Tiny Transgender Tale - Story 03

Thank you for reading my stories. I am trying out a few new ideas and would like to see what my readers think. I have written these tiny tales in the hope they will be a quick enjoyable read. If you like the story please vote and leave comments so I know which ones to continue and which ones I should abandon.

Will the Real Miss Ames Please Sign In

"You said that you wanted to see me before I left for the weekend, Mr. Marks?" asked Miss Ames, sticking just her head in the door of Mr. Jacob Marks' office.

Mr. Marks looked up from the report he was reviewing and said, "Yes. Please come in."

Miss Ames walked tentatively over to his desk.

He stood and motioned her to have a seat. She did. "I wanted to tell you, your work this week has been nothing short of amazing. You have been adaptive, innovative, and rock steady during a very stressful time, and I just wanted to say 'thank you'."

Miss Ames beamed at such praise from Mr. Marks, a man she had come to respect a great deal over the last week. "Thank you, sir," was all she could manage.

Mr. Marks then came around his desk and sat on its edge. Taking a more casual posture, he smiled. Miss Ames loved it when he smiled. The fact was, over the last week she had developed a little crush on her handsome boss.

"So that just leaves me with one question." Mr. Marks' voice turned unexpectedly cold. "Who are you?"

Miss Ames couldn't breathe. She had been so close to pulling it off. Maybe she could still bluff her way out of this. She opened her mouth to speak. Mr. Marks must have been able to read her mind because He slammed his palm down on his desk and bellowed, "Don't you dare lie to me."

Miss Ames thought about just running, but that wouldn't do her or her sister any good. Mr. Marks began to rub his palm. Obviously, he had hit the desk harder than he had intended. "You now have 90 seconds to tell me who you are or I am calling security."

"I'm not Amy Ames," confessed Alex. "I'm Alex Ames, Amy's brother."

"Amy's Brother?" Mr. Marks asks more than a little surprised.

I came out here to spend the week with her, but her vacation got canceled because her department is so far behind."

Mr. Marks made a go-on gesture with his hand.

"The night I arrived," Alex continued, a slight trimmer in his voice "Amy came down with the flu. We tried everything we could think of, but she still felt like death on Sunday morning. I said I could pretend to be her for a few days while she recuperated. It was only supposed to be for a day. Two at the most..."

"But," Mr. Marks interjected.

"But she took a lot longer to recover than we thought," Alex looked at the floor ashamed. "I'm so sorry Mr. Marks. This was all my idea, not hers. Please don't fire Amy. She loves working here and really needs the job."

Mr. Mark's heart began to pound. His mouth went dry. He had been impressed by this young man's work before he confessed but now to see him being so loyal to his sick sister just made Mr. Marks warm all over.

"So, you don't work for me at all, correct?" Asked Mr. Marks.

"No, sir," Alex responded starting to tear up.

"I assume from the quality of your work that you have a business degree of some sort." Mr. Marks asked.

"Yes sir," Alex answered, taking a Kleenex out of his handbag and dabbing at his eyes. "I have an MBA from the University of Ohio."

Mr. Marks hid his surprise well. "Do you work for another loan servicer?"

"No, sir," Alex said finally looking up into Mr. Marks' brown eyes, "I work for a non-profit investment group that helps seniors manage their money in retirement."

Was this guy for real? Is anyone this good-hearted? Mr. Marks thought to himself. "You also seem to be pretty good at pretending to be a woman."

Resigned to whatever happened next, Alex figured there was no reason to hold anything back now. Putting some steel in his voice, he responded, "I am a woman in every way but one. I have been dressing in Amy's clothes and going by Alexis since we were teenagers. We are about the same high and weight. Amy has excellent taste in clothes. We also both wear a size 10 woman's shoe, which is nice." Mr. Mark couldn't help but look down at Alex's feet. "The only real difference between us is that she got dad's hair," Alex pointed to and then removed the pixy cut auburn wig he had been wearing all week and let down his real, much longer dark brown hair, "and I got mom's."

Alex then took a hair tie from his pocket and pulled his hair back into a ponytail. Mr. Marks' mind was so conflicted. How could he fault Alex for protecting his sister's Job? Alex had done some great work. But how could Mr. Marks protect the company from facing any kind of liability or fines if the switch was ever discovered?

"How is Amy feeling now?" Asked Mr. Marks, returning to the other side of the desk and pulling up a file.

"Bored out of her skull." Alex chuckled, "She hates being sick."

"That's good." Mr. Marks said as he typed. "Have you changed your name officially to Alexis or are you still legally Alex?"

"I have not changed it, YET!" Alex responded beginning to wonder what Mr. Marks was getting at, "but I am planning to change it soon."

Mr. Marks hit PRINT and his desk printer spit out four pages. Mr. Marks checked the form for errors and then handed it across the desk to Alex. "What is this?" Alex asked.

"This is how we are going to save your sister's Job and protect the company," Mr. Marks said, very pleased with himself for coming up with a new plan so fast.

"This is an application for an internship," Alex commented as he read the form's header.

"It sure is." Mr. Marks walked over to a little refrigerator cleverly hidden in a lower cabinet.

He offered Alex a bottled of water. Alex declined. Mr. Marks put the water back and took out a bottle of ginger ale for himself. Mr. Marks, thanks to the refrigerator's stainless-steel door, notice Alex checking out his "assets" when he bent over.

"We here at Global Financial Servicing can't thank you enough for all the time you have put in over the last week." Mr. Marks began, "The HR department forgot to have you fill out one of these internship applications on day one, so if you wouldn't mind filling it out now and just backdating it to Monday. That would be great."

Alex's face went from confused to very happy as he figured out what Mr. Marks was doing. "No problem Mr. Marks." Alex responded and began to fill out the form, "These things happen."

Alex completed the form, signed it, and dated it as of Monday. Alex then stood and handed it to Mr. Marks. Mr. Marks looked it over and put it on his desk. "I'll have Amy take that down to HR on Monday," said Mr. Marks reassuring Alex that Amy still had a job.

Alex wanted to hug Mr. Marks, but he didn't think it would be appropriate, so he just shook Mr. Marks' hand instead. Alex moved towards the door. Mr. Marks' heart sank.

Then Alex turned back. "If you don't mind me asking, what gave me away?"

Mr. Marks smiled and answered, "Jazz."

"Huh," Alex asked puzzled.

"Amy hates Jazz." Mr. Marks responded moving closer to Alex. "The other day I was listening to jazz when you came in with the rebate report. Not only did you not run out as fast as you could, you stayed and listened for several minutes."

Alex gave himself a mental head slap. "Darn, you, Charlie Parker, and your mesmerizing Sax."

"Oh, that wasn't Charlie Parker," Mr. Marks said with a smile. "That was Jackson Freeman."

"Who?" Asked Alex.

"New guy," Mr. Marks moved even closer to Alex. "I've caught him a couple of times at the local clubs."

Alex moved even closer before asking, "Really?"

"If you're sure Amy's on the mend," Mr. Marks said nervously, "would you be interested in going to dinner with me tonight at the Zoo Bar? I heard a rumor; Freeman might show up for open mic night."

"Can I come as Alexis?" asked Alex.

"I was hoping you would," Mr. Marks answered.

Alex grinned, gave Mr. Marks a peck on the cheek, and headed for the door again. This time, however, Alex walked as slowly and as sultry as possible. "See you at seven," Alex called over his shoulder from the open door.

Mr. Marks just stood there, mouth agape.