer, log on and change some of the pictures on the website. I use the same ones but only part of the original photo. I take those photo shopped partials and insert them into a slide show, to be used as a backdrop for the site. I add a little pop music to the mix, I Am Woman, and Man I Feel Like A Woman a couple of the selections. Then I add the individual location info to the site, with email and phone numbers for each salon.
I have noticed that the website never gets many emails, only a few ones from companies wanting to sell them something. I imagined the other locations were the same. I opened up the site again, watched as the slide show did its thing, then the appointment request the final part of the show. I was getting drowsy, so I ended it there and went back to bed.
The next morning was a typical morning, although I did get up at the first opportunity to fix my Ronnie a nice big breakfast to start her day. After way too many kisses and gropes, she finally headed off to work, and I got dressed to leave for the salon. I managed to get there on time, actually a few minutes early, and am amazed at the activity this early. Everyone is busy, especially at reception. Stephanie and Francine crowded around the computer at the front desk.
Francine sees me come in and tells me to get to her office immediately. I am puzzled, but Stephanie grabs my arm and leads me there at a fairly fast pace. I must have done something wrong to be dragged to her office like this. As I enter the office, both ladies grab me and give me hugs and kisses galore. Then Francine asks when I was going to tell them of the changes.
You know that in business you need to make plans to be prepared for any eventually, but then one of your employees blindsides you, and now there is total confusion. I sit there with a what the hell did I do look on my face. She informed that at six A.M. this morning she started receiving calls from the salons back east. Their inboxes are filled with requests for appointments, mostly partial transformations. Then as the time progressed she received calls from each time zone.
Now she says we get to this salon. Four hundred requests for appointments, some from back east, but will travel out here to get the free nail art with the package. Then the last call from their internet provider apologizing for lost emails due to their server crashing from the level of people attempting to access the site.
Now, I wonder who the culprit is that has single handed brought this about. I was red, not just blushing red, but red down several layers of skin deep. I had no idea that I have been able to cause all of this in just two hours of work on my computer. I apologized, but kept my head down, ashamed that I caused all of this uproar. Francine came over near me raising my head so she could peer into my eyes.
“You never cease to amaze me and to think I have been fortunate enough to be able to take advantage of this skill and unlimited imagination. I have changed my mind about my proposed offer to you, and am withdrawing it, immediately.” Looking down again, I apologized for my actions last night; I should have consulted her first before I did anything to the website. I told her I would try to contact everybody to explain my actions and cancel all the requests.
She stared at me, telling me in no uncertain terms that I will do no such thing. Besides a partner in the salon would be foolish to turn down business. I looked at her, like I hadn’t heard her correctly, and replied a partner. Yes, as of now you are a ten percent partner in Turnabout Gurl Salon Inc. and a Vice President of advertising and design. All I could get out of my mouth at that time was huh.
Anyway, you have customers waiting, we will talk more at lunch when I have taken advantage of a cancellation to secure some time with you. I swiftly made my way to my station, the customer waiting for me. I found out what art she (a male) wanted, then performed the design. After finishing she wanted a weekly appointment, being content with a two-week postponement on the first one until she could get the weekly appointments.
The remainder of the morning was busy, one customer after another until lunch time finally arrived. During the scheduling of appointments, both Rose and I were penciled in for thirty-minute lunches at one-thirty each day. Due to the cancellation that Francine had mentioned, I was now free until two o’clock.
Francine called me into her office shortly after my last appointment. She had lunch delivered so that we would have more time to talk. I was informed that she is very happy with my work, especially my ability to make things happen. When she awoke this morning with the phone calls, she presumed that I had something to do with it. The old website has generated three or four emails a month, very few of those resulting in actual appointments.
When she managed a chance to look at the website I created she was amazed at the difference, using some of the same materials. The slide show, in particular, making the site come alive, a salon business where things happen. Since you are so talented and imaginative, I need to do things to assure that you are with us for a long time. That task is easiest handled by making you a partner in the business, not just this salon, but the corporate entity.
Quite a few of my stylists are partners in their individual salon, their work, and skills essential to the salon, but also able to reap the benefits of owning part of their business. Stephanie here is a partner in this salon, has been for quite some time. Since your skills will benefit the entire corporate structure, you get to be a partner in that structure.
The salons make more money for me than I will ever be able to spend, so I find qualified people to help me run the salons and reward them for their work and efforts. The corporation is building a venue in the heart of the south for vacations, relaxation and fantasies. It is based on being a Southern Belle. A large ballroom and thousands of costumes to rent or buy. The grounds are gorgeous, perfect for relaxing and enjoying nature at its best.
