Jennipher Blakeley            by: Karen Summerfield       © August 2000

 

"Jeff, will you do something special for me?" All afternoon I had sensed that my sister had wanted to ask or talk about something other than Brad, her fiancé.

"Sure, Niki, you know I’d do anything for you. What can I help with?" Unlike many guys with an older sister, I got along great with Nicole, though we seldom spent much time together since I had moved about fifty miles away after graduating..’

"Anything? This is pretty important to me," she seemed afraid to ask and kept her eyes down.

"Well almost. You know I would, Sis."

"I want you to be in my wedding."

"I’d kick your butt if I wasn’t," I teased. "Brothers are supposed to be ushers." I had no idea where she was heading.

"True, but I’ve something else in mind." Nicole looked at me briefly then continued, "And the bride’s best friend is supposed to be her Maid of Honor." It sounded almost more like a question than a statement.

"Of course. That is the way it usually is," I agreed.

"Yes," she seemed to muse, "and I want my bestest friend in the whole world to be my Maid of Honor - just like it is supposed to be." Nicole looked at me with her bright blue eyes, as if studying my face. "Jeff, not only are you my brother, but you are also my best friend, right?" I did not put it together right away. I was not even thinking in that direction.

"Yes, of course I am. You know that, Niki," I agreed.

"Good, you agree then?" Nicole had a grin from ear to ear and moved to give me a hug. I hugged back. "You’ll make a very pretty Maid of Honor," she whispered with her pink lips tickling my ear. I froze. There was no way! No way that my older sister could possibly know.

Nicole pushed out of my arms, but kept hers on my shoulders as she resumed staring at me with a huge grin. While I sat there in near panic, my sister just grinned.

"Jeff, I know," her voice was soft and comforting. "Should I call you Jen’? Miss Jennipher Louise Blakeley." Oh, shit! Nicole had not just guessed a secret that I had tried to hide for twenty-two years. She really did know!

"Jenni, two ‘n’s’ and an ‘i’, Jenni," my sister paused briefly. "I’ve been to your Website," she continued in the same comforting tone. "You missed out on quite a lot, not telling me years ago. Here is your one chance to start making up for it.

"I honestly want you to be my Maid of Honor."

Unannounced, Nicole followed me into my bedroom after I finished my shower Saturday morning and sat on my bed.

"Want to stop pretending you are anyone other than Jenni? You’ll feel a lot better as soon as you do." Nicole’s expression was hard for me to read. "Look, I went through your closet and dresser while you were in the bathroom. Half the stuff in there is Jenni’s. From that, I conclude that you spend at least half your time as her. So stop pretending to be a guy - just be yourself with me. OK?"

"Not even close, Sis. I wish I could be Jenni all of the time, but that isn’t happening." I argued. I did not dress close to a quarter of my time.

"Well, starting now, I want to see my sister. We’re going out shopping." I’m comfortable as Jenni in public and often dress as her on weekends. Nicole got no argument from me, but this was my sister!

"Are you going to sit there and watch or may I have some privacy?" Nicole had given no indication that she was going to leave me alone, so I had to ask.

"I’m going to watch. I want to see how you do it - your boobs look so real in your pictures." I had to laugh. With a casual motion I let the towel drop from around my chest to my hips, just to keep some sense of propriety.

"That’s because they are real." With a grin, I turned to show her my B-minus breasts. Nicole gasped then began to giggle.

"Yes, Miss Blakeley, I see that they are."

"You must have admired her quite a bit." Nicole said this out of the blue as she turned her car into a downtown parking lot two hours later. "That’s how I found out, you know."

"What are you talking about?" I certainly didn’t know.

"Jen’ Blakeley, my best friend until her dad was transferred to Australia." Indeed I had admired ‘her’ Jen’ Blakeley. Though I looked nothing like her blonde friend, in many ways I tried to pattern myself as I remembered the captain of the high school cheerleaders when I was a freshman.

"It was about six weeks ago when I was showing Brad my yearbook and remembered her. We’ve not been in touch for eight years," Nicole explained. "I did a search on the Net."

"Did you find her?" I asked.

"Nope! I found my sister instead though." My sister beamed happiness as we exited the car. I had to chuckle as I heard how Nicole had ‘stumbled’ onto my Website. It couldn’t have been up more than a few weeks when she had.

"Where we going?" I asked, as I hurried a bit to catch up with her. The high heels on my boots were not conducive to much more than a brisk walk with small steps. Nicole had picked tight, black jeans, matching blazer, red bodysuit and my red knee boots when she had found them. I had never worn these outside my apartment before, nor any other heels that high outside.

"To get you’re nails done. You are going to have to get used to having long nails, starting now, Jenni."

"Hold up," I stopped. "Have you forgotten that I have a job I have to go to Monday afternoon, Sis?" I protested.

She too had stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face me. "Listen to me. Being the assistant manager at a bookstore in the mall is a go-nowhere career. Eight-fifty an hour and no benefits, big deal. You have an associate degree and can do a heck of a lot better." My sister sounded dead serious.

"Jenni could get a decent job if she half tried." She grabbed my wrist and started to walk toward the nail salon again. I walked meekly along beside her.

Since the nail salon was a large one with six technicians and room for that many again, Nicole and I did not have to wait. The petite Asian girl who worked on my nails smiled a lot, showing her perfect white teeth, but spoke almost no English. She did understand when my sister told her I wanted silk wrapped nails and not just glue-on, acrylic ones. Though I had to sit there well over an hour, it was still a thrill to have the girl give me the full set of curved, red talons, which extended nearly an inch beyond my fingers. I gave no thought then to how I’d ever get them off.

My first indication that nails like those were going to give me any problem was when I opened my purse in the car to check and repair my makeup.

Nicole giggled, "Try using the sides of your fingers, Jenni." She twirled her hands with a set just like mine only pink to demonstrate with her own lipstick. It was something I was just going to have to learn until I removed the nails to go to work Monday, I thought. In the meantime, I decided that I was going to enjoy how beautiful they looked for the next two days.

"You already have pierced ears, Jenni. Are you opposed to getting a few more holes in them?" my sister referred to the holes that bore a single silver hoop in each of my ears.

"What were you thinking? I don’t want to look like some druggie or Goth freak."

"No, certainly not. Just like mine." My sister had at least a half dozen, tasteful studs and earrings in each of hers. "We’d be a little more alike then." I had always admired and respected Nicole. I briefly thought that I could get away with small studs at the bookstore before agreeing to have it done. Five more holes in my right and six in my left and our ears matched, except mine bore silver studs and not the gold that she preferred.

"You know, you make a pretty convincing girl, Jenni" my sister complimented as we finished our light lunch at a sidewalk cafe near the park. "I honestly didn’t think you’d last."

