Office Takeover - Extended free porn video

Office Takeover (Extended) By Susannah Donim, based on a story by Margaret Jeanette Jim and his secretary change places, with far-reaching consequences. The Christmas party "Come on - you're the CEO. You have to push the boat out a bit!" My wife, Marilyn, was trying to persuade me to splash out on our costumes for the company's Christmas fancy dress party. "CEO, hah! There's only ten of us in the company. I'm more like a Team Leader." "But you set up the company. We own it and it's doing very well. You and I should go in really elaborate costumes and give everyone a good laugh." Marilyn and my secretary, Missy, had already persuaded me to give every employee a hundred to spend on their costumes at our local fancy dress shop. To be fair, this was a great idea; all the staff were excited about the event and morale was sky high leading up to the Festive Season. Well they deserved it. It had been our best year yet and next year promised to be even better. Our parts supply company was becoming known for fast service. I used to be European Logistics Manager for a global engineering company. I had great contacts and realised I could be doing better by myself. My old company were sorry to see me go, but the parting was amicable. They were happy to be my first client when I set up on my own and were still my biggest earner. It had been a really hard three years though. Sixty hour weeks had become the norm. I had taken no holidays. I couldn't remember the last party I'd been to. I was dog-tired. "OK, OK, so what do you want us to go as?" I usually gave in to Marilyn eventually, and she knew it. Still this was one of our favourite games. My role was to argue and eventually concede gracefully. "Well Missy decided it should be a couples theme, didn't she?" I had a similar understanding with my secretary; what she wanted she eventually got. "Yes, most of the staff are married, and Missy and the other two who aren't are in good stable relationships. I think she's hoping he's going to pop the question soon. So what are you thinking - Robin and Marion? Anthony and Cleopatra? Fred and Wilma?" "Boring, boring and boring! No, these are our costumes..." She was holding the fancy dress shop's brochure open at a well-thumbed page. "We're going as a matador and his senorita." "Great! You'll look fabulous in that gorgeous flamenco dress with a mantilla in your hair..." Marilyn smiled sardonically. She was well aware of my interest in female fashion. "Actually, no, sweetie. They do the dress in plus size. I think you'll squeeze into it nicely with a little firm shapewear..." * * * So it was that Jim Palmer, the hard-bitten CEO of Lightning Logistics, Ltd, a relentless negotiator and all-round tough guy, attended his own company's Christmas party dressed as a sweet, albeit plumpish, Spanish senorita, squired by his wife as the sexiest bull fighter you've ever seen. I'm sure she chose our costumes knowing how well the skin-tight matador suit would show off her amazing figure. Even though we were well into our thirties, there wasn't an office girl at the company who could hold a candle to her. I, on the other hand, looked a complete idiot. Under the gorgeous flamenco dancer dress I had had to wriggle into a body shaper which padded out my hips and bum to female proportions to offset my male waist and shoulders. The result was, as I said, plumpish. "You look amazing!" she said, as we gave ourselves a last-minute onceover in our bedroom mirrors. "Oh please," I grumbled, "I look ridiculous, like a man in a dress, which of course I am." "No, you really don't! Obviously you were never going to be a slim woman, but you're voluptuous, which is much better. Lots of people find that far sexier than beanpole supermodel shape. And your wig and makeup are fantastic, if I do say so myself. You don't look like a man in a dress at all. I'd be amazed if anyone recognises you - and you might even get picked up." "Don't be silly - everyone at the party will be attached, and they'll all know who I am, 'cause I'll be with you." But I couldn't help being a little pleased at her reassuring comments - even if she was just trying to boost my confidence. I took another look at myself in the mirror. God, my bum looks big in this! That's just the padding though, isn't it? Surely? * * * Well the girls were right as usual. The party was a huge success. Everyone had a great time, and I was the belle of the ball! Marilyn treated me like 'the little woman', sweeping me round the dance floor, buying me girly cocktails, bending me over backwards to kiss me, and forever sending me off to the Ladies' to repair my lipstick. I loved every minute of it. My dress was very tight to dance in, but I discovered that the lower portion was detachable, so then I could dance and show off my legs! And I did get picked up. When we first arrived I went to the bar to get our drinks and Missy's boyfriend, Steve McAllister - who I hadn't met before - started chatting me up. I had no idea how to handle that but fortunately Marilyn saw what was happening and came to break us up. We didn't say anything to Missy. What did surprise me was Marilyn's mood when we got back in the small hours. Not to put too fine a point on it: she ravished me! She insisted on being on top and rode me like a prize heifer. It was the best sex we ever had. The first week Back at work in the New Year, Missy showed everyone the photos she had taken at the party. She had put a particularly embarrassing one of me, Marilyn, Steve and herself in a fancy frame on her desk. She wanted to put a big one of me up on the notice board, but I insisted she kept all the photos to just the staff. I wasn't sure how some of our more conservative clients would react. Missy had been with me since the beginning and had often mentioned that she thought she could do my job - and probably better. It wasn't long after Christmas that she began to nag me about giving her a more responsible role in the company. She seemed to be hung up over job titles, which I thought was ridiculous in such a small group. I had already made her my 'Executive Assistant', now she wanted more. "I could run this business perfectly well, you know," she said one lunchtime while we were sharing a takeaway in my office. "I've been working for you for three years now; I've met all your clients and learned all their funny little ways. You know you're stressed out. Why don't you make me Managing Director and take a well-earned rest? You and Marilyn could go round the world? See the pyramids and the Taj Mahal!" "I don't think so, babe. I know I make it look easy, but there are all sorts of situations that could come up that you wouldn't know how to deal with..." "Oh, please! Who was it who sorted out that Customs snarl-up when we were trying to get those circuit boards out to Shanghai? And what about when our main supplier of soft furnishings went bust just when we had a half-million pound order to fill in less than a week? It was me who rang thirty different companies to find a substitute!" Yes, I remembered that one. I was out of town at a conference at the time. She hadn't called me but tried to deal with it herself. When I got back I showed her a much faster way of finding a new supplier through an Internet service I had helped