An Apprentice Needs Help

by

WannabeGinger

Part 14 (Epilogue)

   

Two hours later, after the conclusion of the Awards ceremony and a few Bacardi Breezers to celebrate Karen's great achievement – coming third, among more than twenty stylists, we were back in Ginger's flat. well, at least Ginger and I were. Margot had left immediately with her scary Mother and Karen had divided her time between talking with us, two of her models, and talks with her fellow competitors, many of whom she knew well.

I sat back in a chair, lingering thoughts of the whole experience rolling over me. The lasting impression from the finals were simple – that I had passed as a girl. I had wanted to do it well – and I had! With Ginger's help, especially, in the preparations, and with Karen's magic tough with my hair in the competition hall.

A flash back came of a moment in the Bacardi-filled haze of the celebrations. Another stylist, introduced to us as "Copper" – not because she'd ever been in the Police, (or perhaps even screwed a Policemen!) but because of her glimmering copper hair – a variation on mine and Ginger's….. Copper was sat behind me on the couch in the bar. I felt her touch in the middle of a general conversation. Nothing was said at that moment, but she stroked and then threaded a lock of my hair through her finger. Right from near the nape of my neck.

Not a word then, but it was an intimate moment, with a previously-unknown woman – at her instigation. She could only mean one thing – she wanted to be close….. to me! I sat, riveted to the spot. I had only glanced in her direction a couple of times, admiring her work on her own models. Work that, in the end, went unrewarded. She was unplaced in the competition.

Her hand slipped softly through my smooth curls. I was, I remembered, both flattered and slightly shaken. Was this the normal way these people behaved? Seems like it – and I did.. like it!

The conversation went on, many of the stylists talking about the next competition event in 2-3 weeks' time. How would they change their approach if they hadn't been successful. How they would build on their success this time, if they had been.

"I'd poach your models, Karen." whispered Copper.

At the same time, she tugged hard on the same curls from the nape of my neck and, with that, got up to leave. She looked over her shoulder at me as she left. "I mean you." she said. – and was gone!

I hadn't the time to say a word. Ginger hadn't heard any of this – and I was pleased she hadn't. I didn't want anything to spoil our home-going – to her flat. And there I was.

In jeans, boxers, a shirt, and socks… not stockings any more, regretfully. No suspender belt, no knickers, and no bra! Was I going "cold turkey?" – no, it just seemed right to have changed into my "boy things" now the event was finished. Ginger didn't quarrel with that. When we got back to the flat, she suggested we both take a shower – separately this time! – and then relax for what was left of the evening.

We sank into eachothers' arms, emotionally drained and physically drained too. We kissed like boy and girl though we looked like girl and girl – and that was the way I felt we were – for now.

Too little time, before sleep would engulf us. Just enough to take of make-up - the make-up that made me feel so feminine. I studied my now un-made-up face in the mirror, touched the hair that adorned my head. They say that narcissism is the only kind of love where you don't have to say sorry…. and they are wrong! I did, for a moment, just pause to reflect on just what I had done – how far I had gone today. And where would it lead?

Thoughts of "being stuck like this" came through – would I ever give up being a boy? No, not likely! not at all likely.

I couldn't destroy that hair style – so much like Ginger's, so much to be saved for the morning, I should sleep in it just as I was. But after a shower.

I showered as carefully as I could. Ginger lent me a shower cap which she said usually covered her hair when it was in a roller-set and drying slowly.

My hair had survived the shower, in as much as the colour was strong and permanent. The extensions, too, were strongly secured – they would last for weeks. The style wasn't saved, however. It was washed out as the spray ran through, so I was left with shoulder-length auburn hair – which Ginger helped me do into a pony-tail. She removed all the bobbie-pins that held the style. Nothing too girly. "Let me brush it through." She said

I looked about. This was definitely a girl's flat - it was "girly" in the nicest sense of the word – a bright and feminine place. All the furnishings and fabrics were perfect. Everything was tidy – a place for everything….. and everything in its place. Not like my own drab and boring bedroom at my parent's house. There, I didn't call that "home" – maybe now was the time to leave there.

It was however too soon to think of this place as "home" – as much as I had begun to dream of sharing my life with Ginger. As Girl and Boy, and occasionally as Girl and Girl. There might be difficult weeks ahead – how to cope with changes that had rushed through my life recently. Too soon to think of suggesting we share a place together – sharing her clothes was wonderful enough!

We climbed into bed with great sighs of exhaustion. No sex tonight – neither of us could raise the idea we were so tired in a post-excitement kind of way. Had it all really happened? Indeed it had. Ginger's soft silken bed clothes felt wonderful on my naked body. "You'll lok lovely in this." Ginger said, holding up a silken floor-sweeping nightie for me to wear. Heaven is too simple a word for the feeling.

The night slipped by too soon. Dreams came and went, too many to recall but doubtless I had rehearsed the events of yesterday. Over the whole day, I had relaxed into the role of a female on the outside but never forgot the "me" inside.