For the entire length of stay, the customer has to present as a Southern Belle, corsets, towering heels and gorgeous gowns are just part of the benefits. Charlotte and her wife Gail designed and built the venue with a little input from me, and now manage the venue. They are also partners in it, a reward for their hard work and insight.
Now back to Erica, I want you to use your ideas and insights to do what you feel is the way the salons should be heading. I will find the resources and people to handle the new direction. But please let me know your ideas before you announce it to the world.
As of this morning, I have bought the two neighboring stores and will have them remodeled to be able to add the additional stylists, necessary to handle the new business that you have already brought us. I paid both tenants a bonus to vacate immediately, and the completed additions to the salon will be done at the end of next week. I keep a list of possible stylists to hire, and we will make them offers in the next few days.
Now as to your nail art, you are only one individual, but I need two hundred of you for the other salons. If I could clone you, I would have, but since that technology is a few years off, you need to come up with a way that a manicurist of reasonable skills can do the work that you have been doing. One thought that I have is if you can create a template of your designs, maybe someone else could fill in the design, thus duplicating your design.
I interrupted her. “You may have given me an idea. I thought Stephanie had once told me you have a research department that works on processes and machines for your salons. Can I talk with one of your experts to see if what I have come up with can be made and produced for the salons?”
She picked up her phone and dialed a number, then handed me the phone. She whispered to ask for Beverly and explain my idea. When Beverly got to the phone, I introduced myself and told her what I wanted. She asked me to send a photo of some of my nail art, and she would work on it. I told her it would have to be a clear background but stable enough to be handled. Then a clear coat could be added to seal it in. Beverly asked if regular nail polish would be used or gel polish. I told her probably both, then asked her if she could come up with something.
Beverly told me that I would have something by the end of the week, sent to me so that I could try it and if doable she could have the items in production within a week. My mouth still open, I finally closed it and thanked her for her help. Francine with a large smile on her face asked me if that was quick enough. I nodded my head, but I am still lost for words. To Beverly it is no big deal, a challenge to be handled and then put the item in production.
I think that if all of Francine’s people are this way, no wonder her business is such a success. Then I thought of what I did last night to the website, made the changes then activated it. I saw a pathetic website that needed anything that I could come up with, and I just did it, it turned out to be the right actions since it has been so successful.
It is time for my next appointment so back to my station. The rest of the day progresses quickly; then I suddenly remembered the dinner invitation with Ronnie’s boss tonight. Like most females, I have nothing to wear, so I quickly head over to the clothes section to do a little shopping. Stephanie sees me head that way and is soon to follow. She wants to know the occasion since I was looking in the evening dresses. I tell her of Ronnie’s promotion and the invite for dinner. She drags me to the back room and a rack of dresses over to the side.
These are much prettier and fancier than the ones on the sales floor. I pick out an ivory brocade sheath dress that hugs every curve of my body, floor length barely covering my boobs, and strapless. Once the dress is picked out Stephanie drags me back to the salon, telling me that a company executive can’t show her face at a fancy dinner looking the way that I do.
In the chair, leaned back, and then a shampoo and conditioner are applied. Towel dried, and then curlers by the dozen, then some time under the dryer. Forty minutes later, she removes the curlers and brushes it into the up do she has envisaged. She added some diamond encrusted hair combs and pronounced me ready for dinner. I make my way out of the salon; the first obstacle is getting into my car in the dress. Not impossible but very tricky. Once that is accomplished, the drive home is uneventful, arriving shortly before Ronnie. I get i the house and put away my things, and soon Ronnie announces she is home.
I give her a hug and some air kisses, not wanting to mess up my lipstick. Well, that goes over like a lead balloon, and she smears it up real good, leaving me a little breathless. She loves my dress, and the up do, telling me not to go anywhere as she needs to get ready. While I am waiting, I decide to work on the website some more.
I had taken some more pictures today at the salon, saved them to their computer and then sent them to my computer as an attachment to an email. I add those to the website interjecting them into the slide show. Next, I start a section on what’s new at the salons planning on focusing on new stylists, procedures, and current trends and fads.
I decide to play up the retro look since all the stylists have hairdos that capture that era. I posted several pictures, of some of the stylist’s hairdos. I mentioned that this is becoming quite popular now, a meaningful return to when women were feminine in their looks and acted accordingly. I had one before and after picture, placing it in a frame on the screen with highlights on the after picture. Then I asked the viewers to imagine their picture there, a feminine female of that period, less stress, a simpler life than that of today. Call today for your appointment to assure your sample of the feminine mystique.