to set up when I had been with my old employer. She had conveniently forgotten that lesson. I tried to decide how to respond without being too discouraging. She was a great girl and keen as mustard. I really could see her taking over one day... just not quite yet. "OK, look. I might let you take on more of the admin - I don't really enjoy that office stuff and it cuts into my time for doing real work - but I'd still have to be around to step in when you are in difficulties..." "But that's no good!" she interrupted. "If you're around the office, everyone will assume you're still in charge. I want them to come to me with their problems, and to make the decisions." "Well, I'm sorry," I insisted, "I can't let you be in charge if I'm not around, in case of emergencies. I can't see any way around that, can you?"" She was clearly angry. She was wearing a sheer white blouse with lace trim. You could see her slip through it. The way she was standing, her hands on her hips and her chest thrust forward... She caught me staring at her breasts and blouse. She tried another tack. "Do you like my outfit? So sexy, isn't it!" She was remembering how I'd behaved at the Christmas party. "Wouldn't you like to wear an outfit like this? After your outing as a Spanish senorita, I'll just bet you would!" I finished my lunch and carried on working without answering. After lunch while I was dictating another letter she caught me staring at her blouse again. I could see she was formulating a plan. She would love to take control and be in charge of everything and everyone. She clearly thought her goals were within reach if she was just bossy enough... * * * Later that afternoon Marilyn came in to go home with me. Her office is just round the corner and we often go to lunch together. She is a qualified accountant and makes good money. In fact I wouldn't have dared to leave and set up Lightning without the safety net of her salary coming in. When she arrived I was on the phone. She and Missy were chatting while I finished the call. In the lift Marilyn said, "Did you know Missy wants to run the company?" "Oh yes, she's always nagging me about it. I see how pushy she is with the rest of the staff and I know she would love to be in total control. I will tell you one thing: she would fall apart the first time she hit a snag where she couldn't figure out what to do." "She told me she thought she could do your job," she laughed. "I said if she could take over the company to go ahead and do it!" "Oh thanks for your loyalty," I said sarcastically, "but I think I know her pretty well, and if she tries to take over, I may just let her. It could be interesting to say the least." "You mean you would make her President of the company?" "Heavens, no! I might make her 'Acting Managing Director' on a trial basis. She still has a few lessons to learn and this could be a safe way to teach her. To be honest, I wouldn't mind taking a bit of a break. I still love solving my clients' logistics problems, but I'm not really enjoying the management side of running a business that much. Maybe I could stay as President but go part-time. I just need her to learn when to ask for help." * * * The next morning I was busy with phone calls to clients and didn't see Missy till mid-morning when I eventually buzzed her to bring us both some coffee. She was wearing a sheer blouse with pink and white floral pattern, and a pink skirt with an elastic waist. I couldn't help but stare at her gorgeous outfit. I could see she was wearing a black camisole underneath. She saw me staring and said in a low voice, "Wouldn't you like to wear this? It feels so sexy!" "I don't know," I said. Was she trying to hypnotise me? Was it working? My mouth was dry. I reached for my coffee. "Come on, we can change clothes and you can feel how sexy this feels. You know you want to!" I didn't really want that but I knew what she was up to. I just sat mute and staring. She helped me stand up and I did my best to act as if in a trance. It was all I could do to keep from laughing. She took my suit jacket, shirt and undershirt off me and laid them carefully on the desk. I hoped nobody would come in. It would be hard to explain. I would be wide open to a sexual harassment suit, and I had no idea how I would explain the situation to Marilyn if she found out. Missy saw my concern and locked the office door. Then she took a black long-line bra from her handbag and put it on me, stuffing the cups with plenty of tissue. Then she took her blouse and skirt off. I realised they were big on her. Underneath she was wearing a black bra, a black stretch lace camisole, and a black nylon half-slip with a wide lace hem. She soon had the camisole and blouse on me. Then she said my bottom half should match my top, so she quickly had my shoes, socks and pants off. She got her slip and skirt on me then had me sit while she put nylon knee highs on my feet. I almost laughed out loud as all of this was going on. I wondered what was going to happen next. She knelt to tie my shoes. Then she put on my suit and all the clothes she had taken off me. She stood back and looked at me with a satisfied smirk on her face. "Now, doesn't that reel sexy to wear?" In a low voice I said, "I don't know..." I could feel exciting things happening in my groin. "Well, now which one of us looks more like they are running the place?" "Right now you do, I guess. Can we change back now?" "Why should we change back? I like how it feels to be in charge. This is how we solve the problem of you having to be here while I'm running the company. You can be my secretary! Obviously everyone will know it's really you, but you won't look like the boss anymore. And if they all see you running around getting my coffee, typing my letters and doing the filing, they'll learn to treat me as the boss, not you!" "I suppose that might work..." "But if you don't do the job properly you will be demoted to file clerk. Do you understand?" "Yes, I understand perfectly." That last remark was particularly exciting. "Good! I think I am going to have Judith help you become more presentable." She called Judith, our most senior secretary after Missy - I mean me! - and told her to help me pick out a wig and shoes at Hampton's Women's shop and to get some make-up on me. She took two hundred out of petty cash and told Judith to bring back the receipts and change. On the way to the women's wear store Judith was, understandably, full of questions. I reassured her that I knew what I was doing, and that she and the rest of the team should just go along with it for the moment. "Well, OK, boss," she said doubtfully, "but I hope you don't plan on this going on for long. I don't think I could stand working for that bossy little cow permanently." Not what I wanted to hear - although her statement of personal loyalty was nice. * * * At the store I got a blonde wig which they styled in a severe-looking bun for me. "There! You'll look just like a senior secretary when we get you made up!" said Judith. "But I think we should get you a nice jacket too. That pink blouse of Missy's is just hideous on you!" So we did. We also got a pair of black pumps with a two-inch heel, and a medium-sized cream purse with a shoulder strap. Judith recommended a smart brown skirt suit, and obviously we had to replace