The Secretary Experience

The brief storm cloud that marred her face dissipated with a smile. "You bet. And I can't wait to see what you'll be wearing."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be something boring."

"Ha! I doubt that." She considered me for a moment. "You know what? Why don't you come over for lunch tomorrow, Autumn," Bonnie said. "Paul's been asking about you. We'll grill out. Steaks, burgers, whatever you want."

I smiled, "that'll be great. What can I bring?"

She waved her hand at me, making a strange noise like a compressor has sprung a leak. "You don't need to bring anything."

"What time?"

"Noonish?"

I smiled again, "sounds good."

Bonnie left me alone for the night, hugging me the way women do. I hugged her right back, liking the way it felt. I made my way to my bedroom. I hung my suit back in the closet and put my discarded shorts and T-shirt into the washing machine. With the wash going I sat at the computer and watched some more videos, working on my voice. Afterwards, I did my brain exercises, wondering if they were helping. I couldn't recall if I'd had any more memory lapses and that thought made me laugh. Maybe I had and I just didn't remember. That was funny and scary in equal measures.

I locked up the house and went to the bathroom. I washed off my makeup and stripped off my clothes. I washed my breast forms and put them on a towel to try. They were expensive and maybe just a tad too large for my frame. The first pair I bought were cheap things that were attached to an invisible bra. The bra broke and rendered useless within ten minutes of trying them on for the first time. A lot of what I bought was like that. At the onset I didn't know my size. I remembered the first order I ever placed. I ordered a simple black skirt with an elastic waistband with about two dozen pleats that hung straight down. I ordered five skirts in sizes four to fourteen. Why not? I had the money and I was feeling a desperate need to wear a skirt. None of them fit. Turns out I'm an eighteen. Other purchases over the years were made the same way. I'd order a style I liked in a few sizes until I was finally able to home in on what size I wore in just about everything, from skirts and dresses, blouses to bras. With my breast forms I'm a 40-D. I probably should have a C cup but I liked being stacked.

I put on a camisole and wearing it and my panties I slipped into bed. It had been a long, strange day. I'd dressed for someone else for the first time in my life. Did Bonnie cause me to do that or did I do it myself out of some long-hidden need to be seen as who I really was. Bonnie had been great, accepting me dressed as Autumn. She'd even given me my name. Over the course of the day I'd lost an employee and gained a friend.

It was a fantastic trade.

Chapter 7

I searched through my contacts, trying to find the number for my mother and father. Both were oddly absent. It had been far too long since I'd spoken to my parents. My mother's birthday was a few weeks away and I was hoping, that since I wasn't working, I could go visit them for a week or so. I know she'd be exciting for me to visit, but I didn't want to just show up unannounced. Dad had to work, and Mom was active in the church and I'd hate to drop in if they were going to be busy.

I scrolled through my contacts again. They weren't listed under mom and dad or by their first names. I didn't even have the unlikely entry of Mr. and Mrs. McNeill. How had that happened? I looked through the other numbers programmed into my phone and I couldn't tell if there were any additional missing numbers, but I didn't think that there were. Why were my parent's numbers missing?

I went to the computer and searched my emails. I didn't have any saved messages from my parents as well. That was odd. I stared at empty space between my twin monitors, trying to recall the last time I'd spoken to either my mom or dad. It had been a few days, at least. Did I tell them about my accident? I don't think I did though I couldn't remember for sure. I figured I didn't want them to worry but now, having their numbers missing from my phone, I was starting to worry. I tried to dial the numbers from memory but that was futile. Nobody remembered phone numbers anymore that weren't their own.

I'd have to look into that. I briefly thought to ask Bonnie but then I remembered that I had fired her the day before. Or maybe she had quit. Either way she was a friend, a good friend, and I didn't need to burden her with work any longer. I'd investigate myself even if I had to drive down to lower Alabama just to surprise them with my visit. Glancing through my phone one last time I decided that I'd do just that. Mom would love it and it would make a great birthday present. If they had plans then the visit could be brief, at least I'd be able to get their phone numbers programmed into my cell phone again. Once I got my casts removed, I'd take a drive south. The casts would make the accident seem far worse than it was.

I took a shower and got dressed. I had to stop and buy a bottle of wine. Bonnie had said I didn't need to bring anything, but you didn't show up as a guest without brining something and a nice bottle of wine would be perfect. My somehow absent mother had taught me that.

