Angel Ch. 03

After showing Angel the various forms she would be using, most of them nearly self-explanatory, Mr. Baker took her out onto the floor where she would actually be working. With that done, he returned to his office to enjoy erotic thoughts of the sexy young teller trainee, and to think of how he might corner her sometime. Until that happy day, he would have to settle for thinking about her. After his demonstration, he had left Angel with Millicent Dobbs, one of the more senior tellers, who would show her what she would actually be doing.

"Just call me Millie. Old Baker is a lot more formal than we are here in the trenches."

That had been Millicent Dobbs's response the first time Angel addressed her in the more formal style that had been used by Mr. Baker. Millie showed her new charge how to arrange money in the cash drawer she would be using, and some of the other things a teller might be called on to do during the course of a day. Angel even stood behind the older woman and watched as she dealt with a succession of bank customers. Their transactions were all quite routine, but Angel was aware that problems would sometimes arise, and she hoped Millie or somebody else would be available to help her with those.

Millie had worked at the bank as a teller for the last fifteen years and neither expected nor wanted any kind of promotion, being happy where she was. Noticing that Angel was attractive, attentive and personable, she took a liking to the young trainee, and decided to teach her about the problems or pitfalls she might encounter, either in her teller's cage or with coworkers. Foremost in any such list was the man she had called "Old Baker", although he was only three years her senior. As Millie advised most newcomers, she referred to him as "old" because she thought of the head teller as a dirty old man with grabby hands. Attractive young women such as Angel, in particular, would be well advised to avoid him as much as possible.

While sipping coffee in the employee break room later that morning, Millie imparted that information to Angel, and passed on some of the current juicy gossip around the bank. Since it hadn't actually bothered her all that much, Angel didn't bother telling Millie about the questing hand that had been on her knee and thigh. If it had belonged to somebody less unattractive, she might have been bothered even less. Actually, after Millie's warnings, she felt rather flattered, and it even added to the affirmation of her as a Real Woman, and a desirable one. However, she solemnly nodded, and told the friendly older teller that she would watch herself.

They had lunch together too, at a local cafeteria, along with Bobbi and Cheryl, who were also tellers at the bank, and attractive young women. When Millie introduced Angel to the others, they greeted her, and smiled knowingly.

"I see Old Baker's got himself another pretty bird to try to feel up," Cheryl advised the group.

"Well, he'd better not try it with me," Bobbi chimed in. "The last time he put his hand on my bum, I let him know about it. I told him he'd get a sexual harassment lawsuit if he ever did it again. He's kept his hands to himself since."

"I just avoid the old fart. That's the easiest way to keep his grabby paws off me." After adding that, Cheryl looked at Angel for her input, as did Bobbi and Millie.

"Thanks for the warnings. I'll keep my eyes open for him." Once again, Angel refrained from mentioning the hand that had been on her leg that morning. Although it hadn't been an accident, which was what she thought at first, it also hadn't bothered her enough for her to say anything about it.

"He hasn't tried to cop a feel on me yet, though." She wanted the friendship of the other women, so Angel expressed considerably more solidarity with them regarding their supervisor than she actually felt. She had no romantic or sexual interest in "Old Baker", but she also had no animosity toward the man.

Millie had worked at the bank as a teller much longer than any of the others. "He's been like that for as long as I've been here. When he got to be head teller, he started to persuade personnel to send any good-looking girls to him, because they would attract more business from men. Maybe you girls do," and when she said that, she looked around at her three pretty, young companions. "But, I think providing good service and keeping their money safe is a lot more important." The others nodded solemnly.

After that, the conversation turned to gossip about coworkers and others, mostly women. Angel wasn't much interested, because personal stories about other people, especially when she didn't know them very well, and most especially when it didn't concern her, were of little or no interest. While sitting there, trying not to listen, Angel was surprised at hearing the snide things being said by the women about people they actually seemed to think of as friends. As a boy, neither she nor her fellows had ever gossiped like that, and Angel had never had girl or woman friends close enough to share gossip with, so she had never gotten into the habit.

