The Bet Of Bets free porn video

The Bet of Bets I. "So whatdoyouwannabet that the CEO is going to hire John as his VP of Finance?" A casual question, but it was rooted in a long-term back-and-forth argument I had with my wife, Joanne, about women in business. You see, she owned a business-a bridal shop to be exact-and we were always going back and forth about who had a better head for business. The question revolved around John Markham, a member of the "good old boys club" at the company I work for as an office manager. The CEO was due any day to announce the new VP of Finance after our old one retired. The question on everyone's mind was really not a question at all to some. Markham was the logical choice. But then there was Suzanne Billings, an up-and-comer who had made her mark in the company. But some thought (for good reason) that the "good old boys" would rule. "How about your manhood?" was my wife's answer to my question. Her reply was delivered in the devilish, coy manner that was one of the reasons I married her. "Whattya mean, I gotta cut it off if I lose?" I joked, knowing that she was up to something, but not quite at the Lorena Bobbitt level. "No, just lose your manliness for a while. It gets old, all of the whiskers in the sink and the fish guts in the Explorer." "Seriously, what do you mean," I asked. "Didn't you marry a man, and don't men do these things?" "Precisely," she said, "men do those things. You would have to become a woman." "Oh, I see. Just a little snip here and a breast job there. Not a problem. We've certainly got the budget for plastic surgery and of course I've always dreamed of being a woman," I said sarcastically. "No, no permanent changes. Perhaps just a week as my bride." "Ah, " I said, "this is what it's about-you've been pestering me for the last five Halloweens to dress in drag. You want me to be a queen for a day." "No, a bride for a week." "Okay, well, specifics aside, it doesn't really matter. John is going to be hired as the new VP, and we all know it, so I probably could bet the sex change and still win. I'll go along. What's your end of the bet if you lose?" The response came in the same devilish, coy manner. "I'll be your new bride, if you know what I mean. Perhaps a honeymoon on the coast. We could make the reservations either way the bet goes." "Deal. I'm going to win anyway," I said, giving her a small peck and moving to the door with my keys. "Have a great day at work, honey. And remember, you might need to come to the shop for a fitting in the next couple of days. Keep your schedule free," she said, grinning. "Uh. Yeah, whatever," I did in my best imitation of a teenager. II. At work, things were slow. In the morning, I was mainly meeting with employees to go over new policies and procedures for the office. After lunch, however, things slowed down a bit. As I was sitting back and relaxing a bit, an out-of-breath Bob stuck his head in the door (Bob is a friend at the office whose mouth generally travels at warp speed). "Did you hear?? Sue Billings made VP. The old man lost his mind!" I was in shock. The "good old boys club" appeared to be taken a turn for the worse. But my mind wasn't on the old guard at all. I could swear that somewhere in the back of my head I was hearing the tune of the wedding march... "Here comes the bride..." III. On the way home, I began to get a little bit nervous. Joanne had a penchant for making a big to-do about bets and that sort of thing. She was always teasing, but this was a little bigger. I decided that the best approach would be to ignore the situation and not mention it. At the same time, I had a vision of an elaborate church wedding where I was a humiliated bride in front of hundreds of people, resplendent in a white dress with a long train. I knew Joanne would not let me out of this one. All through our supper, we discussed little things: washing the car, plans for planting some shrubs over the weekend. There was no tone or indication that Joanne knew yet about the Sue Billings promotion. I was starting to relax-perhaps she had realized the cost involved in a weeklong second honeymoon so she wasn't going to press this one. At bedtime, there was no indication, either. Perhaps I was going to get by for a few more days. Joanne lay down beside me as usual and we talked small talk for a while like we always do before we go to sleep. I drifted into sleep, images of weddings still haunting the back of my mind, knowing that Joanne never forgets, but hoping that I could put off the inevitable. I awoke to movement on Joanne's side of the bed, and something scratching my leg. I wondered if she had shifted her leg and was scratching me with her toenails. Joanne is like sleeping with a monkey at times, moving this way and that and driving me crazy. I tend to sleep like a 2x4. Then I realized Joanne was sitting up with her hands around my leg. I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. "Wattaryadoing??" I asked sleepily. Joanne, smiling in her foxy little flirty sly manner, said, "I called your secretary. I told her to free up your schedule for a wedding dress fitting." I pulled the covers back and looked