I arrived at Bonnie's house just before noon that Saturday morning. The sun was high in the sky, its heat baking my skin. I parked behind Bonnie's car, grabbed the bottle of wine I had bought on the way over, and made my way up the front walk. I was wearing a pair of jeans that I was already regretting even though I had to keep my hairless legs hidden from Paul, and a simple T-shirt emblazoned with Bugs Bunny holding a carrot and asking, "What's up doc?"

I rang the bell. Paul opened the door, "George," he said, standing aside to let me enter. "Good to see you again."

I shook the hand he was offering, "thanks for having me." I dropped his hand and held up the bottle of Chateau Lafite Rothschild I'd bought at the upscale package store a few miles from my house.

Paul led me into the kitchen where Bonnie was standing at an island mixing up a pasta salad. She had mayonnaise on her hands and on the knife she was using to dice an onion. "Morning, George," she said.

I had been worried that she would call me Autumn and was both elated and disappointed when she didn't. "Morning, Bonnie."

"Look what George brought," she said, showing Bonnie the label on the wine.

"Well, that's just silly," she said. "You don't bring a wine that good to a bar-b-que." Her lips turned up in a smile, "Thank you, George."

I beamed, "You're welcome."

"Can I get you a drink?" Paul asked as Bonnie returned to the pasta salad. "We have beer, wine, water, pop, even some hard stuff if you'd like." He smiled at his wife, "Or tea. Both hot and sweet."

Being from the south the idea of a glass of sweet tea on a hot summer day sounded heavenly. "Sweet tea, please."

"Coming right up."

Paul filled a glass with ice and pulled a pitcher from the refrigerator. He filled the glass and handed it to me. I could hear the ice cracking in the glass. I took a sip, smacked my lips, and took another. "Thanks."

Paul put the pitcher away. "Help yourself if you want more," he said. "Come on out back. I need to get the grill going. Steak okay I hope?"

It was and I said as much. He led me through the strangely familiar family room attached to the kitchen. On one wall a huge television was hung. The sound was turned down, but they had it tuned to GAC. George Strait was on screen singing about the state where all his exes lived. He opened the sliding glass door and led me onto a pool deck. The pool was huge, spanning nearly the length of the house. Four lounge chairs sat to my right, looking out at the pristine blue water. To my left there was a huge brick cooking area that contained a grill, six burners, a double-oven and an open pizza oven. "Wow," I said.

Paul donned a goofy, happy grin. "It's something, right? Bonnie didn't want me to have it built at first. She thought it was too big, but now we cook out here more than we cook inside. I think she likes it because I do most of the cooking now."

"It's impressive," I said.

The pool deck was entirely covered by a huge screened enclosure. One door opened out the side behind the lounge chairs and onto their back yard. Along the privacy fence Paul or Bonnie had planted a garden. I could see a few green tomatoes growing on a trellis. Next to the tomatoes I saw some tall green plants with some budding yellow flowers. Okra. Next to the okra they were growing some cucumbers, their vines spilling into the yard. Some peppers came next and finally I saw some large bushy vegetable that I couldn't place. I think it was cauliflower, but I wasn't sure.

Paul attended the grill, turning on a trio of burners. "How's it going with the casts?"

Standing next to Paul I shrugged. "Not bad. I get them off on Wednesday. I've learned to cope pretty well. I think showering was the hardest part. Not having a job helps. Means I can take the extra time that things take now. Getting dressed is harder than it should be, but I get by. Bonnie helped through the worst of it, while I was learning to take care of myself again."

He nodded. "She's already got two new clients. She's really good at her job." He looked towards the sliding glass door and then back to me. Speaking in a conspiratorial whisper he added, "just don't tell her I said that." The pride in his voice was evident. Paul was a man who knew what a find his wife was and wasn't afraid to let others know he knew.

We both laughed. "I think she already knows."

"You may be right," Paul agreed. He fussed with the grill for a moment more. I watched as he opened a cabinet built into the impressive outdoor kitchen and pulled out a set of metal tongs. He set the open end on the grill, allowing it to heat up just a bit. I took a sip of my tea, moving away from Paul to look out over the well-maintained lawn. The garden was ablaze with color, the yellow flowers of the okra providing a lovely contrast to the rich, verdant greens. The overhead sky was clear and a lovely shade of blue that reminded me of the frozen ice of an arctic glacier. I spotted a solitary cloud, white and thin, hovering near the horizon as if savoring the perfect summer day. "You've got a great place," I said. "Nice garden."

