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My Modeling Debut By Helen Jane Carpenter Well I said I would tell you my story and here it is, factual and in full. Chapter 1 If you are looking for a pornographic article, please look elsewhere, lovers of pornography are liable to be somewhat disappointed. We have some good friends, Annette and Tony who have a son the same age as our daughter. It was through playschool and nursery school that the women became firm friends, and Tony and myself followed on with the odd game of golf, which became a regular occurrence. Annette worked for one of the large high street chain stores, starting out on the checkouts, and later as deputy manager in charge of buying for one of the large autonomous regions. After 16 years in the business she knew what people wanted, and where to get it. Something of a people's fashion expert, but with a good eye for quality. Anyway, to cut a long story short, she was called to a meeting at head office on the last Friday before Christmas and told that the regional buying departments were being phased out and Central would take over, and her options were to move to London , 200 miles away, or take redundancy. Redundancy was the only choice, and she left with four weeks pay per year, three weeks holiday pay, and six months pay in lieu of notice. By any standard, that was a generous package. She even got to keep her company car. After decorating the home and trawling the local shops and markets, she needed a challenge, and decided to open a shop. Her experience was wide within women's fashions, so that was the obvious choice. Premises were found, (needing some refurbishment !) and over dinner one evening, the four of us decided on a name. So "pourquoi non" was born. (to the non French speakers among us that means "why not") The mission statement was to provide a good quality, reasonably priced range of fashionable women's clothing in a range of sizes from tiny to very large, and to treat all shapes and sizes equally. As friends, we put in a lot of time and effort smartening up the premises, painting and fitting out the sales and changing area, over many weekends and evenings, while Annette traveled widely, calling on contacts and arranging supplies of the garments to be sold. Being such good friends, the task was hard work but very enjoyable. The opening day was to be Mon, Sept 1, and we managed to have everything apparently ready for the day. There was also to be a grand formal opening consisting of free cheese and wine, and a fashion show, to be held in a local up-market hotel on the following Saturday. During the first week, trade exceeded Annette's expectations, and the main talk was of the fashion show. I had printed the invitations, and a catalogue of information on all the outfits to be featured. On the Saturday, all appeared to be well, we were there, of course, with the VIPs, as a thank you for all the work, and things appeared to be progressing well. Guests were mingling,, drinking, and chatting. Then we hit the first snag. With about twenty minutes before starting the show, the phone rang, and Annette appeared in tears. "Sarah, one of the fashion models had been involved in a minor car accident, she was not hurt, but her car was, and she could not get here on time." "No problem," we said, "get one of the others to do two spots." "You do not understand," sobbed Annette, "Sarah is the large lady who is to model the highlight of the show, and already has two walk-ons allocated to her." What could we do? We scoured the room looking for someone else of about the right size, to press into service, but found no one. Tony, (the rat !!!), leaned across over his drink and said to me, "You know, you are the only person in the room of the right size, perhaps you should step in." "Quiet," I hissed, "don't give the women ideas." CHAPTER 2 About five minutes later, Annette and Lyn, my wife appeared, Annette looking a little less anxious. Lyn gave me a drink, and said, "it seems such a shame to let all the hard work go to waste, doesn't it?" Well of course I had to agree. "Well, we have all been friends for many years, and we always said we would do almost anything to help each other over a problem?" The penny had dropped. Tony had either been overheard, or made his thoughts known to the girls. "Will you step in and help out with the show, it will be great fun." "Absolutely no way! I've no intention of wearing a frock on the catwalk .... for anyone!" Then the war of attrition started. "Were we not good friends?" "It would be my fault alone if the business failed." "Did I not have enough confidence in my masculinity to put it on hold for twenty minutes," etc. etc. etc." My response that I would fool nobody fell on deaf ears, and that I would never get away with it were casually brushed aside. With all three of them pleading and cajoling, I really had no choice, did I? I reluctantly agreed. I was taken into a bedroom which had been set aside for changing and the two women began to work on me. I could hear voices next door as the other girls were getting ready. The first thing that happened was that I was given a pink robe to wear, and my own clothes were set aside on the bed. I shaved, first electric, and then using a wet razor, these were courtesy of the other girls and normally used on legs and armpits. I was asked to sit in a chair, and Lyn busied herself applying makeup. My face is a bit stubbly, so she covered it with a concealer stick, which gave a very smooth, if rather pale, appearance. My eyes were