Jacqui

By

Karen Anne Summerfield and Kelly Ann Rogers
© August 2002

Part V - Dating Kurt

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I fell asleep thinking about what had happened and just what Kurt wanted with me and how I was going to react if he demanded sex. I didn’t think that I would be able to handle it very well at all. But then, if he had been married for twenty-six years and loved his wife, could he also be gay or bi? Maybe he didn’t want sex with me at all. What would I do? I don’t know whether I fell asleep because I was so confused or despite of it. How could my supposedly stress-free life as a maid have become so hard?

"Jacqui, what are Mr. Mark's plans for you tomorrow night, please?" Ms. Martin asked me at breakfast.

"I'm to be very pretty and dressed in a fancy dress and be ready to be picked up at seven, mum. He told me he would be wearing a tuxedo and that we'd be going to dinner at a fancy restaurant." I curtseyed. It was now a well in-grained reflex.

"And after that?" Ms. Martin sounded skeptical. I don't think that she knew any more than I did. I told her that I had no idea if Mr. Mark had anything else planned.

She just shook her head.

After breakfast, I went upstairs to get ready to leave. "Melissa, you’re so nice to let me use your car today. How about I do the upstairs before I leave to thank you. I really was feeling grateful and excited too, to be going off shopping on my own.

"Thanks. I accept," She gave me a hug. We've overnight guests, so don't vacuum, you don’t want to wake them.

I went up to Ms. Martin's room and started to make her bed. We usually changed her sheets for fresh ones on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Even though it was Thursday, I changed them again because of the stains in the middle. I tried not to think about what had caused them. But then, when I emptied the wastebasket in the bathroom, three used condoms fell into my trash bag.

I tried to hold back my tears, but I couldn’t. How could Carla ... Ms. Martin … the bitch, do this to me? She had sex ... no, Jacqui, use the right word; she'd fucked another man. Then I really started to cry. What a laugh. Look at yourself - I turned to the mirror, all dressed up as a girl, but not just any sort of girl, no, not just any girl, her maid. My hair and make up made me look oriental, just as she wanted. No, she hadn’t fucked 'another' man. She'd fucked a real man.

I'd let her lock me in a steel chastity belt. Shit, that was wrong too. I'd begged her to lock me into it. I wasn't a man anymore. Was ‘anymore’ even the right word? Was I ever a man?

It bothered me; it bothered me a lot! It was worse, so it seemed to me then, than having been blackmailed into dating a man. I sat on the bathtub crying into a dirty towel for ten minutes. I really had lost Carla. She was sleeping around despite her claim to love me. Were my days as a man… her husband, over? I had to flee the bathroom to abort that train of thought.

Barely containing my tears, I finished her suite and then went to clean ours. At least I didn't find any spent rubbers in the trash by Melissa's vanity. I then went to get dressed to leave.

Even this was frustrating, though in a different way. Most of my skirts and dresses would no longer fit because my waist was now so much thinner than it had been - another reminder that I was no longer a man. I did have a white turtleneck dress that was just like some of my long sleeved tops, but ending a few inches above my knees instead of on my hips. I put that on, clipping a wide elastic belt about my waist to help it look right. White pumps completed the simple, yet sexy look. Did I want to look sexy? It didn't matter any longer, I did, and short of putting on a fright mask, I wasn't about to change that easily. Maybe it was time to appreciate myself for what I was, or, at last, what I appeared to be. It was strange, a year ago, I would have thought I had died and gone to heaven to look like this, now I was regretting it. What was that? Oh shit, this was all so confusing!

My original plan was to go to a few large malls. Backing out of the garage, I formed a better idea.

"Good morning," I curtseyed to Suzanne.

"Hi, Jacqui. What brings you here?"

"I need a dress. I've got a date and nothing to wear." She started to laugh and I didn't understand why.

When she stopped, she asked, "What girl ever does? I own a boutique and my husband claims I always say that to him. You know what? It’s always true!" She started to laugh again.

"Do you have you anything in mind?"

I was comfortable with Suzanne, she'd already seen my chastity belt and had made my uniforms; I didn’t need to hide anything from her. As she knew that much about me already, I was more at ease in her pricey boutique than in a strange shop at a mall.

"Not really, my date said we were going to the most elegant restaurant he knew of and that the men wore tuxedos and the women wore either long gowns or a cocktail dresses. I think I'd prefer a cocktail dress, but don't know what sort. I've never owned one before."

It was my turn to laugh when she asked me what I'd worn on other dates with my ‘boyfriend'.

"We just met yesterday, Suzanne, and the only thing Kurt has seen me in was the afternoon uniform with the low décolletage that you made for me." She gave me a huge grin.

"Ah, the maid made an impression on one of the guests. I see." She led me to toward the racks of dresses along the wall. "Your boyfriend must have a good job to be able to spend a few hundred dollars over dinner with you. I'm sure it will be better than Burger-King®."

We chatted over the next hour while I was shown practically every dress in the shop. Nothing excited me though.

As we paused for a few moments, Suzanne thought for a moment and finally said, "Come in the back." She led me to a rack marked, 'Completed Commissions' and pushed around the plastic covered dresses for a few moments.

"Here it is." She lifted the hanger to her chin pressing the white dress to herself to display it. My breath caught in my throat. This could be it!

"May I see it, please?" Suzanne lifted up the plastic to reveal a strapless, white leather sheath. Hesitantly, I reached and touched it. The leather was as soft as warm butter.

"Oh my, it’s just luscious. May I try it on?"

"Certainly. It should fit you. That’s why I showed it to you." She made an obvious effort to hide the paper that had been taped on the front of the plastic protector. I decided not to concern myself with what it said. I wanted to try on that dress; even if couldn't afford it.

It looked … no, it screamed sex. I didn't care. I didn’t even care when Suzanne had to tighten my corset a bit more in order to zip the dress. It was gorgeous. I had never understood how women wore strapless gowns, but this one had a few corset bones to keep it up there and its hem touched the floor.

"You'll need higher heels, Jacqui," Suzanne said.

Walking to face the mirror was a new experience for me. The satin lined skirt followed the contours of my body, swelling over my hips, and then it fell perfectly straight, to the floor. It wasn't really a hobble dress, which would have narrowed below my cheeks, but it still restricted the movement of my legs, even though it did have a slit in the back. Still, even with that, I doubted I could cross my knees when I sat.

"How much?" I asked while admiring myself in the mirrors. I had never liked the look of long, straight gowns, but this dress changed my mind.

"Nine hundred dollars," Suzanne said reluctantly, knowing I wouldn’t be able to afford it. Holding up the skirt with one hand, I walked away and went to a showcase that displayed gloves and found a shoulder length pair in white satin that completed the look I was imagining. They were one hundred fifty dollars.

"Nine hundred fifty," I offered, "including these gloves." She looked at the ones I’d selected.

