Magic Dress – Michelle Pt. 05

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After my birthday my crossdressing became known at work, but I still went there as Michael. A few women said I should dress as Michelle, but I noticed some men had become standoffish with me, and did not wish to make a scene. I was also still shy, and only dressed under relatively protected conditions with my family or Anne or Kathy.

Maurice said that there was a possibility of a job in the office at his work, and they could offer me a two-day trial, since I didn’t really have the specific qualifications or experience. However, the charity spoke well of me, and encouraged me to try. He told me that he would not be involved in the assessment, it would be the Boss’s secretary, Susan, who made office appointments, and she was very strict.

I turned up, and Susan proved to be a very friendly woman, not very old and rather good looking in a smart and business-like way. She said that the other staff would give me various tasks to do, and would report back. As it happened, the staff in that particular office were all women, but other nearby offices were mixed. I was given different tasks and I saw them going to speak to Susan, sometimes with a shake of the head. Obviously it was not going well.

One of the women, Nisha, whispered to me “Let me tell you about this company. Arthur, who founded it, is a bloody genius at engineering. Jim, the finance director, is a financial wizard who actually saved the company from going bust. Maurice is probably the best manager you will ever meet. They’re really jolly clever. But Susan: she’s smarter than them all. She calls herself the Boss’s Secretary, but you could almost say she runs the company. Nothing gets past her. She’s really nice as well.” I was suitably intimidated.

At the end of the day, Susan told me her conclusions. I realised that I had failed, but at least I had tried.

“Now this letter,” she said sternly. “What’s this mark here?”

“It’s a semi-colon,” I said, puzzled.

“Yes,” she said, “and correctly used. In fact all the spelling and grammar is correct. I thought you didn’t do very well in English?” I said that I liked grammar and spelling, but we were encouraged to ignore it and be creative. Also I wasn’t very good at remembering the politically correct interpretations of set books for the exams.

I had been asked to create a letter to apologise to a customer. Susan said it was very well formulated and it was noted that I had taken trouble to get the correct reference numbers and dates. I said I thought that was obvious.

“Now this spreadsheet here. How did you work out that an ‘o’ had been used instead of a zero?” I said because it didn’t add up correctly. She then asked how was it that I did not do well in maths? I said I had difficulty with problems as x and y etc., but had always been able to add up numbers, and do simple calculations, but that didn’t count now everyone had calculators and computers. I also thought people were not always as careful as they should be.

Apparently I had been given a number of tests that I did not realise in what I thought was casual conversation.

“Well, Michael. You may be surprised to know that you meet our requirements. If there was no other candidate, I would be prepared to offer you the job immediately. However there is one other person we have under consideration. If she doesn’t turn up tomorrow, the job is yours. However, if she does, you will both be considered fairly.”

Shit, I thought! A woman! They are bound to take her.

“Actually, I think it’s somebody you know. Her name is Michelle. If she comes in tomorrow we will decide which of you we prefer. Have a word with Maurice, before you go.”

Maurice told me yes, that was exactly the situation. We were both being assessed. As Michael, they were confident I could work with the rest of the staff. As Michelle, they did not yet know. It might be embarrassing, or she might act in an unprofessional way. I had nothing to lose, as Michael would then get the job. He told me that they had all met Yvette and were comfortable with him in both roles. Maurice was a manager, Yvette was a friend.

Anne took it as a challenge. “Just put on a dress and act natural, which means human: imperfect and fallible. Just don’t try to act what you think you ought to say or do. But do use the ladies’ toilet.”

I of course wanted to wear the magic dress, but she said no, I should not depend on it. If I could not be Michelle in other clothes, then I should not take the job, because I couldn’t wear the same thing every day. They would expect me to be nervous — in fact if I wasn’t that would raise doubts as to my sanity!

We got up two hours early in order to prepare me to look as if I had not tried too hard. My clothes were intended to be office smart, but a little casual, and the makeup workaday. Low-heeled shoes to be practical. Susan treated me as if we had not met the previous day and introduced me to the staff. I was given different tasks, and in concentrating on them forgot to be concerned. I was looking for tricks and traps Bostancı Yabancı Escort in the casual conversation, but could not spot them. I slightly relaxed and was even able to enjoy an extremely rude story told at coffee break.