Following lunch, Angel worked in the teller's cage, with Millie standing behind her to watch what she did. The older woman had two reasons for doing this. First, Millie wanted the young trainee to get a taste of what she would actually be doing. The other reason was to discourage the attentions of Old Baker. Given a chance, he would have come up behind Angel and fondled her bum, and anything else he could, under the guise of supervising her work. He would do no such thing to Millie because he thought of her as being too old. She was also short and quite a bit overweight, not at all the type to attract the lecherous attentions of the head teller.

The work was interesting and rather enjoyable. All the men smiled and were pleasant, as were most of the women. Some of the men even flirted with her, which was flattering, but Angel stayed friendly but professional. At the end of the day, her cash balanced perfectly, so she turned in whatever she had to turn in, and left promptly at five o'clock.

She arrived home rather at loose ends. Angel had been in London six days, and hadn't met any friends, except Lionel, who wasn't around just then, and her co-workers. There were flats on either side of hers, but she had neither seen nor spoken to the occupants, although she had heard them moving around. Before boarding the lift to ride upstairs, Angel wandered over to the bulletin board in the lobby, wondering if there might be something of interest there.

There was. The Gay, Lesbian Bisexual and Transgendered Association would be holding a meeting that evening, starting in two hours, and they were located just three blocks away, in a public building she had noticed on Thursday morning. Angel had heard of the GLBTA, and realized she might meet people there who could become friends. She decided to go and, after assembling and eating a simple evening meal and cleaning up after herself, she walked to the building, arriving shortly before the meeting was scheduled to start. There were a few other early arrivals, and one of the women stepped forward to meet her when Angel entered the door.

"Hi, I'm Lizzie." The speaker was a large, bosomy woman with short, dark hair. She carried a voluminous purse over her shoulder and wore blue jeans and a flannel shirt, contrasting with Angel, who was wearing the same short, green dress that she had worn on her first day at her new job. In a concession to the walk to the meeting place, she was wearing flat heels.

"Hello. I'm Angel Jones." The two women shook hands.

"I'm glad to meet you, Angel, but we usually just use our first names here." From the smile on Lizzie's face as she gazed on the pretty face and shapely breasts of the newcomer, she appeared very glad, indeed.

"Oh. Okay. I've never been to one of these meetings before. I'm new in the city, and mostly looking for friendship."

"Well, you've come to the right place. Everybody here is friendly, and I'm one of the friendliest. Excuse me." Lizzie went to greet another woman who had just entered.

Angel had a strange feeling of déjà vu at Lizzie's words, but dismissed it from her mind. She knew she had never been to a place like the GLBTA before, and had never even been inside the building until that evening. She strolled around, looking at notices and posters on the walls until shortly before the meeting was due to start, when she took a seat at the long, rectangular table in the middle of the room. Lizzie sat next to her, and patted the hand that Angel was resting on the table. A sheet of lined paper was passed around the table, and members wrote down their first names and the initials of their last names. Angel added her name when the paper got to her, as did Lizzie.

The meeting started, and the chairwoman called on several people, who stood up, announced their names and sexual orientation, and were greeted by the rest of the group. They spoke briefly about what they were doing lately, and how they were coping with a society that sometimes showed disdain, even hatred for them. Angel could empathize with everybody who spoke, because she had also faced ostracism and contempt after beginning her transformation from being a boy to being a girl, and even threats of violence during her first days in London. The woman chairing the meeting had not recognized Angel's name, and the face was not familiar either, so she called on her next. The newcomer stood up as the others had done.

"I'm Angel, and I'm a T-girl," she told the expectant group.

"Hi, Angel," everybody responded.

She then went on to tell the others a little about herself, nothing too personal, and ended by telling them she was new in the city, and was looking for friends. Having said that, she sat down.

"You've come to the right place," one smiling man told her, and several others murmured agreement.

