Peach Snaps

by Sally Stephanie

  

In part 3…

Margaret stood up and held out a hand before him,

"You may kiss my hand – as a thank you for my present"

He did not respond to her offer.

"Fine, if that's the way you want to be. Most girls are grateful when they get presents. But have no fear you'll change. Oh, and don't bother 'dressing' on Saturday - come just as you are now"

"I'm not a girl!"

"Of course you're not – not yet anyway!"

With that she was off to work, leaving him in a more confused state that he had been before.

The shoebox bothered him. Or rather, the shoes in the box worried him. He lifted the lid and took hold of the candy pink heels. It was irrational to be afraid of something so ridiculous as a pair of shoes, especially when they had the name 'Kelly' emblazoned with silver lettering inside the sole.

As he examined the shoes closely he wondered just how high the heel was? It looked very high, at least four inches he mused. The silver buckle fastening also caught his eye. Women had such fancy ideas of what fashion was.

There was no way he would put these back on his feet.

Or so he thought.

 

Now in part 4…

Although he was exhausted after the shift in the bar, Mark Andrews could not find the sleep he craved. The visit from his neighbour had disturbed him; what was she planning to do with him on tomorrow?

If the prospect of working during the 'Stag' night at the Beer Keller had bothered him, then this latest development was threatening to eclipse that fear.

When he closed his eyes all he could see was the silver-lettered 'Kelly' that was printed on the inside of the pink high heels. He imagined his fingers running along the silver buckle fastening, then down along the length of the pencil-thin heel.

His mind played tricks he did not wish to participate in. Images filled his mind, the recently shaved legs (his), encased in very fine nylons, and ending in the pink shoes that he would be forced to wear. The small delicate steps he knew he would have to take whilst wearing them…

At half past three in the afternoon he sat up in bed. It was time for him to get ready to go to work.

Showering was fine – it was the lengthy process of shaving his body that he hated. It was essential that he avoided cutting himself as he removed the hair from his legs and upper body. The armpits proved to be the most troublesome but he knew that Heidi would be particularly critical on what promised to be a hectic night.

Three times he passed the razor over his face, each time he checked his skin for smoothness and decided on a fourth 'run' to eliminate the last few stray bristles.

He looked at his face in the mirror and could see the black smudges of mascara and eyeliner that he had not removed completely the night before. His lips betrayed traces of the bright red lipstick that he had worn, and 'refreshed' on more than one occasion during the shift. Obviously, he would need to improve his cleansing routine – but then had not his neighbour already promised to show him the proper way to take off cosmetics?

By the time he had re-set his alarm clock for nine thirty the next morning, it was already half past four. As he hurried out of the flat he knew it was vital he got there in good time: He had no idea how he was going to get in to the rubber serving maids outfit without some assistance from the other girls.

When he reached the entrance to the Beer Keller it was Patricia 'Peach' Crawford who let him inside. Her dress was a classic 1960's-inspired shift dress, black silk, with cream trim around the neck and down the centre seams. On her feet was the sexiest pair of knee high boots he had ever seen – black patent, again contrasted with cream piping down the centre of each leg.

"Good afternoon Maria – my you look out of breath dear! Have you run all the way here or what?"

He noted that her makeup and choice of perfume were equally impeccable, then replied,

"Yes Miss Crawford, I didn't want to be late, not tonight"

She managed a smile from her frosty-pink lips then asked,

"Do you like my outfit Maria?"

He nodded,

"Yes, it's very pretty"

Another smile.

Patricia Crawford lifted up a pile of folders then motioned at the black patent handbag

That sat on the bar,

"Be a darling will you and carry my bag up to the office"

She watched as he took the very feminine bag by the long handles and made him stand holding it for a moment before saying,

"You are a natural sweetheart! you know where my office is"

It was not a question, rather a command. He followed her upstairs, all the time aware that he was swinging the handbag as he went. It occurred to him that the bag was the perfect match for her outfit; but he did not know why such a thought had entered his mind?

Half way to the office a brewery delivery driver passed them. He looked at the stunning woman in the short dress and boots – then looked at the man carrying the oversized handbag.

Patricia Crawford smiled at the man and said,

"Thanks George, Heidi is in the cellar if you want to settle up with her? Oh, I almost forgot! Have you met my new girl Maria yet?"

George shook his head and hurried off downstairs trying his best not to laugh too loudly.

Now it was obvious to Mark why she not asked him to carry the folders instead? She enjoyed humiliating him at every opportunity.

When they reached the office, Patricia Crawford made him stand holding the handbag for at least a minute as she put the folders on her desk. She lifted herself onto the desk and sat with her booted legs swinging gently to-and-fro.

As Mark stood holding the bag waiting for her to ask for it back, she smiled and said,

'Now that's no way for a girl to carry a bag! Try putting it over your shoulder dear!'

He lifted the long handles and put the bag over his left shoulder. It felt ridiculous to him but he knew best to comply with what she wanted.

'And hold the bottom of the bag too sweetie!'

Mark held the bottom corner of the bag with his left hand but Patricia Crawford got off the desk and scolded him for being such a silly girl. She put her own perfectly manicured hand on his and positioned his fingers on the bag.

'That's the proper way Maria! Never forget it – especially when you are out and about. Now, try walking across the room and take care not to lose your posture – or the bag!''

He started to walk across the office. She told him to walk 'in a girly way' and to 'take shorter steps'.

