God of LoveChapter 2 Romance
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Caught In A Good Romance, 2 Of 10 free porn video
© Copyright 2013, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
Caught in A Good Romance, 2 of 10
By Leslie Lowe
Chapter 2
I was sitting in the side-chair by Joyce's desk when she arrived
promptly at nine the next morning. "My," she said, "aren't you the
punctual one! How are you, Kim?"
I stood up and flashed my best winning smile at her. "Fine, Joyce.
Thank you."
"I'm so glad they chose you!" she said. "I liked you so much I even
told them I wanted a man to help with the heavy lifting."
"Thank you so much!" I said.
"Although you're not exactly an Arnold, are you, sweetie?"
"No," I said. "But I'm stronger than I look."
"Actually, we have muscle men to do the heavy work. To be honest, I
just thought it would be fun to have a man reporting to me, that's all,"
she said, somewhat distracted as she put away her purse and straightened
up things that were already straight.
"I'm you're man," I said, beginning to wonder why all the conversations
I had around this office seemed to be about gender. What did they know
that I didn't? "Is there anything I can do now? Samantha wants me to
meet her for lunch, and she told me Elliott was out of town?"
"Right. Well, we have lots of HR paperwork. Why don't you go and get
us a cup of coffee? Ask the other Kim to show you the kitchen and all."
"Yes, ma'am," I said.
"Don't make me feel old," she said. "I'm only thirty-five."
"No problem, Joyce. But I want you to know that I consider you my boss
too."
"Great!" she said. "Remembering that will solve half the problems I've
had in the past with the other girls." She paused and looked at me,
apparently embarrassed at her slip of the tongue. "I'm sorry, I didn't
mean you were a girl too."
"No problem," I said. "I always take it as a compliment to be confused
with a woman. It happens a lot with my name."
"That's sweet," she said, looking at me with a funny look on her face,
as if she thought I might be laying it on a bit thick. But finally she
said, "You really mean it, don't you?"
"I do, and you would too if you had worked some of the jobs I have.
Have you ever been a waitress?"
"Not yet!" she said, laughing. "Have you?"
"You don't want to," I said, ignoring her tease and heading off toward
Kim's reception desk.
As the morning continued, Joyce and I did all the intake forms HR
required and I helped her with filing and delivered a few file boxes to
other departments. People were friendly. I liked my job a lot so far.
Time for lunch with my other boss!
An hour or so later, Samantha and I were finishing up lunch in a fine
restaurant surrounded by tables filled with stylish women. She opened
her purse and took out her lipstick and compact. She smiled at me and
carefully began to do her lips in a dusty rose color that looked very
nice on her. But then everything probably did. She was that beautiful.
I was wearing a blue pinstriped suit, white shirt, and regimental
striped tie, with black cap-toe oxfords. I was the only man in the
room, except for a table of flamboyant fashion types that included two
men as colorfully dressed as the women. One of those aggressively
stylish men smiled at me and I smiled back, before lowering by gaze
shyly. I felt misplaced, to say the least.
Samantha finished with a final stroke and her lipstick clicked as she
closed it, then the mirror.
I looked up, feeling my face blush as her penetrating, proprietary stare
captured me.
She smiled again with that tigress expression I had already come to know
very well during this first lunch. Our meal was over and I could only
imagine what she had in mind for me now.
"We need to get you to dress a bit more stylishly when you're with me."
"I'm game," I said. "That's what the clothing allowance is for, right?"
"Oh, yes, of course," she said. "This is for you, sweetie." She pulled
a large and beautifully wrapped gift from one of the many shopping bags
strewn around her chair.
"Thank you, but--" I said, the nervousness making my voice unsteady.
"Well, open it!"
"Okay." I tore off the paper that was discreetly taped together with
"Coach" labels and found inside a smart-looking shopping tote in black
leather with silver hardware, the long, thin leather handles marking it
unmistakably as a lady's accessory. "Wow!" I said. "You shouldn't
have--"
"Oh, shush! You will be doing so much for me." She touched my wrist
and pressed down with her fingertips. "And please don't be afraid to
notice my selfish motive?"
"Selfish?"
"Yes, dear. It will help you do your work better, both at the office
and around town, helping me with my things. Half the stuff you carry in
your new bag will be mine, files and brochures and fabric swatches and
makeup--you know." She had spent the lunch telling me about her
charitable activities and how they fit into the AMI business plan, or
rather the business-promotion part of that plan.
"Makeup?"
"Please tell me you're not one of those men who's afraid of doing
anything that might seem the least bit feminine? If I ask you to pick
up a moisturizer or a mascara for me, you won't be so manly you can't do
it, will you? If I send you to Sak's for a lipstick to match a dress I
show you, you can do that, can't you, Kim?"