"One thousand twenty-five and they’re a steal for that price."

"Please help me out of the dress?" I asked.

"One thousand dollars, but not a penny lower."

"Really Suzanne, I can’t reach the zipper."

"But I'm losing money, Jacqui."

"Nine hundred seventy-five dollars or I'll shop elsewhere and suggest the same to my employer."

Suzanne started to giggle. "You win, you little cunt."

I giggled too and gave her my biggest smile. Aside from being delighted that I had gotten such a terrific dress and the gloves without spending any of my own money, she’d called me a ‘cunt’, what a nice compliment. It thrilled me to the bone.

In the short time that I'd been employed as a maid and having no expenses, except for food and makeup, I had saved several hundred dollars from my meager wages. I blew a little over two hundred of that at the shoe shore and a jewelry outlet before arriving back at the house at four.

After putting away my packages, I got into my uniform and went downstairs to find Melissa.

"If I may, I'd like to assume all of your duties for tonight, Melissa, and give you my evening off, please?" She smiled and kissed my cheek, but before she could answer me I added, "I filled the tank too." Loaning me her vehicle had been a big gesture and I wanted to return the kindness.

"That's really sweet, Jacqui. I'll accept. Thank you." Before going upstairs, the First Girl briefed me on Ms. Martin's meal and the other small details of the evening.

Ms. Martin asked right away, why I was serving instead of Melissa, but accepted my explanation with little more than a nod.

"How did your shopping trip go, Jacqui?" She seemed genuinely interested, but I wasn’t feeling particularly friendly towards her. I couldn’t understand how she could treat me so nicely one moment, but then sleep with some guy right in front of my eyes the next. It hurt me terribly and I was growing increasingly resentful. I decided to express my displeasure with her by keeping our conversation as formal as possible.

"It went very well, mum." My voice was flat, "I put together an appropriate outfit. Suzanne was most helpful."

"You certainly seem happier about going out with Kurt than you did yesterday," she said warmly. Carla’s obvious show of affection melted my defenses easily. I just couldn’t cut myself off from her. What the hell, I rationalized, it couldn’t hurt if I talked.

"I've accepted it as something I have to do. I don’t like the circumstances that forced me to accept. I hate being blackmailed and having our company held up for ransom. I especially hate what I'm going to have to give him, but I don’t see any alternatives. Do you, mum?" As I spoke, my anger returned. Despite the evidence, I did blame Carla … no, make that Ms. Martin, for what had happened. My voice became cold and accusing.

Her expression shifted from concerned friendliness to indifferent distance. It was amazing how she could turn off her emotions so quickly.

"I've no solutions for you, Jacqui. Truly, I wish I did." She said it, but I didn’t believe her, at least I didn’t want to believe her, I wanted to be mad at her.

"How are you going to deal with satisfying his needs? His wife died more than three years ago, he's probably real horny."

I wished she hadn't asked me that. Her voice almost sounded like she was worried about me, but her words felt like a knife twisting in my ribs. I looked at her carefully. It was as if she had tried to act nice, but her underlying malice had gotten the better of me her. Yes, I was sure she wanted to see me squirm. Even though I didn’t want to think about what might happen, I sure as hell wasn't going to give Carla the pleasure of knowing how I felt. I kept my face in a neutral mask as I thought about the situation.

There wasn’t any reason to think that Kurt might be gay, but how can you ever tell? So maybe he had no interest in sex with me. The problem with that theory is that he had kissed me and seemed to enjoy it. Hell, so had I, but I wasn’t anywhere near ready to even consider that thought just then.

"I can't say. I just don’t know, mum. I'll deal with it when I have to. Do you know if he’s gay?" My voice quavered slightly as I finished speaking, revealing my anxiety even as I tried to conceal it. Damn! Carla’s expression changed again. Now she truly looked concerned.

"Come here." I walked to her side of the dining room table as she pushed her chair back. "Sit on my lap." She patted the tops of her thighs.

I sat stiffly, feeling very uneasy. Carla hugged me anyway.

"Jacqui, I really do like you." I jumped up, startling her.

"Like, not love? Is that what our relationship has become? And so quickly too," I went on archly. "Well, I guess that’s not surprising considering how many men you’re fucking." I spit the word out, like an epitaph. "Don’t lie to me Carla, I’m not a total fool."

"Finish your chores then go up stairs. Good night, Jacqui." She said it sadly, but I wasn’t impressed. I just turned around and started to leave the room. Despite my anger, my training stopped me at the door. I turned and curtseyed to my former wife. Bending my knees deeply and being as gracefully as I could was the only way I could think of to keep from feeling completely humiliated. In the moment it took to straighten my knees, I had a flash of insight.

Why should a well-executed curtsey help to keep me from feeling humiliated? Because it was John who was feeling shamed, not Jacqui. Jacqui was her own girl. Even if she was only a maid, she was a human being. By the time I looked up to say, ‘Good night, mum’, I had a small smile on my face. Although I didn’t say it aloud, I couldn’t help but think, ‘you bitch,’ after mum.

I didn't ask permission, but once I was ready for bed. I just got under the covers with Melissa. She silently accepted me into her arms, drew me close and fell back to sleep. I lay there for quite awhile, my mind in turmoil, before I finally fell asleep hugging her tightly in my arms.

"I need to be laced in tighter than normal," I told Melissa in the morning, "so my new dress fits." She did as I asked without questioning my request.

When we got downstairs, I was told to put out two place settings. Apparently, someone had come over after I went to bed.

I stared in disbelief. "What?" Before Melissa could reply, we were interrupted by voices.

"Are you sure you'll not stay for breakfast, Michael?" We could see Ms. Martin and a man I had never seen before standing in the hallway, facing each other and holding hands. I did not want to see this, so I quickly finished setting the table and hurried into the kitchen.

Carla was alone when I carried in the coffee and juice.

"Good morning, Jacqui." She had a radiant, well-fucked glow and her green eyes sparkled in the morning light.

"Good morning, mum," I replied stoically, while filling her cup and setting the juice glass.

"Remove the other place setting, Jacqui."

"Yes, mum." That was it. Nothing more was said.

"Jacqui," Melissa said after she had come back from a brief meeting with Carla, "neither Ms. Martin nor I will be in this evening when you get back, so don't worry."

After I finished the unpleasant task of changing Ms. Martin’s damp, smelly sheets yet again and emptying more condoms from the trash, the day went quickly. I watered my plants then went up the spiral staircase to the maids’ quarters, which were flooded with sunlight. Setting up an email account for myself and further tweaking the settings on our computer took an hour, and re-polishing my long nails with pearlescent white occupied another. I had nothing else to do, so I stripped, donned a nightshirt and climbed into bed for a nap.

A shower would have been nice and a bath would have been great, but Melissa wasn’t home and I'd never be able to do my laces tightly enough by myself. A shampoo and a thorough wash had to substitute.