At that point there was a knock on the office door. Patricia told him to continue to practise as she went to open the door.

Heidi joined them I the office. She looked across at Mark as he walked in his best girly style, and then glanced at Patricia Crawford.

'Maria is practising her walk Heidi; I must say she's not too convincing is she? Why she isn't even wearing heels!'

Mark blushed as Heidi watched him carrying the handbag. It was only then that he noticed her 'outfit'. She wore a black PVC version of the Alpine maid serving dress, and a pair of shiny patent knee high platform boots.

So humiliated was he at having to parade across an office carrying an oversized but delicately feminine handbag he only now remembered that he was due on shift soon and in an identical get-up.

Patricia Crawford noted his reaction to the dress and looked over at Heidi before saying,

'You like what you see Maria? I cannot wait to see what you look like in yours!'

As she took the bag off his shoulder she added the chilling comment,

'Incidentally men go wild at girls in such sexy outfits – just wait and you'll find out!

Heidi exchanged a knowing glance with the woman then turned to Mark and motioned to the door,

'Come on Maria, you're going to need some help to get dressed tonight'

He waited until he was given permission to leave by Miss Crawford, and then followed Heidi back downstairs to the changing room.

As they made their way to the ground floor he could not help but notice just how tight fitting the dress was, and how shiny it became whenever they passed a light.

When they got to his locker Heidi told him to collect the dress and boots, then follow her to a quite area of the locker area. She took him into what was a small shower room then ordered him to strip off. Once all his male clothes were on the floor she began her inspection.

First she inspected his face to make sure he had followed her instructions regarding shaving. Although happy with his efforts, she told him to 'go over that face once again' but only once he had taken a shower using the perfumed gel she used on him previously.

He was taken aback when Heidi told him it would be a good idea to take care of his 'little problem' as he showered.

As he showered he watched as Heidi started to lay out his 'dress' and the makeup she was about to apply to his features. The scent of the soap was heavy on his nostrils and he still could not come to terms with just how satiny-smooth his skin was.

Using the large towels at his disposal, Mark quickly dried himself off as soon as he stepped from the shower.

Heidi helped him dry then started to pat his body liberally with talcum powder. He stood as she covered his body in the fine dust and said nothing when she told him

'This talc will help you get your dress on, and prevent it chaffing when you're working in it. Rubber dresses are sexy, until you have to wear one '

She sat him down at the dressing table then spent the next half an hour applying the various cosmetics to his face. As he watched the transformation into 'Maria', he was dismayed to find out that Heidi was going to apply the same crimson lipstick he had endured previously.

As he looked at his face in the mirror, Heidi finished off the makeover then told him,

'You'll get enough attention in your dress but stag nights have a pre-ordained makeup and that means ruby red lips! Now use this perfume and give yourself a nice spray – I'll get your underwear ready'

He did his best to copy the way women applied perfume to their bodies, even rubbing his wrists together to blend the scent onto his lower arms.

Finally he was treated to a set of temporary false nails. Heidi glued the 'French manicure' tips over the top of his own. They were not over long, but were sufficiently different to make wearing them a new obstacle to overcome.

Heidi stood over him and held out a very severe looking pair of panties. She informed him that they would help hide his 'little problem' and thus help avoid any potential embarrassing revelations during the evening.

When he took the briefs he found them tricky to put on due to his new nails. As he stepped into them he was immediately aware just how tight they were. Heidi told him to 'tuck away your little problem', which he did as best he could before pulling the briefs fully up onto his waist.

As the rubber dress was presented to him he was glad his frame was essentially very slight. Nevertheless, as Heidi started to pull the garment up his body, he was even more surprised at how restricted the outfit was going to be.

Although the application of the talcum powder was a great help, it was still quite a job to get the dress fully up his body. Heidi stepped round the front and adjusted the bodice until she was satisfied that Maria now had a rather convincing bust line. When she stood back she told him,

'I think you'd better put your boots on before we lace up the dress Maria'

He wanted to sit in order to put the black lace-up ankle boots on but, even though his dress was still to be 'laced', he found sitting down all but impossible. As he struggled to finish each lace with a bow, Heidi rebuked him for looking 'so unfeminine' in his posture.

'You must remember to carry yourself in a ladylike way at all time Maria, Miss Crawford would not approve of such lumbering antics! Now, stand up straight girl while I lace you up'

It was not a request but an order and he did his best to follow her instructions. He looked down at the pointed toe boots he was wearing and began to wonder just how comfortable he was going to be during the next few hours?

Heidi pulled on the ties and he felt like crying out, he was told to breath in, even though his very ribcage felt as if it was going to give under the tightness of the bodice.

When she finished 'lacing' him into the rubber dress he was allowed to walk over to the mirror and view his new outfit. Before him was a girl dressed in a shiny black serving girls uniform with black patent ankle boots.

Heidi nodded her approval and told him that he should take his time adjusting to the dress.

'And remember that you are a lady Maria, not a stupid man who leers at women. Perhaps after tonight you'll appreciate the female of the species a little more than you ever had before?'

Only now did he realise just what a turn of such a costume can be for a man – but now he was going to be the one getting the 'attention'.

The sound of stiletto heels click-clacking across the floor broke his concentration. It was Patricia Crawford who had entered the room. It was clear she was planning on going out, as the dress was now covered with a candy pink raincoat. The sight of the handbag made him wince. She looked at him and smiled.

'Oh yes, yes, very sexy dear! I told you Heidi that Maria would look hot in this outfit!'