the pink blouse. We got a light blue one, with a smart black skirt, and a cream one to go with the brown suit. I was a little nervous about stripping down to my bra in a public place - OK, in a fitting room cubicle - but both blouses fitted my new bosom rather better. Then we stopped at the New Woman salon where I got all made up. I had a marvellous time. The excitement of the Christmas party was all coming back. I reckoned I now passed easily as a professional woman. Of course we spent far more than two hundred, so I paid for everything myself and told Judith to put the money back in petty cash. That way I would own all my new clothes, not the company. (I realised I might also have to have a word with Missy about the uses of petty cash. We do get audited, even though it's my wife who does it.) Back at the office Missy approved how I looked and was glad to be able to put her own clothes back on. "Now you can go to your new desk, and enter the orders, and make sure when you are done with them that Kathie gets them filed," she said with a smirk on her face. "But first open your purse -- I have everything you had in your pockets right here." So I went and got busy and was entering the orders when Jenny, a bookkeeper, came in and asked me what was going on. "Well, Missy feels she can do a better job at running this place so I am giving her the chance. Don't worry, I think I know what I am doing. I am positive she will find out there is more to a job like that than sitting at a desk and bossing people around. I think I will just wait and see what happens." "I hope you know what you are doing. Why did you let her put you in a skirt?" "That was her idea entirely. Don't worry, I'm only going to be her secretary and I don't intend to get after you girls like she did. I believe you all know your jobs and you all do them as well as you can. Meanwhile we'll just have to wait and see what develops, and I think I know what is going to happen. Trust me -- I know what I am doing!" "I sure hope you do! I don't think I could work for her as a boss." I felt pretty good at hearing that from Jenny as well as Judith, but it did mean that I would have to watch Missy even more carefully or there would be mass resignations! * * * I was soon breezing through entering the orders and really starting to enjoy myself. Noon arrived, and Marilyn came in to take me out to lunch. She saw a strange woman sitting at Missy's desk. When she took a close look she saw it was her husband! "What happened to you? What's going on?" "I'll explain it over lunch. Let's go, I'm famished." At lunch I explained. I told her how hard it had been to keep a straight face. Marilyn was concerned but I assured her it would work out. When we finished eating she reminded me that my lipstick had to be redone. So we went to the little girls' room and redid it. She still couldn't believe I had allowed Missy to put me in a blouse and skirt. * * * Back at work the afternoon went fast. At quitting time Missy came out to me and said, "You know, your old job is easier than I thought." "Some days go really smoothly but others bring problems. Wait until you hit something hard before you say the job is easy." "I've seen how you handled problems, and I think I can handle anything that comes along." "We'll see!" "I hope you're not being cheeky to your boss, young lady! You're only a secretary now, you know! Oh, and by the way, I assume we'll be swapping salaries as well?" I didn't mind that actually. As the owner of the business I only took a notional salary - higher than hers, of course - but I took most of my remuneration as dividends from our profits. She would probably be disappointed by how small her increase would be. Anyway it would only be for a few days. I was positive she would soon face a problem she couldn't handle, and then I would show her how to run a business. * * * At home Marilyn said I should stay in my new clothes and wig 'to get used to them'. Throughout the evening she kept looking at me and licking her lips. At supper she said she liked my new image but thought I was stupid to let Missy think she could run the company. I told her that I was keeping a close eye on things and that I wouldn't let anything hurt our business. Bedtime was a reprise of the night after the Christmas party. Marilyn was wild! * * * The next morning I put on one of her fancy blouses and a navy blue sheath skirt. She hadn't worn either of them for a while as they were really too big for her. She laughed when she saw me. "You really are getting into the secretary role, aren't you? You look just like an office girl!" "Thanks. I figure this will disarm Missy into thinking she's in control of the situation. I want her to believe she has full rein on the company." "What do I call you now? You don't look like my husband, Jim, any more." "Oh right. I hadn't thought about that." "Well no one gets to name themselves, and as your mum and dad aren't here, I get to choose. I think you look like a Rosemary. I'll call you Rosie." "Fine, thanks." "And, between ourselves, Rosie, you're just as sexy as a secretary as you were as a senorita. Tonight I propose to give you a good seeing-to." I had a feeling Marilyn wasn't going to object to my transformation too strongly. * * * At work the next day I had typed two letters and was entering the orders from yesterday when Missy called me into my - now her - office. Bob, the guy who looked after our IT network joined us a minute later. "Bob, I need you to create a new user account for my secretary," Missy began. "O-kay-y..." he replied, still not sure of who was who, and who he now answered to. He shrugged. "So what's the name of the new account?" "Good point!" she turned to me. "You'll need a different name, won't you? Any ideas?" "Well, when I'm dressed like this Marilyn calls me Rosemary; um, Rosie, for short." I was a little embarrassed admitting it to them. "There you are, Bob. The new user ID will be for 'Mrs Rosemary Palmer'. All the other personal details should be the same as for our old boss, Jim Palmer, except that Rosie's account privileges should be reduced to those of any of the support staff. Oh, and freeze Jim's account - he won't be needing that for the moment. All my emails should be copied to Rosie, as my secretary, except for any marked 'Personal', of course. I suppose you should also forward all of Jim's emails to her too, but Rosie, I want your promise that any emails and letters intended for Jim as CEO of the company must come to me. You're not to respond to anything as if you were still the boss, alright?" "Yes, Missy." "OK, thanks, Bob. You can get on with that now." When a perplexed Bob had left, she continued. "I really think you should be calling me 'Miss Hermsen' to reinforce your new position." "But why? I never made you call me 'Mr Palmer'. We've always been on first name terms here!" "Well quite a few things are changing now, aren't they? I need the rest of the staff to see you treating me with proper respect." And she dismissed me back to my secretary desk. She didn't make anyone else use her surname - just me. Perhaps she thought the others would think she was being too bossy - again. While Missy was occupied with a telephone call I dropped by Bob's desk to ask him to set something up for me quietly and not to tell her