I met Cindy when I first started at the magazine. She was a writer employed by the magazine to write feature length articles that would appeal to the younger female. My Feminine Interests is an up and coming new magazine, being talked about by almost every female. I had lucked out being hired to write a financial column every month, about a young female’s money and how to make the most of it. I had got the job when I submitted a sample of my work, done in a magazine column style as per the request of the editor. When the request was made at my interview I thought I had fouled up and would not get called back. The request probably to just get me out of the office.
I spent a few days putting something together, just basic info about checking and savings accounts and how to pick the best for each person. I added some information on how much to put away for a rainy day and what to put it in to make sure it would be there when needed. Instead of emailing it I decided to drop it off at the office so that a determination could be made whether I was being purposefully ignored or if they were genuinely interested in my writing. I handed it to the editor’s secretary and she took it back to her boss. I was asked to sit in the lounge until she had a chance to read it.
While I was waiting several other females were called in, finally after thirty minutes I was called into her office. I was introduced to Cindy and Ms. Martin the editor. I was asked to sit down, the others who had showed up not anywhere to be seen. Ms. Martin, the editor, told me the article was basically okay, it just needed to be polished up some. Go with Cindy and the two of you get it ready to publish, then bring it back to me. I was taken in hand and dragged out of the office then down a long hall to her workspace. No private offices here, just some cubicles that separated the employees some.
Cindy was blunt, telling me the info was great but the presentation stunk. I first got a little hot under the collar about her remark, but her smile quickly won me over. When she delivered that statement she had a devious smirk, knowing she had pushed my buttons so easily. I have always been a sucker for a female’s smile, Cindy’s smile was definitely one of the better ones. She pointed to a chair by her desk and told me to park it. I can see she is used to getting her own way, so I decided to play along, at least until I see if there is a future here.
She had me read each paragraph out loud, then asked me to rephrase it keeping in mind that I was giving info to a young female that had no experience in any of this. About the fourth paragraph I began to get the idea, and after that she made very few corrections in my re-working of the article.
Then she made a suggestion that totally floored me. “Since this and all the other articles are written for young females, would you read an article written by a man or one that was written by another female.” I started to say man, but then thought of my cousin, her attitude about men in general except for dating or marriage not very complimentary.
I muttered female, a smile from her again melting what was left of my heart. “Then pick a pen name for the column, when you write anything financial use that pen name. I think you will find instant acceptance as a writer this way, instead of having to prove yourself over the year or two it takes to do so.”
I thought for a while, asking if Edie was okay. Not a girly girl type of name but feminine enough to not be mistaken for a male name. Another smile, I am going to have to look in the other direction every time she might smile or I will be history before any of this gets off the ground. Cindy suggested that I add a middle name of Lynn to the name and so Edie Lynn came into existence. It seemed to go with my last name of Walker, so I was now a writer using the pen name of Edie Lynn Walker for the magazine.
She dragged me back to the editor’s office and laid the article on the desk. Ms. Martin looked up at Cindy and she nodded her head. I was handed a check for the article, if it was adequate sign on the receipt for the check and you start next Monday. My eyes almost left the sockets as I focused on the amount of the check. I quickly signed the receipt, then an accompanying employment form and Cindy dragged me back to her office. I was shown to a desk on the other side of her cubicle, told what the dress code was for the office and what hours I should be in the office. Since there were no males other then me who worked here she told me dress casual but nicer clothes. If I wanted to wear a skirt that would be okay too. I gave her such a look, but she seemed immune to anything I might do in that regard.
It was expected that I help other writers occasionally on their articles offering financial insight or opinions on some facet of the article. I could also ask other writers for help if needed to make my column more pertinent to the young female. Three articles a month for the magazine and five for their website. Of the three submitted for the magazine the ones not chosen could be used for the website. On occasion a writer could have more than one article published depending on the other writers and the popularity of the column.
That was it, I got a hug and she told me she would see me Monday at eight A.M. A don’t be late was added as she sat down in front of her computer and started working. I walked out in a semi daze, I had a check in my pocket for a thousand dollars for three hours work, including what time Cindy ended up helping me. I did manage to find my car and drove in the direction of my home. I ended up swinging by the bank and opening a new account, then depositing the whole check therein. Since all of this was like a fairy tale come true, maybe setting aside the earnings might be a better idea, for when the bubble burst. I was sure that was a definite possibility in this case.
Finally when I reached home, I stumbled into the den, booted up my computer and tried to jot down some ideas for possible articles. I figured I had better be prepared not knowing exactly what I would face on Monday morning. I spent the whole weekend writing possible articles and jotting any ideas I came up with for consideration. On Sunday afternoon I decided my clothes were severally outdated and made a quick dash for the mall to rectify the situation. Almost two hundred dollars later, I hoped I had the problem handled sufficiently.