He blushed as she inspected him very carefully.

'Yes, yes I really am glad we have the opportunity to try you out on a stag night Maria, you are going to be so popular!'

He did not say anything but was alarmed at her words. Was she considering putting him in the front-of-house, rather than behind the bar?

Patricia Crawford put a finger to his painted lips and spoke softly to him,

'Make sure you keep your lips perfect tonight dear'

With that comment she then pushed a lipstick tube between his 'breasts' and tucked it inside the dress

'That's where to keep your lipstick, no room for a makeup bag in that dress! Now I must go'

She winked at Heidi,

'I'm sure Heidi will bring you up to speed on the drill for this evening – it is quite different from other nights I can assure you of that'

As her heels sounded across the floor he tried to relax. Her very presence made him feel uneasy. He did his best to breath comfortably and could feel the cold metal of the lipstick tube on his breasts.

Patricia Crawford then turned around and looked back at Heidi,

'Oh Heidi, there was a young lady on the telephone just now, Margaret something, she wanted to speak with Maria and left a message for her, something about not to forget Saturday morning? Remind Maria than girls are not permitted to receive private calls under any circumstances'

The mention of his neighbour Margaret did nothing for his state of alarm. Why had she telephoned the Beer Keller? Surely Patricia Crawford would want to know who Margaret was?

Whatever the answers, Patricia Crawford was not about to tell him. She left the room without saying anything else.

Heidi shook her head in disappointment. She could be equally unnerving and he had no desire to get on the wrong side of either women.

'That's very naughty Maria. Girls are not allowed to have personal callers you should have known that. You will forfeit your shift earnings this evening, a great pity because these nights a good girl can make a fair profit'

To protest would have been futile. He simply nodded.

'And who is this Margaret?' Heidi asked

For a minute he tried to think of what to say next. There was little to be gained in attempting a tall story so he replied,

'She's my next door neighbour'

Heidi walked over to him and stared right in his face. She did not look a happy person and barked,

'Next door neighbour what?'

Proper etiquette was another rule that he had now just broken. Meekly he replied,

'Ma,am'

'Good, never forget to be polite Maria. And what is she to you?

Heidi waited for an answer,

'Nothing, she's just a neighbour…Ma'am'

'Then how does she know you work here? And how does she know to ask for Maria?'

He tugged at the hem of the rubber dress but Heidi pulled his hands away from the skirt

'Stop fidgeting girl! that dress is skin tight and doesn't need you help to stay in shape!'

With his hands now by his side he told her,

'She works in a department store and found me browsing through ladies shoes. Now I think she wants me to dress for her. Ma'am.'

Heidi did not quite take in what she had just been told. She restrained her laughter and put on a serious face once more. Holding out the blonde pigtail wig for him to put on she mocked him,

'That's wonderful news – my you are a lucky girl that someone wants to take you under their wing. Perhaps she can fashion you into a proper little princess!'

To what degree of wonderful he had no idea. But it now served to remind him that he had additional humiliation the next morning.

Before that there was the party night upstairs.

On arrival upstairs they were joined by the rest of the bar girls. They each wore the same PVC dress and boots that he now modelled. For a moment he was reminded of the Robert Palmer video 'Addicted To Love', where heavily made-up models strutted their stuff whilst pretending to be members of a pop group.

During the briefing he learned that he would be 'strutting his stuff' as it was decided that tonight Maria would serve at the front floor. Heidi asked the other girls to help out, as it was 'her' first time on the tables.

Glancing round he noticed that most of the girls found his costume a bit of a giggle. He could understand the amusement, after all they had suffered wearing such clothes for the enjoyment of men, now a man was put in exactly the same situation. Revenge.

Maria would deliver drinks to the tables and collect the money in a lace-trimmed money belt that was issued to all serving staff at the end of the team talk.

As he tied the belt around his waist one of the girls (who introduced herself as Carla) whispered that it might be a good idea to put his lipstick in the bag too, commenting that there was ' little chance you'll still have tucked inside your bodice once the high spirits started'. She smiled at him as he took the lipstick tube from under the bodice and popped it in the bag.

Carla then helped him adjust the placement of his wig and enquired,

'Are those boots too tight for you Maria?' she asked sympathetically.

He nodded and said the pointed toe was difficult to get used to. She lifted her foot and told him that most girls would never wear such footwear in a job that required you to be on you feet 'most of the time'.

'I hate rubber too - this dress is absolutely killing me, I don't know how you feel Maria? And look how short the skirt is! Listen if you have to bend over then don't, bend at the knees and at least you can retain your dignity.'

He thanked her for the tip and she smiled back at him

'If only men knew what it was like to have to dress up like this…'

The girl stopped as she suddenly remembered that Maria was in fact a male. For a moment she looked genuinely embarrassed and she apologized profusely.

He told her not to get upset about it, adding that,

"Not many men look like me right now"

The chitchat was abruptly ended when Heidi told the girls it was time to take their positions - the doors were about to open. Not for the first time Mark Andrews regretted the path he had so relentlessly pursued - to his now 'alter-ego' Maria.

Working behind the cover of the bar was comparatively easy; for one his 'dress' and manner were largely restricted to fleeting glimpses and, to all intents and purposes, customers regarding him as simply one of the uniformily dressed 'girls'.

However, working at the tables meant he would be exposed to the customers for the entire evening. He was worried that they would see through the outer faηade of his feminine attire, and, of course, the ultimate humiliation that would surely follow.