There was no way I could change my hair, so I simply blew it out and brushed it smooth and shiny. As I sat there checking it, I realized for the first time since it had been cut, that "Ms. Martin" had dictated that I wear it in a bubble cut and that was that. I'd no choice in the matter. I'd been locked into my hairdo just as effectively as I had been locked into my chastity belt, making me a sexless person.

I had to stop thinking about things like these, so instead I concentrated on applying my makeup. Melissa had set high standards for me from the beginning, but tonight, I had to do it to meet a higher standard - my own. I realized that if I was to have any hope of surviving the upcoming ordeal, Jacqui had to be in control. Sure, Carla, Melissa and now Kurt, controlled me to an important degree, but I could control some things and little Jacqui, the maid, was going to do this right. I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on inside my head, but tonight, Jacqui the maid, was going to practice her feminine wiles on Kurt, I giggled, Kurt mit eine K, Mark. It was time for Jacqui to become her own girl.

After smoothing on a matte finish, alabaster foundation, I carefully glued subtle false lashes in place on both top and bottom. I stroked on mascara and lined my eyes with a softened pencil, carefully creating a very sexy, smudged look. Then I extended the line from the outer corners to create the slant-eyed appearance that gave my vaguely oriental face its obviously Asian look. I carefully smudged black eye shadow on my upper eyelids then blended it invisibly to dark and then pale gray under my brows to enhance the chionsoir effect I wanted.

Staring at my face, I decided that my eyebrows were wrong. I plucked out nearly a third of what remained then applied black pencil from where they started above the inner corner of my eye to where they ended above the pupil. 'Perfect', I thought.

I dusted just a hint of blush high on my cheekbones and finally I opened the new lipstick I'd bought. I took my time brushing on the red patent color, the only real color I would wear that evening. My lips started to appear like glazed porcelain on my otherwise matte face. I would have to remember to fix them repeatedly if I wanted to maintain this fabulous look.

Carla had given me a bottle of Opium after she decided I should look Asian, so I applied the heady fragrance in all the right places. It wasn’t until I dabbed some into my cleavage that I learned, much to my delight, that the scent of new leather would mix with it to create a dramatically intoxicating effect. I hoped Kurt would like it as much as I did.

Keeping one gloved hand on the railing while the other held my small clutch and lifted my skirt, I slowly and carefully descended the steel spiral staircase to the kitchen. I could walk just fine wearing the six-inch strappy sandals, but going down the stairs in them and a long, tight dress was still treacherous at best.

Sitting on the front edge of a kitchen chair, I practiced with my gloves. I'd no intention of leaving them on to dine. After unbuttoning the wrist, I was able to slide the arm-length sheath down, work my hand out then fold that part inside the sheath and smooth the sleeve back into place. I did the same on my left arm. Replacing the gloves consumed most of the rest of the remaining time. I hoped I could do them gracefully and not look like a jerk in the restaurant.

Then, with nothing to do to keep my mind occupied, I quickly started to worry. What had I just done? I went to extravagant lengths to make myself as sexy as possible for a date with a guy, that’s what. On one level I understood that I just loved to get dressed up and that hadn’t changed. Plus, this was a wonderful opportunity that so many T’s long for: a formal date with a charming man. I had certainly taken full advantage of my opportunity so far. I looked and felt fantastic.

But how was I going to relate to Kurt? Was I going to be a cross-dressed guy who loved his clothes, but was scared of touching another guy? That’s certainly what I have been. Or was I going to be a woman? That was what I was supposed to be finding out, wasn’t it? I was living as Jacqui to see if I was Jacqui. Jacqui was a woman who… who… who knew how to control and manipulate a man with her feminine charms? Not yet, but maybe. Yes, it seemed to me right then that I only had that one choice.

That was okay, because I understood it was a choice that carried many opportunities. I could have a lot of fun allowing Kurt to escort me to all kinds of wonderful places. He would be my way out of the house and he would fight my battles with my bitchy employer, Ms. Carla Martin. I could tell Kurt what and where I wanted to go and he would take me there, whether the bitch thought I should go or not. Not only that, but if I played this right, I could flaunt my new 'boyfriend' at her, just the way she had flaunted her new lovers at me.

Yes, this could work. The key was that I had to get control of Kurt and I knew the only way to do that was to be the cute, flirty little maid he was looking for. I had to do to him just what women had always done to men to control them.

Then, before I could get any further in this train of thought, my date tapped softly on a glass pane in the door, promptly on time. Carla had made it clear to him that he was dating her maid and that her servants used only the servants' entrance to her house. I was willing to bet this was the first time Kurt had ever had to use a servant’s entrance for any reason.

I minced over to the door, it was impossible to do much else in that dress and those shoes, took a deep breath, well, as deep as I could in my tight corset, and opened the door, letting go of it so I could pose in the door frame for Kurt. I dropped a brief, shallow curtsey, since that was all I could manage, then stood in a classic model’s pose, turned slightly to the side to emphasize my curves, with one hand on my hip and the other turned out. I looked up into Kurt’s eyes with the most dreamy look I could muster.

"Mein Gott," Kurt repeated softly several times after the loud gasp he let out as I'd straightened from my curtsey. Smiling, I pirouetted for him. I was showing off and felt great doing it. Jacqui was in control … at least of herself so far.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Jacqui."

"Danke schoen." I dipped a little again. "Guten Abend, Kurt." I glided close and gave him a small kiss on he lips. He did not move. I was committed now, but was I really that much in control?

"I have brought you a flower, but its beauty is over shadowed by the Flower of the Orient," he said as he offered me a corsage box.

"Oh," I exclaimed, "it’s just perfect. It's beautiful." I lifted the white orchid from its nest of green tissues. "But how did you know to pick white tonight?" He just shrugged and smiled. "Put it on me, please?" I extended my left arm so he could place it on my wrist. I half expected him to lift my hand and touch it to his lips, but he simply put the corsage on my wrist. It truly was lovely.

I'd thought he'd drive his big Mercedes, but I was wrong. His car was big, but he'd neither driven it nor was it a Mercedes. His chauffeur bowed at our approach and tended the door of the huge, antique Rolls Royce.

I lifted my slender dress to my knees. It may not have been a proper, lady-like maneuver, but it was the only way that I could think of to get in. I could see Kurt watching my stockinged ankles and severely arched feet, which I allowed to linger for a moment before pulling them in the car. He waited until I was settled on the cream leather seat before getting in next to me from the other side.

We started down the driveway in silence. It was quiet, because not only had we'd not spoken, but I couldn't even hear the exhaust from the engine and could barely feel the movement.

"This is a very fine motor car," I faked in a British accent.

"I like it, but my Audi tt is much more fun. I see that I made the right decision not to bring it this evening."

"An' 'ow's that, guv?" I was being blonde and not thinking how I could possibly enter a low sports car wearing what I was. He started to laugh.