about it. He grinned with evident relief that I wasn't handing the whole business over to her. I also suggested he pass the word quietly to the rest of the staff that they could always consult me somewhere out of Missy's sight if they were concerned about any of her instructions. Back at my desk I quickly started saving some important documents up to my personal cloud space as my new account as Rosie wouldn't have access to Jim Palmer's files. * * * On the Wednesday morning Ken Nicholls returned from visiting clients. He was a bright and charming young Sales Engineer, who I saw as our Sales Director one day, if the company continued to grow. He was the closest thing I had to a confidante at the office. Needless to say he was surprised by the changes that had occurred in his absence. Over coffee in the kitchen - and out of Missy's hearing - I tried to explain. "I'm really fond of her, and I think she has a great future here, but she's always complaining about not being given enough responsibility. I'm afraid she'll quit if I don't do something, but she needs to recognise her lack of experience. Think of this as a training exercise." "OK, but that doesn't explain why you have to do it in drag!" "Well she insisted she couldn't be the boss while I was around, and I insisted I had to be here to catch her if she falls. So she came up with this idea. If I look like a secretary, and act like a secretary, and treat her as the boss, then everyone else will too." "Sounds like rubbish to me," he grinned. "Are you sure you're not enjoying the cross-dressing just a bit?" "Actually, I am," I admitted with a laugh. "I'm loving being a lowly secretary. It's been really restful these last few days. I think I was getting close to burn-out as the boss, to be honest." "What does Marilyn think - about being married to a woman, I mean?" "She seems to like it; it's weird." I lowered my voice and checked no one was around. "And the sex has been phenomenal. I think she gets off on being dominant." "So that makes you her submissive?" "Hah! I'm pretending to be submissive for the sake of great sex, and to keep her onside for our little 'training exercise'." "Pretending, right..." * * * So Missy's first week as boss continued, and I settled in as her secretary, fetching her coffee, typing her letters, and filing. She also sent me out to fetch her dry cleaning and to buy a birthday present for Steve! I loved the feelings of my lacy lingerie under my skirt and swishing round the office in pantyhose and heels, and I was happy to offload the burdens of management, and not having to be responsible for every little decision. Being a secretary was fun! Meanwhile the rest of the staff seemed to think they had to consult Missy over every tiny everyday matter from signing off expenses chits to approving leave requests. When I was the boss I had delegated most of those things to her, but she didn't seem to want to relinquish any of her old responsibilities to her new secretary. As a result the constant interruptions were wearing her to a frazzle. She finally blew up in the middle of the afternoon when she was trying to finish off some new marketing material that I had started on the previous week. She was struggling with this, mainly because she wasn't really familiar with the technical aspects of the logistics business. At that point Judith came in to get her signature on a travel claim and Missy lost it. Shortly afterwards Judith emerged from the office a little hot and bothered. She paused by my desk, drew a deep breath, and winked at me. Missy burst out shortly afterwards instructing me to keep everyone out of her office for the rest of the afternoon. One of the things she delegated to me after that was customer enquiries from our website. She had always responded to these by emailing out company information, price schedules, etc. That task now fell to me. This was a fairly mind-numbing activity and always took Missy at least a couple of hours a day. By the end of the week I was doing it as efficiently as she had. I as Jim had made it a rule that if an enquiry, either through the website or by other means, wasn't completely routine, she should consult me. So I fully intended to go to her likewise with anything difficult to see if she knew what to do, but nothing like that came up that first week. I was still expecting her to make a mistake where I would have to step in and save the company from losing business, but in fact it was a quiet week with no major issues and Missy didn't put a foot wrong. Strangely, she also seemed to be becoming a little less bossy. Several members of the staff commented on it. Perhaps actually being the boss now, she felt more secure and didn't feel the need to throw her weight about. I made a point of leaving on the dot of 5.30, as she always had. Every day she was still at my - that is, her - desk when I left. When I got home I logged back into the network using a secret account she didn't know about, just to keep an eye on what she was up to when I wasn't around. When I left at close of play on Friday she was still at her desk. She was looking tired, I thought. * * * That weekend I talked things over with Marilyn. "It looks like Rosie might be around longer than you expected," she grinned. Then she got more serious. "So how exactly are you going to get your job back if Missy doesn't mess up?" "What do you mean? I can just step in and put things back the way they were at any time... can't I?" "Well it depends on what you said when you agreed the swap. She could argue that she has a verbal contract to be the MD until she makes a mistake - or until she decides to go back to being your secretary. And if she doesn't do anything wrong, she just might have your job for good!" "Don't be silly! You and I own the business. We're the Board and we can sack her any time we like." "You're assuming that I would vote for that. If she does a good job and makes the business more profitable, why would I want to sack her?" "What?" I exclaimed. "You'd vote against me?" "It's nothing personal, dear; only business," she laughed. "Besides I rather like seeing you as a busty little secretary." She was eyeing my legs and chest, and licking her lips again. "It would still be 50-50," I blustered, "and I get the casting vote as CEO." "But you're not the CEO, are you? She is! I guess you'd better be right about her messing up eventually." I was in a state of shock. Surely Marilyn was teasing, wasn't she? She was certainly better informed about company law than I was. I relied on her. I couldn't have her taking Missy's side. "Anyway, I think you should expect to be Rosie the secretary for a while yet," she went on. "In which case, we should do something to improve your disguise. You look quite good already, but at lunch the other day I could see some people looking at you a bit strangely. Your figure is too straight up-and-down. You need curves - like you had as the senorita at the Christmas party." "I can't wear that shapewear all day! It's too hot and uncomfortable." "No, I know, but I think there's a good alternative. There's a place I've read about that might be able to help. It's a bit of a drive, but I think we should go there this afternoon. I'll call for an appointment. Meanwhile you'd better ditch the T-shirt and jeans and drag yourself