As he took his place on the floor he glanced over at the girls and watched as the walked effortlessly in the long thin heels of the ankle boots. Once again he was thinking as the male of the species – how sexy their backsides looked encased in the tight shiny black rubber skirts. He hoped when he did the same he could muster a passable 'wiggle'.

He looked down at the hem of the skirt and was concerned as to how short it was. If he had to bend over then it was clear to him that his knickers could well be in full view of the house. Hopefully he would remember the advice given to him earlier by Carla.

Once the front doors were opened the raucous stag night participants filled into the bar in what seemed like a matter of seconds. The mix was both young and middle aged, with one thing in common - all were intent on having a 'good time' being waited on by the sexily clad barmaids who they considered were 'fair game'.

The beat of disco music started almost on cue. It was extremely loud and the bass beats reverberated through the wooden floor sufficiently for him to feel the beat through the soles of his feet.

As he watched the men assemble he looked to see if he recognized any of the party. It was some considerable relief to him that he could pick out no familiar faces from the crowd.

During the pre-shift briefing Heidi made it clear that each girl would be responsible for a particular area within the room. For Maria it was the four tables at the very far end of the bar. That meant he would be required to walk the whole length of the room every time he took and order to and from the bar. Unknown to him, this was at the instruction from Patricia Crawford as she thought it would give him plenty of real time practise to master his new high heels.

The first table he approached consisted of four under-twenty youths, the type of person he would normally end up in an argument with if he was in the bar wearing 'normal' clothes. Initially his ears strained to make out the order above the music but finally he managed to confirm the drinks. As expected they each ordered two-pint pitchers of lager: he further guessed it would not take too many orders before the entire group were drunk and incapable.

He managed to walk back to the bar without tripping over his heels, even though every step across the wooden slats echoed in his ears. The girl working the taps took the order and placed the four large glass pitchers of lager and four glasses onto the tray.

When he got back to the table he leant over (as best he could in the tight dress) and distributed the contents of the tray to each of the young men. As he glanced up he could see they were looking very excitedly at his 'cleavage'. It got worse when one of them slapped his backside whilst commenting that 'your dumplings are boiling over tonight darling!" at the same time thrusting a twenty pound note down the front of the bodice.

His first reaction to the act was to lash out at the man but it was obvious that would not be an option. Then he had to reflect on the fact that a table full of young men were treating him as a sex object and one of them had fondled his breasts and smacked his backside.

To reconcile his thoughts was more difficult than he had first imagined. One the one hand he had previously been guilty of such behaviour without considering how the 'victim' may have felt. Now he was now the 'victim' and it did not feel good. Was he now starting to think like a female? Had exposure to such feminine things such as makeup and clothes started to change his very psyche? Confusion reigned.

If he thought Heidi or one of the other girls was going to come to his rescue he was very much mistaken. It was obvious that such behaviour was standard on such events and he had little option but to do his best to keep calm.

Taking the note from between his 'breasts', he unzipped the bum bag and flashed a crimson-lipped smile as he put the money into the purse.

Hopefully the other three tables would be a little less vulgar?

Such hopes were soon dashed as the occupants of the remaining tables did their best to outdo the previous antics. Accompanying the almost ritual slapping of the backside were the smutty comments and drunken banter of men who should have known better.

It appeared that the other serving girls fared no better. He managed one trip to the washroom to repair his makeup and discovered that one middle-aged customer had even thrown up all over one girls dress.

The girl was more than a little distressed and he fully understood her when she blurted out

'It's a disgrace the way they carry on out there!'

For the first time he felt a compassion for the plight of the girl with the stained dress. Little did he know that, on his return to the tables, fate was to deal him an even worse blow.

He helped her wipe down the dress and realised now why PVC was the chosen fabric for such bawdy events.

She removed the last visible traces from the toes of her boots and thanked him for his assistance. At her suggestion, they both turned to the mirror to freshen up their makeup and reapply their scent.

He felt even more confused as he applied the red lipstick very carefully to his mouth, copying the other girl as she blotted with a tissue before re-applying. The face that stared back at him was not even remotely male. Although the three coats of mascara combined with the liquid eyeliner irritated both his lashes and eyelids he could not help but be amazed at how 'pretty' his eyes looked with the trio of colour shadows Heidi had applied so expertly.

His gaze drifted towards his cleavage and he found his breasts strangely attractive, and for reasons he could not quite come to terms with, he put a hand on the bodice and pressed against his flesh. At least they felt real.

The girl put her makeup away and turned back towards the chaos in the bar

'Come on sweetie, no time to admire yourself in the mirror tonight, times is money'

He put the lipstick back inside the bum bag, smoothed out the skirt, then lifted the tray and stepped back into the arena. It was only half way through the night and with four hours left he knew how stamina sapping it could be. Already his feet ached from the boots he was wearing, and the restrictive black rubber dress was something he knew he would never get accustomed to.

Carrying the supplies of beer back and forth from the bar was getting only slightly easier as the combination of dress and heels played havoc with his balance. He distributed the latest batch of lager to the table against the far wall then took the note from the middle-aged customer.

As he fumbled for change inside the bum bag the long silver lipstick tube fell out and rolled under the table. It might have gone unnoticed but for the fact that several small coins also fell out of the purse. This served only to alert the men and a chorus of laughter accompanied his attempts to retrieve the cosmetic.

