tagTranssexuals & CrossdressersQuiet Servitude Pt. 04

Quiet Servitude Pt. 04

byAmandaMI©

Author’s Notes

Before reading this story please be aware that that some people would label this work as obscene and pornographic in nature. It contains several themes including transgendered, homosexual and lesbian issues in addition to graphic sexual descriptions.

To make the action flow more freely and the stories light-hearted, I have taken a socially naïve approach and have not included the usual protections that intelligent people would choose such as condoms, birth control and out safeguards against sexually transmitted diseases. Such risky behavior as those exhibited by the characters of this story should not be followed.

If any of these topics make you uncomfortable please look elsewhere.

If this sounds like a story you might find interesting, enjoy.



With the exception of the main character Stacy, after whom I modeled a lot of my own psyche wanting to capture how I would feel in situations developed in the story, all other characters and circumstances are completely fictional. Any resemblance to actual people or places is completely coincidental.


Chapter 8 – Tuesday, June 10th

“It couldn’t possibly be morning already?” I moaned into an empty bedroom.

It was still dark in the room, no sunlight pouring in, but the clock glowed 10:38 a.m. and I knew the night was over. I could hear rain hitting the window and the wind blowing, which explained the lack of sunlight. My mind poured over the events of yesterday as I examined it in detail and found that my own feelings regarding how it went were more positive than expected. Still felt somewhat guilty about what had transpired with Julie but after stumbling across Christa and Terry’s public performance it was something I felt I could live with. I only hoped Julie hadn’t been yanking my chain about having Christa’s blessing.

My thoughts had moved from my above par performance yesterday to those of today, not knowing what the agenda held in store for any of us. I was trying to find the strength to get out of bed and get ready, again pondering how women did this every day of the lives, when I heard the shower kick on next door in Julie’s bathroom. We were blessed with plenty of hot water and water pressure in the house and I found myself climbing into my own shower, not able to concentrate on much other than knowing that less than three feet away Julie was soaping down in a hot shower of her own.

I handled the early morning erection as I always did when I was alone. A handful of body wash and two minutes of thinking about one person or another in here with me and the evidence was flowing down the drain, the stiffening muscle going lax once again.

It seemed that the events of yesterday had caused me to have to tap into my energy allocation for today and I was having problems getting properly motivated to face the day.

I buried my head under the water and let a wide yawn roll out.

If there was one thing a shower was good for beside cleanliness it gave a person ample time to reflect about their life and the smaller events that made the whole. It was in the shower in fact that I had often pondered my transgendered lifestyle and over the years had come to the conclusion that I turned out all right despite all the mumbo jumbo that the intolerant people of the world spit out about how we would all end up burning in hell for what they saw as an immoral way of life.

I wasn’t planning on making any permanent lifestyle changes so there was no real reason to come out to the world and face the ridicule out there waiting for people like me but knew that most of my friends would understand and support me if I did. It was all the wackos out there that had me freaked out and scared to feel free to let Stacy really explore. It was also in the shower where I discovered the real thing, which allowed me to enjoy being Stacy. I had a supportive wife that was the ultimate blessing but I also knew that by her suggesting this week to let Stacy’s hair down, I would enjoy it without the usual pangs of guilt I felt whenever I slipped into the feminine trappings.

I had been living with this for decades now and was just beginning to overcome the stigma tossed on me by an intolerant culture that declared itself to be ‘free’. Free, that is, as long as you fit neatly into a category most people were comfortable being around. I discovered that I should care less what most people thought and concentrated more on what pleased me. If dressing up as Stacy was fun then I should do it as long as it didn’t freak people out. I tended to shy away from civilization as much as possible, except for this week, and took as much pride in my appearance trying to blend in. There wasn’t much I could do except to keep improving my ability to appear woman-like.