However, they kept me busy and I began to appreciate how much work they were doing themselves. I didn’t think I could match that in any way and began to have doubts if I was suitable for the job at all.

Finally it was the end of the day and Susan asked me how I felt it had gone. I told her of my doubts. She told me to wait in her office. About ten minutes later, she came back.

“The office staff are unanimous. They all want Michelle. They think she was nervous but trying hard, and they like her. Obviously she will need to speed up, but that will come with practice. If she doesn’t want the job, they will be happy to have Michael, but it is Michelle they would prefer. What do you say?”

“I’m not really sure I’m good enough. They are all so much better than me.”

“Excellent. You are honest and aware of your shortcomings. You will be coming here to be trained and we will probably send you on some courses for things like accounting, but there’s plenty we can give you to start. Please say you’ll accept, because that will give us the excuse to invite you for a drink at the tapas bar down the road.”

They walked me down to the bar where Yvette already had a table for us. Anne was there as well, since they had phoned her. We had a couple of drinks and some tapas and a lovely evening, including another couple of rude stories.

The charity said it would be convenient if I finished at the end of the month instead of working out my notice, so I was able to start at the beginning of the following month. The contract said Michael, but everything and everyone else said Michelle.

Anne had talked with Susan, and told me that there was no need for me to wear a gaff at work. No-one was bothered about my little bulge. Susan had said that gender was how you feel, no matter what your body is, and everyone would treat me as a woman if I felt like one. It would be better if I just forgot about my genitals at work and was comfortable. This made a lot of sense.

In a very little time it became normal for me to be Michelle. I didn’t think about being a woman, I just was. Most of the time I forgot that I had a cock. It was only when Anne wanted it that it was enticed out to play and both of us were happy to love in this way.

After three months I had a performance review. Susan said that I was proceeding satisfactorily. I still had a lot to learn, but was trying and the staff confirmed their initial assessment of Michelle as a colleague. She reminded me that Yvette had visited the office, and everyone knew about her and Maurice. I had been introduced to two other visitors, Angela and Jane, whom she said were in fact men from the company: Arthur the big boss, and Jim the finance director. So there were three other men in the company who liked dressing as women! However, they did it in their spare time. I was the only one actually working and living as a woman.

Anne and I were invited to dinner with the others and their wives, including Kathy, of course. (The wives must be wonderful women, I thought, which was confirmed when I met them). At the dinner they told me that they all had a dress like mine which had changed their lives. Spooky!

Kathy insisted that I get my ears pierced and visit her hairdresser again. As was now a woman all the time, there was no need for a hairstyle which could be made male, and we should consider hair colour. The hairdresser had actually forgotten to be camp, and studied me professionally, first in my normal working clothes and secondly in the magic dress. He looked a little surprised after I had changed and said no wonder it was special to me. Anything we did must be right for that dress.

I was instructed to change back, and put on a coverall. Then all makeup was removed, and he studied my face closely. I had mousey hair but my beard was quite fine and blond, so I did not get a blue chin by the end of the day. As Michael, I had only shaved every other day, so I was quite lucky in this respect. He told me not to be seduced by adverts for creams and waxes, but to continue shaving. He added that I might be surprised how many women shaved each day, and that was best for my skin and situation. He spoke with one of his assistants about makeup, and she said she would come back later.

Then the inevitable shampoo and this time hair colour as well as cutting. I did not realise quite how many shades of brown there were, but he said this one was right for me and the dress. When I was finished and blow dried, I was delighted with the result: and even more so when I went to work wearing the dress. I accepted the compliments happily. He also suggested a much stronger red colour which he said I could carry off for special occasions such as weddings or holidays. He advised me to get colouring done professionally the first Bostancı Yeni Escort time, but I could refresh it at home. I should also come back when it had grown more as he thought I would suit a shoulder length style.