Whilst bending down a severe smack across his rear almost caused him to jump up, one of the men did his best to stamp on his painted fingernails as he reached for the lipstick.

Handclapping started up as the men then began to kick the silver tube as if it were a football. As he went to pick up the item, it spun away from him as another customer continued the tease. Further slaps to his backside followed, each met with an even louder cry of approval from the table.

Although the entire episode had lasted less than a minute, time appeared to stand still for him. His efforts to retrieve the makeup were played out in slow motion and he felt his cheeks burning with the embarrassment.

Heidi eventually came to his rescue. He could hear her rebuking the men for being so cruel, although her tone indicated that she was firmly on the side of the tormentors rather then the tormented and she was milking the scene for all it was worth.

'You men are terrible! You know we ladies need our makeup to keep us looking pretty!'

As he finally managed to take back the lipstick he glanced up to see Heidi with a mischievous grin across her face. She was enjoying this little episode.

Getting to his feet he put the lipstick back inside the bag, tugged the hem of his skirt and went to take back the tray.

Heidi shook her head and looked scornfully at him

'Not so fast Maria, you must thank these kind gentlemen for finding your lipstick for you!'

She looked at the men with a wicked glint in her eye

'Honestly! Some of my girls are so unappreciative!'

The men at the table laughed.

Heidi then fanned out the lace trim around the bodice of his dress, pushed up his 'breasts', and proceeded to scold him further,

'Now Maria, say thank you to these nice men, and don't forget to curtsey – a little gratitude goes a long way!'

He knew there was no escape from the situation. He could run off to the washroom in tears (that is what a real girl would have done, wasn't it?), instead he did as he was told, first taking the hem of his skirt between the tips of his fingers, then gently performing what he thought was a curtsey.

Heidi watched as he bent at the knees. She was playing to the gallery now, and Maria was her chief prop. After watching the curtsey, she shook her head and said,

'Oh honestly Maria! You really should remember to say thank you to these nice men for helping you find your lipstick'

Although only the tables in the corner were paying any attention, the entire room seemed to be involved in the ceremony. He spoke in his best 'female' voice as he curtseyed once more.

The men roared with laughter and he hoped they had not realised that he was a man in female clothes? One of the comments he overheard ended with the words 'silly little slut'. Fortunately, it was clear that the men were already too drunk to look upon him as anything else.

Heidi nodded her approval then leant towards him and whispered,

'Now get on with your duties Maria and no more dramas please'

He recovered the tray and did his best to continue with the serving of the other tables. It pained him when her glanced towards the wall clock and found out there was still another three hours before closing time.

On arrival back at the bar he glanced behind and spotted a very candy pink coloured raincoat hanging behind the gantry. To his surprise saw Patricia Crawford at the taps. She still had on her evening dress so he guessed that she was not actually working, rather she was there to watch her new girl on her first night in front.

She smiled curtly at him and asked sarcastically,

'And how are you Maria? Having fun?'

She knew he obviously was not having fun but it pleased her when he said a mild 'yes'. As he waited for the serving girl to complete his order, Patricia Crawford put a finger to her lips and said,

'Almost lost your lipstick there sweetie! That would never do would it?'

Patricia Crawford then turned on her expensive heels and left the bar. He watched as she almost glided across the room, her slim figure accentuated by the fine movements of the silk fabric as it rippled in response to her movement.

The realisation that she had witnessed the scene earlier only made him feel worse. His mind reached back to the day he had decided to take on 'Peach' Crawford: How he now wished he'd never been so pig-headed.

It was just after three forty-five in the morning when he finally made it back to the locker room. Not surprisingly he was the only 'girl' there – the others simply put on a long overcoat and took a cab home.

As Heidi had explained at the briefing, late nights meant you would simply leave the club from the locker room exit. The door was secure once you stepped outside and thus saved the bother of someone with keys having to stay on to secure the building.

He fumbled to undo the laces on the boots, losing one of the false nails in the process. Picking the broken nail from the floor, he cursed the bad luck, unaware that his reaction was not dissimilar to what a real girl would do after such a 'disaster'.

With the boots back in the locker he then tried to undo the outfit. Even trying to look over his shoulder at a mirror did not help him. His arms ached as he tried in vain to undo the top of the corset, twisting as best he could and wishing that his fingernails were just a little longer.

After ten minutes he sat down and gave up. He would have to go home wearing the dress but needed to find a coat with which to cover it. His own short jacket was never going to do so he began looking around the changing rooms to see if any of the girls had left a spare coat, which he might borrow.

Inside his locker he had the choice of the black ankle boots, the white platform knee high boots, or his own trainers. He decided to put on his own sports shoes and noted how ridiculous they looked when worn with black tights. But he would never be able to get his feet back into any of the boots, besides they would not have been practical for a quick dash back to his flat.

Three times he went round the locker room searching for a coat to cover up his dress. On the last circuit he was so desperate that he tried each of the lockers in turn, hoping to find one of them left open. To no avail.

It was just after four twenty-five in the morning when he remembered that Patricia Crawford had put her raincoat behind the bar – and that she had left the room without it. Hopefully, if it was still there, he could borrow it and get it back early the next night and no one would be any the wiser.

Filled with this new hope, he sprinted upstairs to the bar, and was jubilant when he spotted the coat still hanging behind the gallery. He lifted it from the hanger. The candy pink colour was extremely feminine, and his nostrils caught the sweet scent left behind from Patricia Crawford.