next, with false lashes, mascara, liner, and shadow, applied rather thickly. A poll of the other girls had located a dark brown, shoulder length, wig, and this was set in place and combed out. The effect, at this stage, was very strange. The face looking out at me from the mirror actually looked like a woman's. Perhaps a bit on the large side, perhaps a bit over made up, but unmistakably a rather elegant middle aged woman. I wondered where Tony had been in all this and it appeared he had been dispatched along to the high street to find some size ten shoes. He had failed, but decided to take some size 9, wide fitting shoes, one white with a sling back, and the other black with an elasticized back. I was presented with a pair of panties, quite ordinary, but with a touch of delicate lace, and a pair of opaque white pantyhose, with tiny flowers on them. I got into these, dropped my robe, and was helped into a lacy white bra by Lyn. The cups were severely deflated and needed to be padded out, two pairs of pantyhose coming to the rescue. I have dressed in odd garments occasionally in secret over the years, but since this was the first time ever with anyone present, I had to pretend not to know how to get into the various items. I was given a full slip, again in white, and slipped this on along with the white shoes. The shoes were tight, and not really long enough, but looked reasonable, and I could walk in them. "You're on in 10 min," came from the corridor. I still did not know what I was wearing, but soon found out. A large garment protected by polyethylene was brought in and unwrapped. It was the frilliest, most feminine, wedding dress I have ever seen. This was becoming far, far worse than I had ever thought possible. I had to step carefully into it and the girls helped it into position, zipping me carefully up. The fit was actually not too bad. The waist was too tight, but because of the large expanses of material, this did not show. Also, it had been made for someone about 3-4 inches shorter than I so the hem was raised slightly off the floor. (If it had been the correct length, I am sure it would have tripped me ) A full beaded veil was placed on my head and secured with hair grips. Long satin gloves were eased, with some difficulty, into place, and I was given a silver cardboard horseshoe on a ribbon and a small bunch of flowers to carry. The deal was, I would link arms with Ben, a large, very elegant gentleman in a morning suit. We were to walk the length of the catwalk as a couple, walk back, then he lifts the veil and I smile at him and then the cameras. Well, all went well, the wedding march came over the speakers, the butterflies in my stomach went into overdrive, and we were away. I managed the walk without too much difficulty, we turned, we returned, we stopped at the allotted point facing the photographers (local newspaper and television had both sent photographers). Ben lifted my veil, I turned to smile at the camera, and the commentator said, "You may now kiss the bride." I thought it was a joke, but no, Ben leaned forward and gently, but firmly, kissed me full on the lips. Was I repelled? Actually no, it was the most heavenly thing I can remember, and the first time in very many years I have known someone to be gentle and tender with ME. Then I smiled blushing slightly at the camera. We even got a round of applause. I was a little saddened that it was all over, and I would be back to plain old Tom in a few minutes. At least that was the theory. Annette came over looking absolutely thrilled, she said I was wonderful ( I knew that already), and that I should get ready for the finale in about ten minutes. What? This was a brand new twist to the story. I was hastily stripped of my gown, and the rest of my trousseau, and handed a very elegant dress and jacket to wear. (If you have access to my home page, you can see me getting ready at this stage, wearing the black dress and just putting on my shoes in the room set aside for changing,) I had to change my pantyhose and shoes to a dark colour, and due to the clingy nature of the dress, wear a tight panty girdle to hide my quite obvious bulge. Ginny, one of the professional models came over, hugged me and said I was a natural, and she would have to watch out for me stealing her job. She also said that with such a lovely evening outfit, I should wear some jewelry. She clipped, onto my ears, a pair of long, dangly, pearl earrings, slipped a six strand pearl choker around my neck (a bit tight, even when fully adjusted), slipped a gold bracelet on my right wrist, and told me to wear her own watch, very delicate gold tracery. The finale was to be four models, all dressed in the same outfit, but each in a different colour combination. The four models were also to represent the wide range of sizes, with Deanne wearing the same outfit in a tiny size, in a very deep burgundy colour, Ginny was wearing a normal (supermodel normal that is) size, and she looked stunning in a royal purple ensemble, Rachael was wearing a sea green/blue version, she was a more everyday normal size, while I was wearing the gold trimmed black version, and representing the top end of the size range. To be honest, we were very well received, and with us still on the catwalk, there was a standing ovation. Whether for us or the show didn't matter, I was in heaven. So was Annette. CHAPTER 3 The show was finally over, but the sales pitch wasn't. Annette had asked the participants to mingle with the guests, wearing the last outfit they had worn in the show. It