down at my leg. Joanne had slipped a white lace garter around my leg. "I know I'm supposed to do this after the wedding, but it's my little way of letting you know that you are no longer a man until after the wedding. You're my little sissy bride. You are no longer Vince, but Vanessa." I fell back on the bed, my heart beating faster. The kind of attention Joanne was paying to me was very similar to her methods of foreplay. As she talked, she was touching me and rubbing me. It was very arousing, but at the same time humiliating. She now had her hands on my shoulders and was sitting back, taking in my reaction. "Did you really tell me secretary I was going to get fitted for a wedding dress?" "Of course. I know how much you get along with her. I thought she might make a good bridesmaid." Hoping it was a bad dream and would go away by morning, I tucked my head into the pillow. Tomorrow was going to be an interesting day. IV. Arriving at work on Thursday morning, I tried to be all business. Once again, I tried to ignore the inevitable while images of white dresses and veils flipped through a mental slideshow that provided a backdrop for my business at hand. I called Jolene, my secretary, into my office for the usual review of the day's activities. Meeting with the executive staff at 9:00 to discuss possible restructuring. Bob in at 10:30 to meet about financial projections. Jolene would finish polishing the PowerPoint slides for a presentation I was to give at 11:00 on a new building project. I stopped her at that one. It was a presentation that I had given at least a dozen times for different community groups, but I hadn't been aware that I was giving it today. "Who is coming in for that one, and when did they request it? Usually I have a couple of days notice." "Well, Vince, it's a small group of community business leaders that missed your Chamber of Commerce presentation. Don't worry, it won't have to be as formal as some of the others. I set it up for the small conference room." "Okay. I guess I'm getting pretty good at that presentation by now. Can we do the rest of our planning after lunch? It's almost 9:00." "Sure Vince, I'll have it ready to go." The 9:00 meeting was normally something I would be very interested in, since it dealt with a whole new corporate structure in my division, although my particular department wasn't affected much. However, my mind was still flipping through its store of wedding imagery. I didn't ask very many questions, and after the meeting it was hard to remember what I had heard. Bob came in at 10:30 as scheduled and we gossiped more about our new VP of Finance more than anything. He showed me some new financial numbers, but once again, I was not very engaged. At 11:00, I went to the outer office to find Jolene and get the PowerPoint presentation file. I found a note for me on her desk: "Vince-I went down to the conference room to get the presentation set up." What a sweetheart. She was always a step ahead of me, making me look good. She was probably greeting the community group right now, getting them warmed up for me. I straightened my tie and walked down to the conference room. As I stepped in, my eyes had to adjust, since Jolene had already turned out the lights. The door closed behind me and as I looked out over the table, I could see only two people in the room. Jolene and my wife were sitting sipping coffee. "Hello, Vanessa!" my wife said brightly. "We have a project to plan." My face burned a bright, embarrassed, red. Jolene saw my embarrassment even in the dim light and said, "Don't worry, Vince, I mean Vanessa. I've always been able to see that you have a feminine side. Joanne asked me to help with your bridal experience, since I have been through it recently." Jolene and her husband had been married within the last year, I remembered. As a matter of fact, since my wife ran the bridal shop, I made sure she got a discount on everything. "Joanne really knows how to take care of nervous brides. She did a fabulous job on my wedding and didn't charge me an arm and a leg. Now it's my chance to pay it back by helping out. I've prepared a little slideshow from pictures that Joanne dropped off this morning." Joanne stood up and put her hands on my shoulders. "We have to choose a dress for you, honey. I've got some ideas, but ultimately, you have to choose since you're the bride and the dress has to fit your personality." Leave it to my wife to complicate things and theatricize everything! I sat down with Joanne standing behind me and prepared for the first of what I expected to be many humiliating experiences. "In this first slide, we see an Eve of Milady gown with a ballgown silhouette in tulle and an all-over lace bodice with long sleeves. The detachable tulle cathedral train is finished around the edges in satin. What do you think, honey?" "I don't know. Why don't you pick the dress? You're the bridal expert." "But you're the bride, honey. I can assist, but my brides always choose their own dress in the end." Jolene chimed into the conversation with a sympathetic tone. "I know it was very hard for me to even imagine myself in any of the ones I saw in pictures. Why