Without hesitation he put the coat on and started to fasten the large pink plastic buttons. After throwing his blonde pigtails over his shoulder, he was happy that the coat was sufficiently long to hide the dress. As he was still in full 'Maria, get up, he reckoned that no one would think of him as anything other than a girl returning home after night out.

It was now a quarter to five and he hurried back to close his locker and set off home. Hopefully the half-an-hour journey would pass without incident and he could catch a few hours sleep before his appointment with Margaret.

Back in the comfort zone of his flat he lay down on the bed without even bothering to take off the overcoat. Soon, he was sleep.

Three and a half hours later he was stirred from his sleep by the sound of the alarm. At once he sat up on the bed. His entire body ached. He looked down at the still-buttoned pink coat and began to recall the horrors of the previous night.

Standing up he removed the coat and put it over the peg on the front door and turned to meet his reflection in the small mirror that hung on the far wall.

Although his makeup was badly smudged, surprisingly the wig had remained intact. He now took the hairpiece off and threw it on the bed.

Now came the problem of the black PVC outfit, and how to get it off? He tried once again to undo the lacing with his fingers but his arms were too short to ever reach the first eyelet.

It occurred to him to simply cut the dress off – but then he would be responsible for replacing it and Patricia Crawford made sure he knew just how expensive that would be.

With ten o'clock fast approaching he made up his mind – Margaret would have to help him out of the dress. He put the pink coat back on, buttoned it up then stepped out into the corridor.

Nothing moved in the main hallway. He made his along the corridor in search of her flat. Although he had lived in the block for almost four years he had made little contact with the other tenants.

Margaret opened the door almost instantly, as if she had been standing waiting for him to appear. She was still in her dressing gown but was still overjoyed to see him arrive on time. Her grin widened at the sight before her.

'My my my, I think we'd better get you inside darling!'

He was ushered inside her flat. For ages he had longed to get into her apartment, but he had never envisaged it would be under such circumstances. Margaret looked at him and said the pink coat was 'so him'.

'It's not yours is it?

Mark shook his head and told her how he'd borrowed it in order to get home.

Her mood changed slightly when she looked down at his sport-shoed feet. Pointing at his feet she barked,

'And where may I ask are your new shoes? My gift to you I hasten to add!'

A few minutes later he was being let back inside the flat, this time carrying the shoebox containing the bright pink heels that Margaret had given him the previous morning.

He was told to take off the coat as Margaret prepared a bath for him. She was not fully prepared to see him still wearing his costume from the previous night.

'Well, that is a foxy dress girl! Is it your work outfit then?'

He simply nodded and stood before her.

When she walked behind him the problem was obvious. It would take someone else other than the wearer to undo the laces. Margaret started to help him take off the dress.

'This is very tight Mark, it's a wonder you're still breathing sweetheart!'

The relief he felt as the dress started to open up far outweighed any shame he may have felt. After several minutes the outfit fell to the floor and he was able to stretch hid aching body.

Margaret hurried him into the bathroom and told him to wash while she tidied up in the lounge,

'I'll be back soon to take your make off so make sure you don't dilly dally – we have a lot to do this morning'

Left alone in the heavily perfumed bath, Mark knew that resistance was most probably futile. Not for the first time in recent days, he did as he was told.

'Being a girl isn't all that easy is it'

Margaret started to cleanse his face of the previous nights cosmetics. From her tone it was clear that it was not a question rather a fact,

'You have a lot to learn, and taking of one's makeup after each day is lesson number one'

She worked the cleansing lotion into his face and he lay back in the bath as she performed the routine. Perhaps he had got her all wrong?

'Now, what was that girly name they gave you at the Beer Keller?'

He replied

'Maria, my name is Maria'

Margaret thought over the name, repeating it aloud several times before speaking,

'Mmm, I'm not sure I see you as a 'Maria' It may well be good enough for your employment but not for me sweetie. I will have to think of something more in step with what I have planned for you. Here put your hands in this bowl – it'll take off those nails you have on'

He lay in the bath and waited. At least now he hadn't misjudged her intentions.

Margaret put his hands into a small bowl and waited for a couple of minutes as the glue from the false nails started to dissolve. Then she spoke out loud,

'Suzette! that's it, from now on you will be Suzette Andrews, my best friend at school was called Suzette – you're in good company girl!

Margaret was elated at her choice of name. She told him to step out of the bath, wrapping the pink towel around him 'girl fashion' then told him to move back into the lounge.

Mark Andrews started to towel dry himself, and decided to see just what Margaret had planned for him,

'Margaret, what exactly are you planning today?'

She watched him as he dried off then sternly replied,

'Suzette, you have a short memory my girl! You are going to be my sissy boyfriend in case you'd forgotten!'

Ignoring the fact that she addressed him as 'Suzette, he covered his waist with the towel then said,

'Margaret - why are you doing this?'

Margaret got to her feet, pulled the towel from his waist and re-wrapped it back above his chest,

'Suzette, you are a girl now! kindly remember to cover your modesty sweetie!'

'Margaret, why are you doing this?' he repeated,

'Too many questions! Now, if you've dried off then please now go and shave – I've left a razor in the bathroom for you and I recommend you use it. I'll be in the bedroom getting your things ready. And don't forget to choose yourself a perfume, I have quite a selection for you to choose from'

She pointed towards the bedroom. It was the first time he realised that her flat was far bigger than his own. In the bathroom he started to shave, he knew it had to be a close one at that.