As I finished up on the web, Ronnie has changed into a beautiful LBD that is absolutely breathtaking. Black stiletto heels with a five-inch lift completed her outfit. Her accessories included a diamond necklace and chandelier earrings, and she is carrying a black sequin clutch purse. Since she is in the shorter dress, she decided to drive. Our destination in an upscale neighborhood on the fringe of town.
We are greeted by her boss, shown into the living room where another woman awaits us. Introductions are made, and we settle in with a drink to talk. Denise is the other woman, but no mention is made of any connection or relation to Mary. The talk is pleasant, mainly about Ronnie’s work and her new job. Then Denise asks what I do for a living.
I decide on the truth, that I am a partner in a chain of beauty salons, doing their website and involved in the designs and styles used at the salon. I notice Ronnie staring at me, actually boring holes in me. I smile, then explain to Mary and Denise that the promotion is recent, and not even Ronnie is aware of the details yet. Denise asks the name of the salons, Mary having already taken advantage of my services tells her that the Turnabout Gurl Salon is their name and that Erica had done her nails last week.
Denise is quite impressed, asking if by some chance I have any appointments open in the next few days. I tell her no, the bookings are solid for the next ten weeks and filling fast beyond that. We chit chat some more about the salon, Denise uses their services, just not for manicures and nail art. Finally, Mary asks if I have figured it out yet. I smile but do not say much. Then Ronnie, who apparently was left out in the cold on this gasps, putting the pieces together. Denise is Mary’s husband, living as a woman full-time and quite comfortable in that role.
Denise owns a real estate office, employing several agents to do much of the selling. She mainly acts as the broker and handles a few of her closer personal friends. They have been married for twenty years, have three daughters all in high school, two of them are twins, and participate in quite a number of social and charity groups to boot.
The dinner is excellent, Denise is quite talented in that regard, whipping up a fried chicken dish that is fantastic, the seasoning in it making the real difference. The dish is different than anything I have ever tasted, yeah it is still fried chicken, but the seasonings assault your taste buds. Green beans and homemade mashed potatoes complete the meal, again the seasonings making the difference in the taste of the dishes. I have never tasted potatoes that good before.
With the revelations out of the way it is an enjoyable evening, with us including almost everything in our discussions. Denise served an excellent wine after dinner, more on the sweet side than the normal wine, but still having a distinct wine taste. We left towards midnight, thanking them for their hospitality.
I did promise Denise an appointment. It having to be after my regular appointments, but she is thrilled. Can’t have one spouse more beautiful than the other. Mary smiles knowing she has already secured a weekly appointment with me.
Ronnie wanted to know all about my partnership, deciding not to wait until we got home to find out all the details. I repeated all the details, she is impressed and wanted to see the website when we get home. She again suggests that I quit the computer job, this is far more rewarding, and she knows that Erica is the real person, not Eric.
When we get home, we change into nighties, being able to ditch the heels a welcome relief. The mules still are a heel, but the change helps the aching feet. I have brought up my laptop to the bedroom and bring up the website to show her. She loves it and sits and goes through each part of the website several times. I had laid on the bed watching her actions, but the yawns began to take their toll. I am briefly woken as she pulls the covers over me and settles behind me cuddling my body.
The alarm is signaling the start of another damn morning; I use the bathroom then try to find the coffee pot to gain the needed stimulation needed to face another day. Coffee, the only liquid that can turn a disaster of a day into something that can be dealt with reasonably. I am able to find the pot, somehow get the thing started, leaning over it as it percolates letting the golden essence waft through my nostrils. When it is finished, a cup quickly disappears into me, before I take another with me, along with a cup for Ronnie.
Ronnie’s lying in bed waiting for service is going have to stop on her part. Maybe I can start something early in the morning to get her out of bed, but then I would have to get up earlier to get my nectar before I could launch such an attack. Life is so unfair.
As I entered the salon, the same congestion at reception is there. Apparently, my recent efforts have caused more activity this morning. Francine smiles at me, hugs me, and then whispers in my ear that I need to refrain from making any more changes for a day or two. The salons need to catch up, the paperwork alone burying the reception desks in each of the salons. So many requests for appointments, even the clothing sales are off the chart after yesterday, it seems that you have found and inspired a whole new segment of the population to be our customers.