up as Rosie again." Hmm, I thought I could still be Jim in the evenings and weekends. I didn't want Rosie to take over all my life. * * * The shop she was talking about was called Transformations. When we turned up at the appointed time, we were greeted by a very well-dressed, coiffed and made-up middle-aged lady. She introduced herself as Mrs McLaughlin, and insisted we call her Ingrid. She gave me a cursory inspection and was clearly unimpressed. I suspected she might be a product of the shop's services herself, but she didn't have a noticeable Adam's apple, and although her voice was deepish, it was well within the contralto range. More significantly, her mannerisms and gestures were entirely feminine, and without the giveaway exaggerations of a Drag Queen. If she was a man underneath, she was very, very good. Marilyn was all business. "This is Rosie, my husband," she explained. "He has decided to live as a woman for a while, and we'd like him to be as convincing as possible." To her credit, Ingrid showed absolutely no interest in why I needed to change sex. "Excellent, I'm sure we can help," she began, in a business- like manner. "There are lots of things we can do. They fall into three categories: prostheses and other equipment which he can put on and take off again, and which in no way affect his ability to appear as a man..." "That's what we want," I interrupted. I was preparing to say more, but Marilyn cut me off. "Let Ingrid finish, dear," she said firmly. "Thank you, Mrs Palmer. Secondly, we can make a few changes which are more permanent, but which again won't prevent him from returning to his original male appearance." "Can you give me some examples of that?" Marilyn asked, before I could. I was beginning to wonder whether I was part of this conversation. (It seemed that my wife was treating me like an office girl all the time now.) "Well, to be able to use the prostheses he would have to wax all over..." "Huh?" I began. That sounded painful. "...but if he is going to stay as a woman for any length of time, he might prefer to go the whole hog and get rid of all his body hair by electrolysis or laser treatment," Ingrid continued, again ignoring my squeak of protest. "You see what I mean? That's permanent, but lots of men have little or no body hair. Another example would be a tracheal shave to remove his Adam's apple, although his isn't too prominent. That's a minor op of course; we have an arrangement with a local clinic. "Then there's his hair. His wig isn't bad, though we can do better. But if he's proposing to stay as Rosie for any length of time, you should consider doing his own hair in a feminine style. That would probably include tinting, highlights, maybe a perm, and you might want to think about hair extensions. That's all reversible of course, but not so easily. He couldn't appear as a woman during the day and a man in the evening, say." "I'm not sure about that..." I began. But Marilyn was nodding and looking thoughtful. "Mmm, I think we should stick with a wig for the moment, but I quite like the idea of him being smooth all over..." she said, as though I hadn't spoken. "What about the third category? I assume that's the really permanent stuff?" "That's right - hormones, obviously; breast implants; tightening of the vocal chords to raise his voice; liposuction and then injection of the fat removed from his tummy into his thighs and buttocks; and so on. Some of our 'girls' even have ribs removed to narrow their waists. We can arrange pretty much everything short of full SRS - our clinic needs psychiatric consultation to go there." It was time to put my foot down. I was owner of my own business, a captain of industry, and I was getting annoyed! "OK, that's enough," I said. "Let's stick to the prosthetic stuff for now, shall we? This will only be for a few days - a couple of weeks at the outside." Marilyn laughed. "I think my little girl is getting squeamish. Alright then, what can we do in Category One?" Ingrid smiled, sharing the joke at my expense. "If you would like to follow me, I'll show you our Photographic suite. We make computer models of your body and show you what you could look like. Then when you've chosen a design, we use 3D printing to make the prostheses. We're not too busy today, so we can probably get it all done this afternoon." * * * The next half an hour was my most embarrassing experience so far. I had to strip right down to my panties (pink, with frilly lace around the waist and leg openings, if you're interested), and stand on a little dais in a small dark cubicle. Ingrid's voice through a loudspeaker commanded to me to stand stock still with my arms out to my side, and try not to blink when the lights came on. That was easier said than done as they were very bright. Two cameras mounted on circular tracks orbited around me, snapping away. After two circuits they stopped and the bright lights went off again. A small safety lamp came on and Ingrid told me I could get dressed, and then to join her and Marilyn at the computer console next door. When I got there, they were studying the photographs, which had been assembled by the software into a three dimensional picture of my body. This was something of a shock; I hadn't realised I was so skinny and with so little muscle definition. "OK, I can now superimpose an image of an idealised female body the same height as him over his frame," Ingrid announced. She did so and the combined picture showed areas where my body was inside the female shape - these were coloured green - and areas where my body overflowed the female shape; these were red. It was a fascinating process. "So we can make prostheses for the green zones which will pad him out to the ideal feminine shape. Those areas are mainly the hips, thighs and buttocks, and of course the breasts. But the red zones are the problem - the shoulders and waist. A corset or waist cincher would help but would be a bit uncomfortable for wearing all day, and it wouldn't do anything for the shoulders." This was what we had realised when we got the shapewear for my Christmas costume. My hips had to be as wide as my shoulders, with corresponding thighs, buttocks and breasts, or I would look too obviously like a man in drag. This is what had attracted people's attention in the restaurant the other day. They might not have realised exactly what was odd about my shape, but they had instinctively recognised something was 'off'. "So we'll have to increase all your dimensions slightly to compensate," Ingrid went on. "I'll dial up the sizes a little." She moved the computer mouse to a sliding scale which seemed to go from 0 to 28 - I assumed the numbers corresponded to dress sizes, or something very like that. The female shape broadened out. She had to go up to dress size 16 to get rid of most of the red zones, and even then my shoulders still stuck out a bit. It seems I was going to be plumpish again. "Fwhoarr! Dead sexy," Marilyn said, in a passable imitation of a dirty old man. Ingrid laughed. "So, if you're both happy with that, I'll send the specs off to the 3D printer. It will take a little while for the prostheses to be produced and 'cured'. Why don't you go and get a coffee? If you come back in about an hour, I can fit the prostheses and show you how to look after them. You might