seemed churlish to be the first to leave so I wandered over and found Tony and asked him to get me a drink. He appeared a few minutes later with a pint of lager, and a Campari and soda. Sadly the lager was for himself. We sat on a large chintzy sofa, and the strange thing was the body language. Still playing my role properly, I sat demurely, knees together, one foot tucked behind the other. Tony sat really close, legs touching, and from his manner, I knew he was relating to me more as a woman rather than plain old Tom. Tony is not normally a tactile person. He said "I think you really enjoyed yourself today, you look wonderful and are really very convincing." Then he said, "you should become Helen more often." That was the first time I had ever been referred to by a woman's name, I do not know where he got that particular name from, but I have now adopted it for my other self. Tony explained that he had to go, he needed to pick up his daughter. He also said that the girls were going to straighten things up, iron some of the outfits, and since they had drunk more than a few champagnes, intended to stay the night at the hotel, rather than risk driving. He leaned over, took my hand in his, and kissed me on the cheek. It was a totally genuine move, not a joke as one might have expected, and just a little surprising. I responded by kissing him back, very gently, but full on the lips, and he smiled and left. I was now alone, Cinderella. Not for long. Soon, Ben appeared along with a tray with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. We sat very close together, talking, laughing, making silly jokes. Occasionally, he would pat my leg or squeeze my hand to make a point or emphasize a joke. He was very affectionate, and as the night wore on, and the tally of empty champagne bottles grew, I also became more affectionate. I realised that I too was well over the drink drive limit, and would have to call a cab home. Ben said, "Don't be silly, stay with me, I have a room booked here at the hotel." I thought, 'no,' but was aware of someone inside me agreeing. Ben took my hand and helped me to my feet, and we walked arm in arm to the lift. Once in the lift, he gave me a gentle kiss on the lips, and at our floor, put his strong arm around my waist and we walked like this to his room. In the room, I was as nervous as hell. I had never expected today to turn out as it did. I had always considered myself a red blooded, hetero male who very occasionally slipped into a dress and some borrowed undies for a bit of relaxation. But, here I was in a hotel room, dressed as a sexy middle aged woman, in the company of a very handsome and obviously adoring suitor. We gently undressed each other, him down to absolutely nothing, and me down to my bra and slip, how I wished I was wearing stockings and could have left them on. He led me to the bed, and we began to kiss and fondle each other. I had never realised how much difference there was between French kissing someone, and being French kissed. It's totally different, and infinitely more pleasurable to be kissed. Our hands were everywhere exploring each other' bodies. I never intended this account to become pornographic, what happened was far too precious for that. Suffice to say that on the catwalk that afternoon, we walked out as bride and groom, and that during that evening I fulfilled all the duties and obligations to be expected of a loving wife on her wedding night. We slept soundly, he holding me protectively, and I snuggled close up to him in his big strong arms. Too soon, it was dawn, we had to get up, but not before we had made love several times as a prelude to a warm September day. I showered and dressed first, as Tom, in my crumpled suit from yesterday, and Ben showered and dressed. Then we had to part. I didn't know how this would occur or what to expect, but I was profoundly disappointed when Ben took my hand, and shook it. I was back to plain old boring Tom. "We must get together again soon, very soon" was all he said, and made a note of my telephone number. We went our separate ways. CHAPTER 4 The following Tuesday, there was a phone call for me, "Can you talk?" said Ben "Let me close the door and we can talk all day," I responded. The conversation began a little tensely. Neither of us knew how the other would reflect on the events of the last weekend, would Ben be awkward or embarrassed, or worse, regretful , could I respond as Helen when I was sitting at my desk wearing my normal male business suit, how much of what had happened was due to the alcohol? A lot of questions. The answer was that after about five minutes of gradually relaxing, the conversation became as it was, between a suitor and his mistress. I asked if Ben had thought much about me in the last few days, and he said that he had thought of little else, and hoped that I would not feel any shame at what had happened. In the event, my feelings had been terribly confused. It may be hard to accept that you have had a gay encounter, and in fact I still do not accept that that is what happened. I feel more that for one night I became as a real woman, and had a perfectly normal relationship with a man. On speaking with Ben, it seems that he has never had a gay relationship either, and felt that he had spent the night with a very sensuous woman. Both of us agreed that we had crossed a point of no return, and would need to see each other again. Thinking about it, the practical problems of that now became obvious. For a start, I did not possess any female clothing. Ben