F Is for Fiona

I got through the rest of the afternoon OK with no other upsets, and drove straight home just before six. OK, many days I'd stay over and see how the evening staff settled in, but on that day Gavin basically sent me home.

"Fiona, I don't want to sound patronising but you've done remarkably well today, you really have. Now get on home, relax for half an hour, I know you've a difficult evening ahead. I can stay a short while myself tonight, don't worry. The night staff are great, you know that. Now scoot!"

He was, of course, right. He really WOULD make a good manager soon. I didn't get any respite though, I knew I had to make a good impression. When Kate arrived I was ready to get ready, showered, made up, already wearing my tight waist cincher and lingerie.

"OK Kate, these two dresses. Which one?"

I held up the two hangers. Her eyebrows rose.

"The black, it's got to be."

I was surprised at the speed of her reaction.

"Look, Fiona, that midnight blue dress is sensational. But you cannot, you just CANNOT, turn up for dinner with Sam Merriman with a neckline that plunges SO MUCH!! It looks - well - something close to indecent. Actually no, Fiona, but it is VERY daring. But please promise me, one thing."

She was right about the dress but I was intrigued by her last comment.

"I'm sorry you haven't time to put it on now, Fiona, you'll need to be shoe-horned into it or something. But when you do wear it I want to see. It looks dynamite. Oh - and - don't let my Philip see you in it. I hardly know him yet but almost any man would fancy you in that."

I giggled slightly at the thought. Yes, giggled. However, the black dress it was to be. Kate stayed while I put it on and helped me to adjust the straps.

"And, Fiona, if you dare, the very high heels? I think they would be justified. On this sort of occasion, showing off your ankles and legs might be a good idea."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me, Fiona."

Indeed I did trust her.

Jeff approved too, I could tell when he arrived a short while after Kate had gone. I'd had one small glass of white wine, to calm my nerves a little. He was full of compliments too as we drove but I managed to steer the conversation round to business matters, and to how I hoped Sam Merriman might react.

"He'll like your legs," quipped Jeff. "After all, he'll be seeing most of them. And in those high heels too, wow!"

And that was part of the problem, at least at first. When we went into the bar at the hotel Emma was there already. And Sam did initially stare at my legs. Then he held out a hand to Jeff.

"Hello there. Sam Merriman."

There was an awkward moment. Then I realised what was happening. Sam had been expecting some sort of drag queen maybe, certainly he hadn't anticipated someone who was very confident in totally passing him/herself off as a woman. So faced by Jeff and me, he'd totally got the wrong end of the stick. He'd assumed Jeff was his store manager, for some reason here in his male persona, and I was the wife or girlfriend or something. Just before he was going to speak again, Emma realised what I'd spotted.

"Sam, let me introduce you. Mr Merriman, meet Fiona Fletcher, your store manager."

She looked straight at me. I held out my hand. Mr Merriman did some sort of double-take, then reacted quickly and held out his hand to me. After that I introduced Jeff and explained that my assistant manager had a prior commitment, and who Jeff was, and the evening went OK after that.

After Mr Merriman had settled down. I think he realised how serious I was. And I like to think he began to appreciate just how much of a woman I had already become. Not just visually though of course all that stuff mattered. The make-up and so on, the lingerie, the jewellery, the short tight dress, all those things were important. But other things matter too.

And again, not just the older historical aspects of femininity, always serving the male, always being a second-class citizen, no, none of those was the really important thing. But the compromise position I think the Women's Lib people have always been after, having the freedom to dress attractively both to please yourself and to give pleasure to the men around you, yet to do it for your own satisfaction.

Jeff knew that, I think. He knew I'd dressed to make him feel good as well as myself. The tight lowish-cut dress and high heels were for both our benefits. I liked wearing them and being looked at, and he liked being with someone who was looked at in an admiring sort of way.

I really hadn't imagined I'd be putting myself on show in such a way so soon. Heck this was my first day as a woman. But I was rather pleased at the result. I DID get some looks, from the waiters and some of the other customers in the restaurant. And I was totally thrilled, as Jeff helped me into my coat at the end of the evening, that none of the 'looks' had been the wrong kind. The hours of practice, in deportment, in make-up, in styling, in presenting myself as a woman, they had all been worth it.

As he led me towards my front door, Jeff paused. He took my hand. I let him.

"Well, Fiona. You've had one hell of a day. You OK?"

I looked at him. I couldn't help a small smile.

"Jeff, you're right. What a day. But in all honesty, this has been the happiest day of my life. It's a corny phrase, I know, but today I've been able to say 'I am what I am' and mean it. And no small thanks to you, Jeff. I'm so grateful, not just for understanding but for coming to my rescue this evening. And please thank Gwen for me too. Not many women would let their husband take another woman out to dinner."

"She's OK with that, Fiona, she knows it's business-related too. But she wants to meet you, Fiona that is. Maybe tomorrow night? How about coming over for drinks?"

I thought for a moment.

"Thanks for the invite, Jeff, but I'll take a rain-check. Not yet. Maybe at the weekend? I think tomorrow I'll need to take stock really. I never had the chance to wind down and reflect tonight. OK?"

"OK," he said.

He squeezed my hand. I leaned forward and gently kissed him on the corner of the mouth.

My heart skipped a beat as he responded by squeezing me harder.

"You really do make a gorgeous woman, Fiona. If I wasn't a married man ...."

I turned and opened my door, watching him head off to his own bed and to his wife. It would never do, of course. Not with Jeff, I couldn't. Surely not.

As I prepared for bed, standing in front of my mirror in my comfortable panties and functional (though sheer) night-dress, I did have a moment to think. For over a week I'd been both dreading and looking forward to this Wednesday in a way. But it had passed so quickly and so delightfully. Then I thought about Thursday. And Friday.

And the rest of my life.