"No problem at all, boss."
"I just knew you could handle this job!"
"I'm glad you're happy with me, Samantha, and I will do whatever you
say. That's our deal. But may I ask you something?" I waited for her
to nod as she sipped her coffee. "Isn't this a ladies' purse? Do you
think I could exchange it for a Coach briefcase or backpack?" I had said
it less as a request than as thinking out loud. My guard was down. She
had done such a good job putting me at ease during lunch, asking about
my parents and school days and even my dreams. I should have known
better than to indirectly criticize her gift. But the purse embarrassed
me. Already I was trying to keep it low and out of sight, hiding that
symbol of the modern woman, feeling the eyes of the ladies at the
surrounding tables on me.
"As if being ladylike were ever a problem for my sweet little personal
assistant!" she said, patting me on the hand and leaning in to give me a
kiss on the cheek. "You're so cute! Now we both know you wouldn't have
taken this job if you were worried what men thought of you. And the
girls will think it's cute!" She sat back. "Now tell me you're brave
enough to carry it with you always, and the hell with all the muscle-
heads who think it's so horrible for a man to carry an attractive
handbag."
I sat there with my mouth open, indecisive.
"Say it, darling. You can tell them I forced you to carry it! Say,
'Yes, Samantha, I respect your fashion judgment so much that I'll carry
it every day!' You know you want to, don't you babydoll?"
I blushed and a sad moan escaped from my lips. I realized I did not
know a safe way to answer the question. That was how much things had
changed for me in just a day. I had come to love this job and these
people so quickly! And no, I was not going to let carrying a purse get
in the way of pleasing my boss, for it was a small thing requested by
perhaps the most demanding of my three bosses. I had applied for the
job as her husband's personal assistant. It seemed so far to have
turned out that I was more hers than his. What could I possibly do but
submit further to this powerful woman's will? "Uh, if Elliott doesn't
mind, then I guess I will."
"There's something else you need to know about your purse, darling."
I waited for the other shoe to drop. Samantha was being weird. Could I
handle it? I thought about the money. I thought about my parents'
failing health and sad state of financial affairs, largely because they
had sacrificed their savings for my Ivy League college degree. Yes, I
could handle it. "I can hardly wait to find out," I said brightly, not
at all sarcastically.
She giggled. "That's a girl. I need you not to tell the other girls
about this little gift or any of the other, uh, special arrangements we
have made for you, especially the financial incentives."
"Financial incentives?" I said.
"Yes. No one else has a clothing allowance. You need it because you're
a boy and you have so much to learn about style before you will be
suitable to be my assistant and companion."
"Really? I thought you liked my style."
"Oh, I do! For a boy, I mean. But what do you know about feminine
style? What do you know about women's apparel and makeup, and shoes,
for God's sake?"
"Not much. Just theatrical makeup, and they always have people to help,
makeup artists. Especially if you're a guy, they just do it for you.
They assume you know nothing."
"See? I am right!"
"Okay," I said. "But why are you trying to turn little old me into a
girl?" I smiled and batted my eyelashes like a sexpot movie actress.
It was way over the top. I had asked the question facetiously, and
didn't want it to be mistaken for a serious query. I was thinking I
would up the ante with a gender joke of my own and give her a shot back
across her bow.
"I need you to be a lot more girlish, Kim. I thought the reason was
rather obvious. So you can handle your job among other women, honey,"
Samantha said, without a trace of a smile on her face. She patted my
hand. "I mostly work among women, and now you do too. You might as
well accept your minority status right now, sweetie. Women in business
did it for years, adopting the ways of men. African-Americans did it
for years, adopting the ways of white bosses. Now you get to adopt the
ways of women. Isn't that just so fun?"
Her answer was mortifying. The question didn't bother her at all.
Samantha had answered it straight, as if that were indeed what she had
in mind. "I don't understand," I said, returning to my normal male
demeanor, trying to stay calm. "I was joking about being turned into a
girl. You're not, are you?" The last sentence had somehow squeaked out
a bit hysterical, fearful, and, well, girlish.
Samantha smiled in a very patronizing way. "No, dear, not at all. When
you're with Elliott, you can be as manly as you please. Women do it all
the time in business. For us to succeed, we have to be female and meet
those expectations, but we also have to know how to act like a man.
It's what everyone expects. You'll see. You're in a female position
working for women."
"What about Elliott? Will he expect me to be, you know, like him?"
"Well, he's the top dog, and I guess we all work for him, one way or the
other. But he's easy to handle. And he and I agreed that if we hired a
boy for this girl's job I could train you to fit in."
"That's good to hear."