"Last how?" I questioned as our eyes met. She lowered to focus on the red boot that casually waggled from my leg folded over my knee.

"Those. I didn’t think you’d last in heels that high, with all the walking we did this morning. Don’t your feet hurt?"

"A little, but lots of practice has helped. I never wore them this long though." It was true; I worked out for about an hour nearly every day in my apartment and did it wearing a pair of dance pumps with heels nearly as high.

"As crazy as your idea is, tell me about your plans for the wedding?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Two different ones," my sister’s blue eyes lit up with enthusiasm, "but I’d like your thoughts after you hear them. Victorian and ante-bellum, I can’t decide."

"You ready for a tight corset, Sis?" I giggled. "Both of those themes will require you wear one to look right, you know?" She stared at me for a few moments, lost in thought.

"I saw you’ve worn one before. If you can, I can," she challenged. The jeans I was wearing were actually Nicole’s. Though she naturally had fuller hips, I knew that we shared the same waist size. I had an idea.

"Make you a bet. If I can last an entire day with a tighter corset than you, Sis, you buy my gown." Though it was traditional for bridesmaids to buy their own outfits I was willing to gamble. Nicole was not the sort to pass on a challenge, especially one made by her little brother. As expected, she picked up the gauntlet I had thrown.

"And if mine is smaller, you pay for mine," Her eyes sparkled as she threw it right back in my face.

"You’re on, Niki. Let’s agree on the ground rules," It was easy for me to picture how the game should be played. I outlined my thoughts and she added some of her own, before we settled things.

Strolling back to where she had left her car, we passed a costume shop. Being a TS, I’m a natural (or is it unnatural?) clothes freak. I fell in love with the gown displayed on the mannequin in the window. Nicole picked up on my thoughts right away as I walked to one side for a look at the details of the bustle.

"What color are you thinking of for your gown, Sis?" her question broke my thoughts. I’d already decided on a deep green taffeta with black velvet trim.

"Well, I guess it’s settled then. We’ll just have to find another excuse to do the Scarlet O’Hara scene at another time." Her laughter confirmed that Nicole agreed with my choices after I had told her.

"You’ll look really pretty in your gown. You’re on your own having it made and since I’ll be winning our bet, I’ll just send you the bill for mine." I just smiled my response, knowing that she would pay for mine and not as she thought that I wpuld be buying her bridal emsemble.

Nicole and I ate supper downtown. After she had ordered a small surf and turf, I ordered just a salad that clearly signaled my commitment toward both losing some weight as well as putting on one of my corsets as soon as we arrived home. As we ate, we continued to discuss our gowns, well, actually just mine, as well as plans for the October nuptials.

"Why don’t you come home with me tomorrow, Jenni? There is no better time than now to tell Dad and Elise that I have a sister and he has another daughter." I had started thinking about how I was going to tell him about me as I was having my nails done. I’d thought about it before, but had always dismissed it as never being necessary - there had never been a need to before.

"Stop at the drugstore on the right, Sis. I only need to pick up my prescription and one other thing. Take me just a sec’ for me to run in for them." Nicole waited in the car, which was going to make my plan an even better surprise the next morning.

As my own car was in the shop and there was adequate bus service, she drove the next day too. After dropping her full cup of coffee early that morning when I clicked into the kitchen, Nicole had said very little to me. When she thought that I wasn’t looking, I saw her glancing at me frequently. I’d just grin and she would avert her eyes. We’d entered the neighborhood where Dad and his second wife lived in the house I’d grown up in, when she spoke to me.

"How do you want me to do this, Sis?"

"I’d like to see just how long it takes Dad and Elise to figure it out, Niki." She nodded and grinned for the first time that day.

"If he figures you out. I doubt I would have yet, if you had looked like that when I came over Friday. OK. I’ll just introduce you as my friend, Jenni Blakeley. You’ll be on your own. I’ll just watch the fun." Nicole startled to giggle.

"I suppose I should just start saving up for both our gowns. You look really great. What does your waist measure?" After getting up extra early to dye my hair from the dirty blonde color we both shared naturally, I had set it in big rollers then begun to lace my white corset as tightly as I could. I can usually lace five inches out of my middle and, despite my long nails making the task all but impossible, I had achieved almost six to close the gap and give me a twenty-inch figure. That morning, I had set a personal goal for myself of reducing my waist by another two inches, at least, before Nicole’s wedding.

I owned only one suit with a daringly short, tight skirt. Though pure wool, I had bought it on sale, because of the size, for only twenty-five dollars. I had never before been able to close the zipper or button the jacket. The high necked, white blouse contrasted nicely with the black fabric and was just sheer enough to show the enhanced cleavage that the corset had produced, proving that my breasts were genuine. White ankle strap pumps with the highest heels I could manage, elbow length gloves and a moderate brimmed, cartwheel hat completed my accessories.

"Niki," I was getting more than nervous, "would you give me an honest answer to a question?" My sister turned off the ignition and opened her door.

"Yes, you are." Her answer, before I even asked, broke the tension that had been building. "Over stated, over dressed, what words do you want to hear? They are all true. But, don’t you dare let it show, or I’ll give you away before you can even start.

"Come on?" There was no way that I could take long steps as high as my heels were and as tightly as the short skirt compressed my thighs. I was thankful that she waited for me before approaching the house. Niki let herself in through the front door.

"Hi, I’m home," she called from the living room.

"Out back, Sweets." Dad had called her that for as long as I could remember. We made our way to the patio. My heels made it unnecessary to remember not to let on that I could move through the house blindfolded. I followed my sister to the patio.

"Hi, Daddy." Nicole bent over the section of newspaper to kiss our father hello. Though Elise was our stepmother, she and Dad had only been married for six years and we never thought of her in those terms. Nicole greeted her with a simple, "Good morning, Elise."

"Hello, Nicole. You are back earlier than you planned."

"A little, I met an old friend Friday and decided to bring her over for a short visit. I hope it’s OK." My father was eyeing me in a most unfatherly way as they spoke. I resisted the nervous giggle that I felt.

"Jenni, this is my dad and his wife, Elise.

"Daddy, Elise, this is my friend Jennipher Blakeley." I don’t know why, I’d not thought about it, but I found that I was rising from my first, real curtsey.

"Pleased to me meet you Mr and Mrs Vollen." I forced a tiny smile as I spoke. Dad stood for a better look, I think, more than trying to be polite. His blue eyes, like my sister’s, sparkled

"Welcome to our home, Miss Blakeley. Please, make yourself comfortable." Dad motioned toward the chairs and I gently eased myself down to sit on the edge of one. The posture enforced by my corset assured I did not want to sit in any other way.

"You make me sound so old. Please, just Jenni." I asked.

"Two ‘n’s and an ‘i’," my sister joked.