Margaret popped her head inside the bathroom,

'Come on slowcoach! We haven't got all day you know!'

He was taken into her bedroom. In normal circumstance this would have been his ideal fantasy, but the fantasy was not his to enjoy.

On the bed Margaret had laid out a set of very lacy pink lingerie. Both the bra and matching panties were trimmed with delicate lace, which served to highlight just how feminine the person wearing them should feel.

She held up the bra before him,

'I take it you know how this goes on?'

Taking the underwear from her he did his best to put it on. She helped him adjust the thin straps then handed him the matching bottoms, commenting

'Mmm, that's a nice scent you've chosen'

Next came a pair of very sheer nylon 'hold-up' stockings, which Margaret unwrapped from their packet,

'Be careful Suzette! these nylons are so thin and I don't have a spare pair right now'

He rolled up the nylons and slid them almost expertly up his legs, making sure the inner band was sitting nicely against his thigh. She told him he was very professional in the way he fixed the stockings.

What followed next was very much in the same vein, as he had previously experienced with Heidi in the Beer Keller. He sat at the dressing table as Margaret showcased her makeup dexterity on his face – which included the tricky task of applying false eyelashes, for him another new sensation in the world of womanhood.

With no wig to call upon, Margaret did her best to tame his locks into a more girlish style – it ended up very heavily sprayed and with in a short ponytail resting down his back. Not surprisingly, a pink hair band was used to tie the hair.

As she applied nail polish to his own nails he glanced around the room to see what else she had decided on what he was to wear.

Margaret told him to sit still to allow the polish to dry,

'And none of that waving your hands or blowing on the nails! just sit still and I'll get your clothes out for you'

She went back out of the bedroom and he sat at the dressing table looking at his freshly pink-hued nails. The clock on the dresser said it was eleven o'clock and he shut his eyes hoping to open them and find the whole thing to be a bad dream.

When he opened them it was to gaze at a candy pink skirt suit, not unlike the same shade as the raincoat or the shoes he had been 'given earlier. The jacket was fitted at the waist and had large shiny white buttons as a contrast. The skirt was so short that he guessed the jacket would almost surely cover it. Running throughout the fabric was a very fine hint of white thread.

Margaret smiled enthusiastically as she started to take the jacket and skirt from the hanger.

'Do you now what type of jacket and skirt this is Suzette?'

He shook his head. To him it was just a jacket and skirt, although it had an almost knitted texture and reminded him of the tweed style clothes he'd seen his mother wear years ago.

'It's called boucle! Here touch it; it's great isn't it? Just one of the terms we girls get to know about! And the colour is you Suzette. When I saw you wearing that raincoat this morning I could hardly believe how similar our tastes really are!'

Margaret handed him a very fine silk v-neck vest top in an ivory shade. He put it on over his underwear and stepped into the skirt that she now held out for him.

She zipped the skirt up and tucked the vest top into the waistband. Next, she helped him on with the jacket. He ran his fingers down the short skirt then felt the sleeve of the jacket. A beaded texture, he thought.

Margaret was so keen to see him fully dressed that she even insisted on helping him on with the buckle-strap pink shoes.

A set of pearl earrings and a single matching string necklace were added to the ensemble. She told him he really should have his ears pierced and promised to find a place that day.

'These are the only pair of clip earrings I have'

The final pieces of the jigsaw were a very small white patent handbag and white leather gloves. Inside Margaret had placed a powder compact, a lipstick, and a body spray. To this she then added some paper handkerchiefs and two small tube-like items that she told him were tampons.

As he looked in dismay at the contents inside the purse she giggled,

'You carry your handbag by the handles – like a proper lady should. And I don't want you wearing the gloves unless it gets cold - we want to show off your pretty nails. Oh, and keep your tampons close by - a girl can never be sure when her period might strike! Now lets have a proper look at you!'

It was useless to argue with her that he was not a real girl and therefore not subject to periods. Reluctantly, and with a resignation that was now becoming all to familiar, he stood before the mirror to see the results of her labours. A vision in candy pink greeted him.

Margaret smiled,

'There, what do you think Suzette? Pink really is your colour don't you agree?'

He looked at his reflection and noted how short the skirt really, how the low cut jacket drew attention to his 'breasts', the flimsy top he wore underneath did not even show above the lapels. And he noted just how the silver buckles of the pink shoes dazzled in the light. Even the shade of lipstick and nail polish matched the suit.

She took him back into the lounge, suggesting he catch up on some real girl reading as she thrust a copy of a glossy female fashion magazine into his hand.

'I have to go and get ready myself now. There's fresh coffee in the kitchen but watch you don't spill it on your new suit! I shan't be long. And don't forget to sit properly – knees together, not wide apart my girl!'

He put 'his' handbag, gloves and the magazine on the couch then went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee.

The tiled floor made his heels click loudly, serving only to remind him of his current 'dress'. The skirt had no vent, which required him to take smaller steps. As he walked he could feel the smooth nylon lining of the skirt as it brushed against his delicately stocking-clad legs.

He poured a cup of coffee and very carefully took a sip. A lipstick mark was left on the rim of the cup and he used his finger to wipe it away. After each sip he checked to make sure nothing had fallen onto his jacket or the skirt.