Rose finished with my first customer, so I started to work on her nail art request. The morning seemed to fly by, one customer after another came through our manicure stations. I noticed several repeat customers from a week ago, their nail art still pristine, but they wanted something new, so we complied. Since we have been ensconced in the new addition at the back of the salon, we can talk with each of the customers whether they are at Rose’s station or mine, a kind of comfortable lounge type of atmosphere.
At noon a package came for me from Beverly, as I opened it there was several plastic envelopes with clear plastic sheets inside each having a different piece of nail art. I opened one, then used a tweezer to remove the nail art. It was actual nail polish in the design, placed on the clear plastic sheet so it could be handled. It is held together by a flimsy piece of something that I have no idea as to its makeup.
I use one of the dummy hands, apply some polish then let it dry, I apply the nail art and watch as the background disappears, leaving only the nail art. I apply a coat of gloss and let it dry, and then compare it to my own fingernails that I have applied nail art with a brush.
No difference, I am so excited that I yell out. “Yes, she did it.” The statement brought several people running, Francine and Stephanie the first to arrive. I show them the practice hand and smile informing Francine that she now has the ability to clone me and get me into all the salons. Several of the stylists are puzzled, but she knows what I am talking about.
Further discussions have to be put on hold since my next customer is ready for her nail art. It is after three before I catch up and am able to see the rest of the contents of the package. I decide Ronnie is going to get new nail art tonight since spouses are the perfect people to experiment on. Another searing kiss and she won’t know what hit her.
Francine is thrilled by the new procedure, dollar signs appearing everywhere in her mind. Before I leave, I suggest that the process and nail art be patented and copyrighted to protect the salon from other salons copying us. She agrees and makes some calls to start the process. Now I need to work on the designs and the colors I want them in.
Stephanie suggests that at some point I need to have a class in using the new technology, involving all of the manicurists that will be using the new procedure. Francine smiles, saying that she will handle that as soon as the proper safeguards and designs have been finalized.
I grab a few of the designs Beverly has sent me and some polish and head home. When I get to the house, I dig into the chores, being behind in my wifely duties is not something I want to get used to. I start laundry, get some food on to cook and quickly make the beds and pick up through the house. The kitchen is next, and thirty minutes later I have it looking good again.
I clean the downstairs, dusting each room before I run the vacuum. I check on the food, making sure that the broiled hot dogs wrapped in bacon are not burning, I use a low setting for the broiler; it takes a lot longer, but the taste is superb, the taste of the bacon filtering into the hot dog eventually. I have added some potato patties to the fare and have some Swiss cheese ready to melt over the top of the hot dogs before I serve them.
Tomorrow come what may, I have to shop for food, the cupboards are getting bare, and the menu choices are getting tougher to put together. So on my way home I have to become Suzy homemaker and buy groceries. It is something I am looking forward to, just haven’t had time to do so yet.
It seems that the more I get into this role play, the more comfortable I am in the life of a woman. I don’t mind doing the tasks that a housewife does for her family, in fact, I look forward to it. For instance, doing laundry is a pleasure for me, no hard thinking required just something that needs to be done. I perform the actions to get it done, and then in a way, I am disappointed when I get it all caught up.
It is about time for Ronnie to get home, so I take out the buns to be warmed in the oven and set the table. I have made a large pitcher of iced tea to drink, so I pour us two glasses and then I hear Ronnie come in the front door. I run to the hall and throw myself in her arms, nibbling and kissing anywhere I can get to her body. I see the big smile plastered on her face, my welcome making her quite happy. When she can squeeze it in between my lip assault, she returns the kiss, but in the meantime, she is kneading my butt and breasts.
A simple I am home honey, takes almost ten minutes to complete, makeup smeared and clothes askew. I lead Ronnie to the kitchen, help her get situated, then hand her the iced tea. I melt the cheese over the bacon wrapped hotdogs, then slide it into one of the buns I have warmed in the oven. The table is set with several toppings and relishes to be used on the hotdog, so she is covered there.
I take out the potato patties that I have been browning in the oven, the spices that I have added to their surface along with the olive oil making them smell delicious. In the past, we have enjoyed them this way, a side dish with tons of flavor due to the spices.
I listen to her tell me a little about her day, her meetings with her team members and their interaction. Most of her colleagues are thrilled that she has been promoted, their opinion that she is the best choice to head the division. A few thought themselves to be in the running for the job, but Ronnie killed that immediately when she appointed them to a committee or two and told them she needed some solutions to some of the problems. Their lack of anything beneficial or helpful sealed their fate. She told them her solutions and suggested that unless they could come up with something better to keep quiet and do their jobs. They did, although one quit because he couldn’t handle working for a female boss.