His assistant was a cosmetician, who made me up in two ways, for work and showing off (as she put it) which both gained the approval of Anne and Kathy. I was provided with the (expensive) professional brands, but she gave a list of some much cheaper high street ones which were much the same, with one or two exceptions. Anne saw the bill but refused to tell me the amount.

At work my new look was greatly admired.

After six months, Susan introduced me to her husband Peter, who was a lawyer. He suggested that I should formally change my name to Michelle by Deed Poll registration, which was fairly straight forward. I could then get documents including a passport in that name which would be more convenient. He said that in due course I could actually change my official gender if I wanted, but there were a lot more requirements.

It wasn’t that difficult. I had a new contract, bank account, and my very first passport as Michelle. The government departments for income tax, social security and the National Health Service updated their records.

+ – + – + – + – + – +

Anne’s parents lived quite a long way away in Scotland, so we did not visit them for a while, though she told them she had a flatmate called Michelle and sent a photo of me in the magic dress. Finally we plucked up the courage to visit, and stay over for a couple of days. Her dad was out but we were warmly greeted by her mum, who said I should call her Saffy, that Anne’s room was just the same and as it had a double bed she hoped we wouldn’t mind sharing. She kissed me and said how lovely it was to meet me at last, and she knew how special I was to Anne. Anne looked a little surprised at this. I guess her mother could read between the lines.

When he arrived, her Dad was big with hairy hands and a booming voice. He welcomed me enthusiastically and shook hands like a man.

“George!” said his wife sharply. “That’s no way to treat a lady!” So I got a kiss and a bear hug.

We sat down to tea and cake, and Anne said “Mum, Dad. I’ve got something to tell you.”

“You’re pregnant?” said Saffy brightly.

“Er, no.”

“You’re getting married?”

“No, that’s not it…” Anne looked at me, and I looked at her.

“But you’re thinking about it. Lovely! So you must be trying to tell me that Michelle is a man who likes wearing women’s clothes. That’s all right then.” She turned to me.

“Have you had the operation, or are you going to?” It was unsettling how easy she was with the situation.

I said no, and I wasn’t thinking of it. Boldly I added that I loved Anne as a man. George’s face was filled with a great smile.

“Fucking brilliant! (Excuse my French.) Well done, Annie — the best of both worlds.” And she got a kiss and a bear hug. He went on: “There’s a fellow at work who’s a transvestite, comes in dressed as a woman and no-one bats an eyelid. He’s got three kids! Lovely wife.”

Saffy spoke to me conspiratorially as if the others could not hear.

“We always knew about Annie’s lesbian tendencies. Frankly we were expecting her to marry or have a civil partnership with a woman; which would be fine for me, but George is a bit old-fashioned. When we learned about you, he thought he’d won the jackpot!”

Anne got a job working in the art galleries and museums section of the local authority, and we went on holiday to France, looking at pictures of course. When telling my parents about it, I discovered that Mum had never been abroad, so the following year, we all went on holiday to Paris together, with Anne as a great tour guide and translator.

Not long after I joined the company I was invited to the annual women’s dinner of the company. This was a social event for female employees only and of course Angela, Jane and Yvette as ‘sisters’ of Arthur, Jim and Maurice. There were about thirty in all, including quite a few on the technical side. It was good to be introduced to them with time for a chat and a nice buffet, and then there was a surprise for me (though not to the other women). Susan was the commère. I was going to say compère, but Anne told me that it was French for godfather, so a female one was obviously a commère. (Susan was quite tickled to be told she was a godmother, obviously a fairy one for the magic she often did.) She introduced (to great applause) a stripper! Her name was Sally Rand and she performed every year, apparently, giving what is called a burlesque show. Susan said it was far too rude for the men, and it was pretty rude, going all the way. But it was also funny and witty. How we shouted when she asked “Do you want to see more?” Sally had a fabulous figure and moved in a way that was incredibly graceful but also very sexy.

She finished stark naked apart from high heels in the middle of the floor. Then we heard Abba’s Bostancı Masaj Salonu “Dancing Queen” at which Sally started dancing and Susan told us we must all join in, which we did, with Sally the middle. Then the music changed to Gloria Gaynor “I will survive” and she slipped away, as we danced for another hour or so. Anne was quite jealous when I told her.

