I Can Wear A Skirt To Work - Chapter 7

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Sunday morning, I was awakened by a thumping sound. Wrapping a robe around myself, I trudged my front door and opened it. Kate said nothing; she just stood there.

It wasn’t necessary to ask why she was there, even at such an early hour; the large case resting at her side told all.

I exhaled in a sigh, breaking the silence, "Come on in."

"Thank you."

Observing that she was fully made up, I asked, "You got up awfully early, didn’t you?"

"I don’t mind, if it’s for a good reason."

"And you think this is?" I pointed to the case.

"Yes, it is," she affirmed.

She led the way down the hallway and into my bedroom, placing her case on my bed. Then she began opening my chest of drawers and placing everything that was inside onto my bed.

Perplexed, I asked, "What are you doing?"

"You won’t be needing these for a few days," she said, as she emptied the last drawer. Then she opened the case and began transferring items from it to the drawers. When she was done, she moved my things from the bed into the case.

"You wearing anything under that robe?" she asked.

I was too astonished to reply.

"Go strip and put these on," she ordered, holding out a pale yellow nylon lingerie set, consisting of panties, brassiere, and a half slip.

I took them, but just stood there.

"We’re not going to make this work," she admonished, "unless you become Tess, completely, from right now, to whenever this is over."

My uncertainty must have shown on my face, even though I couldn’t find a tongue to speak with.

She stepped over to me and lightly rested her hand on my arm.

"I think that will be easier if we remove from your life, as much as is possible, every evidence of ‘Ted’. If I had a spare bedroom, I’d even move you into it until this was over, just to keep you away from all the reminders this house provides."

When I still didn’t move, she added, "Everything will be just fine. Months from now, when you are enjoying the fruits of your efforts, you’ll look back on this week as a great adventure."

She gave me a nudge toward my bathroom, "Move it, girl. You have a busy day ahead."

When I returned, she handed me one of the pairs of bust pads I’d accumulated. She waited until they were properly placed, then sighed.

"We’re getting ahead of ourselves," she said. "Back into the bathroom."

"For what?" I asked.

"You’re a modern woman, honey. You can’t go around with all that fur on your legs."

My eyes went wide. "I’m not shaving my legs," I announced.

"No problem," she smiled. "I have an Epilady. They’ll stay smooth longer that way, too. It removes the hair at the root."

"That wasn’t the sort of alternative I had in mind."

"Tess, if you want to get through this week successfully, hairy legs aren’t an option at all."

"What’s wrong with opaque pantyhose, like I wore Friday?"

"It’s unusual for a woman to wear them. It will call attention to you. You want to blend in; that means sheer hosiery and smooth limbs."

"What will I do until it grows back?"

"You mean Ted? Who’s going to notice? Ted wears pants!"

"This week, though," she continued, "Tess needs smooth legs. Is she going to shave them, or Epilady them?"

When I didn’t answer immediately, she added, "If you shave, you’ll probably have to do it again Wednesday. Once with the Epilady will get you through the whole week."

And several more, she COULD have told me.

Not knowing what I was getting into, it seemed that doing this just once might be better than having to go through it twice. In a few minutes, I had changed my mind.

Kate warned me that it would sting a little. It didn’t. It stung a lot! She wouldn’t let me switch to a razor without trying something else. She made a dash to her car, and came back with an overnight case. With a large cotton swab, she spread a lotion on my legs. They felt very strange afterward.

"It is a topical lidocaine solution," she explained.

After it dried, I could hardly feel the hairs being wrenched out. In twenty minutes, my legs were as bare as a baby’s.

Next, she retrieved the bag I’d brought back from the cosmetics shop, and began guiding me in making up my face.

When she was satisfied with my efforts, Kate handed me a blouse and skirt, made of a gauzelike material.

While I was putting it on, she gazed at me - as if in deep thought.

"Let’s try the sandals you wore yesterday," she suggested.

Getting them on was a little more trouble than it had been over stockings. The last item to go on was yesterday’s wig. It was mine for the duration, she told me, as she touched up the styling. Did I assume too much, when I thought she meant the duration of the week?

I asked if she wanted breakfast, remarking that I was starved. We went out to the kitchen, where I began gathering eggs, bacon, and frozen mashed potatoes.

"Wait a minute," Kate stopped me. "We’re not going out to dig ditches today."

I looked at her in puzzlement.

"You simply must get this fixed in your mind: you are a woman this week. You will see everything from a feminine viewpoint. You will act, and react, the way a woman does."

"For starters," she explained, "that means you eat what you need to, not what you want to - unless what you need at that moment just happens to also be what you want."

Kate opened the refrigerator and rummaged around a few moments, then started opening cabinets.

"Don’t you have any fruit around here?"

I showed her where the cans were.

"Not as good as fresh," she noted, "but it will have to do."

The whole day went like that - a crash course in womanhood. I’m amazed that I retained any of it, but I managed to absorb enough - to get me started.

We arrived at the office early, among the first people in the building. I went directly to the dispatch desk, sat down, and began organizing for the day ahead.

I could hear Elaine getting out of her chair. When I looked up toward the doorway of her office, I was rewarded with the vision of a manager who was obviously startled.

Still, her only response was a knowing smile, then she silently returned to her work.

Jean and Diane walked in from the parking lot together. Judging by their expressions, the sight of my car in the parking lot had left them totally unprepared for the shock of seeing me there as "Tess", particularly appearing the way I did.

