The Secretary Experience

I bought two pairs of heels. The first were made of some burgundy suede that had a golden zipper that ran up the back. The other were strappy and black with a tiny five-inch heel that both Bonnie and I knew would just go superbly with my new black dress.

We shopped for makeup and bracelets, earrings and necklaces. I bought panties and five new bras. Trying them on was an experience I would never forget. Standing topless, my glued-on breasts feeling heavy on my skin, in the curtained off room at the Victoria's secret, knowing that I had my own secret, was exhilarating. It was good. Better than sex.

We spent just over four hours shopping before stopping for a late lunch. I ate a salad with French dressing while Bonnie sipped tea between bites of her burger. I wasn't even jealous. Trying on clothing had been an experience and well worth all the meals I'd skipped and the salads I consumed.

"Ready to go?" She asked, after I bought our lunch.

"Sure am," I smiled.

We bought so much stuff that I had to sit in the back as Bonnie drove me home in her dark blue Lexus. My clothes took up the seat next to me and most of the passenger seat as well. Bonnie dropped me off, telling me she'd had a blast.

"Me too," I said, still grinning, my arms laden with my purchases. "I had a great day."

"I told you nobody would say anything."

She'd been right about that. If anyone noticed that I wasn't a woman they kept it to themselves and as far as I was concerned that was the same thing as them not noticing. A watched pot never boils, a broken clock is right twice a day, and a negative opinion kept is one not given. The day did give me the confidence to know that I could pull off what I wanted. I could appear in public, dressed as a woman, and no one would say anything derogatory or negative. Bonnie was right, most people were so self-absorbed that a stranger walking through a mall was nothing worth noting.

Bonnie left and I spent another couple of hours trying on my new clothes and walking in my new heels. The black heels with the pencil-thin spike were sexy and I loved the sound they made as I walked across the tile in my kitchen. The solid click, click, click was both arousing and soothing. I strutted through my house, pausing in front of every mirror to stare at myself in my little black dress, new jet-black stockings held on by a lacy garter belt, with matching bra and panties. I was a sexy woman ready for a night on the town.

Why not? I wondered. Today had buoyed my confidence.

I walked into the bathroom and fixed my makeup. I added more eyeliner and mascara. I darkened my lips. My makeup, subtle for my mid-day shopping trip became far more dramatic for my nighttime excursion. I added a bit more color to my cheeks and a bit of shine to my darker lips. I stood in front of the mirror, a tall woman in a tiny dress. I turned, eyeing myself critically. My Adam's apple was a little more prominent than I'd like. I darted to my dresser and pulled out a black lace choker, fastening it around my throat. It covered that prominent bump and gave my sexy dress an adorable flair, making me look both gothic and innocent at once.

Thanks to my nagging headache, I popped three more aspirin before I left the house, this time driving my new Silverado instead of being a passenger in Bonnie's car. I didn't have a destination in mind, I just wanted to continue the experiment, to see if I could get away being dressed as I wanted in public without anyone calling me out or giving my secret away. My earlier trip to the mall had elevated my confidence, I wanted to see if I could get it even higher.

I stopped at a high-end steak house and got me a quiet booth. I ordered a class of merlot and a small sirloin steak with a side salad and broccoli. When the waitress, a pretty little thing named Megan, offered me some bread I turned it down. To maintain my illusion, I needed to stay thin. If Megan noticed anything odd about me, she kept it to herself. Did she notice? I don't know and I didn't ask. I did focus on my movements, making a clear effort to move gracefully. I took small bites of my steak, setting my knife down frequently. I took delicate sips of my merlot, enjoying the stain my lipstick made on the rim.

A man came to my table, eyeing me appreciatively, and asked, "mind if I join you?"

I felt a pang of fear but an even stronger sense of delight. How much did I look like a woman if a man approached me? That, more than anything, told me that I was ready to try and be myself, and to get the job I always wanted.

I smiled, warm and genuine, not that I was interested, but because of how his simple question made me feel accepted and proved that my illusion would stand up to the even the harshest scrutiny. At that moment I wasn't a man in a dress. No, I was a woman having dinner in a quiet, upscale restaurant and I looked good.