"You are nothing but surprises, Jacqui. 'an 'ow's that, guv'?" He imitated and laughed harder. He slid away from me then turned towards me, not saying anything. What made him do that?

"Is there something wrong with me that you had to move away?" I asked.

"No, no, you are one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen," Kurt replied quickly, "This is the only way that I can see all of you and admire your beauty."

How could I possibly respond to a compliment like that? "Well, when you've seen enough of me, come back over here," I made a pout, thinking I had come up with a brilliant reply.

"And why would you want me close to you? You wanted nothing to do with me when I first politely asked you to accompany me to dinner, pretty Jacqui?"

He had me there. No, I had not! He had given me an opening, perhaps I could use his blackmail to some advantage. "I was very upset that you guessed who I was Kurt. And I resent being forced to do anything." That was the truth.

Kurt surprised me by looking remorseful and asking for forgiveness. "I am sorry, Jacqui, I truly am. No one can undo the past, but I am sorry that I hurt you." He gave me a little, embarrassed smile and said, "I would really like to make it up to you, Jacqui. At first, I was fascinated by you, because I thought you were a lovely and exotic young woman. When I learned that you were John, I became even more fascinated, although I'm not sure why. I wanted to take you out to perhaps find out. I hope you believe me when I say it is Jacqui I am interested in. No one else. I see no one else here." He slid close and kissed my cheek.

It was obvious to me that throwing the blackmail in his face was not going to accomplish anything. I could only get what I wanted from this relationship by playing it differently.

"Did I properly thank you for the corsage?" I kissed him quickly on the lips, "Thank you," then sat back. His grin was totally disarming; he looked like a high school kid who had just been kissed by his favorite girl. In truth neither one of us knew what was going to happen and I think we were both secretly happy to just sit silently for the rest of the ride, which was only a few more minutes.

Valets tended the doors as soon as his chauffeur had stopped the Rolls at the entrance to the restaurant. I worked hard to make my emergence from the car a memorable event and was rewarded by their reactions. 'Eyes as big as dinner platters' would not have been an exaggeration. I really tingled with pride when the very attractive and affluent people in the lobby fell silent as Kurt escorted me inside on his arm. Then I had a strange thought. All my life I had been an ordinary American male. Now, all of a sudden, I was an exotic oriental woman. I was not really a part of their culture anymore. I wondered how many thought I was a call girl.

I don’t know if it was Kurt or the restaurant, but the Maitre d', was a true gentleman, who didn’t have his palm extended as he sat us in the very dark, far corner.

"Please sit there so only I can admire you, Jacqui." Kurt motioned me to the chair that would place my back to the room. "I do not think I wish to share your beauty with the others tonight." His compliment was a bit embarrassing and I flushed slightly, looking down and then back up through my lashes. I had no problem with his request because I really didn't want to see the stares of the other diners and would be better able to concentrate without that distraction.

"Will you share champagne or another wine with me this evening?" he asked while scanning through the thick wine list the sommelier had presented.

"No, thank you, Kurt. I had a drinking problem, before I accepted my current position. I really feel much better now that I have dried out. I do not want to start down that path again."

He briefly raised an eyebrow in question, but only said, "Thank you, Jacqui, I feel honored you shared that with me. I will not ask you again to share any alcohol with me." He gave me a small smile.

He conferred briefly with our waiter and I used the time to perform the exercise of uncovering my hands.

"You would fit well in La Grande Epoch, Jacqui," he chuckled, watching what I was doing.

"My waist isn't small enough ... yet," I countered with a small giggle, "and I forgot my fan tonight," I said, waving my hand in front of my face. He laughed at my reply, which pleased me. I started to relax.

"I see now why you like the music of Strauss. Which of his are your favorites?

"There is one Viennese polka that I really like - Tritsch-Tratsch, or something like that, but I'm not sure of the exact name of the piece. It's lively and fun sounding. Whenever I listen to it, I can't help, but to picture myself twirling rapidly all around a grand ballroom in an elegant gown with my skirts and petticoats swirling about me. It's my dream to actually do that some day." I'd closed my eyes and let the picture form while the melody came back to me. Nodding my head slightly to the rhythm, I hummed part of it, smiling.

When I opened my eyes and saw Kurt’s curious look, I blushed furiously. I couldn’t believe I had just shared that particular fantasy with him. Almost immediately, John started to feel humiliated and I started to panic. I hadn’t banished him from the evening as effectively as I had thought. My feelings must have shown on my face because Kurt guessed immediately, what was going on in my head.

"Jacqui, give me your hands," he commanded softly. He gently enveloped my hands in his, holding them like you might hold a baby bird, too tight for me to pull away easily, but lightly enough so as not to scare or hurt me. "Now look at me Jacqui. I am here tonight with Jacqui. No one else. You look ravishing. Please relax?"

I could feel the sense of panic start to subside, so I took a couple of slow breaths to help out. I could feel my eyelids flutter a little bit, but I could also feel myself calming down. I closed my eyes again, feeling the nurturing strength in Kurt’s grip.

When I looked up again, Kurt said, "Tell me about your gown."

I took another one of my deep breaths, which to anyone else would only have been considered a shallow breath, and let my imagination go. "It has a green velvet bodice, heavy, with a taffeta skirt and lots of taffeta petticoats." I went on to describe it in detail.

"Why taffeta?" he asked.

"Because of the frou-frou."

"Frou-frou?"

"The sound. Other fabrics can make it too, but compared to taffeta all the others are weak imitations," I said.

"I'm still do not understand what you mean?"

"It's the rustling," I shrugged, not knowing just how to explain what I was talking about. "At the party, did you hear the soft sounds my petticoats made as I walked?" Kurt nodded. "That sound is frou-frou." His instant smile reflected his understanding.

"Yes, a most delightful sound, especially with the click from your heels as an accompaniment."

"By George, I think you've got it." I giggled.

I ordered a steamed lobster and Kurt the rack of lamb.

"Excellent!" he proclaimed upon tasting his selection. "Do you also like lamb?"

"Yes. The lobster is good too." We started to exchange forkfuls of food when I offered a piece of claw meat for him to taste. I think we each ate more of the others choice then our own when he returned the gesture and I followed it again. By then, John was completely gone and he stayed away for the rest of the night. Jacqui thoroughly enjoyed being treated as a lady by an elegant and cosmopolitan man.

We left the restaurant, arm in arm, giggling at silly jokes.

When we reached the car Kurt said, "Shall I take you dancing? I think I'd like that."

"Another time, perhaps, I must be home before midnight, Kurt."

"You'll be home when I take you there," he countered softly.

"Really, I must get some rest because I have to be on duty at seven o'clock."

"Jacqui, Carla and I have an agreement concerning you." All of a sudden, the reality of my situation came flooding back and my anger started to rise. I flinched. I did not like being forced by a blackmailer.