I woke up early, took a shower dressed in my new clothes and headed to work. Even that sounded hopeful. After forever trying to find employment I had finally succeeded. Cindy was already there working on her computer, glanced at her watch and issued one of her smiles. I saw the instructions on my desk for signing in, did so and uploaded my ideas and partial articles from a USB drive. A few minutes later Cindy was looking over my shoulder with her hand resting on my shoulder. I swear I almost melted to a puddle right there on my chair.
She gave me a look, then suggested that I help her research an article she was working on, a way for us to get to know each other and get used to each other. Again she grabbed a hold of my hand and we were off. She never waited for my answer, just presumed that I agreed and dragged me out of the office.
After we reached her car, she turned to face me and told me that the romantic theatrics had to end right now. She likes me, but at this point in time that is all, so cool it and let’s become friends first, then re-visit the romantic stuff later. I was devastated and relieved at the same time, devastated to be read so easily and relieved for the subject to be put aside. She held out her hand and I reciprocated, we shook hands and that was it.
She was doing an article about a young female’s wedding. Every facet was to be covered from the proposal to planning for the big event. From finding the right dress to the actual wedding itself. She had envisioned ten to twelve feature length articles that would run in a series in the magazine. She had gotten approval for the series, now just needed to do the research to make the series come to life. Since I volunteered to help her I would be included in the writing of the series. Yeah volunteered by her raising my hand and telling me thanks for volunteering. I tried to beg off, this was something I knew absolutely nothing about.
Cindy’s remark was it is too late now missy you are committed. I shut up, fearing the more I say the deeper I might get involved. When we pulled up in front of a high end jewelry store I swallowed hard. I was dragged inside and we found a sales associate to help us. Cindy explained about the articles, and what she wanted to see today. The sales associate left for a minute, then returned with her boss. Kayla the manager of the store took over showing us the many different engagement rings and their matching wedding bands. She tried a couple of rings then had me take a picture with her phone. She looked the picture over then took my hand and slid a ring on my finger then took a picture of it. Again the smile and then she went through most of the rings on the counter taking a picture of each on my finger.
Kayla suggested since I was apparently the bride, that I wear a set home in exchange for an advertisement in their magazine. Cindy squealed then called the office right away to arrange the ad. I was standing there looking at my hand, a beautiful engagement and wedding ring on my ring finger sparkling in the light of the store. Kayla and Cindy talked for a while, then approached me with a different set of rings. These were even more spectacular, the stones looked like diamonds, but probably an imitation of some kind. Kayla removed the first set of rings, then rubbed something all around my ring finger. The new rings were slid into place and more pictures were taken. It was almost two hours after we first arrived that we made it back to Cindy’s car. She drove us back to the office, then we went directly to the editor’s office.
I had to show her the rings on my finger, then the two of them went through all the pictures on her phone. I played with the rings on my finger a little, trying to get them to twist a little. They were stuck and wouldn’t move at all. I glanced up at Cindy, another one of her smiles suddenly on her face, then she put her fingers to her lips signaling me to keep quiet. I sat there my eyes riveted to the hand with the beautiful rings sparkling in the sunlight from the window. I could see problems, a young male with a spectacular set of wedding rings on his hand, rings designed for a young bride. The fact they were so showy, almost dazzling would insure that they were noticed on my hand. The hand definitely didn’t look like a man’s hand, the rings accenting my long slender fingers making the hand very feminine.
Cindy and the editor talked about the jewelry store, the ad they had traded for and the pictures that Cindy had obtained today. It was decided the first article would run in the upcoming issue going to press in two weeks. Cindy was going to do some things on the proposal, then the selection of the rings and about how the prospective bride should react to all of this. They talked for over an hour, while I listened and played with the rings on my finger. Finally the conference was over and Cindy dragged me back to our office/cubicle. I sat at my desk listening to Cindy thinking out loud. She wanted to go back to the jewelry store and get some pictures of the bride trying on the rings and her excitement at what her fiance had offered for her to choose from.
She got a hold of one of the copyright people, a cute guy about my age and decidedly shy and reclusive. She soon had his agreement to go there tomorrow as the fiancé. Then she told me that I needed to get a makeover and wear a cute dress for my part in the pictures. All I got out of my mouth was huh. Before I could get a clarification from her about my part in this she was on the phone making an appointment for me at a salon in town.
I knew that the job was too good to be true, but I had no idea that it could morph so quickly and in this direction. I was starting to panic some, me in a dress, makeup and posing as a young bride with a fiance. The logical part of my mind was for abandoning the boat and making tracks in the opposite direction. But the money, already had an inroad and then we have Cindy’s smile. I remember the no romantic stuff right now, but where there is little hope, there is always a way.
Twenty minutes later we were headed to her salon, with an appointment for me to get transformed to a blushing young bride. I tried to start a conversation with her several times, to tell her I wanted nothing to do with this situation, but the words never left my mouth, and soon I was being dragged into the salon.