She laughed. "Oh, he'll love you in a more stylish presentation. He
loves women. He likes gay men as well as his own type, the rough
outdoorsy types. He loves the contrast."
"I'm not gay," I said. "Not that there's anything wrong with being
gay."
"But you'll be coming across as gay or more when I'm finished with you.
I'm sure you'll be propositioned by men, and maybe you'll find out you
like them. They can be fun, especially the gay ones. I always say
there's no better accessory on a woman than a man on her arm. Better
than a pretty purse!" She looked at my purse, which I had slipped onto
my lap largely out of sight.
I could take a hint. I pulled my purse up and out into plain sight.
The light reflected off the shiny silver hardware. "Thank you so much
for my bag, Samantha! I'll do my best to pull this off." I was
thinking that all my experience with acting was about to turn out useful
after all, even in business.
"You're welcome. Let's go to Victoria's Secret and get you a few
things. I want you to know how women feel when you're working for me."
"You've got to be kidding!" I said, forcing a laugh. "Is this some sort
of--are you, like, playing with my mind?"
"I hope it will be fun," she said, "but I assure you, Kim, that I am
perfectly serious. Remember our discussion about your wearing whatever
we tell you to wear?"
"Yes, but--"
"Waiter, check please," she said to the passing man. "But nothing, Kim.
Just go with it, girlfriend. We'll have so much fun! Consider it a new
acting role, okay?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"That's a good girl!"
A few minutes later, we were in the middle of a pink and black display
at Victoria's Secret, surrounded by scores of women and their most
intimate things. I felt very conspicuous holding my purse slung over my
shoulder like most of the women around us. I was simply following the
training in how a woman keeps her hands free to use for "efficient
hunting and gathering," which Samantha had given me on our walk through
the mall. My boss was nice, but very particular.
Samantha grabbed a tall, blonde salesgirl, a total knockout I would
never have had to speak to unless she approached me first, even in a
store. "Can you help us, dear?" Samantha said sweetly.
"I'd love to!" the girl replied, cutting her eyes from my boss back to
me and my purse, undoubtedly wondering what sort of creature I was.
"I need you to measure him for panties and bras. I want him to wear a
C-cup. And do you have silicone breast forms?"
"Uh," the girl said, buying time, caught off guard but quickly regaining
her composure. "Yes, ma'am. We do." She looked at me and smiled. "I
think we can fit you, sweetie. And I just love your purse! My next bag
is going to be a Coach."
I was about as embarrassed as I had ever been in my life, and that was
saying a lot after all my restaurant service. I felt myself blushing
and wondered if I was going to be able to handle this after all. "Uh,
that's good," I said bravely.
"Please follow me, ladies!" She took off toward the back of the store.
I looked at Samantha. She smiled at me as if to say "See how easy that
was?" and led the way. We followed the salesgirl to an area where an
array of dressing rooms opened off a large central room with milky plush
carpet and benches surrounded with scores of full mirrors on the walls.
Women in various stages of dress where checking themselves and each
other in the mirrors. None of them paid the least bit of attention to
us. I guess they assumed that if I was in the inner sanctum playing
with bras and panties and carrying a purse I was pretty much of a
credentialed girl myself, even if dressed in a boy's suit.
The salesgirl said, "My name is Carol."
"Hi, Carol. I'm Samantha and this is Kim. I'm teaching him to dress as
a woman."
With hardly a moment's hesitation, Carol said, "Right! I wonder why
more men don't. It's so fun!" She pulled a tape measure out of a
drawer. "I need your shirt and your pants off, Kim. Would your rather
do it in private?"
"Please."
"Okay, let's take this room."
We went inside, all three of us. Carol obviously thought that "private"
meant three people.
Welcome to womanhood, I told myself.
She shut the door. It was a large dressing room with benches on two
walls. Samantha sat down and took off her shoes. "Oh God, that feels
good!" She said.
"Let's see that sexy little body now," Carol said to me.
I looked from one woman to the other. "I'm not sure--"
"Well?" Samantha said. "Take off all your clothes, Kim. It's just us
girls."
I watched them as I slowly stripped down to my briefs. They seemed very
interested but not sexually, measuring my body with their eyes and
envisioning what sort of underwear would work as if I were an odd woman
rather than a whole different sex. I was worried about getting an
erection with both women looking at me. I was aroused, but tried to
control myself by doing math sums and thinking about National
Geographic--no, not the article with the nubile boobs, the other one,
with giraffes and elephants.
"This will work," Samantha said, perusing my crotch. "Your little junk
won't be a problem at all, Kim."
"Excuse me?" I said.
"I was worried that you might be one of those boys with a small body and
a giant cock, you know?"
"Samantha, this is really embarrassing," I said, looking at Carol, who
was being very professional but still with a look of wonder in her eyes,
as if she was thinking we might be crazy or dangerous.