Though, as Jeff, I’d have much preferred a beer when my father had one, Jenni graciously accepted iced tea with the ladies when Nicole served. I removed my gloves to sip, causing my father’s eyes to be diverted to my nails once they were off.

"Did you get to see Jeff at all while you were in Barnett, Sweets?" We had chatted, mostly about the wedding plans for a good part of the afternoon before our father finally got around to asking about the other me.

"Sure, I stayed at his apartment and we spent all day yesterday together." Nicole’s expression suddenly changed when she realized her error. For the past few hours, it had been nothing but ‘Jenni and me this’, ‘Niki and I did that’ between us. Dad had caught it too. For a long time no one said anything and I knew that dad was staring at me. It was probably only a pause of seconds, but it seemed like an eternity.

"Mr Vollen, I think I should explain." I felt I had to do it then and Nicole seemed too flustered after letting the cat out. Dad and Elise sat expressionlessly, staring at me. I slowly rose to my toes, feeling much shorter than I was at nearly six foot because of the heels I’d chosen that morning.

"Twenty-four years ago your first wife bore you your second daughter," I began. Dad had not caught on to what I was starting to tell him. "For that many years you did not realize that a mistake had been made on the assembly line. I did, but I could never tell you until now..., Dad." I did not let my voice revert to Jeff’s, maintaining my well-practiced, soft tenor, though it had started to crack.

A gasp of realization escaped his lips and my father was suddenly looking at the attractive redhead standing before him in a much different way than I could ever remember him doing before. I fumbled in my clutch for tissues.

"Dad, I was always your little girl too, I could just nev...er tell you." The dam burst and I could no longer focus as my tears had started to flow. I think that Nicole reached me first, but it was his strong arms that pulled me to his chest. I started to sob. Ever since I knew that I was different, I had wanted to tell him. Fear, the fear that he would not understand was far more powerful than my need to be accepted for what I was. I love my father, but I just had to keep my secret that, secret.

"Jennipher." His voice was soft when he finally spoke. I must have stayed there crying for some time. I was all cried out when he spoke to me. "Jennipher, I love you daughter."

"I know, Daddy." I had never, in my life called him that, though I had often wanted to. My father was hugging me tightly. It felt so good to be held in his arms. He had never held his son like that; so protectively.

During dinner, conversation was strained. It was Daddy’s wife who seemed the most upset, but she remained silent and the tension seemed to bother everyone, me especially.

"Elise," I had been asked to call her that, "may I help you, please?" I had signaled my sister to remain seated then helped to clear the table. I spoke once we were alone in the kitchen. She smiled, but it seemed forced. Elise moved to close the door then motioned me to sit while taking a chair herself on the opposite side of the table.

"I’ve been watching you ever since Nicole brought you here; much more so since you told us what you did, earlier. You are very beautiful, Jennipher. You don’t mind if I call you Jennipher instead of Jenni, do you?" Before I could answer, Elise continued.

"You remind me very much of someone who was once very close to me, Jennipher." Elise was having difficulty talking to me, evidenced by the wringing of her hands and the biting of her lip when she would pause. "Not physically, not in any way that resembles your appearance. David was a strong, handsome man - none who saw him would argue that. You are a very pretty girl, and no one should argue with that as fact either." I was about to speak, but Elise’s raised hand stopped me.

"Like you, David felt that he had to keep his life long secret inside. Unlike Walter, your father, our father would never have understood. He would have never accepted David for what he was, inside. If he had found out, he would have killed David instead." She reached to hold my hand. Accepting it, I gave hers a reassuring squeeze.

"My brother ended his suffering with his own hand. He was just about your age, Jennipher." It was evident that it pained her to tell me these things. "His secret died with him, but I want you to know that I do understand. Truly I do." She spoke only a few more words and told me, "David loved men, Jennipher." Hurriedly, Elise rose and left the kitchen, her own tears about to spill from her sad, brown eyes.

"Jenni, come sit with me?" The living room was dark when I’d finished cleaning up the kitchen and was making my way to head upstairs. I wanted out of my heels and my corset. They hurt and I’d had enough of them for one day. "Please sit with me?" Daddy asked. As my eyes adjusted to the very dim light, I saw him motion from the shadows where he sat on the couch. He patted the cushion next to him, invitingly.

I minced closed and lowered to sit on the low coffee table, facing him.

"No, sit next to me. Get comfy so we can talk, please?"

"Daddy, what I’m wearing does not lend itself to sitting comfortably on the couch. Let’s go on the patio?" I made a counter offer to show him that I was willing to sit and talk, even though the couch was my last choice. He rose without hesitation and opened his long arm for me. I glided next to him and it snaked about my small waist. Daddy pulled me closer in a fatherly embrace.

"You’re corseted, aren’t you?" I merely nodded.

Not that I needed to, I unconsciously smoothed my tight skirt under as I sat on the low wall that was comfortably high next to my father.

"You don’t miss a beat, do you?" I’d no idea what he meant by that. "You work harder at being a woman than any woman I’ve known and that includes your mother, Elise and your sister." I still didn’t get it, but accepted his compliment without comment.

"Jenni, tell me about your desires for your future?" Of all of the things I thought he might wish to talk about, the future had not been among them. "What do you want for tomorrow, next month, next year, the rest of your life?" He saved me from pondering too much.

"The future is the easiest, as it is the most unattainable. I’ll start there." I began to relax, just a bit. "I’d like to find a woman who understands me and accepts me as an equal. One that I can share my love with and who shares herself with me." I was comfortable with this because I had thought it through from so many different ways for many years.

"What might she be like, Jenni?" Daddy moved closer. I was prepared for him to wrap his arm around me again - he made no attempt to do so.

"I’d rather talk reality, if that’s OK? If I go to work with these, these and this tomorrow, I’ll be fired." In turn, I touched my nail tips to the back of his hand, raking then lightly, my new earrings, he knew of the first pair and had never commented, then my hair to indicate the dark auburn color I’d given it that, morning. "I look a lot different that I did when I punched out on Friday afternoon, Daddy"

"I know, you and Sweets did tell us. Well...," he paused. "that was Jeff’s job, wasn’t it? You are Jenni and that is Jeff’s problem, but he isn’t here and you need not solve them." He had a wonderful way of cutting things down to size.

"I’ve a few friends. Stick around in the morning and let me see what I can do, Jenni." I laid my hand on his knee.

"Daddy, if I get another job, I do not want it because someone ‘owes you one’." That was a principle he had preached a lot about, as Nicole and I were growing up. He smiled as his large hand covered mine and patted it.

"No, I may open a few doors for you, but you’ll need to earn the job."