came to the rescue on that one. Being a professional model, his contacts within the rag trade were excellent, and he gave me the name and phone number of the manager of a women's fashion shop. (Part of a national chain specialising in larger sizes). I called her, and agreed to visit the following day as the shop closed. She was fantastic. She closed the shop at 6pm and after a cup of tea, we busied ourselves getting some of the necessary garments together. Panties and panty hose were easy. The bra took a couple of try-ons, ( I bought a lacy black and a plainer white number). I also bought a panty girdle to nip my waist and hide my bulge. Jenny, the manager was great fun, and made several references to my obvious pleasure. It was decided I would wear a straight black skirt, just below the knee, a blouse with a round lacy neck, and long sleeves, and a fitted jacket in bright red. I was also kitted out with a handbag, and purse. So far, so good. Shoes were really no problem. I still had the ones bought for me by Tony for the show, but I needed a wig. I recalled one that my wife Lyn had bought many years ago but found too inconvenient to use. With a lot of careful nosing about, I located the wig, and when brushed out, it looked quite good. I also pinched some of my wife's costume jewelry, (clip on earrings, necklace, bracelet and also a leather strapped watch). All this was easy with her being away for the weekend on a sales "jolly." Jenny had told me to go to the shop on the Friday at closing time and she would help me get ready. Friday came, and I showered and shaved before leaving work and went to the shop. Jenny produced my clothes, and I dressed. She skillfully applied make up to me, (her own!), followed by the wig. She brushed this out carefully, and fixed it in place using short bursts of hair lacquer. The final touch was a generous squirt of Chanel perfume. We just had time for another cup of tea, when I spotted Ben at the door. I thanked Jenny with a big kiss, collected my male clothes in a carrier bag, and left. Ben was genuinely impressed when he saw me. Jenny had had much more time to work on me than was available to the girls at the show, and had done a much more professional job. I felt great, and if modesty permits, looked great too. Ben took me in his arms and hugged and kissed me, I responded in the same way. Ben had booked a table at the very best restaurant in a nearby town, famous for its Thai cuisine. I knew we would be going out, and mixing with the general public, but now that the time had arrived, I was very, very nervous. Still, I had no need to be, We walked hand in hand to the restaurant. Ben was a tower of strength, and with a bit of new found confidence, I swept into the restaurant like a pro, and carried off the whole evening without a hitch. I even engaged in conversation with another woman in the ladies toilets. It was obvious that there was a certain chemistry between us, and that alcohol played little or no part in the reaction. The meal lived up to expectation, while the conversation was great. We laughed, joked, put the world to rights. Ben would touch my hand or my arm, to make a point, and I found myself squeezing his hand, because it felt right. As we left the restaurant, we walked along by the park, Ben stopped, turned, took me in his arms, kissed me deeply, and ever so quietly, told me he loved me. Well, that was a new twist. But I guess I could feel it was happening anyway. Ben had booked a hotel for the night, as Mr. and Mrs., and before we arrived, he slipped a wedding ring onto my finger, quite a bit too tight, but I didn't care. We spent the night together, in a four poster bed with a supply of champagne on the bedside table. Ben had thought of everything, even down to my finding a beautiful silk nightie on the bed as I arrived. Our first night together had been helped along by alcohol. The second was pure affection. There was no way I would let him be disappointed with his new wife, while my new husband was perfect in every respect. The following morning was a big difference to last time. I had intended to shower and leave, but Ben had intended otherwise. We showered together, and then he asked me to dress in the clothes I had worn last night. I had a few problems. First I had no makeup, and second, my clothes were more suited to evening wear. Could I pass, without makeup? There was only one way to find out, so hand in hand we went down to breakfast. I was a little surprised, but received absolutely no second looks, or problems, and was fully accepted as Ben's wife. A strange feeling. Over breakfast, I agreed that we would spend the day together, driving to the seaside, and that before we had to check out, we would buy some more appropriate day clothes, and some make up, and I would change at the hotel. We walked the few hundred yards to the shopping mall, and again arm in arm walked from shop to shop, buying the things needed. I had begun to feel like I could pass anywhere without difficulty and that certainly proved to be the case, despite, as I have said before, being over 6ft and rather large. In the clothing shop, Jenny wanted to know all about last night, even the deeply personal details, and I got the impression that this was the way girls who are close friends talk to each other all the time. I told Jenny enough to satisfy her curiosity, but not too much. I bought a calf length floral skirt, and a pretty pink top, along with a lightweight blouson jacket. At the shoe shop, I bought a pair of extremely comfortable, sandal