There were also the detractors who accused us of mocking women. That came mostly from the fact that we couldn’t pass for real women though and not from a lack of effort. We often joked in our support groups that some of the ugliest men in the world were transgendered and made some of the homeliest women! If we couldn’t laugh at ourselves, it wouldn’t be as much fun. In truth, we often felt that the women of the world, who were often introduced as our better halves, possessed the things in life that we should be proud of. It wasn’t that we were mocking women when dressing up like them but rather idolizing the things they embodied. We wanted to shed our testosterone filled bodies and take up the curvy, estrogen shaped ones that represented the best humanity had to offer.

I’m sure the world would have a lot more people changing from men to women if it was as easy as snapping their fingers, but it isn’t. Surgery, hormones, families, changing jobs and messing up some friendships while building others took an emotional toll on people. You had to admire those that actually went through the expensive process to make their bodies fit with what they felt inside. I had to admire their tenacity. Unfortunately, the finished product often failed to meet high expectations and they looked no more feminine than they did before surgery. In those cases though they had no choice but to face the uncomfortable stares and glares of the critical and often intolerant public. They couldn’t simply strip out of the clothes, wig and makeup and go back out into civilization, people not being the wiser of our secret desires. It was an unsatisfying was to live if you didn’t permanently transition to what you felt you needed but an even tougher row to hoe if you did start down that road towards permanent femininity and were unsuccessful. I admired those who made it and were happy while I feared for the safety of those that revealed themselves and came up against an intolerant wave of humanity that was never going to cut them some slack.

It sucked being transgendered sometimes but it had it’s advantages too. There were a few success stories out there but most were in Europe, South American and Asia where cultures were more tolerant if not more accepting of the lifestyle. People seemed less hung up on it at least.

Here in North America, however, it seems that the gay and lesbian lifestyles had almost become mainstream now. It was once taboo to even speak the subject but now there are television shows on during primetime that dealt with the issues even if they were in a comedic format. People could at least deal with it, it seems. Maybe transgendered lifestyles would eventually reach a certain level of tolerance. The only transgendered people caught on television now seemed to have different issues and weren’t necessarily the best role models for our little community.

I was often chastised for using the word tolerance to explain what I wanted to see happen to our culture as it relates to our lifestyle. For most, acceptance was the goal. Being a person who has studied society in detail, I knew that outright acceptance was not going to happen. Even with a growing tide of support among mainstream Americans I know that there were an equal number out there who would do just the opposite, raising their children to be intolerant of those who would live an alternate lifestyle, be it a different color or make a different amount of money.

It all came down to respect. If we could just find a little energy to respect one another and our beliefs the world would be a better place and Stacy might find the courage to roam a little further outside her comfort zone and take on a life of her own instead of being held back and kept in the closet like so many others.

I don’t know if I had any more energy than when I climbed in but I was wide-awake now from all the mental gymnastics. My hand had wrapped itself around the shower knob ready to turn it off when I heard a knock at the bathroom door.

“Come in.” I said, already beginning to feel the last of the hot water shooting out of the showerhead.

“Good morning Stacy.” Christa said, “I just talked to Debbie and she said you were wonderful last night and wanted me to thank you again.”

“That’s great. I’m glad I could help out.” I replied, reaching for the curtain when another voice stepped up.

“She did a great job.” Julie said. “Would it be alright if I borrowed some of your moisturizer?” she asked.

Christa knew that Julie knew that I wasn’t really Stacy but standing there in the shower I felt particularly naked and didn’t take a peek from around the curtain. For all I knew Terry was standing there and since he presumably was still clueless to my true identify I didn’t want to take any chances. The façade I wanted to present was the only thing really keeping me going.

“Certainly.”

“Thanks!” she said. I could hear the cap snap open and then closed.

“She you later Stacy.” I heard her say as she stepped out of the bathroom. In the dim light I could see Christa approach through the shower curtain and sit down on the closed toilet seat.

“How are you holding up Stacy?” she finally asked from the other side of the curtain. It was one of the few times she let the employer/employee role slip but I wasn’t sure if she had dropped it completely.