"Would you rather whip me like your slave until I submit or would you prefer to have me date you willingly? I rather doubt you would like me as Jacqui the slave girl, Kurt." When he stiffened, I felt that I might have gone too far. Until then, our date had been a pleasant one.

We got into the car silently. A chill had definitely descended and was threatening to ruin our evening. I knew I couldn’t let Kurt go home angry, but at the same time, I knew I had to do something to perhaps gain some control over our relationship while putting it on a more solid footing. I knew what I had to do, what any woman in my position would do, but I couldn’t believe that I was about to do it. It was to be a bold move on my part. As soon as he settled into his seat, I turned in mine and leaned over, putting my arms around his neck and moving my face next to his.

I whispered in his ear, "A slave girl might wish to strangle her master right now, but a girlfriend would want nothing other than to kiss him." I pressed my lips to his, brushing back and forth over them lightly before coming to rest gently.

Kurt hesitated for a moment, perhaps to see what was going to happen. But then he responded both with his lips and by pulling me closer with his arm. I blocked out everything but the sensations coming from my mouth and body. His lips were dry, but soft, so I tentatively stuck my tongue out and licked them lightly. Then he started to rub with a little more pressure and we kissed with closed lips for a minute while he rubbed my back with one hand and my leg, through the butter-soft leather of my dress, with the other. Then, without even thinking about it, I parted my lips and invited him in.

He sought out my tongue carefully and tenderly and we spent some tentative moments getting used to each other’s taste and feel. I let out an involuntary sigh, which must have excited and encouraged him, because he became more active and aggressive. His tongue simply took over my mouth and his kiss became my entire consciousness. I had never been kissed like this before. His whole attitude was commanding, but he wasn’t at all threatening. Clearly, he was in charge, but I knew intuitively that he would not go anywhere I didn’t lead him, or at least allow him to go.

When we broke, Kurt held my waist with both his hands so I was a little away from his face.

"Liebling, I think that I would like you as a willing girlfriend and not a slave who I must beat into submission." I moved to rest my cheek on his shoulder then lay still, awaiting his next move.

He surprised me by sitting me up gently again so we could see each other’s faces. "Jacqui, I had no intimate contact with anyone but my wife from the time she and I met until she died." I thought he was saying this as if he regretted it, but when I saw the look of longing on his face, I understood that wasn’t what he meant at all. He had no regrets, he was just telling me about his past. He went on, "I’ve never been with a…"

I just knew he was going to say, ‘man’ and I began to stiffen, but instead he said, "a woman like you."

I was so delighted that he had called me a woman that I quickly relaxed again and laid my head back on his shoulder then reached my gloved hands around his broad chest. It didn’t even occur to me to wonder what ‘a woman like you’ might have meant.

As I did that, Kurt reached up and started to caress my hair and then my neck with the backs of his fingers. It was so different from anything I had experienced before. His touch was assuring, comforting, and enveloping. Women had caressed my head in the past, but they did it differently, never with such confidence, never to comfort, but rather to excite me, tease me in a mildly erotic way. Women had done it to encourage me to be more sexual with them. Kurt was simply letting me know that he valued me and wanted me to feel relaxed.

I sighed contentedly, closed my eyes and reached out to my body with my mind. I could feel one dangly earring hang between my cheek and Kurt’s shoulder and the other simply lying against my neck, I could taste lipstick on my lips and the slight tug of the glue from my false eyelashes. The satin lining of the dress embraced my little breasts, pressing them into my chest and the corset compressed the rest of my torso like a giant, powerful hand. The skirt of my dress was so tight that it almost made me feel like my two legs were one and for a moment I imagined I was a mermaid. Then I felt the erotic arch my six-inch heels forced upon my feet and I was a sexy woman again. I could smell my perfume, the leather of my dress and Kurt’s own distinct fragrance mixing in my nostrils. There seemed to be little doubt. There was a woman resting her cheek on her man's shoulder.

Even as I tried to burrow in closer to Kurt and enjoy the moment, my mind was restless. Snuggling with a man was strange and forbidden territory. As precious as this moment was, I couldn’t still my mind to savor it. Instead, I began to unravel it by wondering about its implications. What, I wondered to myself, is a woman? At that moment, I was as much of a woman as I had ever been, I looked like one, I acted like one and I was feeling pleased and even a little sexy with a man.

How could I be a woman? I had always thought I wanted to be one and now it looked pretty much like I’d succeeded, but there was just one problem. You see, I wasn’t a woman; I was a man. This was a game; I was masquerading, playing a role.

Or was I? I had always understood that simply looking like a woman wouldn’t make me one. It’s simply not enough. To be a woman, you also had to act like a woman. The only trouble was, I couldn’t imagine just what it meant to act like a woman, except in some stereotypical ways. So there must be something more.

All evening long, Kurt had me feeling delightfully attractive and feminine. He was a strong, confidant man and it was easy to feel like a fragile, desirable woman next to him. Maybe that was it. Being a woman meant you could do things that men couldn’t. A woman didn’t have to be anything in particular, but if she wanted, she could be flirtatious and charming, willing to let the guy take charge; she could be seductive, indirect and reactive, getting what she wanted by convincing the man he wanted to give those things to her. Right now, I thought, a real woman would enjoy the attentions of her man, especially if he was as elegant and handsome as mine.

That thought echoed in my head, ‘mine’, ‘my man’. And, all of a sudden, I knew exactly what I had to do. It was something that would have appalled and repulsed me only a few weeks ago. Even then, I didn’t feel driven to it by lust or overwhelming need, but the logic of the situation seemed inescapable. So I shifted in my seat so I could lie across Kurt’s lap.

"Kiss me, again" I said, "please?" The sound came up from my throat in a hoarse whisper that sounded full of need. I had no idea my voice could sound like that. Perhaps my body knew something I didn’t. It didn’t matter because Kurt was just perfect. He cradled me in his arms and turned so my back was across his legs. Then, with his hands behind my back, he lifted my upper body so my mouth was raised up to meet his as he looked down at me.

At the last moment, he looked into my eyes and whispered, "Are you sure?"

I hesitated just a second to look into his eyes. Perhaps he was feeling hesitant, or even repulsed. All I found there was gentle concern, and I imagined, a touch of lust. That washed away my inhibitions in a heartbeat and I responded, "Oh yes," the sound still coming from deep within my throat.

This time, I met him with open lips and sought his tongue immediately with my own, drawing both back into my mouth. I simply loved the feeling of being on my back with my lover above me, his tongue in my mouth. We kissed like that for quite some time and I began to squirm in his lap as surprising waves of erotic desire started to lap at the edges of my awareness.

At this moment, I had no name or identity. There was just me, the core of my being kissing another person and being kissed back with great warmth, affection and increasing need. If I could have thought and kissed at the same time, I would have realized that there was no magic switch, which I had to throw to become a woman. I would always be me and I would be a woman by being who I was. I would become Jacqui simply by being Jacqui. She wasn’t so different from John anyway and, at that moment, she was a happy young woman.