In my old room, completely redecorated to have no reflection that it was ever filled with posters of rock stars I had idolized or anything else to indicate I’d once lived there, I struggled to undress for bed. A nightie of Nicole’s lay on the bed. Clean panties and pantihose were on the dresser. Carefully, I hung my suit and even managed to struggle out of my blouse, its back buttons and my unaccustomed long nails did not go well with each other. I hung that too.

The tiny buckles on my ankle-straps proved impossible to undo with my nails though I had managed to fasten them that morning. When I tried to undo the knot on my corset’s laces, I found it even more difficult to loosen. Feeling too tired to waste any more time over these, I cleaned off my makeup, used the toilet and prepared for bed. I slipped Nicole’s red negligee over my arms, tumbled into the bed and was quickly asleep.

It was early morning; the pain in my chest awoke me. I wanted out of my corset! Getting out of bed, I struggled to undo the knot. My efforts to work it free behind my back with those ridiculous nails were as successful as they had been the night before. I gave up and started to get pretty for the day.

Knowing that an overnight stay was in the plan, I had packed a small bag with my makeup, care items and another outfit to wear. Being an early riser, Daddy was in the kitchen fixing coffee when I clicked in. He smiled warmly.

"Mornin’, Daddy," I returned his greeting with a smile too. At my request, my father knelt and removed my shoes so I could slip into a pair of black pumps that better matched the jeans and blouse I’d chosen to wear. It was really strange - never had I expected this scene to occur with him kneeling at my feet. Because it upset me, I pushed it from my mind.

"Jenni, I gave some thought to everything we talked about yesterday." I had too and told him this.

"Life is far too short for all of us and I want you to know that I’ll support you if you want to start now to live as you’ve probably always wanted to. You are welcome to move home."

"Thank you, Daddy. Perhaps just long enough until I can get settled as Jenni." I started to fix us breakfast.

"Could I borrow one of the cars to bring back a few things from my apartment. This is all I brought as a change of clothes. I really expected to go back today."

"Sure, you can use my Cherokee, I’ll catch a ride with your sister." My father placed the keys on the counter.

On my return, I stopped at a store that used to have the best offing of newspapers and magazines in my hometown. It still did. With a pile of the papers on the table and felt tip marker, I started to read the help wanted ads that afternoon. As it neared four, I was pretty discouraged, though I had circled over two dozen on the classified pages beside me.

"Daddy, got any suggestions about some identification and a Social Security card with Jenni’s name on it?" I’d come out on the patio and perched on the wall near where he sat on a patio chair.

"Still in your corset, Jenni?" he chuckled. "Want me to help?" I’d told him of my problem that morning, but he urged me to try it for the rest of the day. He did offer to let me out after helping with my shoes, if I had insisted though.

"Just with the ID problem, Daddy. I’ll manage the corset." I giggled. "Niki is going loose our bet." Despite my discomfort, I’d made a promise to myself to have an eighteen-inch waist, no matter what.

"First things first. I made a few phone calls this morning," he paused to extend a paper. "Call in the morning, first thing, and be dressed for an interview. Hun’, that is all I did for you - set up an interview." I did not do it instinctively, not like Nicole seemed to. I had to think it through. I minced over to take the paper, giving him a light kiss on his cheek, just like I had seen my sister do thousands of times. It was the very first time Jenni had kissed anyone.

"Now, for your other problem. All of your life I’ve taught you to be honest, even if it hurts," Daddy had taken on the fatherly lecture tone that I was quite familiar with. "There is a way to do this legally and that is what I expect you to do. I’ll suggest no other alternatives."

"But...," He stopped me before I could continue the argument.

"But that means until you have a legal name change that all who need to see your driver’s license or other papers, will know. And" he paused to look at me, "until you have the money and a doctor’s blessing that others will know your secret too." Though this is not what I wanted to hear, I should have expected this from my father. Daddy was straight arrow and he could not function any differently. Unless I figured another way, I was stuck with his decision. In my heart, I knew I’d do nothing else.

Nicole undid the laces for me after our supper, but only after I promised her that I’d be laced in, just as tightly, before she left for work in the morning. A long hot bath before I went to bed felt heavenly. I slipped under the sheets, laced in just as tightly that night, as I would every night, from then on.

I dressed in my suit the next morning and had taken extra care with my bra length hair and makeup before going down to the kitchen. Again Daddy was there and we exchanged pleasantries as I prepared breakfast.

"Please do something for me today, Honey?" he asked when he carried his empty plate to the counter.

"What would you like me to do?" I asked.

"Don’t lie." Daddy gave me warm smile and wished me luck.

The phone call that my father had suggested I place was to a Ms Monica Pelaez. Promptly at eight, I was dialing the number. Twenty minutes later, I was in Daddy’s Jeep and driving outside of town to a modern business campus. I wondered just how I should handle the interview, especially when it got around to things that I really did not wish to share with complete strangers. Daddy had told me to tell only the truth. Generally I agreed, but there are exceptions. Well, aren’t there?

Mincing from the Visitors Parking toward the building, I debated several times chickening out. At nine o’clock in the morning, the campus was busy and I knew that I drew quite a lot of attention in my form-fitting suit that left so much of my black sheer covered legs exposed and by my heels.

"Good morning." The man was neatly and expensively dressed as he rushed, just a bit, past me to open the door and stand aside so I could enter.

"Thank you. Good morning," I even smiled. He smiled back with a nod.

"Gorgeous day, isn’t it?" He was trying to be nice, but Jennipher had no interest in men. I’ve dealt with guys trying to chat me up, but, so far, that was not what he was doing. The man was just being polite. I had to keep telling myself that.

"Yes, quite pleasant." Inside, I had to pause to read the directory before proceeding to the elevators. Though there were five men waiting, including the forty year old who had tended the door, no one spoke to me. I did not need to look to know that they were checking me out. Nervously, I glanced at my watch as I exited the elevators.

He was beside me and again he opened and held the door for me. I had to admit to myself that being treated nice and not being hit on was a pleasant experience.

"Are you new here?" he asked.

"I’m not an employee," I smiled. "Not yet, but I hope to be soon." I started toward the receptionist. A light tug on my sleeve stopped me and I turned to meet his gray eyes for the first time. The brief glance at where his fingers held my sleeve caused them to disappear immediately.

"Excuse me, please?" The guy did not seem too upset. "I’m Jon Fleisher." I expected him to say more.

"Jennipher Blakeley," I stated coolly to complete the introduction.

"Come with me please?" he started to move away.

"Sir!" I called. "I’ve an appointment with Ms Pelaez." I had not moved to follow.

"Judy, tell Monica that Ms Blakeley is with me," he called over to the receptionist.

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," she responded. I guessed that I should follow him; he certainly expected me to. Glancing at her, she flashed a smile and gave me ‘thumbs up’.