“A little tired today.” I said truthfully. “But being able to help out Mr. and Mrs. Hennesey out was worth it.” I replied with pride.

“It was nice of you and she definitely appreciated it. Looked like they would have really been stuck without you and because of the late night I think you should take the day off.” She said. I couldn’t tell from her voice if she was referring to my late night’s activities with Julie or not but assumed I’d be mopping floors on my hands and knees if she had been pissed.

“Really ma’am?”

I could see her rise on the other side of the curtain, getting ready to leave.

“Absolutely. In fact, Julie and I will be going out today to do some shopping and I’d like you to come along.”

I paused, elated by the offer.

“That sounds great ma’am. I would love to. I should stop at the bank first though and deposit my check from Mrs. Hennesey. I hope that won’t be an inconvenience.”

“Not at all. Julie and I have an errand to run. Terry wants to hang around here today so get ready and take the Cavalier.” She said, retreating. “After you go to the bank, meet us at The Grille right at noon. We should be there and already have a table.”

Before I could hesitate or protest she had closed the door behind her. I shut off the water and reached for a towel but before I could reach her she had already left the bedroom and closed that door as well.

The mall. I’m going into the mall alone! And The Grille was a restaurant right off the center court. At least it was a workday for most, but the ugly weather outside was sure to drive most people inside. If there was one place they would congregate it was the mall. After last night I was sure I could pull this off but it would be using my own skills and not Kate’s. With Terry around I couldn’t exactly run out looking like I did and doing so was fruitless when I heard the garage door open and could see the Cadillac retreat with it’s two female occupants nestled.

It was quarter after eleven and if I wanted to make it there by noon I’d have to get cracking. As I applied my makeup and did what I could do to perfect the look I decided I would dare to be a few minutes late in hopes they would already be seated and I could just slide in unnoticed. As it was, I finished up a few minutes early and slipped into a loose fitting, long, black skirt and low heels with a gray cardigan. After yesterdays makeover I wasn’t overly impressed with my appearance, wondering again how Kate had managed the transformation.

I finally gave up knowing it was pretty much all in my head and decided I looked good enough. As good as it would get anyway. I slipped into a light jacket and grabbed my purse, stepping out of my room.

“Good morning Mr. Williams.” I said, stepping from the hallway into the livingroom.

“Morning Stacy.” He replied. Terry seemed enthralled by the TV show he was watching so I didn’t bother trying to converse. I crossed his view and into the kitchen, taking the Cavalier keys from the hook and stepped out into the kitchen, pressing the switch. The door went up and I stepped out to my car, amazed that I hadn’t looked out first. It was becoming second nature and I didn’t care if someone drove past as I popped into view.

I climbed in and got comfortable, snapping the seatbelt in place. The digital display on the dash read 11:45 a.m. and I faced a ten minute drive to the mall in lunchtime traffic. Relieved that it was time to go and I couldn’t drag my feet I finally drove off and before I knew it I was circling the mall and swinging into the drive through ATM. Even the mundane task of banking was taking on a new delight while I pressed my way through the menus, my long nails striking the various keys. Within seconds the check was deposited and I had two hundred bucks in my wallet. I pulled forward and parked near the mall’s main entrance. Fearing I might change my mind at any moment I was out of the car, putting my keys in my purse and heading down the aisle, quickly approaching the entrance swarming with people. It was all about confidence I knew so I stuck my chin out and kept going.

That was the other thing that drew people’s stares. If you froze or hesitated in any way you were toast. It was a sure-fire way of drawing attention if you milled about unsure where you wanted to go.

To counter this while I stepped across the main roadway and onto the sidewalk in front of the doors was to open my purse and pretend to look for something. It was a way to keep my eyes off the throngs of people around me while I moved in amongst their ranks. Another way of easing the tension would to be wear sunglasses so you could look around and scope things out without looking suspicious, but with the overcast skies it would have drawn more stares that avoided them.