also want to get some new underwear for Rosemary." She consulted a table on the computer screen. "Her bra size will be 44C - bigger than average for a size 16 dress because of your shoulders - and her statistics will be 44-31-42." * * * After more ridiculous spending on new bras and panties, a sexy black corset, and a couple of size 16 dresses and skirt suits, we made our way back to Transformations. We had agreed - that is, Marilyn and Ingrid had agreed - that I would be waxed hairless. The least said about that ghastly experience, the better. The fitting process was even more deeply embarrassing as I had to be completely naked for that. Both prostheses were 'anatomically correct' and very convincing. You could hardly see the joins. The soft flesh mimicked the real thing perfectly in terms of movement and 'feel'. Marilyn was particularly fascinated, stroking and kneading my huge new breasts and big round buttocks. "They're just like the real thing," she whispered, hoarsely. My discomfort from being naked in front of two members of the opposite sex (I assumed) was apparently matched by Marilyn's - though her discomfort was of a quite different nature. She seemed to be sweating a little and struggling for breath. The abdominal prosthesis had a little tube for my member, connected at the other end to my faux vaginal slit. It was the only completely rigid part of either prosthesis, presumably in order to prevent unseemly erections, which I imagined might then be a little uncomfortable. The prostheses were skin-tight and seemed to stay in place quite firmly, but Ingrid recommended that for maximum comfort and realism they should be stuck onto me with medical adhesive. This would be waterproof and, if left alone, would last until I shed a layer of skin - i.e. ten to twelve days! - although I could remove them at any time with an appropriate solvent. She gave us a supply of both. I resolved to have nothing to do with the adhesive. The biggest benefit of this whole transformation for me was the sex, and for that I would need full and unconstrained access to my manhood! Getting dressed in my new lingerie with my soft, jiggly and extremely realistic feminine flesh, was a mind-blowing experience. So much so that I wondered (not for the first time) whether it would be easy to give this up when Missy eventually conceded and our little 'training exercise' was all over. As a bonus for the amount we spent on my prostheses, Ingrid arranged for one of her minions to style my new wig, paint my nails, and give me a professional makeup lesson. They also shaped my eyebrows which was, if anything, even more painful than the body waxing. Afterwards I stood in front of a mirror in my bra and knickers, trembling. Ingrid was all smug professional pride, commenting on how well I had turned out. It occurred to me that I wouldn't be able to turn back into Jim easily... Marilyn was flushed and hurriedly excused herself, muttering about needing the bathroom. * * * I was really starting to look the part now, and I loved it. It seemed that Marilyn did too. In bed that night she was a tigress, pawing my breasts and my enhanced bum, then tearing my frilly panties and false butt off me. She pushed me down and screamed like a banshee as she impaled herself on my engorged member. She came loudly twice before she allowed me any release. Cuddling in the afterglow, I asked her what was going on. She had the grace to look a little embarrassed. "I don't know really. I just find dressing you up as a girl an incredible turn-on. I've been desperate to do it again ever since the Christmas party. I just didn't know how to ask you." She added diffidently, "Maybe I have a little lesbian in me..." She giggled when she realised the double entendre. "Or maybe it's just a fetish...?" "Do you want to make love the way two girls do?" "No thanks, I'm very happy with the way we do it now, though I do like being on top. You may look like a girl and wear frilly knickers, a bra and skirts, but that great big thing of yours makes you all man - well, she-male!" "So it seems my fetish for girly clothes and your fetish for girly men match perfectly," I said. * * * That conversation seemed to clear the air, and on Sunday morning Marilyn had no further embarrassment pushing me further along this new journey. "You look great now, but you still have a lot to learn about behaving like a woman. We need to keep you in tight skirts and high heels to force you to walk like a girl. You need to learn what to do with your hands - you keep trying to stuff them in your trouser pockets when you're wearing a skirt. We'll go out together as girl friends as often as we can, so I can watch how you move and sit and gesture, and correct you when you do things the way a man would." "OK," I agreed - as if I had any say in the matter - still wondering where all this enthusiasm for my feminisation was coming from - and where it might be going. "And to help get you in the proper mindset, I think you should start using my car to get to work. That BMW M5 of yours is hardly suitable for a little office girl. Even my roadster is a bit much, but you should start using that." Rats! I loved my M5. * * * Marilyn insisted I stay as Rosie for the rest of the weekend. We went out for brunch on the Sunday morning, followed by a walk in the park. We had afternoon tea in a caf? by the lake. She was continually instructing me on my walk, my mannerisms, and my gestures. Several times we were approached by men, but Marilyn rebuffed them all sharply by taking my hand and kissing me on the lips. "Don't you dare even look at those Lotharios, young lady! You're all mine!" It was embarrassing at first, but I soon grew to like it. The second week So on the Monday morning of Missy's second week I put on one of my new size 16 dresses - a red, black and grey striped number - and a short black jacket. Then I drove to the office in Marilyn's little Mazda convertible. It was quite a challenge getting the seating position right. I was bigger than Marilyn in every dimension. With the seat too far back my arms weren't long enough to reach the steering wheel comfortably. Any further forward and my ginormous boobs were squashed against it. I also couldn't work out how to fasten the seat belt across my bountiful chest. When I got to the car park I realised Missy was already in and had parked in my space. No surprise there, I suppose. In the office as I was making my way to Missy's - that is, my desk, I could feel everyone's heads turning toward me and caught their gasps of surprise. The other secretaries came bounding up to me for a closer look, complimenting me on my hair, makeup, and dress. They were treating me as one of them, my real identity apparently forgotten - just as Missy had hoped. The men kept their distance, too embarrassed to approach me. I dropped my handbag in the desk drawer and switched on my computer. Then I picked up my notepad and went to see if my boss wanted anything. Missy gaped. "You look amazing! Thanks for doing this so thoroughly. No one would think you were once the boss." She looked me up and down, appraisingly. "You are a big girl now though, aren't you?" I blushed. She held out her coffee mug. "Right then, Porky, to business," she grinned, and added briskly, "Wash this up and bring me a fresh cup. You