After dinner, I cleaned the dishes and kitchen, then adjourned to the living room to see Ronnie almost asleep on the couch. I helped her upstairs to bed, got her undressed, and into a nightie. I pulled out my supplies from my purse and set about giving her a manicure and new nail art. Most of the time she is in a kind of half limbo between being awake and asleep.
It takes me about forty minutes to finish her nail art, but when I look up, she is sound asleep. I help her scoot down in bed, pull up her covers and give her a goodnight kiss. I get a moan, but that is the extent of any reaction from her. I soon follow, watching her yawning causes me to do the same, and soon I am almost asleep in the chair. I slip into bed then shortly follow her into sleep, dreaming of Ronnie and nail art.
Another morning, an urgent need for coffee got me up and headed to the kitchen quite early. After the coffee pot is turned on, I check the laundry since I plan on grocery shopping tonight on the way home. Not enough clothes for a load, so that can be postponed until tomorrow. With two coffee cups, I make my way back upstairs and entice Ronnie to get out of bed with the aroma of the coffee. Then she abuses me by taking her coffee to the bathroom and starts her shower. I hoped to beat her to the shower this morning, but the best-laid plans of mice and men seldom come true.
I have my laptop in the bedroom, so I check on the website as I am picking my clothes for the day. Lots of possible combinations to choose from, but I tend to lean towards dresses and skirts and blouses. I like the look, just the thought of pants seems to insult the feminine gender somehow. I know most women these days wear pants, comfortable and less struggle during the day, but how a female looks wearing a dress, or a skirt and blouse, just adds to the femininity of the woman.
A woman can look sexy in pants, but when you put that same female in a dress or skirt, her femininity is multiplied by a factor of ten. I chose a cute pleated skirt, mid-thigh, and enough material to flounce around a bit when walking. The blouse is a sleeveless number that fits relatively snug in the breast area, and then is loose below that, kind of an empire waist, but not quite as fitted in the breast area. It did look good on me, my urge to be feminine satisfied today.
Ronnie finally makes it out of the bathroom, and I sneak in before she can assault me. I hear her griping about the unfairness of it all, so I know that is what she had planned. I quickly take my shower, making a mental note to squeeze in a delicious bath with all kind of oils and fragrances as soon as possible.
As I leave the bathroom, I am brutally attacked by a Ronnie, who just noticed her new art. She ends up smearing her makeup as I am kissed all over my face. But looking in the mirror on the closet door, I will have to clean off the makeup that she has added to my face, especially the lipstick. I head back to the bathroom to get her makeup off my face, then peek out the bathroom door to see if the coast is clear.
I dry off and put on my choice of clothes for the day, then head to the vanity to do my makeup. I am able to get it done quicker today; I guess all the practice is improving my skills. Twice I have to fend off an attack; she is desperate to show her gratitude for her new nail art. Finally, I tell her she either has to stop, or she has to pay for the manicure. Peace at last.
Hair is next, but it is obvious that today is going to be a bad hair day, so I elect to wait until I get to the salon and ask Stephanie to work her magic on me. There are advantages to working in a beauty salon, this being one of the most obvious.
Ronnie has also managed to get dressed, a very businesslike two piece suit, rounding up her purse before she goes to work. Then when I least expect it, she attacks giving me a wet sensual kiss probing with her tongue unto the deepest recesses of my mouth. A quick thank you for the nail art, and she heads out. I sigh, and head to the vanity again, sure enough, my lipstick is smeared, so I take it off for the third time this morning and redo it.
I am sure Ronnie is laughing all the way to the garage, her thank you given in the proper way, and her cute wife is redoing her makeup again. Twenty minutes later my preparations complete, I also head to work. I guess it is time for another punishment for my dear Ronnie hubby; a female just can’t let a hubby get the best of her.
Arriving at the salon, I make my way to my station, getting everything set up for my first customer. When Stephanie arrives, I ask if she can help me, pointing to my hair. She giggles and tells me that she will be right back, and heads off to get her brushes and combs. When she returns it only takes her about fifteen minutes to fix my disaster so that I look appropriately female enough for the salon in which I work.
I ask her how I can acquire the skills necessary to do my own hair. Most males miss out on the teen years that a female learns to do makeup and hair. Those years are filled with experimentation, one style then another till a girl finds what looks best on her. The slumber parties also help as the attendees do each other’s hair to try new styles and looks.