type shoes. In the department store, the task was more difficult as I tried to buy makeup, but the cosmetics advisor was a professional, and made several suggestions which proved exactly right. Back at the hotel, I changed, and as Ben was settling the account, I had a stab at applying makeup. I reasoned that the best bet would be to apply only a little, but with care. When Ben returned, I was ready, to all intents, a casually, but well dressed woman, ready for a day at the seaside. The drive to the seaside was a little over an hour, and during that time, I settled down in comfort in my seat, enjoying the drive, the warmth of the car, the scenery, the conversation, but most of all the way that Ben would occasionally place his hand on my leg and cheekily slide it under my skirt, and I would playfully smack his hand and tell him he would have to wait. We spent the day like two schoolkids. We rode in a horse drawn carriage along the promenade, Ben showing his affection by kissing me long and often, as we went. We ate ice cream and cotton candy, had a pub lunch, and kicking off our shoes, walked hand in hand along the beach with the water cooling our toes. All too soon it was time to leave, and we set off for home, stopping about half way for a drink and a snack meal. Coming out of the Inn, Ben stopped, and again encircled me in his arms, kissed me deeply and said how much he loved me, for the first time I found myself saying the same. He drew slightly away, looked deep into my eyes, and said, "you know we were made for each other, please do not be offended, but I would be the happiest man alive if you ever decided to come and live with me full time, as my 'wife', I would respect and look after you, and you know you would not need to work, as I am not short of money" Hell, I thought. He wants me to live as a woman full time, as his wife. What about Lyn, what about my friends? I never expected this, and although slightly flattered by the suggestion, was also deeply upset that Ben had thought I would do that. I pulled sharply back, strode manfully towards the car insisting that Ben should take me home NOW! He spluttered, he apologised, he backtracked, but it was too late. I just wanted to go home. The half hour drive was completed in totally awkward silence. I jumped out of the car, grabbed the bag of male clothes, and let myself into the house, slamming the door without a look back. Once inside the deserted house, I stripped off all my female clothing and went for a hot bath. Tom was reborn, wiser, but a little confused also. The finery was roughly bagged up and consigned to the back of the attic. CHAPTER 5 Lyn arrived home on the Monday evening, and we went out for a meal. We discussed the sales conference, and my weekend, (I had a plausible story for how I spent the time), but I found her attitude towards me a little odd. Did she suspect something? Had I not been as clever as I thought? Had I left incriminating evidence somewhere, (which could be as little as a few hairs of the wrong colour in the wrong place)? In bed that night, although I tried to be passionate, she would not respond, and I soon lost interest. She knows something, I thought. As we lay in bed, I noticed small, almost invisible, bruises on Lyn's breast and neck. As I thought about these, I realised they were love bites. She had cheated on me, how could she? I lay in bed feeling utterly rejected, dejected, cheated, and very wretched. Sleep was a blessed relief. It was almost a relief to get back to the predictability and sanity of work. CHAPTER 6 I was genuinely glad to be back at work, among friends who I could trust, a clear demarcation of peers, subordinates and bosses. And of course women who didn't really fall into any of those categories, they were taken less serious. At lunch time I went for a walk, and sat on a park bench in the wintry sun and ate my miserable soggy sandwiches. I thought inevitably about the recent events. How could my wife cheat on me like that, it was so hurtful. A lovely lady about my age walked past, she was about my build, a tiny bit shorter, and really well dressed, elegant, assured, relaxed and obviously contented with her life. She smiled, and made a comment about the lovely weather. I envied everything about her. I imagined how it would be to be the one wearing those expensive clothes, walking past, saying hello to the slightly pathetic figure on a scruffy park bench. Where did she work, where and who would she go home to tonight? I began to feel a reawakening of that unexplained need to "be" a woman for a while. When that occurs, I know I will start to feel and behave more womanly than male, and as I dress, I will adopt not only the mannerisms, but also the thought process of a woman. I also started to wonder why I should be so devastated at the thought of my wife in bed with another man ( I assume it was a man), when I was so ready to do exactly the same thing. How would she feel if she knew I had dressed as a woman and slept with a man ? The more I thought about it the more I realised how unreasonable I was. Not for what I had done, which seemed so natural up until the end, but at my thoughts that my wife should not enjoy the same feelings. Work that afternoon was not easy, nor was that evening, when all I wanted to do was dress while all she wanted to do was... To be continued. Incidentally, Ben is aware of this chronicle and fully approves of me writing it. There is no way I would write anything to hurt him. Please call again and watch out for developments. Helen Jane