know how I like it." At least I had always said please! * * * The day went on. Missy had learnt to ration her time a little and now had me dealing with some of the more trivial matters that had driven her to distraction the previous week. But she had gotten in the habit of closing her office door - something I had never done. As a result I had become her gatekeeper to the rest of the staff, and she was in danger of becoming remote to them. I wondered if she realised how that would affect morale. We had to start our quarterly budget round this week too, which would obviously mean a lot of work for the new boss. We had always done this together before so Missy knew the ropes. Every quarter our senior staff would ask for time and money to devote to their little projects, and it was always a matter of deciding what to fund, what to refuse, and what to defer till next quarter. I had glanced through this quarter's requests and, more importantly, had debriefed each of the applicants to understand what they were asking for and why they thought it was necessary. They were all relieved that I was still involved in the process, though I hastened to point out I was only a secretary now, and the budget would be Missy's decision as she was the boss. None of them could tell if I was joking. But it meant that I knew what I would have authorised if I were still in charge, so I was ready when Missy called me in to help her. "Now, Rosie, you understand that this quarter's budget will be my decision, but I'd be happy to hear your opinions. After all, Jim always listened to my advice when I was his secretary, so it's only fair." "Yes, Miss Hermsen," I said, dutifully. "Have you talked to anybody yet?" "What about?" she asked, apparently puzzled. "To ask them for more detail about their requests. I - that is, Jim - always did that. For example, not being an IT techy, Jim didn't always understand what Bob wanted, so he had to ask for a layman's explanation..." "Well I haven't got time for all that," she said crossly. "Look, I saw you going round talking to everyone this morning. As a secretary that wasn't your job, but as you've done it, you might as well tell me what they said. But how we allocate the investment budget this quarter is still my decision, right?" It seemed she was trying to have her cake and eat it. I decided it was time to put the 'training exercise' on hold for a moment. I went to close the office door. Then I turned back to her and, still standing, put my secretary's notepad down and took my wig off to indicate I was Jim again. "Look, Missy, I went to Bob and Ken and the others as part of my monitoring role to make sure you didn't make bad investment decisions that could harm the business. You should have done that. Without that information you're not in a position to set the budget properly. Are you saying you want to swap back and be Jim's secretary again?" "No!" she said angrily. "You're not being fair. A good boss makes the most of all her staff's abilities. When you were in charge you didn't need to talk to everyone about their budget bids yourself, you could have sent me! I would have understood their proposals and could have helped you more. You didn't delegate sensibly, which is probably one reason why you were getting stressed. OK, I may have repeated some of your mistakes, but I'm learning, and I know I'll be better than you were at delegating." I guess some of what she said was true. I sat back down, sweeping my skirt beneath me. I put my wig back on and picked up my pad. "Thank you, Rosie," she said with a little smile of triumph. "Now tell me what Bob said about moving our online catalogue to the Cloud." We got on with the budget meeting. * * * Something much more significant happened the next day: an email came in from Romex Composites, a big regional engineering company. It was an invitation to tender to supply a wide range of logistics services. If I were CEO still, I would definitely want to pull out all the stops to get that business. We could double the size of the company in a year! But I really doubted whether Missy would be up to managing our proposal. The email had come in to our general email inbox. Before forwarding it to Missy, I slipped round to Ken's office at the other end of our floor. I told him about the ITT, and that he would probably have to draft the proposal. He blanched. "But I've never done anything that big before! You'll have to help. Hell, you'll have to write most of it!" "I can't," I replied. "I'm only a ditzy little secretary, remember?" "Oh, for God's sake, Jim! I knew this silly game of yours with Missy would blow up in our faces. She won't be able to do this!" "Relax, obviously I will help you. We just have to do it so she doesn't know I'm involved. I'm going to go off sick this morning. I'll write the proposal at home and email it to your personal account. Then you can pass it off to Missy as your own work. But don't do anything until she calls on you. Till then you haven't even seen the Romex email, right?" "OK, I'll wait till she calls me in. You do realise she's sure to know I couldn't have written a proposal like this without your input?" "That doesn't matter. The important thing is for her to recognise her own shortcomings and realise my job isn't as easy as she thinks. If she hasn't at least got you involved by close of play tonight, I think that's a good enough reason for me to end our little arrangement. Call me at home if you haven't heard anything from her by half-past five - or if it looks like she's doing anything dumb." He agreed to watch Missy carefully. I went over to Judith, sniffled a bit, and asked her to cover for me for the rest of the day. Then I went back to my desk. I forwarded the Romex email to Missy and also to my home email account. Then I shut down my computer and started packing up my things. I was rummaging in my purse for the keys to Marilyn's girly little car when Missy came rushing out of the office, looking flustered. "Rosie, did you read this email from Romex?" "I just skimmed it, Miss Hermsen. I realised it was for you - as the CEO." "Well, it's a really big deal, and..." She broke off when she realised I was standing up and putting my coat on. "Are you going somewhere?" "I'm really sorry, but I'm feeling dreadful, a touch of the flu, I think. I'm going to have to go home. I don't want to infect everyone in the office." "But you can't! I mean I'm going to need you to..." "Oh, don't worry, ma'am," I interrupted. "I've asked Judith to cover for me as your secretary. She's not too busy at the moment." I waved to Judith as she came over to report to Missy. I turned and made my way to the lift. I wondered how long it would take her to think of calling Ken in. "But..." came Missy's plaintive tones. * * * I drove home and started work on the proposal. Fortunately it was very like many I'd done before, though potentially much bigger. When I read through the ITT, I realised there were lots of gaps. We would need a meeting with the client to quiz them further over details. Ken called just before noon. He was quite cheerful. "I hovered around at your desk talking to Judith for a while after you left," he said. "There were some interesting noises coming from your office - I mean her office. She might have been crying at one point. She