don't we help you identify four or five, and then you can try them all on." All her supportive tone did was remind me that I actually had to wear one of these things. My heartbeat picked up a little bit and I said resignedly, "Well, let's look at the rest." In the end, I chose four dresses that I thought would be the least humiliating. The only control I really had was to choose dresses that would cover me up as much as possible. I nixed the halter-top dresses and the sleeveless ones and chose ones with at least short sleeves and rather high necklines. Again, I knew I really didn't have control over what was happening, because all of the pictures that Joanne had chosen were of very elaborate dresses with full trains. When the slideshow was over, Joanne turned on the lights and said, "Now, we have some planning to do. Jolene has cleared your schedule for the afternoon, so we'll do an initial fitting and try on some of these dresses. We will also look at some veils and lingerie. You are going to be a beautiful bride from the skin out." Jolene pulled out my schedule planner and continued the plan. "Tomorrow, we have the beautician stopping by the shop to discuss hairstyles, and the aesthetician to work on makeup. Nails will have to wait until next Friday right before you leave for the honeymoon." Lingerie. Nails. Makeup. I should have anticipated that Joanne would take this to the highest level possible. I knew that in the end I wouldn't be a man in a dress. I would be as feminine as Joanne could make me. I was beginning to see that it was more than a bet, that I was her latest "project." V. That afternoon, I found myself at the bridal shop. I had been there before to pick up my wife, or to stop by occasionally to help move a rack or build a shelf, but I don't think I had ever really looked around the inner workings of the place. It was a small house on a rather quiet street, decorated in lots of Victorian lace curtains and velvet cushions. My wife's philosophy was that a bride should be pampered in every way possible. Jolene came along for support, which I now welcomed. At first, her involvement was obvious to be another way for my wife to humiliate me for losing the bet. Now, however, I had begun to rely on her in much the same way I did at work-to keep me sane. My wife had Jolene and I sit at a small table decorated with a delicate tea set. The chairs were small with round burgundy velvet cushions, forcing one to sit very carefully. Joanne's assistant, Cheryl, approached hesitantly, smiling. I don't think she had ever had a male bride customer before. "Do you need help on this, Joanne, or do you want to handle this yourself?" "Don't be silly," Joanne told Cheryl. "Of course I will need you. Vanessa here is a very high maintenance bride. Let's take those dresses I mentioned off the racks and put them outside the dressing room. I need to get Vanessa set up with some foundation garments." I found myself in a different dimension as Joanne left to gather some examples of foundation garments. Unlike the office with its gray standard file cabinets and off-white walls with no decoration, this was a world of pure beauty and femininity. Even Cheryl was a representation of that ideal in her soft pink skirt and creamy blouse and hose. There was nothing hard in the bridal shop-even the floor was covered in luxurious mauve carpet with lots of padding so that when one walked in it was like floating. I hated to admit it, but beyond my agitated excitement at all of the new experiences, I was beginning to enjoy the escape just a little bit. Joanne brought a few items back. At first glance, they were not the usual women's underwear. I was used to seeing Joanne's lace panty and bra sets, and a slip once in a while. However, these garments were on a whole different level. "The first garment is a body-shaping long line bra. It kind of combines the function of a corset and a bra. I've already taken the liberty of sewing in some silicone breast forms in the cups so that my little bride has some perky breasts." Joanne's comment brought a giggle from Jolene, who looked at me as if to say she was sorry, but she was relishing my discomfort. "The next item is a pair of very high quality silk panties, edged in fine lace with some satin ribbons to make you feel extra girlish on your special day. And then, we have a garter belt to match. Now, where you have a choice to make is with the stockings." Here we go again, I thought. Joanne doesn't want to make it too easy for me. "You can choose a number of options. These are all very high quality microfiber hose, but you have a choice between wedding bells at the ankles, this rose pattern, or an all- over lace pattern." Knowing that it didn't matter because they would be covered by the dress, I chose the all- over lace pattern stockings, since they were what my wife had worn at our wedding. They were edged at the top with a satin ribbon. "That's sweet, honey. You chose the same stockings I wore at our wedding. A pretty bride is something to behold, but when she has sweetness, she's extra special." Joanne was laying it on a little bit thick, but at the same time I was becoming