I supposed that it was the doors to the executive wing that I entered as the polished tile turned to plush carpet when I’d stepped through. The off white walls went from paint to velvet flocked wallpaper and the color scheme to greens. I minced quickly to keep up until we reached the end of the corridor where he stopped to speak with a woman occupying a workstation.

She eyed me from my heels to my hair and focused on my eyes. I could not recall any female ever looking so carefully at me when I’d been aware of it.

"Nothing urgent. You have an eleven with Ed for the period summary, lunch at twelve-thirty with the group from Knarne and a three PM with Jay Shapiro, Jonathan."

"Thank you, Helene." As he started for the large door with me behind, I saw him look at her quickly and caught her large smile and definite nod from the corner of my eye. What was that about? I wondered.

"Please, be seated, Ms Blakeley?" He moved behind the huge desk and picked up the phone.

"Ask Monica to join us, please, Helene?" The man sat and just glanced as I lowered to the least upholstered chair that I saw. Mr Fleisher started to skim quickly through a pile of papers on the desk pad.

"Be with you in a second." I never before had seen anyone deal with paper work as quickly as he did, writing on them as they piled into the ‘Out’ box. A brief knock on the door caused me to turn my head. The black haired woman who entered was very attractive. I guessed her to be about thirty.

"Monica, Jennipher Blakeley. Be with you shortly." He returned his attention to the shrinking pile of papers. Because he had called her Monica, I assumed that this was the woman I’d spoken with on the phone. She barely looked at me and sat without speaking.

"Right," he faced me. "The position is my assistant. Don’t get any silly thoughts of it being more than it is, Jen’." His voice was calm and he smiled as he spoke. "Although I am CEO and all, it is not an Executive Assistant title." He emphasized ‘executive’ and paused to see if I had understood. In response, I nodded. Mr Fleisher smiled a little more and motioned to Ms Pelaez.

"I’m Monica Pelaez. We spoke on the phone, Jennipher. What Mr Fleisher has in mind is an assistant to handle all of the little things that need doing." I picked up on ‘little’ - she had added the same sort of emphasis as he had given just a moment before. Her next words explained more, "By little, we mean the menial tasks from serving beverages, watering the plants, delivering mail, filing, running errands and many more that I haven’t thought to mention. You will also perform tasks when there are customer presentations to be made, both here and at their offices or attending conventions." I was not interested in what I heard they expected me to do in the offered position. I continued to sit still and would wait until I heard it through though, before I turned it down.

"Sue me if you think you could win, Jen’. The job is a ‘make work’ excuse to have a pretty girl about, as a bit attractive decoration." He chuckled, "If you have half a brain you should figure that out after a couple of days, so I might as well be up front with it. I don’t want you worrying about what to do about it as soon as you figure it. You accept the job and you’ll know you went into it with your bright green eyes wide open." Mr Fleisher’s eyes wandered over me and seemed to absorb all of the details. They lingered on my manicure, folded and gripping my clutch on my lap and spent a lot of time on my legs. I lowered mine, unable to continue staring at his - I felt more than a bit exposed.

"Please stand up and model?" Ms Pelaez motioned with two fingers for me to stand when he told me to. Though I was convinced I was not taking the job, I would have time to turn it down later. I stood, uncertain of what I should do. I hesitated then turned around.

"Walk to the door and come to the desk as if you were bringing me the mail," he instructed. OK. I took as deep a breath as my tight corset permitted; determined to put on a good show. Being sure to do it slowly and carefully, I minced on my heels, slowly turned and walked to the desk. Why not? I gave him a curtsey. That lit up his face with delight.

"Thank you.

"Monica?" Mr Fleisher had scribbled a note, folded it and was extending it with his outstretched arm. As a lark, I took it between my claws, curtseyed and delivered it to her with a smile and another curtsey. I watched her black eyes grow larger and a wide smile appeared on her dark red lips.

"Yes, sir." Monica said softly. She stood.

"Come with me Ms Blakeley." Why not? I smiled, curtseyed to him and followed her from his office.

"Washrooms are there, but not for you," she said as we passed. I paid little attention as we passed the walnut doors. Walking to her office we passed more rest rooms and her hand indicated the ladies room that was available to an employee in my position. I wasn’t taking the job, so I did not care.

The plaque on her door indicated that Monica was the Director of Human Resources. After inviting me to sit, she handed me a clipboard and pen and invited me to fill out the application form. It wouldn’t hurt and might be amusing to learn how much they were going to offer me to be what I had concluded was a ‘sex object’ around the office. What had he called it - ‘pretty decoration’? This experience was good for building my confidence.

As I worked on filling in the blanks, she took out a blue folder marked ‘Personnel’ with a line for my name. I passed the form back, mostly completed. I had ‘forgotten’ to check the block that requested my gender - omitting that was not lying.

Monica scanned both sides of the application then copied my full name on to the line provided.

"Thirty thousand a year, ten holidays, two weeks vacation, health and dental, 401K, profit sharing, over time after forty hours," she rattled off the offer machine gun style, "and twelve sick days." I was shocked by how much they were offering me. Though I thought that I had just heard the extent of the proposal, she added still more.

"You heard that you’ll be expected to present an attractive appearance. We recognize that this will involve a bit for expenses that we do not feel you should bear: your hair, manicures and wardrobe - whatever Mr Fleisher requires. Submit your receipts with your weekly expense report to me, Jennipher." I was so shocked by all of this that when she asked me for my Social Security Card, I took it out of my purse and handed it to her. I was stunned and did not realize that I’d done this at the time.

"I just need to make a copy," she smiled. "I’ll be right back."

Thirty thousand a year, a full benefits package and an expense account? Incredible! They were going to pay me to get my nails and hair done plus new clothes too! This was unbelievable.

"Jennipher, would you come with me please?" I followed Monica when she called from the hallway. She led me back to the executive suites and into Mr Fleisher’s office again. Unlike my first visit, I was not invited to sit. Monica closed the door too then stood between the exit and me.

"Is this yours?" he held up my Social Security card that he had lifted from my blue folder before him on the big desk. Panic time. I had actually given Ms Pelaez my card with my real name!

"Yes..., Sir!" I was barely able to speak. My knees started to shake and I felt the blood drain from my face.

"Sit down, Jennipher, before you fall." Ms Pelaez held my arm and guided me into a chair.

I sat staring blankly at Mr Fleisher, waiting to chewed out, made a fool of and whatever else that I did not know. I felt terribly embarrassed. There was nothing I could think of that might get me out of the situation I found myself in.

"Jen’ you are a very attractive girl. The position that we have offered to you is still on the table." I was just in control enough to understand what he was telling me. I thought it all through and he waited, without pressing me, until I was ready.