I was so intent on our kiss that I gasped slightly when Kurt's hand found my breast and began to fondle it through the soft leather that sheathed it like a second skin. The satin lining felt exquisite as it glided breathlessly over my hardened nipple and the sensation caused an involuntary shiver to ripple through my body. Having heard my gasp and then felt the shiver, Kurt misunderstood and started to remove his hand. I quickly brought my hand up to recover his and I pressed it back down onto my breast, keeping my hand on top of it and arching my back to intensify the luscious feelings he was creating in me. When he had picked up the pace again himself, I let my nails softly scratch the back of his hand as I slid it away to drape it again over his shoulder.

I did not want it to stop - I wanted more, and we petted like two high school kids until we reached Carla's house, stopping only after the big Rolls had pulled up into the driveway. We spent a few minutes saying endearing things to each other, and then Kurt reminded me I needed to go to bed. By then, I didn’t want to leave him. I kissed and nibbled at his lips knowing that he would take responsibility and do the right thing. So before too long he was opening the kitchen door for me and giving me a final good night kiss before seeing me safely inside. I was truly a little breathless after I shut the door and leaned back against it, one leg bent back, the sole of my foot resting just above the kick plate. God, is this how a teenage girls feel after their first kiss? It was simply stunning.

The house was strange in its silence. As Melissa had promised, there were no lights in the tower, nor in Ms. Martin's apartment. I went right upstairs to get ready for bed because I had to be up tomorrow morning in any case.

I purposefully concentrated on what I was doing, as I undressed and cleaned my face. I wasn’t yet prepared to think about the evening. It wasn’t until I got into bed that I allowed myself to wonder about what had I done. Surprisingly, the first answer that popped into my mind was, 'I had a good time.' In fact, I had a great time! I was still tingling from Kurt’s attentions and I raised my hand to my breast to try to recreate some of those stomach-turning delights.

Then, as I recalled the feeling of Kurt’s hand on my breast, I became acutely aware that I had, for the first time in my life, willingly engaged in sexual play with a man. My body literally stiffened at the thought and my breath caught in my throat. I quickly drew my hand away from my breast, embarrassed at what I had done and was doing. I could feel my face warm as I flushed in the darkness of my bedroom.

I had never felt any attraction for men, but I couldn’t deny that Kurt had really gotten me turned on once I allowed myself to relax into the moment. I had always assumed I would find being kissed or fondled by a man repulsive, and I had done my best to assure I would never be put in that situation. I was badly confused now, but as I thought back, I had to admit that I hadn’t really been repulsed even when Delveccio, the landscaper, had kissed and fondled me when he was giving me an estimate for the yard work. Maybe…

I wasn’t ready to go there yet. Still, as I lay in bed thinking these thoughts, I knew that I wanted to spend more time with Kurt and would certainly kiss him if he initiated it. In my heart, I knew where that might lead, but I chose not to imagine what it would look or feel like. After all, I rationalized, both Kurt and I were in the same boat, heading into new territory neither one of us had ever even considered before. He might not even want to continue, I thought, after all, he’s not gay and I’m really a man. Then, I was startled to realize that I would be terribly disappointed if that’s how he felt. Oh hell, there would be plenty of time to figure this out.

I turned my thoughts to my chastity belt, tracing my nails around the edges of my horrid personal prison as I'd done so many times since I'd allowed it to be put on. I wondered, yet again, why I was wearing it. What a fool I'd made of myself, actually begging for it. Kurt had found it, of course, while we petted. He lifted his head away from my face, looking at me with questioning eyes. I just shrugged back in response and he let it drop. Would I be asking Kurt to help me get it off one of these days soon? I didn’t want to think about that either. I eventually fell asleep with my hand over my steel encased crotch.

I arose Saturday at the regular time, put on my uniform and groomed myself as required. I was enjoying my false eyelashes and had left them on last night. They were still in place in the morning and I was delighted with my eyes. Too bad no one would see them, I sighed. Melissa’s bed was still empty. Before I started Ms. Martin's coffee and breakfast, I checked to see if she was home. She wasn’t. I took the little time required to do all of the chores then retired to our quarters, intending to stay there for the rest of the day.

Ms. Martin returned about three o'clock and found me at the computer.

"Hello, Jacqui," she smiled when I'd stood and curtseyed. After I returned her greeting she said, "May I sit and talk for a moment?

"How are you doing? How did things go last night?" her tone was inviting and, after everything that had happened the previous night, I really wanted to talk, but I was still wary of her.

"The evening went very well. Kurt is a real gentleman. Thank you for inquiring, mum."

"Oh, sit down and relax, please? I really don’t want to play games. In fact, I came up here to tell you that I'm quite pleased with your performance and the way things are going. You have adapted well, far exceeding my expectations."

"Well, that makes me feel ever so much better, mum. I have never wanted anything but to please you. You must be very happy that I’m adapting to your sleeping around."

She started to get angry, rising out of her seat for a moment, but she quickly settled back down and instead simply looked at me with more than a bit of frustration. I hadn’t meant to be so caustic; it had just slipped out. You know what? I didn’t care. A little honesty couldn’t possibly hurt our relationship now.

Carla composed herself and went on as if I hadn’t said anything at all. "Tell me how you'd like to change your position, Jacqui?"

That, caught me by surprise, I hadn’t thought she was going to allow anything to change.

"Well, I'd really like to get out of my chastity belt sometimes, mum. It’s uncomfortable and humiliating." Her response was just a small smile. I took it as condescending and started to get angry. Was she humiliating me on purpose?

"Anything else?" I gave her a sour look, she was just blowing me off, but what the hell, by now I’d thought of a couple of things; might as well start with the least likely.

"Yes, mum. It's very embarrassing to have others recognize me as John." Her brow furrowed. "As long as I'm in this role, I'd like it very much if I could change my appearance enough so that didn't happen any more. I know it will only be until late August, but I really don’t want anyone else to know who I really am."

"Late August?" She gave me a questioning look. "Ah, yes - the three month trial you agreed to. Think a moment, do you really want to change back to what you used to be?"

Did I? I wasn't so sure. My old job at our company had evolved into something that was not fun. It was flat hard work and stressful as hell. The sad fact is that I hadn’t been doing it very well. Now that I had been a maid for six weeks, without any of that pressure, I was starting to enjoy my life. Did I really want the personnel problems I had to deal with almost daily? Did I want to kiss some customer's ass, just to keep his business? There were a hundred ‘did I’s’ to consider, but, before I could get to any more of them, Carla made my internal debate mute.

"There's a problem with terminating this," she gestured at my uniform, "that I’m afraid we hadn’t considered, Jacqui."

I looked at her. "What?"

"Your boyfriend. I spoke with him on my cell phone while driving home."