After Angel had her say, others were called on, and some spoke briefly of themselves and others declined to say anything. When the meeting ended, an hour after it started, several of the attendees had not been called on, but they didn't seem to mind. Angel was the only T-girl there or, at least the only one who had spoken. She was unsure what to do next, but several people, including the smiling man, answered that question by approaching her.

"Hi, Angel, my name's Kenny," he told her, offering his hand, which she shook. He was a burly man in his forties, with short, dark hair and a pleasant face. He rather reminded her of Lionel, except he had described himself earlier as being a bisexual.

"Like I said," he continued. "This is a good place to meet friends. In fact, we're actually more of a social group than an activist one, but we do get involved also, when we need to. Besides the meetings, we have social events too, like the dance here a week from Friday night. Our main goal is fighting prejudice against people like us, but we like to have some fun and meet friends while we're doing that."

Angel was very interested, because making personal contacts and establishing a social life was her reason for being there. She chatted with Kenny, liking the way he seemed so sure of himself, and with some of the others. Angel learned more about the group and its mission and about its individual members, including more about the upcoming dance, until people started leaving. She headed for the door too.

"Do you need a ride, Angel," Lizzie asked her.

"Thanks, it's only a couple of blocks."

"You know, it's really not very safe on the streets, especially for a pretty young girl like you. I don't mind dropping you off."

Appreciating the logic of the suggestion, Angel accepted the offer, and went out to the parking lot to get into the front seat of Lizzie's car. After giving directions, the two women chatted idly about nothing much for the few minutes it took to reach the front door of Angel's building. Lizzie stopped the vehicle and shut off the engine.

"Are you coming by again tomorrow?" she asked Angel.

"I'm quite sure I will. I met some nice people there, including you, and I'd love to get to know them better." She opened the door and exited. "Goodnight, Lizzie. Thanks for the ride."

"Goodnight, Angel. See you tomorrow night."

Lizzie watched Angel's curvy bum and hips swinging as she walked to the door. It was one of the sexiest sights she had seen for a while, and the beautiful T-girl was one of the sexiest women she had ever met. When the young newcomer walked through the door that evening, Lizzie had assumed her to be a lesbian, and had hopes of a possible sexual affair. Discovering that Angel was actually a T-girl put something of a damper on that idea, but didn't eliminate it entirely. The fact that Angel had a cock wouldn't make her much less desirable, and could possibly be a big plus.

There was nobody in the lobby, nor did Angel see anybody in the hallway. She went to her flat and, after puttering around a bit, went to bed. The next day at work was about like Monday afternoon had been. She wore a dark green blazer with a short matching skirt and a silky light green blouse. Her skirt was about the same length as the dress she had worn the previous day. Once again, Angel worked closely with Millie, who blocked out the attentions of Mr. Baker with her own large, unattractive hindquarters. He didn't give up that easily, but he had to accept a temporary setback.

Millie was surprised at how well and quickly the young trainee learned and, after two days of her tutelage, believed Angel was ready to work basically on her own. She was given a wooden block with her name printed in Old English, which would be displayed in the front of the cage where she was working. A nicer one, with a brass plate on polished oak, had been ordered her first day there, but it wouldn't arrive until the next week. Once again, she had no problem balancing her cash and valuable papers, and sat waiting for the final bell that would signal the end of the day.

Angel rode home on the same bus and found the lobby in the same semi-deserted state. After a light supper, she once again walked to the GLBTA, where Lizzie, carrying the same purse and dressed much the same way, met her at the door. This time, the older woman greeted her with a hug and Angel, feeling affection for the older woman, responded the same way. It was, as she had been told several times, a friendly place. Lizzie, as she had informed Angel, was one of the friendliest people there, and sat beside Angel during the meeting again.