All you need is a lot of practice before you leave each night, let me show you a styling or set with curlers and sometime during the evening duplicate it yourself. After a while, you will find something you like the look of, and since you did it yourself, you will be able to do it again when you want. I kidded her, just what I need another task to perform every evening. She smiled, it comes free with the territory. You like being female; you have to learn how to do the look yourself.
The day progresses faster than normal, with me squeezing in some work on the designs I want in between customers. I skip lunch, not wanting to fill out my clothes too much and have to look for a different size. Francine told me later in the day that the attorneys have filed all the paperwork on securing rights to the process to make the designs. It should take about a week for final approval; then we can start manufacturing the designs.
She asks how I am doing; I tell her that I have about sixty designs sketched out and should be ready by the first of next week. She told me that is great, but that is not what she wanted to know. I want to know how you personally are doing, are you sure this is what you want, and, more importantly, are you having a little fun with it. Yes, I am enjoying myself, a side of me that has never seen the light of day has emerged. I love everything girly, and I want to marry Ronnie, take care of her and raise her children. I just hope she wants the same.
Although I might ask later to curtail my hours a little so that I can properly care for our children, I hope you will allow me to work for you for a long time. She assures me that is possible when I need it I just have to ask. You are a partner in the business now, so you have a responsibility to the company to keep it going and prospering. Eventually, a lot of your work can be done at home, allowing you to enjoy your family.
“Have you decided if you or Ronnie are going to have the children?” I swallow hard, I think Ronnie will, I don’t have the proper equipment to do so, although I would love to be able to. Francine tells me that when the time comes I need to see her, maybe something can be worked out. I gave her a curious look, just what does she mean by that.
Stephanie interrupts, she has just finished her last customer and wants to give me my hair style to work on tonight. I am led to her styling chair, and she starts informing me of how to set tonight’s style. She has me do a few curlers myself giving me a pointer or two as to how to accomplish the task with the least effort and trouble. Then how much drying time might be needed if I didn’t want to sleep in the curlers.
She made sure I understood the setting pattern, then explained how to brush out the style in the morning. She handed me a bag of curlers, including the combs and brushes that I would need. Some setting lotion and hairspray, then a picture of the finished style, so that I could compare what I managed to do and how it should turn out. She cautioned me that for my first time, I shouldn’t expect much, a lot of women with years of practice still had trouble doing a specific style.
Armed with the needed materials I headed home, but first, it is necessary to refill the cupboards with groceries. As I entered the supermarket, I found myself probably overdressed for the job. Here I am in heels and a dress while most of my fellow female shoppers are in jeans and sneakers. Not to lose focus on the job that needed to be performed I grabbed a cart and made my way down the aisles. I chose items that I could combine to make different meals by switching a couple of the items from one meal to another.
Quite quickly my cart runneth over, and I made my way to the checkouts. As the cashier rang up my items, I became aware of the expense when dealing with food. I remembered that my debit card had to be used to pay for the groceries since my checks were in Eric’s name. Something I need to look into, I doubt that Eric will reappear anytime in the future.
I swiped my card and entered my pin; the terminal approved my purchase, and I headed to my car. I made a note to have the name on the card changed to as Eric is still the listed individual on the card. The bag boy (young man) insisted on helping with the groceries, and he soon had the items in my car. I made it home and then started the many trips necessary to get the food into the house.
Soon, however, the freezer, cupboards, and the refrigerator are full again, and dinner preparation can continue as before. I pick out a couple of items for tonight, a nice soup mix and some toasted cheese sandwiches are what I intend to serve my Ronnie tonight. Anything cheesy is always a hit with her.
I set down at one of the bar stools in the kitchen, that simple act of getting groceries and putting them up pooped me out. I resist the urge to slip off my heels, if I want Ronnie to wear them, I must do the same. Up and at um, I check on the soup and get the sandwiches ready to grill. Then I take a quick check of the house as to what needs a little work and put my bag of curlers in our bedroom.
I guess if I am going to continue this gender change I need to get a vanity for myself, maybe one a little larger to handle all my nail stuff. I just hope that Ronnie will not change her mind about me later that would really devastate me. Positive thoughts, Erica, keep her happy and you soon will be a loving wife.