I declined the man's offer, thanking him and giving the lie that I was meeting my husband after dinner when his plane arrived. "I dressed up for him," I said, still smiling a grin full of happiness at being so accepted. Bonnie had told me that nobody would say anything about how I was dressed, and she had been right but being approached by a stranger was a much better test and one that left my heart racing and my head a little light. It was a better buzz than I'd received from my one glass of merlot.

"Lucky man," he said, walking away.

"Thank you," I whispered to my would-be paramour.

I finished dinner and left the restaurant. It had been a day of tests that I'd passed with perfect scores. No one at the mall had commented on my attired. I couldn't even recall one derisive comment, or a nasty look thrown my way. Dinner had been even better. That man, whoever he was, finally unfurled my sails, letting me take that journey I'd often fantasized about. Tomorrow I'd start looking for a job.

Chapter 10

I woke to a new day. I'd come to a conclusion the night before and the warm light spilling into my bedroom window refreshed those same thoughts. I needed a job, not financially, but I needed something to fill the day and I had a long-standing fantasy I was anxious to fill. It was time to start looking for a job where I could wear the clothes in my closet, where I would be called Ms. McNeill as I was ordered to fetch coffee or make copies of some document or another. I shivered at the thought of it.

My head was still hurting so I made my way into the bathroom where I downed three aspirin, paused, and added a fourth. I couldn't recall how many aspirin I'd taken the day before. I remembered taking a few as Bonnie and I were shopping, and it seems I'd need more today.

I ate a light breakfast of toast and a dozen strawberries, too nervous to eat anything heavier. Naked save for a thin pair of red bikini panties I sat at my computer and revisited my resume I had updated the night before. I wondered if Mister Howser would give me a reference and thought maybe he would, adding his name to my resume as a valued contact. I doubted I'd be able to hide my previous job anyway. I printed out two dozen copies of my resume and transferred a copy to a thumb drive I had sitting in my desk.

With the boring stuff behind me it was time to get ready for my long day of job hunting. It was going to be fun, getting dressed exactly how I planned to go to work. I started with a shower, shaving my legs, and pits, chest, and face. It was easy going, having barely any stubble. I ran my hands over my naked legs, enjoying how soft and smooth they felt. I shaved my arms as well, trailing my fingers over my skin to ensure that I hadn't missed a spot.

I stood naked in front of my bathroom mirror and began working on my face. Concealer and eyeliner, blush and lipstick, lip gloss and eye shadow. I decorated my face, going far lighter than I had the night before where that kind stranger had offered to join me for dinner, making me feel more like a woman than I ever had in my life. I studied my features, adding a bit more mascara before deciding I looked as good as I could.

Moving to my closet I started with a new pair of dark black stockings. I coiled them into a tight little ball before working them up my legs, enjoying the electric tingle I felt. I smoothed them into place, snapping the lacy top against my thighs. I donned a black garter belt, affixed the little latch and spun the belt around so that the little crimson bow was in the front. I attached the tabs of the belt to my stockings, savoring the taut pull. I loved that feeling.

My breast forms came next. I'd taken them off the night before; it was better to let your skin breath as much as possible. I'd only worn then overnight twice and once I wore them for a week straight just to see if I could. By the time that week was over my skin had developed a nasty little rash and an even uglier smell. I hadn't worn them overnight since. I glued my breast forms into place, feeling the harsh pull on my skin that was scary, exciting and had just a tinge of pain. The good kind, like a loving spanking or a heated pull of hair in the throes of passion.

I donned a black bra and matching panties next, pulling the panties in place over the four fingers of my garter belt. I settled my faux breasts into place, bending forward so that they fell into the cups of my lacy bra. I stood up and gave my fake breasts on last adjustment. Satisfied, I looked through my clothes. I had so many, all perfectly suited for the office. I ran my fingers over my skirts and dresses, blazers and blouses. I settled on a simple Navy skirt that was pleated at the bottom and snug at the waist. I loved it. I pulled the skirt of its hanger and pulled it up my legs, zipping it into place. I grabbed a silky blouse the faint yellow color of French vanilla ice cream and buttoned that into place, tucking the ends into my blouse. I followed that with a blazer that matched the skirt.

