Sisterly Love

I shivered with pleasure as the soft silk slid down my body, encasing my hips and legs with a firm tightness, but feeling loose about my torso. I should have realized, of course, that I couldn't wear a bra with my backless creation, so I slipped out of the sleeves and rid myself of the offending garment. Fuck! The silk kissed my nipples so that I felt instantly aroused, and the slightest movement had my breasts, however firm they were, jiggling just enough to be lovely to look at. The sleeves felt good about my hairless arms, too. I found a pair of four inch white stiletto sandals, and stood into them, teased my long hair into shape, and went out to show Joan.

'They'll be lining up on the High Street to buy that,' she said, 'It's a winner.' Then she appeared to think a moment, before, she spoke again, this time rather carefully, 'I have to say, Andrea, that it's not just the dress. Do me a favour, love, and walk down to that wall and back, will you.'

I did as she asked, just walking with the short steps the dress permitted, and letting my hips sway as they would. I turned to face her, one hand on my hip. I felt really good, not in any boastful way -- but as feminine and beautiful as I thought I could be. And the knowledge that I had created the dress just added to my pleasure.

'Andrea, darling, you're a natural!' she said, 'I want you to go and show your dress on the catwalk.'

'B..but, I'm not a model,' I protested, 'That's a job for professionals.'

'Well, you'll do for me,' she said, 'There's a show for trade only in Birmingham next week. Will you do it for me?'

I gulped, 'Yes, I suppose so, if you think I can carry it off, then I have my appointment the week after.'

I wasn't going to miss my date at the clinic for anything -- although I was still nervous about the surgery, and wondered how it would feel to be without my cock, I really, really wanted to be as near to a complete woman as I could be.

19

Avril took a day off to come with me to Birmingham, and Joan drove us there in her Mercedes. The changing room at the big exhibition centre was chaos, and I was glad I had Avril with me as I stripped down to my panties before slipping into the dress, because I was sure some of the girls, who all seemed to be going without, looked askance at my white silk panties as I prepared to put the dress on. Avril said, 'I suppose they don't want panty-lines to show. 'That's all very well, but they've got nothing to hide,' I mumbled. Joan came into the changing room, and made sure she liked my hair, then smiled and said, 'You'll be fine, Andrea -- just go knock 'em out!' I loved her attitude. I had to wait quite a long time, listening to the girl's comments, usually about some handsome bastard on the front row, or a lecherous git who was leering at them, or the lights that blinded them as they walked on. But then it was my turn, and I was determined to 'knock 'em out' as Joan had said. I had practiced my walk so many times, and even the four inch stilettos were no problem, as I strutted on, feeling like a real model in the gorgeous silk, my tits thrusting out at the loose bodice, my legs and hips held tightly by the soft caress of my own creation -- yes, I kept telling myself, it was all mine, and I felt drunk on the applause. After I had changed I went out front with Avril, and caught the back end of a conversation Joan was having with a tall, rather foppish-looking guy. He was saying, 'I loved the dress. I shall buy it for my collection, you may be sure, and if you have more like it.......but who, pray, was your model? I don't believe I've seen the lovely creature before.' I turned away, but not before he had caught sight of me. He came and grabbed my wrist. 'Just where have you been hiding, my dear?' he said, 'Tell me you will come and work for me, and I will forever be your slave.' I laughed and told him I designed dresses for Joan, at which he laughed, and went conversation into a long with her.

On the long drive back, I asked her about him. 'That was Charles de Barsac,' she said, 'He is a big mover in the fashion world. Much as I don't want to lose you, darling, if he gets you a modeling job, you'll be on the cover of Vogue in months. I told him you weren't going to be available for two or three months -- said it was a family thing -- but then you may well talk to him'. Avril was regarding me quizzically as my boss spoke to me, and I didn't know what she thought about it. 'But I don't want to be a model, at least I've never thought about it,' I said, 'and I'm quite happy designing for you.'

20

I had no real time to think about such heady matters in the next few days, as I was preparing for what I thought of as the turning point of my life -- GRS -- Gender Reassignment Surgery.

About four weeks later I woke up in strange surroundings to find myself swathed from the waist down in bandages -- no pain, just a very odd numbness. I was alone in a hospital bed, drip attached to a cannula in my arm, a little screen I could just about see out of the corner of my eye going 'bleep, bleep, bleep,' and some sky through a window. I slowly came to understand where I was, and what I had had done, then fell fast asleep again.

When I awoke again, I knew my hand was being held -- the one that didn't have anything stuck in its arm. I tried to half-turn and see who it was, but I knew it was Avril.

'Don't move, darling, I'm here,' she said softly -- the voice I needed to hear, 'And the doctors say it's gone just fine. I have a lovely sister.'

I sighed and drifted off to sleep yet again. When I woke up again, I was thirsty, and my sister was still there. She let me have a few sips of water, then a nurse came in, while Avril went down for lunch, and made sure I wasn't in pain, and that my meds were okay. She said, 'If you're okay, I have two more people who want to see you.' I nodded.

In walked Joan, my boss, and with her was none other than Charles de Barsac.

'Oh God,' I said, 'I must look a fright -- no make-up, and my hair!'

Joan laughed, 'There never was any doubt you were a woman, was there?' she said.

I looked up, now a bit ashamed of my initial outburst. 'I'm sorry, I just wanted to look my best.'

Charles laughed and said, his accent sounding very sexy, 'I have had a long talk with Madame Vine about you, Andrea, and we have both agreed that you are a natural. When you are not modeling for me, you can design for Madame, but I would like you to show my collections at the major fashion shows. Will you do that?'

I looked from one to the other of them, and asked, 'Do you really think I can do it?'

'We are absolutely sure,' replied Joan, 'but first of all, you need to recover from your surgery. The doctor says you are doing very well, by the way.'

When I told my sister the news, she was delighted for me, but a shadow fell over her face, as she said, 'But I suppose that means we won't be together.'

'Oh sis, whatever happens, if I have to go away for short spells, my place will always be with you. You are more important to me than any job -- than life itself!' Her eyes brightened and she kissed me, then held me in a fierce hug.

EPILOGUE

There she was! I spotted her, coming into the arrivals greeting area at Madrid Barajas airport. My sister looked as gorgeous as ever, in a beige silk blouse, bottle green pleated skirt and moderate heels, guiding her wheeled suitcase along.

I waved frantically, and she spotted me straight away. In seconds we were in a hungry embrace.

'God, I've missed you sis,' I said. She had been able to snatch a couple of weeks' leave from her new job at the hospital, to come and join me in Madrid.

'But look at you!' she said, holding me at arm's length, 'what did I do to get a supermodel sister?'

'Hang on,' I cautioned, 'Hardly a supermodel -- I'm still learning the trade.' And so I was, halfway through Madrid's fashion week, at last able to compete 'on level ground' with some of the other girls -- I could now go without panties when I was showing a particularly tight dress. Details like that made me feel great, and when I told Avril, just as we arrived in the taxi at the apartment I had rented, she giggled, 'You really are a slut, darling. Come on, let's go to bed!'