For whatever reason, Mark Andrews then found himself lifting his leg and pointing his foot forward into the sunlight that cut through the kitchen. The way his stockings gleamed in the light had a strange effect on him, so much so that he moved his leg slightly to see how the glossy they might be from a different angle. The pink high heels also caught the light and this too brought rise to feelings of confusion.

As he glanced out at the morning sunshine he wondered just what Margaret had in store form him? Not to mention the need to return the borrowed raincoat to the club before Patricia Crawford realised it was missing.

Margaret broke his thought as she joined him in the kitchen. She was far more conservatively dressed in denim jeans, dark red t-shirt, flat shoes and a black casual leather jacket. Her hair required little attention and the only makeup she wore was a touch of clear lip-gloss.

'Well, how do I look?'

He should have expected such a low-key wardrobe and asked if perhaps he was not overdressed?

She laughed and gave him a hug,

'Oh Suzette! I knew you'd say something like that. You look just the way I want my sissy boyfriend to look on her first shopping trip. I on the other hand, am dressed much more practically. This is my weekend off and I get to wear jeans as I have to wear skirts all week at work'

'Shopping?'

'Yes of course. Why, one cute little skirt suit won't get you through a season sweetie – no matter how much you adore wearing it. And you are at least two sizes larger than me so you won't be borrowing my things'.

He looked at the skirt suit he was standing in and she shook her head,

I bought that suit you're wearing especially for you. But from now on you pay for your own things understood? No more presents until you earn them'

Before he could object further, Margaret continued

'You'll need more skirts, a jacket that you can mix-and-match, some tops, high heels, not to mention lingerie. Perhaps a pretty party dress in case we get invited out. And a pair of girl's trousers – you'll find them quite different from those boys ones you're used to. I suppose I could lend you some handbags for now'.

'But I'm not exactly flushed at the moment!'

'We'll get you a store card, that should cover everything we'll need to get you the basics. In fact it should be rather fun don't you think?

'What about ID? they won't just give me a credit card'

Margaret moved towards him and took the cup from his hand. She hugged him and whispered in his ear,

'Oh I could kiss you right now sissy boy. I take it you do have some identification that you can use?'

He opened his arms out as if showing Margaret what he was wearing for the first time,

'But I'm dressed like a girl!'

Margaret was starting to become very flustered. She frowned and then curtly replied,

'I do hope you're not going to be like this all day Suzette? It really is quite simple, you take in some suitable ID, give your name and address, and they then check with head office whether or not you're a suitable risk for a store card. I doubt they'll be too bothered that you're a sissy'.

She made it sound so matter- of- fact that he almost started to believe her – but what would they say when a man in a skirt asked for credit to buy more skirts and dresses?

Margaret motioned that it was time to leave. On the way to the front door she reminded him to collect his gloves and handbag,

'And carry it by the handle please, not slung over your shoulder'

Perhaps it was a combination of lack of sleep and a tiring shift the night before, or the knowledge that to object would be of little benefit, that made him comply with her wishes. He lifted the gloves and bag, noticed that the handles were so short that it would have been impossible to sling it over his shoulder, and did his best to carry it in a ladylike fashion.

Margaret waited until he had stropped fidgeting with his new handbag then pointed over his shoulder into the lounge,

'Don't you think you should take your other things back to your own flat?'

The pink jacket he had 'borrowed' from Patricia Crawford, and the black PVC dress still lay in a corner of the lounge. He had forgotten all about them.

'I thought you said you'd borrowed that coat Suzette?'

Without hesitation he nodded,

'Yes'

She considered the options then told him,

'Bring it with you. We can drop it off on the way in to Town. You may as well take you're pretty little costume too'

Mark Andrews pleaded with her again,

'I can't let them see me dressed like this!'

 

Margaret almost burst into a fit of laughter at his latest comment; she could see she was going to have her work cut out to bring him up to her required standard. She hurried over to the coat and dress, picked them up and held them out for him to take.

'Why ever not? I think they might consider it a little more reserved that what you arrived here in this morning? Anyway, from what you told me about your boss, I wouldn't give too much for your chances if she finds you've taken her expensive coat without permission'

He looked at the coat and the dress. Perhaps they could stop off at the Beer Keller and he could get the coat back without any further drama? Before he could say anything else Margaret anticipated his next move

'You'll find a carrier bag in the kitchen cupboard now come on we don't have all day'

After finding a carrier bag large enough to take the jacket and dress (incidentally a pink one from a female fashion store), he stepped out into the main corridor and waited until Margaret had locked the door.

She lifted her hand out to indicate that he should walk in front adding,

'I want to see just what a nice ass you have in that delightful skirt!'

The Saturday morning air was fresh and he felt the breeze against his legs as soon as they stepped out into the street.

Margaret let out a wolf whistle as she watched his attempts to walk in the tight fitting skirt and perilously high heels.

'Come on Suzette, use that feminine charm to hail us a cab!'

He stood at the edge of the pavement and lifted his arm in the air to try and catch the attention of a black hackney taxi.

'Try and be a little more gentle sweetie! Girls don't lift their arms with quite so much vigour!'

Soon a vacant taxicab pulled up beside them and they both got into the back seat. Margaret gave the destination as the Beer Keller and the driver turned on the meter and off they went.

As he fought to get comfortable in the short skirt (he could not help but notice how the driver was having a good look via the rear mirror), Margaret turned to him and said,

'I can't wait to see where you work'

He did not reply. On the horizon he could now see the street that led to the club. It was only to be hoped that Patricia Crawford was not yet in the building.

  

  

  

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