My heels came next. I chose a pair of black heels with a wide two-inch heel. They were comfortable and their shorter height helped to mask that I was a man. While the taller heels were far sexier, and the ones I enjoyed the most, the lower heels helped with my illusion and would allow me to fit into an office environment more easily.

I stood in front of the mirror, eyeing myself critically. I added two bracelets on each wrist and a string of pearls looped twice around my neck. The pearls distracted the eye from that little tattle-tell bulge at my throat. The practiced art of an experienced crossdresser was the same used by talented magicians: misdirection. The pearls pulled the eye from what I wanted hidden and highlighted something flashier.

I spritzed my favorite perfume on my wrist and neck. Bonnie had been right about having a favorite. Bloom was my go-to scent.

I grabbed my purse, my freshly printed stack of resumes and left the house. I'd already done my research the night before, sitting at my computer, browsing want ads and filling out applications online while popping aspirin for a headache that wouldn't quite go away. It would wane some, almost fading to memory, before coming back. It never quite left me and now, as I drove to my first choice at a large law firm downtown, my headache was coming back with its terrible vengeance. It popped back like an angry dog barking at some innocent pedestrian that just happened by. I pulled the bottle of aspirin out and dry-swallowed three more of those gritty tablets.

I had two interviews scheduled; it was amazing how much work could be done on the computer without ever leaving the house. I had searched the job boards and the want ads posted online and had set up my interviews and had planned a couple of cold calls all while wearing nothing but my panties.

The drive was short. Less than ten minutes after leaving my house I was pulling into the parking lot of a nine-story building. I checked myself in the rear-view mirror, put on a genuine smile, and walked into the building, feeling the weight of what I was doing. How had I come so far? A short time ago I'd been to terrified to leave my house dressed as a woman and now I was arriving at a downtown law firm for an interview to be the secretary I'd always fantasized about. Was it because of Bonnie? Had she helped me come from my shell? She had helped build my confidence. Maybe that was all I had needed, a gentle push to get me moving. An object at rest tends to stay at rest, isn't that one of those scientific laws? Bonnie had given me a little accepting nudge that turned out to be not so little. It was something else I'd have to thank her for.

I rode the elevator up twenty-one floors. A receptionist directed me down a narrow hall with bland walls and a stained beige carpet. I had to wait for ten minutes in a small office filled with three chairs, one lumpy couch and a coffee table filled with magazines about ten years out of date. A fake fern sat in the corner that held a light coating of dust. If I got the job would it be my responsibility to dust the fern and update the magazines? The idea was kind of appealing at how mundane and unimportant those tasks would be. There were two doors in the room; the one that came in from the hallway and another leading deeper into the building.

"Ms. McNeill," I heard as the inner door opened.

I looked up and beamed at hearing the words I'd so often wanted to hear. My name with the feminine salutation in front of it. "That's me," I said, in my practiced lilting voice.

"This way please," an attractive woman said, introducing herself as Linda Chapman. She was as tall as I was, though her heels were higher. Did she do that to appear more menacing? More in charge? Maybe I needed something shorter than my two-inch heels. She was wearing a crisp yellow blouse with a lone button at her throat. Her black hair was combed and fell half-way down her back. She had cute bangs that were both playful and severe.

I followed the woman down a short hallway and into a conference room. A deep mahogany table dominated the room. There were six chairs at the table, three on the side opposite the door and three right as you came into the room. A long table filled with two coffee urns, one labeled DECAF and the other reading HIGH TEST sat next to a pitcher of water and a plate of powdered donuts. On the opposite wall was a large picture of some tall building in Manhattan or maybe Los Angeles; I didn't really know. The woman offered me a chair with my back to the door and took a seat opposite me. She smiled and asked if I wanted something to drink.

"I'll get it," I said. I got up and approached the refreshment table, "what would you like?"

I made us each a cup of coffee, adding two sugars to Linda's and three to mine. We both took milk. I delivered the coffee, "here you go, Miss Chapman," I said, setting the coffee down on the table before returning to the seat she'd offered me before.

Somehow, I had made a good impression. Linda was kind and warm, telling me about the job and about the company. She admitted that the work wasn't glamorous, but it wasn't hard, either and that the man I'd be working for was mostly harmless.