"Thanks. Bonnie's chopped up some cucumbers and tomatoes from the garden, added some onion, and put them in some vinegar with some oregano, I think. It's a simple salad but with the fresh vegetable it tastes great." He looked at me, "did you bring your swim trunks?"

"No," I admitted, not telling him the reason why. It was the same reason I wore jeans.

"I can loan you a pair." Before I could stop him, Paul called out to Bonnie. "Honey," he moved from my side and skirted the pool to open the sliding glass door.

"That's not necessary," I said but by then he was a man on a mission.

"Can you get George a pair of shorts or some swim trunks. He's got to be roasting." Paul looked over his shoulder, "you'll love the pool on a day this hot. I know you can't swim with the casts, but wading in the water is really, really nice."

Bonnie appeared at the door. "Come on, George, let's get you kitted up."

I hesitated. I had worn long pants for a reason. How was I going to turn down their generosity? Bonnie would understand; maybe she'd help me come up with a reason not to accept Paul's offer. I made my way inside and followed Bonnie down a short hallway into the master suite. Much like my house, the master bedroom and bathroom were on opposite sides to the remainder of the bedrooms with the main living space sandwiched between the two halves of the house.

Out of earshot of Paul I said, "I can't wear shorts. My legs, remember?"

Bonnie glanced down the hall, confirming what I had already checked. "Autumn," she said, smiling at the name, "you can wear whatever you want." She crossed the room and opened two dresser drawers. From one she pulled out a pair of blue swim trunks that look like they had been stained by bleach. White streaks swirled haphazardly on the fabric, giving the trunks a juvenile quality like they'd been pained by a three-year-old. "You can wear these," she said. She reached into the second open drawer and pulled out a simple two-piece yellow bikini. "Or you can wear this. I know which one you want to wear." She giggled with that.

She knew because I was staring at the bikini. Of the two it was the one I wanted to wear. I wondered how it would fit; how it would look. Mostly I wondered how it would feel. Would my skin race with excitement? My mouth was going dry just thinking about it. "No," I said, my voice coming out as a weak squeak. "I can't wear that." I glanced at Paul's swim trunks. "I'll just stay in my jeans." My eyes returned to the bikini as I finished speaking. I was like a cat watching a mouse, my eyes locked on that ball of yellow in Bonnie's hands. When her hand dropped my eyes followed.

"Autumn," Bonnie said. "You can wear this if you want to."

"I don't think it's a good idea," I said, liking the idea but scared of it too. Was I really considering it? No. I was just stalling for time, looking for an excuse to laugh off Bonnie's obvious joke.

"Why not?"

"Paul, for one."

Bonnie laughed. "He won't care. Honest."

The way she said it had me worried. My lips pulled into a taut line. I felt my eyes squint shut. My hands pulled into tight balls. Anger started to bubble inside me. I could feel it rising, like a ball of gas from those tar pits out in California my parents took me too when I was barely nine years old. "You told him, didn't you?" My voice was harsh, already knowing the answer. They'd laughed at me. Made jokes about me behind my back. Mocking the strange man that liked to dress in women's clothes. What a pervert. Is that what Bonnie said?

Bonnie dropped the shorts and the bikini. "No! I didn't say a damned thing, Autumn, and I resent the fact that you think I did. First off, you need to drop the attitude and apologize." She stared at me, defiant. I could see the same anger I was feeling rising on her face. "It's not my place to say a damned thing and I didn't, and I hate the idea that you think I would. Apologize or go home."

I looked at her, at the anger on her face that had somehow surpassed my own. She was staring at me, glaring with a molten intensity, defying me to doubt what she was saying. "I'm sorry," I said, my hands unfurling. Bonnie's face stayed rigid, her eyes focused, the smile she'd been wearing while showing me the bikini replaced by an angry sneer. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I've hidden away my whole life and I assumed..."