The company also had a more traditional set of events for all employees and their partners, which obviously included the male employees and any male partners of the women. I think there were a few same sex pairs as well. One of the purposes of this was so that all male employees got a dance with Angela (the Boss’s ‘sister’) and in practice Jane and Yvette as well. It would have been too much for them in one evening so it was divided up into groups of about thirty plus partners.

Ralph, one of the men in the other offices, came to me and said he did not have a partner, so would I possibly join him for one of the events? I asked him if he understood what I was, and he said of course. I stressed that I did not have sex with men, and was going to come with my wife Anne. He said he would like to bring his brother and make up a foursome. Anne thought it was an interesting idea, so agreed.

Well, it could not have been better! They were two really nice men, who treated us like ladies. I had been happy being a woman among women, but had never had this. Of course, I had never treated poor Anne like this ever, I realised, and she must have missed it. They danced well, and I think we all enjoyed the company and evening. Finally the music stopped, and everybody clapped. They thanked us for the evening and kissed us on the cheek. Anne said that was not good enough so gave them both a good kiss on the lips and invited me to do the same.

We were turning to go, when Susan came on to thank everyone involved and wish us safe journey home. Then she said “But before you go: one last dance — smooching time!”

A slow waltz began. Anne did not hesitate but grabbed her partner, who happily joined the other couples who were basically snogging to the music (especially the older ones). Ralph and I stood looking at each other; then he said “What the Hell, Michelle!” which amused us both as it accidentally rhymed. He grabbed me and moved me onto the floor. I did not resist, nor as he kissed me. It didn’t turn me on, but I was pleased and sort of proud.

Ralph and his brother invited Anne and me out dancing the following week, which we accepted and became regular. I just danced, but they took it in turns to smooch with Anne. I was sure that she would never be unfaithful, but it did get her excited, and she was enthusiastic in bed afterwards, so I had no grounds for complaint.

Naturally we encouraged the boys to dance with other girls and in due course they found steady girlfriends. Meantime we had got to know some of their friends and other people at the clubs, so we were able to go out and get a dance among people who understood that there was nothing else on offer. I liked socialising as a woman in this way.

+ – + – + – + – +


On our second holiday in France we agreed to marry. The proposal was actually made by my Mum! We were sitting at the dinner table in the hotel when she said “Well, are you two going to marry or not?” We looked at each other and said yes.

“About bloody time,” said Dad. “We thought you were never going to get round to it!”

“Now then,” said Mum. “You’ll want engagement rings, so I thought these might be suitable. I’m sorry they’re not diamonds and they’re not worth a lot, but they have got some sentimental value to the families. We can get them adjusted for size, of course.” She produced two silver rings, one with a red stone and one with a green one.

“They’re better than diamonds,” answered Anne. “Diamond engagement rings were just a marketing ploy by a big diamond company in the 1940s. Diamonds are not that rare, just overpriced. These are much nicer. Tell us about them.”

“OK,” said Mum. “Anne this is from your great grandmother. Saffy gave it to me. It’s Victorian and an emerald, but not of the highest quality. Michelle this is from your grandma. It’s from some time between the wars. I’m sorry it’s not a ruby: the jeweller said it was Bohemian garnet.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” said Anne enthusiastically. “It’s Art Deco, and Bohemian means it is Czech. They were noted for silver and lots of art. I love it.”

Mum handed them over. I took the garnet ring and said “Anne, darling, will you wear my ring?”

“I will my love,” she answered. “Michelle, my dearest, will you wear my ring?” I said I would and she remarked that the emerald would go nicely with my favourite dress.

When we broke the news at work, I was asked if we had any specific plans, which of course we did not. Maurice said that with our permission he would contact both sets of parents and take it on as a project, with Jim looking after the finances. I said I didn’t expect the firm to pay for us, and he said no, that would be illegal, but Jim would know how to get the best deal and maybe some discounts, seeing what our parents could afford. People at work would probably want to make a contribution. It should be modest but nice. Susan was very good at dealing with social events such as the annual dinner dances.

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