"May I ask how we could possibly handle this, Sir?" I was very nervous, but forged ahead. Then, I had nothing to loose - they both knew my secret. "I’d prefer it if it were not made common knowledge, sir."

"We would also. I do not want you becoming the office joke."

"Well, how are you going to handle payroll and things like that? I mean taxes are involved and I don’t want the IRS coming after me for tax evasion."

"I can handle it, all legally, Mr Fleisher." Monica answered from behind me. He just nodded to her and returned his attention to me.

"I’ll be right to the point - are you gay, Jen’?" He stared as if he were no looking right through me. "I prefer girls. I have no interest in men." It was an effort for me to giggle, "I guess that makes me a lesbian." I tried to joke.

"I’ll ask another way after you answer this question. Is your anatomy still..., well in tact?" I told him that it was.

"Jen’...." When he paused for the words he wanted to say, I made a request.

"Mr Fleisher, would you please address me as Jennipher and not Jen’?" I had relaxed enough to try and regain some degree of control.

It was half past five when I left the office that afternoon. Though I was very hungry, I was otherwise feeling extremely good. Had anyone told me that just four days after Nicole had made her wild request for me to be her Maid of Honor that I’d have a full time job as Jennipher, I’d have been convinced that they were either high on drugs, crazy or both. Quite pleased with what I had accomplished, I drove back knowing I had landed a full time job that would pay me more than double what my bookstore job had and with a very full benefits package on top of that. Elise’s car was already in the garage when I arrived and Nicole pulled in with our father before I had reached the door.

"You just getting home, Honey?" My father’s look was one of concern.

"Yes. Daddy.

"Daddy, I got the job!" Nicole told me later that I was bouncing with excitement. "It’s great! I start in the morning." She looked at me quizzically.

"You seem awfully excited to be just a file clerk, Sis. Calm down a bit." I forced myself to do so. I’d save telling her she was in error until our dinner or later. I assumed, correctly, that the interview that our father had arranged for me was not for the position I had just been hired to fill.

Removing only the jacket to my suit, I freshened up and went to help Elise prepare supper. With a pleasant smile she pointed to the potatoes and moved aside for me to peel them.

"Walter told me that you got the job, Jenni? That’s great." I confirmed her question with a smile and a promise to tell everyone about it when we sat together.

"Sis?" Nicole started to ask. No one seemed to have quite believed me when I had stated my pay package after I explaining what my job entailed. "Sis, are you ready to have sex with men?" She not only had my attention, but our father’s and Elise’s too.

"Why did you ask that? This has nothing to do with sex." I protested. "I’m Mr Fleisher’s assistant. I told you what I’d be doing."

"Sweets does have a point though. The dresses and skirts you said are to be short and your heels as high as you can manage. That is going to leave your legs pretty much invitingly exposed, Jennipher." Elise had stopped eating to face me as she talked. "Sex still sells and it seems to me that you were hired to do just that.

"Even if we are wrong, you are bound to attract a lot of attention and men are going to react to that. You best prepare for it."

"Elise is right, of course." My father looked concerned. "Your sister asked you if you are ready to deal with it. You need not tell us, but you should answer the question and have a plan, before it happens, Hun’."

Well it did happen, but not quite as I imagined it would. The following morning, a tall dark haired guy, about my own age, turned to me in the lobby while we waited for the elevator.

"How about dinner tonight after we get it on, babe?" His outright proposal startled me. It really shouldn’t have, as Jeff had heard even cruder come-ons in bars before, but none of those had be directed at him and, certainly, Jenni had never been propositioned before. I elected to ignore him and moved toward the stairs.

I was angry, but in control enough to realize that a deserted stair well would be a very unsafe place to be alone with a strange man predisposed to getting into my panties. I simply went back outside and waited until a group of two men and a woman went in and tagged along until I had safely reached our offices. I thoroughly enjoyed being Jenni, but being hit on and fully realizing, for the very first time, how vulnerable I was. This was not fun and had upset me a lot.

By telling myself that he never touched me and never threatened me. I was able to calm, somewhat, by the time that I entered the lobby.

"You OK, Jennipher," Judy the receptionist asked. "You don’t look so good."

"Good morning," I greeted her. ‘Just a little shaken. That’s all."

"What happened?" Concern was evident in Judy’s voice.

"A guy almost hit me. It’s nothing."

"Some of them drive like nuts. I actually did get hit a few moths ago. Cost me almost five hundred dollars to get my car fixed." I decided to let her continue to think that was what had happened. Again, I had not lied; I had just omitted telling the complete story. I went in the ladies room to freshen my lips and assure that my hair was in place then headed toward the executive wing.

"Good morning, Jennipher." Charlie Hayden from accounting greeted me. He was checking me out; this was something that I was just going to have to get used to. My outfit assured that I’d attract attention. Mrs Fleisher, Helene, had gone out the previous afternoon and shopped for me. It was with her full knowledge and even encouragement that her husband was going to have me parading about. That I did not have a pussy that she would need worry about him screwing, pleased her that much more.

Mrs Fleisher had returned with only one outfit, but more were promised, as soon as they were altered to fit my torso. This one consisted of a bodysuit tailored like a men’s dress shirt in emerald green satin and a short, tight satin skirt with black pantihose and black, ankle strapped pumps. Of course my shoes had high, spike heels to display my legs fully.

"Good morning, Mr Hayden." I curtseyed. The rules were that I was to address all males as ‘Mister’ and all women by their choice of ‘Misses’, ‘Miss’ or ‘Ms’ and to curtsey frequently. On my own, I had to visit every cubical and office and introduce myself to their occupant(s) the afternoon before. The marketing firm that I worked for, Millennium Productions had almost eighty employees.

"Good morning, Miss Pelaez." I greeted Monica when she came in.

"Hi, Jenni." She smiled nicely. "Do a good job and don’t disappoint me."

"I’ll try, Miss Pelaez." Monica preferred that to ‘Ms’.

My first morning task was to start things going at the small kitchen area where the coffee machine was in the executive wing; Judy was responsible for that chore in the main office. I made coffee, prepared hot water for tea and set up the sugar, cream, sweetener and other needed accompaniments. It was part of my job to make things as easy and pleasant for them as I possibly could. Jacob Shapiro, VP of Legal Affairs was first in that morning. I consulted the list that Helene had given me; hot tea with lemon was his preference. I poured hot water in the small pot I’d found in the cupboard, set this on a silver tray along with all else needed and minced to his office next to Mr Fleisher’s. As the door was closed, I knocked. There was no answer. I let myself in and was setting the pot on the credenza when he came in.

"Good morning, Mr Shapiro." I curtseyed.

"What are you doing here? Jennipher isn’t it?" he barked, seeming angry to find me there.

"Yes, Mr Shapiro, Jennipher. I thought that you would like to start your day with hot tea, sir." I backed from behind his desk, afraid that I had done something wrong.