Dinner went off without a difficulty, although my welcome home attack was counter-attacked by Ronnie. I was probing my darling’s mouth and throat while she had in mind bedroom games. Before I became aware of where I was being led to, she already had me in the bedroom and flat on my back. I tried to get her to release me, so dinner would not be ruined, but it may have been too late as she had my dress unbuttoned and my nipple in her mouth. Thirty minutes later I am able to make my way downstairs to see how bad the disaster is. The soup had lost a lot of moisture, so I had to add some broth to get it back to looking like soup and not some thick sauce.
Since the sandwiches never got on the grill, that part escaped any harm. I buttered them on both sides and placed them on the grill. As soon as they were slightly toasted, I turned them over to do the other side. Once toasted on both sides, I turned the heat down to let the cheese melt before I served them.
Ronnie made her way to the kitchen smiling like the cat that ate the canary. My offerings were quickly consumed; then I made my way to the sink to clean up. Ronnie followed offering to help. Unfortunately, her help was playing with my breasts while standing behind me. I got frustrated; that was the third time that I had washed the same glass. I will never get done with the dishes at this rate. I marched her to the stairs and told her to go the bedroom and stay there till I got there. The sad puppy looks on her face as she slowly climbed the stairs was comical. Twice, I had to repeat the command, but I finally heard the bedroom open and shut.
I hurriedly finished the kitchen, even taking a few things out for tomorrow. I checked downstairs before I made my way to our bedroom. I listened at the partially open door to see what she might be up to. She was laying on the bed looking at her new nail art. I saw my chance and ran through the bedroom and locked myself in the bathroom. I took a leisurely bath soaking in the warm water saturated with a combination of several bath salts.
There were several pleas at the door, but I ignored them, a feminine female has to have some pampering time to keep up her appearance. I dressed in a nightie, then slipped on my mules. I figured I had one chance to sneak in and attack her on the bed before she could get the upper hand. My hubby Ronnie needed to be taught a lesson, and I am the female to do it. I listened at the door for a few minutes, then hearing nothing I opened the door and was quickly on top of her on the bed.
She is giggling as I hold her hands above her head next to the headboard. There is a discarded pair of pantyhose on the pillow next to her, and I grab them and secure her hands to the headboard. Now she is laughing at my antics, but that won’t be for much longer. I suck her right nipple into my mouth, running my tongue around the nipple making it all hard and pointy. With two free hands, I can check out her southern real estate and squeeze her left nipple at the same time. She is obviously enjoying this too much her giggles escaping only when I move my mouth away from hers.
I get several low, sensuous moans as I let my warm breath float over her ears prior to me licking her ear. That along with a squeeze on a nipple brings her to her first orgasm. In between kisses she is pleading for me to stop, her nipples and clit very sensitive to any touch. I plow on, today my goal is four orgasms before I relent. Next is a little nipple nibbling, along with some warm breath on her ears and neck. Ronnie is already writhing on the bed trying to get her hands free to protect herself.
The second and third orgasms occur almost simultaneously, I am pleased but still desire revenge. Mustn’t let Ronnie hubby get the upper hand. With her screeching for me to stop, I attack her breasts with both hands pinching and kneading as I work my way to her nipples. Finally, I kiss her passionately keeping her from getting a large breath, then nibble on her eyelids and breathe warm hot breath over her ears and I am rewarded with yet another favorable reaction. I release her hands, rubbing her nipples slowly and kissing her all over her face.
I ask her if that was alright or do I need to practice some more. A big low groan is all that escapes from her mouth. I take it that I don’t need any more practicing. Yep, living the life of a female really has its advantages. Now If I can get her to marry me, I will be in seventh heaven. A hubby to play with all the time, what more could a female desire.
Then I remembered that I still had to set my hair. I reluctantly made my way to her vanity, set down and stared at my hair. It didn’t magically get transformed into the curlers so I let out a big sigh and got started myself. After several laughable tries I began to get the hang of it, forty minutes later my hair is neatly secured in curlers, my arms ache, holding them up and working above my head very tiring. I did get a smile on my face, another facet of being a female now part of my repertoire. I know a little too over confident for just getting my hair in curlers once but you had to be there to appreciate my joy.
The alarm was extra loud for some reason, my hand smacking it off the nightstand did silence it, but a new one might be needed now, the one or two parts dangling out of the case, signifying that it died in the performance of its duty. I did get my shower first, then to the kitchen to get something for our breakfast prepared. I decided on some oatmeal, the temperature outside is starting to cool as we approach fall, the warm oatmeal will warm us a little before we venture forth.