Afterwards, she chatted with some of the persons she had met the previous evening, including Kenny, and met some new members, before accepting another ride from Lizzie. The next two nights were much the same, with Angel meeting more people and quickly forming friendships. Although she was younger than most, they had all faced some degree of ostracism when they were younger, as Angel had, and it helped to talk about it with each other. She rode home with Lizzie each night also, and the older woman parked her car in front of the building and watched her friend walk to the door. She did this for two reasons. For one, Lizzie liked the beautiful T-girl and was genuinely concerned about her safety. For the other, she enjoyed the swaying of Angel's bum and the stride of her legs, especially in the short, tight skirts or dresses Angel always wore.

On Friday night, the pattern changed a bit. It was still fairly early, and Angel decided to invite Lizzie up to her flat to have a drink and talk. The offer was accepted and, after parking her car in one of the spaces reserved for visitors, Lizzie followed Angel to the lift. They rode in silence, and entered Angel's flat to occupy the two chairs in the kitchen. The first-time hostess got out the bottle of wine she had bought the previous week, unsealed it, removed the cork, and poured two small tumblers full.

She and Lizzie raised their glasses in a silent toast, and each took a small sip. Angel wasn't really used to drinking, but this was the lightest wine they had at the store. It was sweet and pleasant, and she took another sip.

Lizzie did too. There were some things she was curious about, and she asked her companion about them. "Angel, I've always wondered about something. It's really none of my concern, and you can tell me to mind my own business if you want to, but I hope you don't."

"Go ahead and ask. I'm not very secretive, and if you get too personal I'll tell you." Angel finished off her glass of wine, refilled it, and offered more to Lizzie.

"Thanks, no. I have to drive, so I'd better not drink any more. When you were a boy, were you attracted to girls?"

That was pretty personal, but it was also something Angel had touched on at a meeting earlier that week, and she didn't mind expanding a bit on what she had said then. "No, not really. I wanted to be friends with some of the girls I knew, but I was never actually physically attracted or romantically attracted to any of them. And, none of them wanted any more to do with me than they could help, not even being friends."

"What about boys, then"

"Well, the boys I grew up with were a pretty rough lot. When I was very young, I did try to be friends with them, but I didn't care for the sports they liked to play all the time, and we really had nothing in common. After I started becoming a girl, they wanted nothing to do with me. They thought I was gay, but they used much nastier words to say it. And the girls were just as bad, maybe even worse. They were the real disappointment. I didn't seem to fit in anywhere."

At the recollection of her rather lonely and unhappy childhood, Angel took another drink of her wine, draining most of the glass. She was starting to feel comfortably warm, so she stood up, removed her blazer and hung it over the back of her chair. Her feelings of affection for Lizzie were growing, especially when the larger woman smiled at the sight of her well-filled bra, which was visible under the translucent blouse.

It was her turn then, and Lizzie described her own unhappy childhood. Very early in life, she had recognized her lesbianism, and it had earned her the disdain of almost all her schoolmates, and anybody else who might otherwise have been friendly toward her. After coming to London, she had met others like her, and they had formed friendships and, sometimes, sexual liaisons, making her life so much better than it had been in her home town. She had met even more friends at the GLBTA, besides getting involved in the efforts to change people's minds about gays and lesbians.

Recognizing the similarities between their early childhoods and Lizzie's life now and what she wanted, Angel moved her chair closer. The hand that had just been placed on her thigh felt quite nice, and it felt even better when it crept higher, until it was mostly under her skirt. She drained her glass again and, when Lizzie refused a refill, poured more wine for herself. Angel was glad she had invited her new friend up to her flat to share a drink, and she felt her affection for the lesbian increasing.

Lizzie's questions became even more personal. "How do you have sex with a man?" she asked.

Still having no objection to sharing confidences with her friend, Angel responded. "Why, in my mouth or my pussy, of course."

"Your pussy?"

"Yes. Right here." Angel partly stood up, accidentally dislodging the hand that had traveled to a point completely under her skirt and was starting to finger the lace trim of her knickers. She bent slightly from the waist and reached her hands behind herself to squeeze and spread her buttocks, as if preparing for sex with the hypothetical man.

"And I play with my clit, or he does, until I get off," She added, patting the front of her skirt over the referenced organ.