slightly aroused at her attention. The only thing that still disturbed me was the feminine pronouns-I was unsettled at being called "she." However, I knew that once Joanne had made up her mind that I was now Vanessa, she would play the game through to its conclusion. "Now honey, what I need you to do is put these garments on so that I can measure you for size. I think I have the right sizes of dresses for you to try on, but I want to be sure so that we don't break a seam or a zipper. Step into the dressing room with me." In the dressing room, Joanne undressed me tenderly, touching my face from time to time in a very loving way. "The first thing a girl puts on is her panties. Besides, we have to cover up that ugly thing-we don't want that hanging out when Cheryl is helping you put the dress on." She carefully slid the panties up my legs and pulled them up tight. They were tight fitting and seemed to shape my backside in a different way. The way they pulled on my body and hugged it with silk was sensuous, and although I hate to admit it, it felt good. "Now, let me help you into the bustier." Joanne carefully wrapped my upper body in the contraption. "That fits good," she said, as she buttoned it around me, encasing me in more silk. As she buttoned the top part, the breast forms practically attached themselves to my body and for the first time in my life I had some idea what it meant to be a woman and carry around a few pounds of flesh on my chest. The bottom part sucked in my stomach, so that my stomach was pulled in, while the panties sort of pushed my backside out. I didn't know that my body had that shape inside of it. Joanne pulled the stockings up my legs, which was another simultaneously thrilling and disturbing moment. She brushed the front of my panties with her fingernails, murmuring, "I wondered if you wouldn't like this a little bit." Then she commented on the hair on my legs. "We're going to have to take care of your body hair before the next fitting. It's not very ladylike." She turned around and stood beside me, looking in the mirror in the dressing room. My body was all different and curvy. She kissed me lightly on the cheek and said, "There, my pretty bride. Now you can see that being a girl isn't all that bad. Your underwear has certainly improved in the last ten minutes!" She took my hand and led me back out into the salon area. I was sort of in a trance from her tender attention, but as I stepped out, I realized that I was standing in feminine underwear in the middle of a room with three women! Seeing my shock, Joanne said, "Don't worry. Cheryl has seen brides in their undergarments before. And Jolene was just through the same experience. Cheryl, bring the tape and let's measure Vanessa." As Joanne turned me this way and that, tenderly guiding me through the process, Cheryl wrapped her tape around me, her hands lightly touching me and giving me constant reminders that I was wrapped in silk. It was an oddly exciting process, being so lightly controlled by these women. "Good. We've got measurements and I'll double check the sizes on these dresses," said Joanne. "Cheryl, why don't you try to find Vanessa a crinoline. I think all of these dresses will require the mega-full one. And don't give her one of the cheaper, scratchy ones. Give her the good one that's silk lined that has the layers of tulle." Jolene stepped up and helped Cheryl place the crinoline on the floor and open up the middle so that I could step through it. Both lifted the crinoline around me, giving me another strange thrill as I was held tenderly in soft layers of cloudy fabric. Cheryl's experienced hands tied the crinoline around my waist so that it would hold. Joanne came back and said, "Good. The dresses all should fit for the most part. Now, let's take a look at this crinoline." She walked around me, pulling the crinoline out into its fullness, letting it fall back naturally to the floor. The air around my stockings caressed my legs, the silk lining falling back on them, continuing the feminine dream. "Vanessa, I think the way that crinoline falls, you will need some heels on your shoes to give it the right height. Of course, it will depend on the dress, too. For now, let's try some shoes that I happen to have on hand." Joanne brought back a box and took out a pair of satin high-heels with an open back and a strap. Cheryl helped me to a padded bench, and I sat down in my undergarments and crinoline, gaining a sense for what a feminine body feels like sitting down amidst silk and layers of tulle. The bare tops of my thighs were feeling with every nerve ending the lining of the crinoline and my mind was on sensory overload. Joanne had me lift first one foot and then the next, placing gingerly the shoes on my feet. "Now, it's going to be different standing and walking in these, so be careful, dear. Cheryl and I will help you up." Holding each of my hands, one on either side, they brought me to a standing position. My leg muscles were stretched in a way they never had before. I was more conscious of my new feminine-shaped body as my backside pushed out, my stomach came in, and I felt like I was pointing across the room with my new breasts. I exhaled in a sigh. "I think she likes her new body, girls," said Joanne. Cheryl just smiled her pink and cheerful smile, and Jolene looked on me as I suppose an older sister would as her younger sister begins her new life as a bride. "Alright, let's get the dresses, Cheryl and find out which one our new bride likes." The first dress was the first dress I had seen in the slideshow earlier. It was an Eve of Milady dress with a full tulle skirt and cathedral train. As it was placed over me, the skirt seemed to go on forever. Jolene held the train back so that I wouldn't step on it, and Cheryl helped me with the buttons in the back. Joanne stood back, supervising and observing the transformation. As the top of the dress was buttoned, it tightened around my new-found breasts and hugged the satin undergarments. My arms were encased in lace all the way down to my wrists. The scoop neck and back reminded me of ballerinas I had seen practicing in their leotards at the dance studio near my office. "That one fits pretty well, although it will need a final fitting," said Joanne. "What do you think, Vanessa?" I began to speak, but I really didn't have any words to describe the experience I was feeling. My entire body was one large nerve ending sheathed in silk and lace. Emotionally, I was beginning to drop some of my bravado and feel like I had given up control. The strange thing was that I liked this loss of control, being at the hands of these incredibly supportive women who were dealing with me so tenderly. It was the opposite of harsh business dealings and firm handshakes. Joanne moved to the front of me and took my face in her hands. She kissed me on the lips and said, "You are beautiful." I began to get a feeling down deep in my throat similar to that felt when a sad movie ends with a glimmer of hope. However, I regained composure before I lost it in front of Jolene, who was still my secretary even though she was serving this unique role as my bridal advisor. The next dress was a different style altogether, although it was still a ballgown according to Joanne. It, too, had a long train but Joanne said the skirt was made from organza. The sleeves were short, but the top was once again modest with lace all over. This one, though, had a cutout in the back with lace beads curving across on both sides of the opening. The feeling was much the same as the previous dress...a cloud of beautiful fabric and a feeling that I was somehow special and that everything was good. Joanne thought that with the short sleeves, gloves would be appropriate, and brought out a pair of matte satin gloves and worked them up my arms. Now, my arms had the same feeling as my legs...being covered in a tight, sensuous fabric. My individual fingers even had the same feeling of having a sensuous skin stretched over them. The third dress was yet another style, this time done in shiny satin with lace appliqu?s all over it. The train was long again, but ruffled in a way reminiscent of Spanish flamenco dancers. After the first two dresses, which were much lighter and airy feeling with their full tulle and organza skirts, the dress didn't quite feel right. Joanne didn't like the way the dress hung on me, so she also nixed it. Finally, Joanne had me try on a dress that was similar to the first. "I didn't show you pictures of this one, but based on how well I think you liked the first two, I wanted you to try this one. The skirt is very similar to the first, but it has tons of tiny satin roses sewn into it." As Cheryl and Jolene helped pull the dress over my head, I could see the tiny roses. They were dainty and shiny, complimenting the dreamy tulle of the skirt. The bodice fit around me better than any other dress, hugging me tightly as Cheryl buttoned up the eight buttons in the back. "I kind of like this one because it has a basque waist," said Joanne. I could see that the waist was different from the first dress, dropping into the skirt into a point in the front. It seemed to be more fitted. "I think you might like the back, too," said Joanne, smiling. "Step up on the platform." As I carefully stepped up on the platform in my heels, Cheryl and Jolene pulled the train out while Joanne fluffed the dress around me so that it would fall naturally. I looked around in the mirror at the back of the dress, and I saw a heart-shaped cutout that hadn't been apparent to me when the dress was on the rack. Joanne came up and put her arm around my waist. "I can see that you like this one dear. You are my sweetheart, you know." I just nodded, with no words that would come out. Standing there in my feminine finery, the tiny roses sewn into the tulle skirt seemed to represent the way I was feeling. Hundreds of different emotions coursed through me at the same time. I was still uncomfortable, fearful even, at my situation and what people might think if they found out. At the same time, I felt special and loved by these women. I barely knew Cheryl, yet she tenderly dressed me. Jolene had shown concern at a level never before seen at the office. And Joanne amazed me the most of all, as she treated me with an underlying amusement at my discomfort, but at the same time, as if I was a princess and she was my lady-in- waiting. "I think we have a dress for Vanessa, girls! But wait, there's something else. Cheryl, could you help her with the gloves? She needs them with this dress, too, I think. I need to grab some other stuff." Cheryl once again sheathed my arms in the sensuous matte satin gloves. Joanne came back with a silver necklace and had me bend down to put it around my neck. The tiers of silver pieces and rhinestones tickled the top of my chest and Joanne kissed me as she pushed me to stand up straight again. "Perfect. Now all you need is the face and hair." Once again, I had been slipping away from reality in the sensuousness of the experience. Makeup and hair was not something I had even thought about. The clothes themselves were almost an overload of sensory, nervous experience. My heart raced as I thought of such things as lipstick and hair salons. "We'll put that off to tomorrow, dear. I think this is enough for one day." One by one, Cheryl and Jolene helped take the necklace, the gloves, the garments off. "I get to do the last part," said Joanne, sending the girls out of the store. "See you tomorrow." Back in the dressing room, Joanne stood with me in my undergarments. She carefully unbuckled my high heels and ran her fingers over the stockings. "You have been such a sport," she said. "Now I really know why I love you." Unrolling the stockings, she was aware that I was aroused. Brushing her fingers across the front of my panties, she took my mouth in hers in a long kiss, holding me extremely tight. I had never felt love or passion in this manner. I returned the embrace, beginning to make the natural moves toward lovemaking with my wife. Tenderly, Joanne put her hand to my lips as if to shush me. "Now honey, I want my little bride to be able to wear white." And she unbuttoned my bustier and released my body to its natural state. VI. The next day that I woke up, it was as if the day before I had run a marathon. I was as if I had taken too many muscle relaxers. I felt good, but spent. Joanne continued the tender treatment at home, and seemed to be conditioning me to being called Vanessa. We kissed and agreed to meet later at the bridal shop to continue the planning. The morning was uneventful with the meetings, although I did get some looks from Jolene, as if to say that we were sisters sharing a secret. She also treated me more tenderly, speaking to me in more considerate tones than the usual business talk. After lunch, Joanne and Jolene had made arrangements for me to be at the bridal shop and meet the hairdresser and aesthetician. Both women were amiable and friendly, and seemed to know each other. The hairdresser looked at my hair and said, "Well, it's hard to imagine a guy in a business suit with this hair-do, but I envision tight curls. His hair is longer for a guy, but short for a girl. I think lots of curls and then a crown-style veil would be the way to go." The aesthetician had similar sentiments to begin with. "It's hard to imagine him as a woman in this suit, but I think he has a rather cool complexion and we will work with pinks and grays. I can do a trial run on the makeup if you like, but it might look kind of funny on him without the hair and dress." Joanne stepped in at that point with an idea. "Well, how about if we get him ready as if it was for the wedding, and we test the ideas in a trial run of the whole nine yards?" Could you come back at 3:00?" The other women agreed, and then Joanne remembered yet another thing. "Also, he needs to get rid of the body hair. His legs look funny in hose, and the little hair he has on his back kind of detracts from the dress." Looking at the beautician, she asked "Can you fit him in for a waxing right now?" The beautician said she thought her staff could handle the request, so my fate was sealed. Off to the salon for waxing. Once again, I was well out of my comfort zone and was a bundle of nerves. At the salon, the woman doing my waxing was a pro and somewhat sympathetic to my situation, although you could tell she was very amused. "I've never done a guy before, much less a guy who is a bride. Relax, I'm almost as nervous as you are." The first strip was the hardest to take, because of the anticipation. As the first patch of hair was literally torn from my leg, I almost let out a yell. With each subsequent strip, however, the pain lessened. When the waxing was done, my legs were on fire. The salon staffer rubbed in some lotion to cool the pain, and I was once again in the hands of my wife. "The things we do for beauty. Are you alright, honey? Your legs look great." Some encouragement for someone just through an ordeal. "You know, I think maybe we should have your arms done." My face fell, but I knew that I would probably be back for another appointment. Joanne was a detail person. Back at the bridal shop, Joanne, Cheryl, and Jolene once again dressed me in the clouds of femininity. This time, my legs were even more sensuous, as the fresh waxing had opened them up to feeling every touch. The hosiery actually helped ease the pain from the waxing, and