"Well, get used to it," Samantha said. "If you're going to be with
women--and you certainly will be working as my assistant--you'll find
quickly that we are not shy about our bodies among other women."
"Oh," I said, seeing myself blushing furiously in the mirrors. "I'll
try."
"Anyway," Samantha said. "Can we get a tight thong body shaper to push
her little parts back out of the way, like the drag queens do?"
"No problem! I'll be right back," Carol said, hurrying out the door.
"Isn't this fun?" Samantha said.
"It's interesting. I've never tried on women's lingerie before."
"Never?"
"Well, never in public."
"I thought so!" Samantha said gleefully.
"No!" I protested. "I'm not a crossdresser! But I had one girlfriend
who--"
"Here we are," Carol said, opening the door and showing everyone my
nearly naked body. No one turned my way. They didn't care. To them, I
was just another kind of woman trying to fix the way her body looked.
"Try these on, girlfriend."
I put one foot into the industrial strength panty or whatever it was,
made of thick, heavy flesh-colored stretchy fabric.
"Well, silly, you have to take off your briefs first!" Samantha said.
"Let's see how Kim Junior looks. Don't be bashful now."
I stopped with the thong thing and let it fall to the carpet. I slipped
my briefs down my legs, keeping my eyes pointed toward the floor, hoping
I wouldn't be sticking out too much.
"Perfect!" Samantha said. "Just a wee bit of boy there!"
"Samantha!" I shrieked.
Carol giggled. "You are a pair. Are you brother and sister, or what?"
"Just friends," Samantha said quickly. "I was thinking we could be fuck
buddies, but I don't know now."
Carol giggled again.
"Very funny," I said. "It gets bigger."
"It's already erect, sweetie," Samantha said. "That's my point! But I
love it. You'll make a perfect girl."
I just looked at her, mortified. Standing there fully exposed to two
beautiful women who were simply not impressed, I wanted to cry, but I
knew that would only confirm me as a sissy, exactly the wrong move. I
had never considered myself much of a man, had always stayed away from
locker rooms and other places where cock comparisons might occur.
Apparently, I was much smaller than other men. "I will?" was all I
could say, and it came out as a bleat, a sad cry of the deeply hurt,
almost like a wounded little girl. I felt moisture gathering in my
eyes.
Samantha looked at me with shock on her face.
Carol looked at me with a deeply compassionate expression. "Awww!"
"Oh, Kimmie!" Samantha said. "I'm so sorry! You didn't know how small
you were, did you, baby?" She stood up and walked over in her bare
feet, leaving her shoes, and hugged me. She wiped under my eyes like a
mother with child. "It's a good thing you're not wearing mascara yet."
"Yet?" I said with panic. I felt the tip of my cock--my tiny little
cock, I thought--rubbing against her skirt.
Samantha stepped back and looked at me, still holding my shoulders like
a mother would do to her child. "Don't feel bad, sweetie. I've never
thought of you as a real man anyway, from the first moment I met you."
She looked at Carol. "Did you, really?"
"Well," Carol said, stalling, "I, uh, she--I mean he--was carrying a
purse, so I--"
"See, Kim? You really do look like one of us already. Isn't that
wonderful? And that's a high compliment. Men are to be tolerated,
lusted after and loved if they marry you, but otherwise, they are pigs
to be neutralized and managed, so they cannot hurt us. You're one of
us, honey. Think about what a wonderful thing it is to be a girl, not
what's, well, missing, okay?"
I just looked at her, shocked and humiliated. This was about as bad as
I had ever felt. "Really?" I said. "Am I that--"
"Yes, sweetie," Carol said, having figured out who was in charge. "But
we love sissies, don't we?" she asked, nodding at Samantha.
"We do," Samantha said, "and we love you." She hugged me, and Carol
hugged me.
And I felt like shit. I was getting all this love, from the beautiful
women I had always dreamed about, but in the wrong way, and it just
hurt, searing my fragile male ego, which I had tried for so long to
nurture. But considering my plight, looking at Samantha and then Carol,
and back at my smiling boss, I said to myself, if they're right, it's a
good thing I have this girl job, and if they're wrong, I can find out
later. All I had to do was find a few cocks and make a comparison. Any
gay leather bar should serve, from the stories I'd heard.
"So," Samantha said, "let's dry those tears and get on with this little
shopping excursion, shall we, girlfriend?"
"Okay," I said, trying to smile, thinking of my first giant paycheck. I
pulled the thong panty girdle up my legs and let Samantha tuck my "wee
bit of boy" away.
© Copyright 2013, by Leslie P. Lowe. All rights reserved.
[email protected]
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