Ronnie joined me already dressed, reminding me that we are going out to eat tonight, her treat. I reacted like a typical female, jumping up and down excitedly and asking where she is taking me. All I was told is to dress formal, she will be home around four, change her clothes and we would leave. I gave her a special lingering wet sloppy kiss, giggling to myself as she had to stop and fix her lipstick. I should buy some stock in a cosmetic company with the amount of lipstick we are sure to use.
First though I had to remove my curlers and brush out my hair. With that done, one look in the mirror and I doubt I will be asked to do anybody’s hair. It was okay, but barely.
I had yet to get ready, so I dressed myself, did my makeup and since I had a little time checked on the company’s website. I made sure everything is functioning properly, then thought of what I could change to stimulate some sales or appointments. An idea popped into my head and I smiled and started making changes. It was quite simple actually. Make an appointment for a wash and set, get a free makeup lesson and a discount on the makeup purchase. Knowing Francine she had plenty of margin in the cosmetics, and I needed to do something to get the rest of the salon busy and equally productive. I checked my ads that would pop up when they accessed the site, then closed my browser and worked on my hair.
One look in the mirror, the springy curls bouncing all over the place left me in a quandary. Stephanie had told me how to brush it out, but maybe I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have. I started three times before I gave up and started again. On the third try, I did get it looking good enough to leave the house, but anything other than the trip to the salon was out. As I entered the salon Steph spotted me right away coming over to me and wrapping her arms around me. She whispered bad hair day, then led me off to her den.
It took her only a few moments to fix the disaster that was my hair, suggesting that I set my hair tonight, but leave it up in curlers to come into the salon the next morning. Sheepishly I asked if that was allowed these days, since I had never seen a female in curlers outside of her house or salon. Her breaking out in giggles answered my question for me, but after she finally stopped she assured me that I could make the trip without fear of being arrested by the fashion police.
As I was leaving her den, Francine latched on to me and led me to her office. I got the evil stare from her, quickly I tried to figure out what I had done to cause her concern. I was set in my usual chair and soon Stephanie joined her. They both resumed the stare, making me shift around in my seat a little to avoid the scrutiny.
Francine asked if I had something I might want to discuss with them before I started my nail job. I racked my head a little, the only thing I come up was the promotion I had set up this morning. That was only an hour ago, there is no way that they were getting responses yet on that. She told me that my first appointment was not until ten since one customer had cancelled due to family sickness. Okay, but what is this other problem that I have caused.
Stephanie took my hand and led me to reception, all three of the phones were ringing solid, so Stephanie pointed to one of them and told me to get busy. I must have pissed them off to be put back on reception. I picked up the phone and said Turnabout Gurl Salon, how may I help you. They wanted an appointment for the wash and set special. It was only an hour and ten minutes ago that I set it up and apparently that is why everybody is miffed at me. I spent the next hour there booking appointments for the special. When I was relieved to take care of my first appointment for nail art I stopped by Francine’s office and apologized profusely. I had no idea that that twenty minutes I spent doing that ad this morning would cause such turmoil.
She got up, came around and hugged me tightly, if you wanted more money all you had to do is ask, but no you had to give me and all of the other salon managers more grey hair. I love you for it, but tomorrow I want your computer to be kept in my office, until I allow you to touch it. Do you understand me? With my head down and my tail between my legs I slipped away to my next customer, nodding my head in agreement. I felt just like a puppy who has been sent to his bed for doing something bad. Stephanie passed me by and started giggling, her few words to me were brief and scattered among more giggling. “That puppy dog look is not going to work with Francine, she has cats, so you might have more luck if you give her a lick on the face later or purr loudly.”
I think back to the first day I dressed as a female. Back then it was a major difference in attire and attitude. Now, it is just another day as a female, a fact that I am greatly appreciative of recently. I can’t see myself anymore as the male Eric; that image has been lost in the personality of Erica. Everything about Erica feels right, from the clothes to the makeup, it just feels so normal, the way it should have been from the start. The fact that Ronnie and I are closer than before, we seem to mesh like two separate parts made individually, but together become a work of art and soul. I am so happy I fouled up that day, opening my big mouth causing all of this to come to light, now the sun is shining brightly for both of us. Not much more I could desire from life. A walk in her shoes, a life of total bliss the result. Happy, you bet.
Now to speculate on what might come next, a wedding for sure, but I am sure there will be much more, a life of feminine delights and a lover that means so much to me. A Walk In My Shoes, now with awesome nails the finishing touch to a wonderful experience.
Story Complete For Now
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker