Bea in the Bathroom Freddy s Side of the Story
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Leave It To Bea - Part 4 free porn video
Part Four
I felt wonderful the next morning. Relaxed, refreshed, invigorated.
Also a little sad that I only had two more days with Stanley before I had
to go back to the dorm. On my way to work, I stopped and got some bright
red nail polish. Remembering Stanley's fascination with my nyloned feet,
I wanted to see what he did when he saw me with glossy red toenails. The
day went by slowly. I noticed customers as they came into the store. It
was an upscale store, and many elegant, nicely dressed women came in. I
had always noticed nice looking women, but now, more than ever, I noticed
the way they were dressed. How their clothes draped and complimented
their bodies, their color choices, earrings and jewelry, their shoes. I
wondered how I would look dressed the same way. But what was really
different was how I noticed the men. The shape of their bodies, their
posture, the way they moved, their hands, and their backsides. I had
never really noticed men before. My adventures with Rick were always
something separate from my everyday life, but last night with Stanley had
changed me. Was I acting differently? Walking differently? Swishing?
I could still feel Stanley's sperm inside me. My thighs and legs
were...stretched, somehow. Maybe I was holding my hips differently. No
one seemed to notice anything different about me, but I felt different.
I made it through the day, anyway, and on the way home, I stopped by the
drugstore and picked up a box of tampons. On my break, I had gone into
to the bathroom and found that a little of Stanley had leaked into my
panties. I figured that tampons would help keep me neat and tidy in bed.
On my way out, I passed by the perfume counter. I remembered my older
sisters wearing White Shoulders when they went to fancy dances, and it
was a scent I had always associated with femininity. I found a bottle of
cologne and some dusting powder. I got a funny look from the clerk, but
I didn't care. I couldn't wait to get home and change.
The next two days and nights were busy. Stanley was beside himself when
he saw my painted toes encased in nylons, and he loved the way I smelled.
We fucked all that first night, with me on top, me on the bottom, and
with me bent over the bed, Stanley taking me from behind. After sex, I
always put in a tampon, keeping all that sperm swimming around inside me,
and I could half imagine a tingly little sensation in my belly, as if
they had found a stray egg to fertilize. God...I was ruined as a male.
In the mornings, I would kneel on the floor, looking up into Stanley's
eyes as I worked my lips and tongue over his big black cock, nibbling his
ball sack, licking the inside of his thighs, and sucking again, until he
erupted into my mouth.
On my last day before moving back into the dorms, I dropped by Dillards
again and talked to Ellen and came home with even more lingerie.
Stockings, more panties, a couple of naughty little garter belts, a
couple of nighties and a beautiful long nightgown. Just for fun, she
showed me a couple of sheer bras. I had nothing in the chest department,
but these were no more than sheer little triangles of fabric with straps.
I got one in white, black, and red. Ellen suggested that I look at some
casual outerwear, and we found some jeans with pretty stitching and
colorful trim at the cuffs that were obviously for a girl and which
surprisingly, fit me pretty well. I had always had a cute little butt,
maybe more like a girl, and these jeans hugged my backside and really
showed it off. Finally, she suggested that I look at some tops, and I
brought home a couple of crop tops with lace trim around the middle.
Around Stanley's apartment, I wasn't going to pass for a girl, but I
clearly wasn't going to be dressing like a male, either. On my way out
of the store, I spied a pair of casual wedge sandals with wood heels,
only about two inches high, and Ellen fixed me up. (I didn't know the
difference between a wedge, a spectator pump, and hiking boots, but Ellen
was teaching me a lot.)
"You know, dear, I know a stylist that could do wonders with that hair of
yours," she said as she was ringing up the shoes. I had never paid a lot
of attention to my hair. I wore it longish, I suppose, over my ears and
full in the back. "You could get a unisex style that would be adorable
on you." That was a scary thought. It seemed so, I don't
know...visible. I mean, it would be fun when I dressed up to have
girlish hair, but I would have my hair all the time, in class, at work,
everywhere. Ellen gave me the name of a hairdresser close by who was a
good friend of hers. She said she would call him and tell him all about
me. I was a little nervous to be letting another person in "my little
secret'" but I thought it might be fun to see what he could do.
I got home and Stanley cleared out two dresser drawers for all my new
treasures. I now had my very own lingerie drawer. And a clothes drawer
filled with girl's jeans...my jeans...and lacy little tops. We hung the
gown in the closet. The spring semester was going to be interesting...
Life was the same in a lot of ways. I still went to class and work, and
I still had all my friends, and Stanley and I still ran into each other
on campus a lot, even though he was taking a lot of grad school classes
now. Dorm life was much the same, although I no longer had to hide my
stash of panties from my roommate; they were all over at Stanley's
apartment. I showered when my roommate wasn't around and wore long pants
all the time (I liked having shaved legs and didn't want to give them
up.) Evenings and nights were filled with studying, but my weekends were
different. On Friday, after my last class, I'd grab some books and head
over to Stanley's. He had given me a key to his apartment, and I'd let
myself in, shower, shave, paint my toenails, and change into panties,
stockings, bra, jeans, and a top. I'd putter around the kitchen fixing
something for supper. (Stanley had bought me a ruffled pinafore apron
just to complete the look - I called it my "June Cleaver apron", but the
reference was lost on him, of course... What did I expect?) Stanley
usually got home around seven and we'd have supper, then wash dishes and
move to the couch and watch something on TV while he played with my feet.
Then we'd kiss, and kiss some more, and then he'd fuck me senseless.
Over and over. My whole mind was changing from the awkward, more or less
straight guy that I had been all my life into... What was I becoming? A
girl? I certainly acted like one on the weekends. I wasn't sure, but I
knew that I was becoming attached to Stanley, not just physically but
emotionally. Neither of us used the word "love," but we were very
comfortable with each other. I needed him around. I loved his body and
his sense of humor, and we were still good friends, even though I spent a
lot of our time together underneath him with my legs spread like a cheap
hooker. It seemed easy to move from one existence to the other, but I
wondered how long it could last.
I did finally get in touch with the stylist that Ellen had told me about.
Even over the phone, I could tell that he was a very funny, outgoing, and
flamboyant queen. His name was Steven, "Stephanie to my friends,
sweetie!" and he offered to set up an after hours appointment for me so
we could talk freely. He immediately put me at ease when I dropped by
his salon. It was a nice place, very upscale, and we had a glass of wine
while we got acquainted. He was a well-dressed, nice looking guy in his
mid-thirties. I told him all about myself, trying on my sisters' clothes
as a kid, my early encounters with Rick, and my relationship with
Stanley.
"He's how big?" Steven asked. "And black? Girl, you hit the jackpot!
You need to keep that boy happy!" He raised an eyebrow when I told him
about Stanley's fascination with my feet, telling me that that was a real
opportunity. We talked about Ellen ("That girl is a gay man trapped in a
woman's body!") and he wanted to know all about what clothes I had. I
told him, a little sheepishly, about my double life as a "straight" male
college student and weekend harlot. ("For now, sweetie, for now...") We
talked for over an hour before he ever got around to looking at my hair.
He leaned in close and examined me very clinically, running his fingers
through my hair, fluffing it out on top, in front, and on the sides.
"You've got a great head of hair, Joanne. We have a world of
possibilities!" ("Joanne?")
"Nothing too feminine, Steven; I still live in a dorm full of guys."
"Oh, I know all about living in those dorm closets, Joanne. Don't worry;
we'll make sure you're still 'Queen of 'de Nile.' " Maybe I should have
been insulted by that, but Steven meant no offense. Hell, he was right!
I was living a double life, and I had been ignoring the fact that some
day, I was going to come to a fork in the road in my life. I was going
to have to leave one life or the other behind. But not today. Steven
was just helping me move a little farther down that road, a little closer
to that fork.
"So do you trust me, hon?"
"Yes, Steven."
"Lie back in the chair." Steven washed my hair, dried it a little with a
towel, and went to work. I looked around his salon. His "Beauty Shop,"
as my grandmother would say. I was getting my hair done in a Beauty
Shop. The magazine racks were filled with copies of Woman's Day, Vogue,
and Cosmopolitan. Not a Sports Illustrated or Field and Stream in sight.
This was an exclusively feminine place, and I was, for the moment, the
center of attention. Women came here to look more feminine, beautiful,
and attractive to men. I was here for...the same reason. As my eyes
wandered over the shelves of beauty products, the hair dryers, and the
flowery decor, I felt a strange emotion, one that I had been feeling more
and more lately, like I was a turncoat somehow. Betraying my identity.
But the strangest thing about this feeling was that it made me
feel...peaceful, but at the same time, excited, expectant. I really was
moving along that proverbial road.
"You sure are quiet, hon." Steven was working away, clipping here,
teasing there, taking a lot of time to get it right, whatever "it" was
going to be.
"I'm just admiring your place," I said.
"Feeling like Danielle in the lion's den?"
"Sort of, I guess," I chuckled.
"You'll get used to it, hon. This'll be like your second home.
Stephanie knows. Hold your head still now." He looked intently at my
forehead, clipped just a bit, held my chin in place and clipped and
combed on the left, then the right side.
"When Stanley sees you, he's gonna think he's died and gone to heaven!"
"You're not making me look too much like a girl are you?"
"Mick Jagger wouldn't say so, but Audrey Hepburn might." While I tried
to figure out what that meant, Steven went to work with a blow dryer.
"I'm going to thin your brows a little. Don't worry, I won't do a 'Joan
Crawford' on you." he trimmed and plucked (ouch!), then continued, "You
know, I've been thinking about Stanley and his whole 'foot' thing. You
need a little adornment down there."
"I already paint my toenails."
"And we gotta talk about that, Butch. Next Friday, I want you here for a
pedicure. Those toenails of yours look like ten miles of bad road."
Well now I was insulted; I liked the way my toenails looked!
"Oh, they're not bad for an amateur, but I'm going to show you how to do
it right. But we'll worry about that Friday. Have you ever thought
about a toe ring or two?"
Steven had a whole selection of toe jewelry. He brought over a tray
filled with different kinds of rings. Silver, gold, braided, some with
little colored stones, others with little hearts or flowers...
"You need to go full girly here, Joanne," and he showed me a little
silver ring with a tiny enameled yellow daisy on it. "Put this one on
your 'index toe' on the right, and... Put this one on the middle toe of
your left foot." The second ring was also silver, in a braided pattern,
with a pair of entwined hearts. I had never thought about toe rings, but
I couldn't wait to see how they looked on. While I was admiring them,
Steven gave my hair a final fluff and spritzed a little bit of spray on
my hair.
"What do you think?" He turned the chair around and I looked in the
mirror. It was a guy's hairstyle. And it was definitely a girl's
hairstyle. Steven called it a "medium shag." I had some serious bangs,
and my hair flipped out just a little around the neckline. It was a
short girl's haircut. Or a long guy's haircut. It framed my face, and I
noticed how he had trimmed my eyebrows to give me a more androgynous
look.
I looked... I looked sort of... Okay...I looked sort of...pretty. With
a little makeup, I could be gorgeous. I loved it.
"Steven, this is beautiful."
"Yep. I do good work. You'll make a pretty girl when you go full drag."
(When?) Maybe he was right...
"Now go home. I've done enough magic for tonight. I want you back in
here Friday afternoon at five o'clock sharp. We're going to work on
those toes."
"How much do I owe you?"
"Your eternal allegiance and loyalty, bitch. I'm like a drug dealer; the
first one's on the house. Once you're hooked, I'll take you for all
you're worth. And take those toe rings with you."
I felt like I had just met either my new fairy godmother or my new drill
sergeant. Maybe both... But I had found a good friend, and I figured
out that there was a whole world of people out there living "alternative
lifestyles" and doing so happily and successfully. That fork in the road
didn't seem as scary as it had a couple of hours ago.
Elle
- 08.09.2021
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