"You what…? How dare you?" God Damnit! I felt violated! She'd no right to call Kurt to check on my performance!

"Be quiet and listen!" she barked, before settling herself again.

"I called to try to talk him out of the threats he made to force you to date him. I don't like blackmail and I'm sure you feel the same way. I know that you aren't gay and have no interest in men. Whatever else you may think of me, there's no way that I'm forcing you to date him or any other man, Jacqui. My call was to try and explain and get Kurt to back off and leave you alone." I wrinkled my lip, waiting to hear what the outcome of her call had been.

"Apparently, you made a very big impression on him," she smiled. "You were the perfect date last night. He wants to see you a lot more. Instead of withdrawing his promise of exposing you in public and taking his company's business elsewhere, Kurt has upped the ante." My stomach churned.

"I'm to make you available whenever he wants to be with you."

"Don't I have any say in this - dating him or not?" I had forgotten about the good time I had last night and how luscious it was to be in Kurt’s arms. All of a sudden, I was John again and reacting the same way I always had when someone tried to force me to do something. I resisted instinctively, but now I was feeling desperate. I felt trapped and I was getting anxious, just like I always had in similar situations. It was a response that had helped keep me out of trouble when I was a CEO, but now…

"You know the answer to that."

"I did tell him that by the end of August you were no longer going to be in this position." She paused to stare at me, expressing concern with her eyes. "Jacqui, the choice, still is yours. You may feel as if you don’t have any options available, but you do."

"Like what?" I cried, my voice rising in desperation.

"You could remain here in your current role or you could disappear."

"Why can't we just tell him to fuck off and let him just do as he threatens? I'll stand up and take it and there are other customers we can find.

"Mind your tongue, girl!"

"Oh give me a break, Carla, I’m not your fucking ‘girl’. I’m sick of your condescending crap. You have me locked up," I gestured at my groin, but when I looked down and saw the lacey white apron that covered it, I grimaced then looked back at her with distaste, "and you fuck anything you can drag into bed. You have no right to talk to me like that unless I agree to it."

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. That was something else I couldn’t do - take a deep breath. "There’s another factor in this, Toni. As you might expect, she's my assistant now. If you return to work as John, she'll probably inform everyone there and all of our customers. Toni likes you as Jacqui."

This was an entirely new twist. "Just fire her!" Now I was frantic and almost in tears.

"You know what would happen then." Carla came over, grabbed me and hugged me tightly. That loosed my tears.

"We'll work something out," she said as she comforted me.

Despite my tears, I laughed. "Yeah sure. Like it really matters to your life, what happens to me."

"Jacqui, I do care!" she protested, pushing me away with both hands so she could see my face. "Listen to me, this is very important. Sit down." She led me back to my seat and set me on it, very deliberately. I pulled my legs back under me and crossed my ankles without even thinking about it. Then she turned around and walked to the middle of the room with her head down, like a lawyer getting ready to make her final argument to the jury. For just a second, the afternoon light lit up her curly hair into a glossy dark halo. Then she turned to me, stared into my eyes for a moment and began.

"Jacqui. I did not enter into this experiment to torment you and you know that. In fact, you’ve agreed to everything and, despite all your complaining, you have not asked to have your chastity belt removed."

Wait, I thought to myself, you told me that if I asked to have it removed, that would be the end of everything. I started to stand up to protest. Before I could get a word out, she stopped me.

"Just sit down and listen to me." Her expression was hard, so I sat. "I told you why you are locked up," she spat out, "It’s to see if you really are Jacqui." She had softened and by the time she said the word ‘Jacqui’, it came out like a warm caress. She went on in that tone. "If you are a transsexual, as I now believe, then living like a woman should mean a lot more to you than simply indulging in a selfish sexual fetish. That’s why you are wearing a chastity belt. It was to give you time to explore your femininity without interference from your dick." She nodded down between my legs.

She was right, I couldn’t really object, and she looked so intense now, that I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. "And just because I’m trying to discover if I can like sex with someone other than John, doesn’t mean I don’t care for you, Jacqui. You have been my whole life for nearly ten years now.

"I care for you deeply and you were on the verge of destroying yourself, my business and our relationship. I had to do something." She gave me the most pleading look. I had to believe her.

"This whole thing isn’t easy for me either you know? I’ve had to watch my husband blossom as a woman. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that it’s happening. And … on top of everything else, I’m running the company by myself now. Things are very stressful for me - I can handle that, but I’m confused about what’s going on here and don’t always make the right decisions. I need some relief too."

She plopped down onto her chair and we sat there, across from each other, silent. I didn’t know what to say. She was right about the most important things. I now thought of myself as Jacqui and when I thought of John, he was only in the past. Carla was losing her husband. If that was true, did I have any right to object to her getting sex where she could?

"How about a little treat for you?" she offered.

"Why don't you get yourself together and be dressed all pretty for me by six. We'll go out for dinner, just the two of us, and anything else you'd like to do tonight."

Despite the sorry mood I was in, I had managed to stop crying. My tears would do me no good and neither would declining her offer to go out. I could stay in the maids’ quarters and sulk, or I could divert my attention with something better. I'd had a good time the evening before, even though I hadn’t expected to, and I’d make the best of this one too. I started to get ready to go out.

During one of my breaks, I'd re-sewn my cheongsam to again form fit my torso by hand. That’s what I had on when I went down to the kitchen. Carla arrived just a few moments later and looked me over. "That's my girl. Lookin' good Jacqui," she smiled at me warmly.

"Ready?"

She drove and I sat next to her in front.

When I declined a drink before dinner, she questioned me about it.

"Jacqui, it's OK, you've my permission," she offered.

"No thank you, mum. I do not drink now and doubt I will in the future. I feel better without it. I really don't want any alcohol." She smiled.

"You have really changed, Jacqui. That’s wonderful. At least we achieved one of our goals." I just nodded, but realized I was very happy about this and started to feel some gratitude to Carla for that. I really hadn’t realized what bad shape I had been in until I could look back at it.

She went on, "Earlier, you said the one thing that bothered you the most was being recognized." That wasn't quite what I said, but she obviously wasn't going to discuss my steel panties. "What would you think of changing your face a little?

"Such as, mum?"

"Make you look a little more Chinese around your eyes and perhaps give you a smaller mouth. It wouldn't be anything major, you understand, but it should help keep others from being suspicious about who you remind them of." It was an interesting suggestion, but also a frightening one.

"But what would I do when I'm John again? Those things are rather permanent." I said dryly, pointing out the obvious to her. The truth was, however, I had begun to believe that I would never see that day and wouldn't want to.

"I don't think I'd want any surgery for you that was too drastic. Without makeup, you could still pass as a man," she argued.