felt incredible. When the dress was placed on me, every ripple of the crinoline sent warm shots of nervous sensuality through my legs and body. Joanne had chosen several veils for me to try on. All of them were considered "fingertip" veils because they were about as long as my fingertips with my arms hanging down at my sides. The veil we chose in the end was edged similarly to the tulle on the dress...with a thin satin ribbon. Joanne set aside several crowns to use with the veil, stating that it was best before making a decision on those to consult the hairdresser. At 3:00, the hairdresser and makeup artist arrived again. They both giggled a little bit to see me sitting in my gown chatting with the other women in the shop. The hairdresser jumped right in, suggesting one of the crowns with a light weave of silver wire made to look like ivy. "With that veil and the shorter hair, the curls will show better around this crown than with the heavier ones," she said. Now for the hair. Perhaps we should cover up the dress. I don't want to get hair on it. Normally, I wouldn't do a hairstyle with the dress on, but since we probably don't want to make him to take it off, I brought an extra large cape." She looked at me and said, "I hope you don't mind that it's pink." I said, "That's okay, I hope you don't mind that I'm wearing a wedding dress." She laughed and draped the cape around me. I looked like a large pink confection, with my poufy underskirts and elaborate dress filling out the cape. "Today for the trial run, I'm just going to use a curling iron to set his hair. We can do a wet set later before the wedding, or we could even perm it if you're not having the wedding here in town." Joanne entered the conversation immediately with "Yes, I think the perm will be the way to go. We're getting married on the coast, so it wouldn't be convenient to have to find another hairdresser to set it before the wedding." Internally, I was protesting, but I failed to open my mouth since Joanne was clearly in control of this process. A perm! How would I explain that at work? Jolene would be the only one who understood. The hairdresser tugged and pulled at my hair with the curling iron, pushing it this way and that. The hot iron against my head and the pulling of the hair was sensual, in a strange way. Her firm hand pushed my head around where she needed it. Once again, I was in the control of this unusual cadre of women, sympathetic and tender, yet molding me into their version of a satin doll. Once she was done with the curling of my hair, she sprayed it liberally. "There. I think that is what we'll shoot for with the perm. It's basically just a collection of tight curls, with some ringlets framing the face. Let's try on the crown and veil." As the hairdresser whisked away the pink cape, Joanne brought the crown and veil. They carefully placed it on my head, discussing the angle and the way the curls looked around it. "I must say, he's starting to look like a beautiful bride. Mary will provide the finishing touches with the makeup. I've got to go. Let me know on the perm." Joanne thanked the hairdresser on the way out and discussed some appointment times, as Jolene and Cheryl gathered around to see my hair. "You're a cutie," offered Jolene. "I like the curls." Next was the makeup artist, with a palette of colors. The veil and crown were removed for her artistic work. As if I had not been on sensory overload for some time already, the strokes of the ballet pink eyeshadow and the brushing of lipstick on my lips provided more small thrills, this time in a very personal way. She looked intently at my face as she did her work, sometimes glancing across my eyes in a fervent and meaningful look that said "I will make you beautiful." The foundation was thick to cover my whiskers, even though I had shaved close. She finished it off with a sparkling powder that brought just a few light sparkles to my face. "Before Vanessa looks, I want to put her veil on," said Joanne as the makeup artist put the last few touches on my face. Joanne crowned me with the veil and then surprised me. She said, "I want to see how you look with the veil down." I didn't know that she had chosen a blusher veil, being unfamiliar with bridal attire at the time. She carefully pulled the veil over my face and asked me to step up on the platform near the dressing room. On the platform, I turned to look in the mirror. There was no vestige of my former self left. My body was transformed and I was clad in the attire of a beautiful doll. The veil softened all of my features and all I could see was shades of smooth skin and pink and shadows. My hair glistened with the spray from my recent coiffure in curls entangled around the silver crown. I was a beautiful bride at the hands of these fascinating women, thinking not of my ego and having my masculinity stripped, but about what I had become. The smiles of my wife and the other women held me in a sisterly embrace. I don't know how long I stood there, but I remember my wife pulling the veil back tenderly and kissing me, lipstick to lipstick. "Vanessa," was all she said. Stay tuned for the sequel... Vanessa's Wedding