I woke and lay awake for maybe an hour in the middle of the night. gazing at Ginger asleep in the shadowy room. I thought long about the question that most people would ask…. and ask of themselves… if they had done what I had done…… "…doesn't this mean you're gay?" How I hate that word….. Gay is the last thing many homosexual people feel – and yet I was elated, delighted, happy, confident…… relaxed…………. as a girl. Am I gay? Not at all. I knew, now more than ever – if I had ever doubted. I looked at Ginger and felt love for her, desire for her, lust even. She's a stunner and I have to make her mine! The worry in my mind is that she will be asking herself the same question: Is he gay? I have to convince her.

And yet, when we are together, playing Girl and Girl – doesn't that change things? Does it mean she has a lesbian streak to her personality? So what if it does, I guess. Maybe, after all, I'm a male lesbian. What a great concept. I remember Billy Connolly once saying, in a stage show, that he must be a lesbian – because he likes all the things he thinks they do together! Good thinking.

I looked again at Ginger, asleep by my side. What a stunner! I'd love her, whether I were a boy or a girl. I thought about Margot and her Mother; would they be around in Karen's next competition? Would it be the same? I wondered what Ginger thought of the two of them. She knew I'd fancied Karen and we both knew that Margot had "made a move on her". I couldn't expect Karen to end up in Margot's arms for good. maybe she was just "experimenting, or maybe she is genuinely "Bi-"?? Who knows? The coming weeks might tell.

The first wakings in the morning, we embraced closely. My cock rising, we refreshed eachother's lipstick and we turned urgently to love-making that we'd not been able to even think of the night before. This way, that way. She on top, me on top. My tongue on her wonderful clitoris, her wonderful lips surrounding the tip of my cock and swallowing the rest. Doggie style – she behind me as well as me behind her. Exhausting, we continued for an hour or more. Finally, we laid back, purring.

We said little for a time. Words weren't enough to describe the joy we had shared. We showered, together.

Later, we talked about such things over breakfast and endless cups of coffee. "Just experimenting" was her verdict. Margot, on the other hand, was "just too much like her Mother" said Ginger.

We talked about how I should take care in that department – the Mother being evidently a very dominant female where any male was concerned. I should steer clear of her… "Unless, of course, that interests you!" teased Ginger.

"No, darling, there's not the slightest chance of that." I replied.

"You're not going to falter then?", she enquired.

"What do you mean?" I asked, probing where her thoughts were going.

"Falter, in playing the role you've developed for yourself.. Not male some of the time? Female, some of the time? And so, different to what Margot's Mother would have in mind for you?"

"Ginger, honey, I would love to be whatever you want me to be – and that's not me trying to be cute. I have no interest in whatever that woman may have in mind."

I said and meant, from the depths of my heart. "If you want me to be that way only once in a blue moon, I can live with that. If you wanted me to live as a girl, I'd have more of an issue – I'm wanting to be "your guy".. but "your guy with extras!"

A silent prayer left my mind – I prayed she wouldn't say "once in a blue moon will do".

 

We were settled with coffees, lounging around.

"You fancy us as two lipstick lesbians, do you?" Ginger said in a hushed and seductive way.

"That's exactly how I see us, from time to time." I matched her breathlessly.

"Well, that would be fine with me, so long as your 'extra' features frequently!."

 

Time had come for a trip home – to face the family – because I knew I couldn't stay at Ginger's permanently. So, if there was to be time at home, it had to be on agreed terms. As I now knew what terms I could stay with Ginger.

I had to start somewhere.

"If your family is truly mixed-up, as it sounds, I can't imagine what reaction you'll get." Ginger said, not entirely helpfully. "And it'll depend on how you break the subject. And it'll depend on whether you want to be dressed at home, at all?" Which raised a question.

"Should I ever disclose this to my family?" I asked her. "Whadya think?"

"Will you be comfortable doing so? Will you be comfortable carrying on with the secret you have? What will you say about having a girlfriend like me?" She didn't help. I didn't need questions. I needed an opinion. "……………What would you do?" I asked.

"What would I do if I was dressing as a boy and having sex with a guy???" She looked incredulous. "I think I'd say nothing…..!!!!" She exclaimed. "… though now you come to mention it…………If I dressed as a guy, and dated you dressed as a girl, that would make more sense!" She said, I think, half joking……..

"You're just too pretty." I retorted. And we kissed longingly.

Time had come for a change of dress. Socks, not stockings. So, no suspender belt. But definitely the sexiest panties I could find! On with the shirt and chinos, the trainers and the 'sloppy-Joe' top. Nothing could be done about the hair colour (or the extensions) – the ponytail would have to do.

"How about a little retail therapy before you go to your parents' house?" Ginger asked. "I can bring what you choose back here." Joy! The basis for life together taking shape!

THE END

  

  

  

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