It did not take them long to erase any maleness, the cream slathered over my body to remove all of my body hair, then a soothing lotion to soften my skin. More than once I tried to bring all of this up, but nobody was listening. I had closed my eyes for a few moments, hoping when I opened them all of this would be a dream. When I felt someone fiddling with something on my chest, my eyes popped open, just in time to see a breast being placed on my hairless chest. I moved my hands there to remove it, but all my efforts proved that they were stuck there real good. Another episode of closed eyes, followed by the other breast joining its twin. I threw my hands up in disgust, the lady working on me grabbed one of them and started filing my nails. I gave up, too much happening for me to handle, apparently I am going to be the bride whether I want to or not.
After her working on my nails for half an hour, she massaged them with a scented cream, the aroma wafting up to my nostrils. It smelled like carnations, making me remember my Mother’s flower garden when I was younger. Another look at my fingers, now ending in ten perfectly oval talons, painted a bright red. The rings still on my finger now looked spectacular on my hand, making the image perfect.
Next my hair was worked on, as I was leaned back and treated to many different treatments. Two hours later, and a look in the mirror confirmed I would easily pass as the bride, soft curls framing my face, but most importantly now a light blonde instead of my usual brunette. All of this for an article being published in the magazine. Oh gawd, I will be seen, my picture probably on the cover or worse yet both the cover and other pictures with the article itself. Another look to see if my appearance is different enough to keep people from recognizing me. To me there is enough of the same look, my closest friends probably seeing through the clothes, makeup and the hair style. Now how they will react to that revelation is another matter to consider.
The makeup part was next, another lady brought in to do my makeup. She worked swiftly, erasing what little masculine features I might have had completely. There was still a resemblance to the old me, but only in facial characteristics, not in gender. Maybe I can escape the bullet here, not many of my friends read the magazine if any. Then the clothing, bra, pantie, slip, and a very feminine skirt and blouse. I tried to resist some, but the pantie sliding up my legs kind of killed that protest in the bud. It felt so delicious, sending shivers of delight throughout my entire body. Unfortunately Cindy noticed that fact, a smirk plastered all over her face. I was treated to lunch, much different to that enjoyed as a male. I had to watch what foods I ate making sure to take small bites and curb my tendency to eat everything in sight. We finished but I was still hungry, my protest getting nothing but a smile from Cindy.
On to the jewelers where we were met by my alleged fiance and a staff photographer. Cindy set up each shot, the way she saw it in her mind. The first time I was kissed was quite a surprise, so the picture turned out great. A young woman surprised by her fiance at the jewelers to pick her engagement ring and have it sized to fit. My rings that I had worn for the last few days were removed, a lotion applied to allow them to be eased off my finger. You could still see the impression left by the rings, soon to be replaced with my new ones. I lost count at over a hundred photos that were taken, seems like she had enough for several feature length articles.
I ended up being kissed five times, the last one quite passionate and full of lust. We returned to the magazine, I went to my desk and tried to forget all of the recent actions, but found that impossible. Cindy met with her editor, to discuss how the day went. I was summoned later, for one thing she wanted to see how I turned out, the other was to assign a short snippet for me to write about a female in love, first passionate kiss. I blushed several different shades of red, but nodded my head and went back to my desk.
I typed some thoughts down on the computer, but Cindy looking over my shoulder read what I had wrote then quickly erased it. “Edie you can do much better than that, write what you felt as his lips touched yours, your surprise, your longing and the feelings that washed over your body as the kiss transpired.”
I started doing what she said three times before I just let it flow out of me. The third time was a charm, several hundred words of lust, longing and passion were the end result. Of course, the editor loved it, my snippet to be positioned right next to Cindy’s feature length article. After some more discussion, Cindy told me that I would be a featured writer along with her plus doing my financial articles. Let’s face it Edie is here to stay. We definitely need to do some shopping for you.
Things progressed along, I was now writing almost full time, both features and my financial column. I was dragged along as Cindy continued her research, lingerie stores, shoe stores, and the big one shopping for a wedding dress. In the first three issues with Cindy’s series in it I had already appeared in fifteen pictures attached to the column. Thousands more had been taken, but not selected for publication yet.
I knew all of this was so wrong, a male acting as a young bride and enjoying it. But it was like a dream come true, a dream where I was actually the bride, preparing for my big day, the day when I marry the love of my life. In all honesty, Cindy was that love of my life, although she never showed much interest in me other than getting her research done. We spent a lot of time together, both at work and after, usually at her apartment. On more than one occasion I spent the night in her second bedroom, dreaming of her and her smile. Then the next morning the realization that it is a dream, not real life. Maybe one day.
Story Incomplete At Present
© 2016 thru 2021 Fran Cesca Walker