I started to roll my eyes at her bullshit, but then all of a sudden I realized what she had said, 'Pass as a man!' I almost shouted. "Carla, dear," I said, trying to contain my sarcasm just a little, "don’t try to sell me on something you want me to do by trying to pretend I want it too. I haven’t gotten stupid just because I’m now your maid and asked you to imprison me in the fucking chastity belt that is now digging into my thighs."

She looked a little shame-faced, so I took the opening, "Oh, had you forgotten about that little thing? How curious?" By now, there was no hiding my contempt and my words dripped with sarcasm. I went on before she could interrupt.

"You and I both know that if I have surgery, it will mark the end of John. Are you so eager to have that happen that you’d try to mislead me just to get me to agree, like you did with the chastity belt?" Despite our earlier conversation, I just couldn’t let go of my anger over the belt.

This time, she jumped in when I paused, "Oh, Jacqui, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t trying to trick you, I was just trying to find a way to make all this easier for you. I know how fast things have changed and how terribly difficult all this must be for you." She looked at me with real compassion on her face and I began to soften. Did I really believe she was trying to trick me? I just didn’t know and shook my head in regret.

I didn’t have anything to say though, so she went on after making sure she wasn’t cutting me off. "But I must say yet again, Jacqui. I did not trick you into wearing that chastity belt and, however much you must hate it, you can’t blame me because you have it on.

I snapped right back at her, "That’s only half true, Carla, and you know it." I took a big, well as big as I could, breath to calm myself. I didn’t want to attack her. I went on more softly, my voice was tinged with regret.

"You set the situation up so I couldn’t refuse putting it on in the first place and then I was compelled to keep it on or leave. Whatever your reasons, however justifiable they might be, don’t you ever imagine, for even a moment, that I want to be in this thing. I'm sure I could have learned whether I am Jacqui without the belt. It would have been a different path, that's all." I had a very sour look on my face, but I was caved in onto myself, with my head down, my shoulders hunched and my hands folded carefully in my lap. I felt very small and frail.

She looked at me with her lips pursed, her head cocked and her dark curls cascading down one shoulder. Then she flicked her head to throw her hair behind her and with blinding insight said, "You’re Jacqui aren’t you? John’s just a memory, isn’t he? I know it’s a big step, but maybe now is the time to take it. Or… I’m not sure, maybe you did already; have you?"

I shook my head no, but without any conviction. She had looked into my heart and somehow seen it all. I felt I had no alternative, but to follow her. "I’m scared," I whispered. "I’m scared to be Jacqui, but I’m scared to be John again too. I don’t know who either one of them is." I still hadn't looked up.

Carla reached out to me with her hands, holding them in front of me until I took mine from my lap and laid them in hers. My pearly-pink nails glistened palely in the light of the lone candle that illuminated our table. Before we could say anything else, the waiter came with our drinks. Carla had a glass of wine - I had a Virgin Mary. I giggled when I saw it.

"What?" Jacqui said when he had left. "What's funny?"

I finally looked her in the face and giggled again. "I'm laughing," I said, "because I remembered the night you took Melissa and me to dinner and ordered me a Shirley Temple. I was so furious."

Carla laughed along with me, and then said, "That seems so long ago, doesn't it?" I nodded my agreement. "But," she went on, "it was John who felt humiliated and got furious and you're not really John anymore."

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Having you order a Shirley Temple would embarrass me too!" Carla's eyes widened for a moment and then a small smile found its way onto her face. As we looked at each other, we both realized that I had admitted that I was Jacqui, even though I hadn't said it in so many words.

We talked throughout dinner and, before dessert, I was sure, in my heart of hearts, even though I had not said it, that I would be Jacqui from then on. The only question left then, although it was a big one, was just who this Jacqui would be. What kind of a girl was I?

After dinner, Carla raised the topic of surgery again. "So aside from your face, are there any other changes you’d like to see? She stared straight at my chest. I blushed beet red.

"Yes," I squeaked out, my voice showing my embarrassment as clearly as my face, "One thing I'd like, if I ever had surgery, would be to have my breasts fill a C cup."

She giggled, "Yes, they would be a little nicer at that size. The First Girl even asked if that could be possible someday. Apparently she likes playing 'with her toys'."

"Hers are already at least that big," I said, missing her point completely.

"Not hers, silly, yours." I couldn't help but giggle too. "You'd look more alike then too.

"Why don't you think about it, Jacqui?" She dropped the subject.

Despite the troubled conversation that began our meal, we had a relaxing time out together. I was feeling better disposed towards Carla by the time we left the restaurant. I wasn’t upset at all when the topic of changing my appearance came up again.

"Next time you see your boyfriend, why don't you sound him out about how he'd feel if you looked more like a China Doll? If he agrees, see if you can talk him into paying for it."

"Paying for it?" I asked. "Why would he possibly agree do that?" I couldn't think of any reason why Kurt should or would.

"Maybe you can threaten him with some blackmail too; suppose all of his employees knew he was dating a chick with a dick? Worse still, suppose his customers did? Try it and see.

"By the way, he wants you next Saturday and will pick you up about nine in the morning. He's taking you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, so dress accordingly."

"Just like that?" My immediate response was to be resentful. I hated having no say in any of this, but as soon as I started to tell her that, I realized how stupid it would sound. Kurt wanted to take me out; I wanted him to. What the hell was I bitching about? I was upset because he had not asked me, but arranged it instead with my boss. Oh hell, I thought, that was John’s problem, not mine. Jacqui may not have that much say in how she led her life, but she did have a date she had been hoping for. That was good! It also sounded very brave, I thought. I hoped I was up to it.

As I was settling down again, Carla delivered her own coup de grace, "Jacqui, you discuss it with your boyfriend, not me. I don't like being an intermediary between the two of you. I am your employer, not your mother." She giggled, "If it helps some, I don't consider your dates as your day off. You are still entitled to those."

"Thank you, mum."

Melissa came back mid Sunday morning. She'd gone to visit friends and finish closing her apartment in Philadelphia. As I helped unload her things and bring them to our quarters, I couldn't help but notice that she wasn't wearing her chastity belt under her light pink shorts.

"You gain your freedom from your belt?" I was a bit snide. I resented that she was free from it.

"My agreement with Ms. Martin is that I must be locked up here, with you. On my free time, it is my option to be belted or not, but I have to give a day's notice if I want it off, Jacqui. If it helps you any, this was the first time I had it off since you closed the lock. And, you get to do that again right now."

At least, she'd explained it and that really helped me to accept it. Once I had locked her sex away, Melissa offered to help me out of my corset so I could take a nice hot bath.

Nothing exciting happened during the following week. We did our chores and had our free time. I tended my gardens, finished embroidering our names on all of our uniforms and sewed, taking in the waists on all my older clothes.

Among the things that the First Girl had brought back from Philadelphia was her sewing machine. I was told that I could use it whenever I wanted to and my first priority was to alter my regular wardrobe so I again could wear my clothes again.

End of Part V

 

 

 

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