"Yes, you assumed, and you were wrong. Apology accepted. Autumn," her voice softened when she used the name she gave me, growing kinder and forgiving, "it's not my place to tell anyone your secrets. But I meant what I said, Paul won't care what you wear." She stepped closer to me, dropping the swim trunks and the bikini on their bed. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bed. She and I both sat, "you need to be who you are and let the rest of the world be damned. Paul really wouldn't care what you wear but even if he did, so what?"

I started to speak, to say something, but Bonnie kept going. "You want to become someone else, and I say bollocks. You just want to dress as you really are. You don't need to become someone else; you just need to be yourself. And if that's wearing a damned two-piece bikini then that's what you should wear. Got it?"

I nodded.

"Got it?" She repeated.

"Yeah."

"Good. Now, which is it going to be?"

I wanted to try on the bikini. More than anything else. If I were a stronger man, then maybe I would have but I'm not. Far too many years hiding behind walls, keeping my dressing secret was far too strong a force to overcome. I reached towards the two bathing suits and grabbed Paul's swim trunks. "These will be fine. Thank you."

To her credit Bonnie didn't push the issue. "Great. We'll see you out by the pool." She grabbed the yellow bikini and darted towards the master bathroom. "I'll wear this one." She stuck out her tongue. "Your loss." She was laughing as the bathroom door clicked shut.

While Bonnie was changing, I quickly doffed my jeans and pulled on Paul's shorts. They fit just fine. My naked and denuded legs seemed to shine in the light spilling in through the open blinds. Would Paul notice my hairless legs? Would he say something? Bonnie had been certain that he wouldn't comment if I wore a woman's bikini so why would he say something about my legs being without hair? If I trusted Bonnie, and except for my brief doubts a few minutes before, I did trust her, then Paul would be oblivious, or he'd notice and keep it to himself.

"I'll be at the pool," I called to Bonnie, not waiting for a response.

"Those have to be cooler than those jeans, George," Paul said, still fussing with the grill. "You should try the water. Let me get you a towel."

"No need," I said. I sat on the edge of the pool and dropped my feet into the water. The water was warmer than I expected but so soothing. It came to just about my knees, hiding most of my legs from Paul's gaze. He may not say anything, but I didn't have to show much, either.

When Paul whistled, I turned my head. Bonnie looked stunning in her two-piece bikini. I felt a twinge of jealousy, knowing that I could be wearing that bathing suit but my stubborn refusal to be caught had won out over my needy curiosity.

Paul left the grill to approach his wife. He looked at her, his smile at seeing Bonnie in that tiny, yellow bikini fading like fog burning away with the promise of an overly hot day. "What's wrong?"

Couples were like that, especially close one. He could tell that something was on her mind, something that had unsettled her. It was instinctive and when Bonnie shook her head, he understood exactly what she had left unsaid.

"What do you think?" Bonnie asked, turning side to side to model the bikini, leaving Paul's worry unanswered.

Paul made it to her side. He pulled her into an embrace, one hand slipping along her side to cup the gentle swell of her ass. She made no move to swat it away, content to let him cup and squeeze the pliant, welcoming flesh.

"We have company," she giggled, not pulling away.

"He can get his own date," Paul replied, his hand kneading Bonnie's shapely behind.

It was a lovely, if erroneous thought. I've dated, of course, but never for long. No matter how well I was getting along with a welcoming woman, once the thought of introducing her to my closet took hold I would find some meagre excuse to break it off before it could become something real and long-lasting. My closet meant being alone.

Bonnie giggled, gave Paul a kiss that seemed to last longer than that one old Meatloaf song, before pulling away. He stopped her, whispering something in her ear. She shook her head and smiled. I guess our brief spat was behind us and forgiven or maybe she'd just tabled the discussion. Not that it mattered, when they separated, Paul was smiling, seemingly content with whatever subdued conversation that they'd had.

Bonnie went inside and emerged a moment later with a stack of towels. She set them on the end of a lounge chair before diving into the water. The yellow of her suit, the bikini I could be wearing, seemed to catch my eye more than her full breasts and curvy behind. She swam under the water from one end of the pool and back again. She was halfway through a third trip before she broke the surface, blowing a stream of water from her mouth like a Bellagio fountain. She swam to the edge of the pool, bobbed her head under the water and came up again, blowing another heavy stream at Paul, splashing his bare feet.

He jumped, all smiles, and then leapt into the water, pulling his knees up, "cannonball," he screamed, acting out exactly what he proclaimed.