"That was very thoughtful." His frown vanished. Jacob Shapiro was about fifty-five and not a large man, he still projected power. He moved to his desk and reached for the teapot. I moved to block his hand and traced my long nails against his hand.

"Sir, I’ll pour, if I may?" He was grinning as he sat, watching me curtsey.

"Helene told me when I questioned why they hired a girl like you to ‘shut up and just enjoy her. Be pleasantly surprised’." I would have thought that the tea would be far too hot to drink then, but he took a sip through his smile, as his eyes looked me over.

"Yes, Jenni, I think that I’ll follow the boss’ wife’s advice. Thank you."

I followed the routine for the others as the wing filled, winning smiles from all, but Svetana Petroskovitch, Executive Presentations Facilitator (whatever that meant).

"You walk like a boy!" I worried that she had guessed the truth. The tall blonde looked like a model off the cover of Vogue. I had expected her accent and was not disappointed when I had heard it, though it was slight. "Let me see you strut and roll your ass." I was a bit taken aback as she snarled.

"Move, girl. From there to there." She had a manicure that rivaled my own and used her long, red tipped finger to point from wall to wall in her office. "Move those hips." Svetana was all business and kept me at it fifteen minutes until the phone interrupted her instructions and she waved me out.

Helene giggled when she caught me sigh as I exited. Her finger motioned me toward her station.

"Tzarinaevitch bite you this morning, Jenni?" I liked Helene from the first. She was one of those women you could not help, but to enjoy being with. "Don’t let the Russian wolf get too you; she is not the bitch she works at projecting.

"Miss Petroskovitch took exception to the way I walk," I explained when her look questioned what I meant. I demonstrated what I’d been told to do.

"If that is what Tzarinaevitch told you, I’d strongly suggest that you do it. You only feel silly and bothered by it because it seems awkward and unnatural, now."

"Why do you refer to Miss Petroskovitch as Tzarinaevitch, Mrs Fleisher?" I questioned.

"How old are you Jenni?" I told her that I was twenty-four, which generated a nod. "Then you are too young to remember.

"Tzarinaevitch was her professional name when she modeled in the seventies and eighties. It means daughter and heir apparent of the Tzar, or Emperor, and in her time she was what we think of as a ‘super model’ today." All but the dates registered with me.

"She only looks about twenty-five?" I blurted in question.

"Twenty years ago," Helene laughed. "She fools everyone. We all wish we looked that great at her age."

"She’s forty-five? Really?" I exclaimed.

"Really. Never let on that you know, Jennipher.

"Best that you get to work," Helene advised.

I was very busy keeping cups filled and tending the plants in all the offices. It was around eleven when I went into Svetana’s office with my pot to refill her cup. Though talking on the phone, she motioned me to stay. A few minutes passed and she covered the mouthpiece.

"Be a dear and fetch me a big sketch pad?" she whispered as she pointed toward a closet. I minced over to it, remembering to walk with the exaggerated hip sway that she had told me to perform. Svetana’s smile was a broad approving one when I brought one of the pads to her desk.

"Yes, Cindy. I picture what you telling me," She spoke into her phone as she flipped the pages on the pad until she found a clean one.

"Just stand right where you are!" It was clear to me that when she barked, her order was intended for me to obey. More than a bit afraid of her, I did as she told me to. Svetana sketched rapidly while speaking with whomever occasionally. Her blue eyes danced rapidly between her pad and me until the conversation was concluded and she had returned her phone to its cradle.

"I want you here at two o’clock.

"What is your name girl?" she smiled as she asked.

"Jennipher Blakeley, Miss Petroskovitch." I did curtsey as I introduced myself. A small smile, a nod and a slight flick of her finger dismissed me.

"Hi," I was seated alone in the downstairs cafeteria eating a salad. Svetana’s brunette secretary settled in across from me as I looked up. "I’m Julie Smythe."

"Hi, Jennipher Blakeley," I welcomed her and the opportunity to make friends.

"Tzarinaevitch kept you in her office twice today. You in trouble or something? She can be pretty tough." Julie said anxiously as she opened her brown bag lunch.

"I gathered that. I’m fine, though. Thanks." I said with a smile.

"Well, what was that all about then? I was kind of worried about you - first day here and all." She unwrapped a sandwich and took a small bite. "You get your butt chewed out for something? What was it all about?" I really did not mind her questions - Julie was trying to be friendly.

"No. She did take exception to my butt, though." I giggled. "Miss Petroskovitch didn’t think I wiggled it enough." My statement caused her to laugh.

"Had you practice then?" She touched me lightly on the hand. "That is a sure sign she likes you." I didn’t understand and told her so.

"If she didn’t like you or think you had potential, she never would have bothered." Julie’s words were encouraging.

Promptly at two o’clock, I entered Svetana’s office and curtseyed before her desk. She had not even looked at me and, after several minutes of watching her write on a sketch before, I grew more nervous - I wondered why I had been told to be there.

"Just stand still," she said as I shifted my weight from one high-heeled pump to my other one, "and wait." Time moved very slowly.

Perhaps twenty minutes passed when another woman, tall and lithe too, entered her office. I turned to look at her, but remained quiet. She looked at me in a most disconcerting way. The woman stared piercingly at me with the same cobalt blue eyes that Svetana possessed.

"This one. What do you think of her, Alexandra?" Svetana, asked after allowing the other to examine me from all directions.

"There is a something, Mother." Mother? Was this raven-haired woman Svetana’s daughter? I remembered Helene telling me Miss Petroskovitch’s age. She walked behind the desk and picked up the same drawing pad that Svetana had worked on that morning. Alexandra looked closely at the page for a few moments then reached for a pencil.

"More dramatic eyes are in order, Mother." Her hand moved about with crisp, yet short strokes as I stood watching. I wondered just what was going on? She moved the pad to show Svetana who nodded and smiled to me in agreement. "That hair though...." the sentence was left unfinished. It was obviously critical on my style.

"Jennipher, this is my daughter Alexandra. Alexandra, Miss Jennipher Blakeley." As we were formally introduced, Alexandra set the pad on the desk. I was a bit started to see that the drawing looked like me, but it wasn’t.

"Hello, Jennipher. Mother is always so formal. Call me Lexi," she giggled as her mother frowned. I curtseyed, very unsure of what was going on.

"Come with me?" Lexi started to leave. I sought Svetana for some guidance, but she had returned her attention to what had occupied it when I’d arrived.

"I’m going to direct my staff to give you a makeover. Come along." I was following, but understood little of what was going on. "You have some, not inconsequential, opportunity for improvement."