I was dressed collar to calf in pink, in a sweater suit which featured a straight skirt. White hose with pink shoes and accessories completed the outfit. The bright pink lipstick provided the focal point for my face, framed by a much fuller and fairer hairstyle than I had worn before. Kate had arranged the styling to clearly exposed the white triangles that dangled from loops screwed to each earlobe. Furthermore, for the first time, my nails were enameled. Actually, they were artificial nails, the new "active" length.

Just as significant was what they couldn’t see. Kate had spent a fair amount of money to get me a matching set of lace-trimmed lingerie in a color called "blush". Even a plain girl - she had explained - feels pretty when she’s dressed in pretty, feminine things from the skin out.

The air around the dispatch desk filled with compliments and questions. Was I really going to do this for the whole week? Had I done all the makeup, hairstyle, etc., by myself? What had Elaine said about my appearance?

In a typical fashion, for Mondays, incoming calls for service were queueing up, leaving me little opportunity to answer.

At the first lull in activity, Elaine came out again.

"You are working the whole week, right, Tess?" she asked.

"Uh, I guess so, ma’am," I replied.

"You GUESS?" she exclaimed.

Alarms went off in my mind. I’d just said the WRONG thing.

"Honey, I’m counting on you. Show the same sort of confidence in yourself as I have in you."

My face brightened. "Yes! Ma’am."

"What is this ‘ma’am’ stuff, anyway? YOU change clothes and suddenly i'm a stranger?"

"No, ma’..." I cut myself off in mid-word and grinned.

"Say ‘Elaine’," she instructed.

"Elaine," I responded.

"I knew you could," she affirmed. "All right then, ‘Tess’ you are, for the rest of the week."

She held out her hand, "Welcome to the staff."

About eleven, Kate stopped by to "invite" me out to lunch. My confidence wasn’t really up to it, but Kate had made it a condition of her assistance.

By eleven-thirty, when Diane relieved me of the telephone headset, our twosome had grown to five. We drove to a restaurant that we didn’t often use. Mercifully, the time spent in the restaurant was uneventful, except that we were joined by Cheryl, who hobbled in on crutches.

"I shouldn’t even be out of bed," she explained, "but, I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to meet my temporary replacement. ‘Tess’ is it?" She put out her hand.

I reached out to take it and nodded.

Giving me a conspiratorial wink - which confirmed that she knew exactly what was going on - she continued, "Well, I’m pleased to meet you. I hear that you’re doing an excellent job with my position; I hope they’ll still want me back, when I get out of this," indicating the cast which covered her leg from knee to toes.

"Uh, no reason for you to worry about that," I replied in the most feminine voice I could manage. "My position there is strictly temporary, believe me."

"Well, as good as they say you are, I wouldn’t begrudge you your own spot there, as long as I don’t lose my own."

I’m sure my makeup began to show a little extra color, as the implications of that remark soaked in.

During this exchange, everyone had been shifting over in the booth to make room for Cheryl. She sat down just in time to order and eat with the rest of the group.

I returned from lunch to find that the nameplate on the desk had been replaced by an office standard laminate, engraved with "Tess" and my last name.

When Diane relieved me for my mid-afternoon break, she reminded me that tonight was her turn to provide dinner. Then she asked whether to expect "Tess" or "Ted".

Apparently, Kate hadn’t told her that, this week, I wasn’t going ANYWHERE as Ted.

Trying to sound very philosophical, I first asked what time dinner would be ready. She told me, and I noted that such an early dinner wouldn’t leave a lot of time for me to change. Adding that it was too much trouble to rush home, I sighed with resignation and told her that I might as well come over as is, and help with the preparation.

When I returned home that evening, there was another car in my driveway, just as I expected. Inside, Kate was curled up in the recliner, reading a book. Although I hadn’t known exactly what to expect, I was surprised at the extent to which Kate had made herself at home - robe, slippers, and all.

She lowered her book and grinned, "Hi! Everything OK?"

Everything had been fine, although I had been feeling a little conspiratorial, evading questions from Diane about how I’d obtained my outfit; why I’d changed my mind, and my plans for the next day.

She directed me to sit on the sofa opposite her, and continued to ply me with questions about my evening since we left work. After about fifteen minutes, she said, "I want to show you something."

My television is on a cart with casters, so it can be easily placed anywhere I find convenient.

"Stay right there," she said, as she pushed it over next to the recliner. While it was warming up, she went to a dimly lit corner of the room and fiddled with ... oh, mercy! A video camcorder.

A minute later, I was watching and listening to myself respond to her. She pointed out both the good and the bad, with respect to how femininely I behaved.

Then we went through the whole process again.

This time she turned down the brightness so there was only the audio to critique. Afterward, she reran it normally.

We repeated the process a third time.

This time she was satisfied enough to call it a night and followed me down the hall. When I reached my bedroom door, she stopped me from entering.

"Not here. The next one."

She guided me into the spare room across the hall.

It was quite a shock to enter it and find that it looked like someone actually lived there - someone with very feminine taste.

"I’ve moved all your things into here for the duration," she said. "It should help you stay in character."

Too bewildered to speak for a moment, I just looked at her quizzically.

"I’m staying in Ted’s room," she informed me.

My eyes opened as wide as they could get.

"It will save me from chasing back and forth all week."

"This isn’t that big of a city, Kate," I suggested. "Folks are going to gossip, when they find out."

"Gossip about what?" she answered with an amused expression. "That two women are house-sitting for Ted, while he’s away on vacation?"

That did sound fairly logical.

She followed up, "As long as you stay in character, who’s to know otherwise?"