In seconds I had moved through the double doors and was somewhat surprised to find that the mass of people actually made it easier to move about unnoticed. They blocked the views of most people coming towards me and those in front had their backs to me as we walked up the walkway flanked by storefronts. I had been in this mall hundreds of times but it was profoundly different looking down at my swishing skirt and bulging breasts, manicured hands swinging at the end of arms. It was something I had always wanted to do but to see it actually happening was unreal, yet another first this week for Stacy.

It was noon and I had a feeling we would be doing some shopping after lunch so I skipped the stores and made directly for the restaurant. The butterflies were beginning to flock again as I rounded the bend and spotted The Grille directly in my sights. There was the typical, short line outside the only entrance, but I strolled past it and went inside looking around for Christa or Julie. I made a quick circuit drawing several stares but none that seemed to indicate that I had been ‘read’, the term we use when it’s apparent someone has recognized me for what we really are.

“They’re not here.”

I stepped back out, the first people in line looking relieved that I hadn’t gone in and just sat down while they waited patiently. I took my dutiful place in line and consulted my watch. Ten after twelve. I took a quick look around but knew it was next to useless in the burgeoning crowd.

The line inched forward until I was next in line. My wife and her friend still hadn’t arrived.

“Just one today?” the hostess asked, flanked by two other teenager girls, each trying to keep from laughing by consulting the seating chart. Even the one that asked me was wearing a smirk. It was clear they had easily seen through my disguise but were unable to mask the discovery.

“Three actually. Non-smoking.”

She nodded and gathered up the necessary menus before turning.

“Right this way please.”

The young girl was cordial when she led me back to our booth and set down the menus as I took my seat, the side facing the back of the restaurant only ten feet away. She explained the specials of the day and retreated, both of us relieved I think.

The waitress, a few years older than the hostesses, took my appearance in stride even though the hostess wouldn’t have had time to alert her. Fortunately, the place was hopping with lunchtime traffic and they quickly lost interest.

“Here you go ma’am.” She said, setting down my iced tea. “Would you like to order an appetizer?”

“No thanks.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for your other guests.” She said, smiling and stepping away from table.

I’m in and seated. Waitress has been to the table and is gone. I was feeling a little more comfortable now as I casually scanned the menu. I really didn’t need to since it would either be their famous Philly cheesesteak sandwich, not a real ladylike meal, or the Caesar salad. It would be the salad I knew before walking in, but continued to scan the menu having nothing else to do since one of the two televisions in the place was on the other side of the restaurant and the second was directly above the booth behind me. I continued to watch the entrance in the reflection of the picture in front of me but still didn’t see Christa or Julie. Since it was after noon I figured they would come in looking for me but I kept an eye out in case they were waiting in line for a table. I could see partially through the restaurant’s faceted glass windows but I didn’t recognize anyone in line.

After reading the menu for the third time and starting on my second glass of iced tea I noticed that the lunch line was gone. Guests were returning to work faster than they were coming in and after twenty minutes, Christa and Julie appeared at my shoulder, bags in hand. They were smiling widely, greeting me like an old friend.

“Can you keep these on your side?” Christa asked, passing them over.

“Of course ma’am.” I said, cringing at the formality. She noticed my reaction as well.

The duo took a seat on the opposite side of the booth.

“Today, it’s Christa and Julie.” She responded seeing my relief at the surrounding booths being unoccupied.

“Yes ma’ . . .. Thank you . . . Christa.”

After nearly a week, calling her out loud by her name sounded weird, no matter how I was dressed.

“Sorry we were late. Any problems getting a table?” Christa asked.

“A few minutes wait but no big deal.”

The waitress, relieved from the lunchtime crowd, noticed we were a party finally and stepped up to the booth.

“Hello ladies. My name is Claire and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you both out with something to drink?”

“Strawberry margarita please.” Julie ordered.

“Make that two.”

The waitress turned from the table and both of my other dining companions continued to examine their menus. I was watching the both of them as they casually read through the items. A moment later, Christa shot me a look, a smirk on her lips.

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