"Mostly?"

"We all have our days," she said, leaving it at that. It was a political answer and quite vague. She floored me with what she said next.

"Will you come dressed as you are now?"

"Pardon?"

"Are you transitioning?"

My face turned pink then red, becoming hotter than the coffee sitting on the table before me. How had she known? Why had she said anything? I felt my palms grow damp and my throat tighten. I licked my suddenly chapped lips. I took a deep breath, letting it out in short, noisy bursts. The room suddenly felt stifling and far too bright. Everything seemed to speed up and become far too loud. I heard my breathing; I heard talking in the hallway behind me; I heard the air conditioning kick on. The room was far too hot, far too loud, and far too bright.

Seeing the panicked look on my face, Linda smiled. It was warm and not full of malice. "George," she said, then, "Autumn," she corrected herself. Or maybe she had it right the first time. "I'm sorry I startled you, but I had to ask. The name on your resume says Autumn, but you didn't change the file name when you uploaded the file. The disparity was confusing until I saw you. Don't worry, it wasn't anything obvious."

Her words were kind, but they weren't getting through to me. I heard the door open behind me. "Autumn?"

I jumped, startled to hear Bonnie's voice. I turned, looking at Bonnie standing at the door, a frown on her face. I started to speak but Bonnie was quicker, "You're going to be fine. Did she besmirch you?"

Bonnie wore her hair down. It fell just below her shoulder blades with crisp bangs. I didn't remember her telling me she was getting her hair done. I thought to tell her that her hair looked nice but decided that my interview wasn't the place. Instead, I simply shook my head at her question.

"Exactly," Bonnie said. "Linda is being very accommodating. Answer her questions. You'll be fine."

I turned away from Bonnie, "no," I said, finally responding to Linda's question. "I'm not transitioning and yes, I plan on working as I am now."

Linda smiled at that before giving me a nod. "That's good."

"It is?"

She nodded again, flipping through a small manila folder. She wrote something on a piece of paper before shutting the folder. Was it good or bad that they had a file on me? And that Linda was taking notes? She went on explaining the job in far greater detail than I'd read on their website. It was exactly the kind of meaningless meaningful work I was looking forward to. I was going to finally, after far too long, be the secretary I had always secretly longed to be. The thought of it made my headache fade slightly. It didn't disappear completely, but it did seem to have waned just a bit.

I turned to Bonnie to offer her a smile, but she must have slipped out. I hadn't heard her leave, being too focused on my interview. I had to wonder if she was waiting for me outside. I guess I would find out soon enough.

Linda explained the pay package and the benefits I was to receive. The way she was talking had convinced me that the job was mine. Why else would she tell me about the sick days and the vacation days, the health care plan and the 401k matching that the law firm offered if I wasn't going to get the job?

"Do you have any questions for me?"

"When do I start?" I had thought the question was glib but when my voice cracked, I realized how excited I was. Was it happening? It was happening.

She nodded, smiling, offering me her hand. "Welcome. And is Monday okay?"

It was. I shook her hand, smiling ever larger than she was. The room that had been far too hot and bright finally cooled and dimmed. The air that had been stuffy now seemed lightly scented with the smell of clothes drying on a line in the deep South of long ago. "Thank you," I beamed. "Thank you so much."

"You're welcome, Autumn. And that is such a lovely name."

"Thank you," I said, grinning, "my best friend gave it to me."

Linda handed me that same manila folder she'd peered into earlier. It wasn't a file on me after all. It was a welcome package and an offer letter. I was surprised to see it filled out. Linda hadn't jotted down a note on me after all. She had filled in my name. "Read through this," she said, "if everything is okay, fill out the forms, sign where I've indicated and bring it with you on Monday."

I thanked her twice more as she walked me out. I was floating happily, beaming with pride and an overwhelming sense of satisfaction. I had done it, done what I had longed wanted to do. I was going to be a secretary. It wasn't going to be glamorous and that was part of what appealed to me. It was how menial the job was while being desperately needed as well. I think what I liked most about the job is that the job was going to be there, the person filling it was inconsequential. Hadn't I been offered the job just because it was that easy to fill? I wasn't entirely sure why that thrilled me, so I just know it did.