"What’s wrong with the way I look?" We were exiting the elevator on the floor below when I had worked up the courage to challenge what I thought was about to be done to me - something I was sure I was not going to like. Lexi had an iron grip on my wrist when she took hold of my wrist to guide me into what was obviously a studio complex. A photo shoot was in progress.

"Tanya, let Simon attend to things there." She led me into a room that was a modern, fully equipped salon.

"Remove your skirt and blouse then sit there, Jennipher."

"But, I don’t want...." I started to protest. She gripped both of my shoulders with her hands. I expected her to be angry and was prepared to resist, though it was already clear who would win if we entered into a physical altercation.

"Just do as you are told." Lexi said. Though she smiled, I began to be afraid that she was going to hurt me. Never one to want to be in a fight, especially one in which I might be hurt, I stopped struggling to free myself from her powerful grip.

"What’s up, Lexi?" The brunette, obviously the one named Tanya, was more my size at five foot five inches, had moved next to the six foot tall Russian.

"Tzarinaevitch wants the boss’ decoration to have a makeover, be a bit more decorative than she already is." Lexi still held me as she said this. Tanya’s fingers were undoing the buttons down the front of my bodysuit. I lifted my hands to stop her, but Lexi slapped them away. I was thankful that under my mini, I’d worn a half-slip that wasn’t taken off of me too. I unsnapped the crotch and slipped the top off over my head.

"Go sit at my station," Tanya said as she started to hang my things. I, of course, had no idea which one of the two chairs was her station until she pointed me in the right direction.

Over the next few hours, I had very mixed feelings about was being done to me. Like many, I had fantasized about being forced to have a complete make over - one that I had no say in directing the final outcome of. This had certainly been forced upon me and neither Lexi nor Tanya were going to consider my opinion. Only when I became resigned to just what was happening after my long hair was cut in a spherical bob, did I start to relax and enjoy. With several inches, half it’s length, of my gorgeous hair laying on the floor there was no way I could change my new look other then to let it slowly grow out or wear a wig I did not then own.

Lexi had left after my hair been cut off and Tanya began to talk with me. After we introduced ourselves, she began to tell me about what she was doing and instruct me on how to apply the makeup so that I could do it myself in the future, starting with the long thick eyelashes.

"Always apply the lashes after cleaning your skin, Jennipher, they stick on much better then." Tanya explained each step as she glued those for my right eye then talked me through doing my left. My long fingernails did not make the job easy to accomplish.

"All this makeup was the result of an experimental line one of our clients was developing," she told me. "They have had it perfected for only a couple of years, but it is less than a big success." She showed me the label - ‘Chinosoir Mademoiselle’. "The original client rejected it and forced a name change too, but it is even better than ‘Chalet’." I was unfamiliar with both brand names.

"It looks nice and feels neat while you are putting it on. Why wouldn’t it sell?" I asked innocently. "I like how smooth my skin appears."

"That’s the plus along with giving a totally new definition to the meaning of ‘long lasting’. You’ll find that out when you go to take it off."

"What’s that mean?" I had to ask.

"Means that you need to use the solvent which goes with the line and, tell you, that stuff stinks." Tanya giggled and opened a bottle to give me a brief sniff.

"Yuk!" I wrinkled my nose and turned away.

"Told you." She replaced the cap.

"They spent a fortune on trying to find a way to kill or even mask the stench, it does dissipate quickly though, but everything they’ve tried so far, kills whatever lets it work. Add to that how expensive it is." She had finished with the foundations and turned her attention to my eyes.

"The only real market has been for models and those that must work under hot studio lights all day, actresses, TV people, you know."

Tanya was almost finished with my highly over made-up face. "You get free makeup as part of your job. You are expected to wear it like this everyday." I watched in the mirror as she retrieved a large package. "That’s yours. See Lexi or me if you start to run low on anything.

"I’m not telling you to experiment, but I strongly advise you to. Mr Fleisher likes a painted look on his assistant." I briefly thought about what Nicole and Daddy were going to think of my new look.

Tanya told to report to the Tzarinaevitch once I was redressed. It was almost a quarter to six when I curtseyed to her.

"Much, much better. I like what Alexandra had them do, Jennipher. You may go home now."

No one was home when I arrived. I really did not expect them to be. Daddy had told me that morning that he was taking Elise out for dinner and, if I was home before they left, I’d be welcome to join them, but they were not going to wait. I’d no idea where my sister was, though her car was in the garage. I was in bed when they returned.

Tanya had been right; my new makeup could be removed only one way, with the solvent. When I had washed my face, after eating the leftover pizza in the refrigerator, my lips still had their highly glazed appearance and the rest of my face was just as Tanya had painted it hours earlier.

Next morning Daddy actually gawked at me as I minced into the kitchen. As I’d required a bit more time that morning, he was nearly finished the breakfast he had prepared for himself.

"It may be none of my business and I’ll butt out if you say it isn’t, Honey, but is that how you are going to work?" He was not as focused on how much leg I was showing, as he had the previous day, but on my head.

"This is how I was told to come to work." I smiled. "The look goes with the job, Daddy. " His face reflected disapproval, but he did not express it as such.

"Your hair is cute, but I thought you swore never to cut it until it reached your waist?" Daddy questioned. Before I could reply, he went to a more serious topic.

"You are going to attract a lot, I do mean a lot, of attention, daughter. Exactly what is your job at that marketing firm?" I was not sure if I should tell my father.

"I’m just...," I wondered just how to phase it so I could say it and still not lie to him. "I’m a bit of decoration, Daddy. I’ve a do nothing, that is significant an, job and I’m expected to present an attractive distraction, like a picture on the wall or a table centerpiece."

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes from me before speaking, "Yes, well..., I’m sure looking as you do, that you will succeed quite well, Honey."

"You disapprove." I made it a statement.

"Not really. About a year ago, in the Sunday magazine section, I think, there was an article on this subject. Some proclaimed expert on workplace environment proposed it. Most of the article was about those who thought the theory was absurd."

"I’m not so sure, Daddy. He might just be on the right track. Lexi gave me something to think about when I ran into her in the parking garage as I was going home. That guy just might have some sound advice.

"Give the guys, horny old men something pleasurable to focus on for a minute or two and they’ll stop day dreaming and return their attention to the business on their desk." I repeated what Lexi had told me, paraphrasing her words.

"First off, it was a woman that wrote the article, some Svetlana Petroski." My laughter interrupted him.

"Tzarinaevitch? Your kidding, Daddy?" I continued to laugh. "Her name is Svetana Petroskovitch not whatever you just said." I corrected. "She’s our Executive Presentations Facilitator." Though he was more than a bit skeptical, my father managed to smile as he complimented.

"Well, if your friend is the one responsible for your presentation, she must be do excellently in her job then." I did not correct his perception of my relationship with Svetana.

 

TBC

 

 

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