eventually came out looking really worried. When she saw me she grabbed me and pulled me back inside. She told me about the Romex ITT and asked what I thought. I told her it was a great opportunity and we should drop everything to win it. She turned a bit paler but agreed. She asked if I had any ideas about how to go about it. I told her I would have to give it some thought." "Did she come up with any suggestions herself?" "Not really. She said we should both jot down our initial thoughts and compare notes at the end of the day. I suppose it's a good sign that she's asking for help?" I agreed. "Do you have anything for me yet?" he continued. "Actually, yes," I replied. "There are a number of areas we need to clarify with them, mostly about sizes and types of consignments. At the moment their proposed contract is completely open-ended. We might have to transport anything from a box of pencils to a live elephant - or even a herd of elephants!" Ken laughed. "So what should we do about that?" "We need a meeting with them - an hour should be enough. Now, I'm still going to be off sick tomorrow so that I can finish the first draft. Check with Missy first, but get Judith to try and arrange a meeting with the Romex client for Thursday or Friday. It should be for the three of us. As her secretary, she should have me there to take notes, but I need to hear what they say for myself. I doubt Missy will object to me going, but if she does you need to insist I come. I'll email you a list of questions in case anyone challenges the need for a meeting - but don't forget: you thought of all these questions." * * * So on Thursday morning at ten o'clock the three of us trooped into a comfortable meeting room at Romex's headquarters downtown. Missy introduced herself as the MD of Lightning and Ken as our chief Sales Engineer. As an afterthought she indicated me and hoped they wouldn't mind her bringing her secretary along to take a few notes? They were quite happy about that. Indeed after studying my legs carefully, the young Romex research engineer winked at me. Missy was wearing a very serious pant suit, so I guess I was the only totty on view that day. Everyone sat down. Ken and Missy sat at the conference table opposite the three Romex people. I sat behind my boss at a little secretary's table. I was using a tablet computer to take notes, rather than paper, and I was concealed from our hosts behind Ken's six-foot three frame. As Pete, the Romex boss, was introducing his team, Ken placed a large ring-binder on the table, and took out his fountain pen and an A4 pad. Then he made a little fuss about turning off his mobile phone, placing it behind the ring-binder out of Missy's sight. It was a good meeting. After a few general platitudes about how keen we were to work with Romex, Missy grudgingly handed over the detailed questioning to Ken, and he went through everything I'd prepped him with. As the discussion got more and more technical, Missy began to look at Ken uncertainly. She knew he was a decent engineer, but she'd thought he was still learning the logistics business. She hadn't realised the depth of his knowledge. But what really floored her - and brought knowing smiles to the faces of the Romex guys - were his follow-up questions. He was impressing everybody with his insight and his deep understanding of procurement, requisition and transportation. Of course he was getting the follow-up questions from text messages on his phone, and they were coming from my tablet computer! After about forty minutes, we took a coffee break, Missy volunteering me to pour and pass the cups around. At that point the door opened and a very tall, very handsome man walked in unannounced. The other Romex guys came to attention smartly. Their spokesman introduced the newcomer. "Miss Hermsen, Mr Nicholls, this is Fred Murray, our Regional Managing Director," he said. But I knew exactly who he was. Fred was my room-mate and best friend ten years ago at college! We'd lost touch, apart from Christmas and birthday cards, and I hadn't seen him for years. Now here he was and staring hard at me! Would he recognise me in my office girl blouse and skirt? I thought I was going to faint. "I'm pleased to meet you all," Fred was saying. "I thought I'd come and introduce myself. I used to know..." At that point he dried up. Was that recognition in his eyes? "Well, never mind," he continued. He turned to Ken and Missy. "So are you getting everything you need?" "Oh yes, thank you," Missy gushed. "It's been very helpful. I'm confident we'll be able to offer you a very attractive proposal." "I'm sure you will," he smiled. "Anyway, carry on with your meeting. I'll just sit in for a few minutes." We took our seats again. It was hard to say who was most nervous at Fred's presence: me or the other Romex guys. Missy had picked up there was something in the air but couldn't work out what. Ken was oblivious to any charge in the atmosphere and happily ploughed on with his questions. "Nearly at the end now," he said. "We just wanted to check a few points on volumes and discounts..." * * * After about ten minutes, Fred interrupted. "I have another meeting I must get to, but I just have a couple of questions regarding Lightning personnel. We'd like to know who we'll be dealing with if we award you the contract. What exactly is your role, Ms Hermsen? I understood that Jim Palmer was your MD?" And there it was: the question both Missy and I had been dreading, though for different reasons. "Oh, er..." Missy started, clearly rattled, "I'm Acting MD. Mr Palmer is currently taking a, er, sabbatical." "And what's your background?" Fred pressed. "Are you an engineer? A Procurement Officer?" "Administration, mainly," she said, helplessly. "I manage... client contacts, the staff, budgets, and so on. I am currently overseeing your proposal, for example," she added, brightly. "Uh huh, and how do you do that if you have no logistics expertise?" "Well, Ken and Jim do all that," she admitted. "Jim has written most of the technical sections of our proposal." So she had realised that! I saw Ken looking at her with amusement. I cast my eyes down and focused on my note-keeping. I hoped I was keeping a straight face. Fred turned to his chief minion. "Okay, give me a shout when you're finished, would you, Pete? I'll come down and see them out." We stayed on for another half an hour after Fred left the meeting, and it took almost all that time for my heart rate to return to normal. The Romex team were very friendly and assured us that we had a good chance of winning their business. They were aware we were only a small outfit, but saw that we knew our stuff. We packed up, retrieved our coats from the en suite cloakroom, and prepared to leave. I dropped my tablet in my handbag, threw the strap over my shoulder, and followed Missy and Ken out of the room. Fred turned up again as Pete led us to the lift. He shook hands with Ken and Missy and wished them good luck with the proposal. As they were stepping into the lift, and I was preparing to follow, he reached out and grabbed my arm in a firm grip. "I'm just going to borrow your secretary for a moment if that's alright, Missy. Don't wait; I'll see she gets back to your office." I caught a last glimpse of Missy's worried face as the lift doors closed. Pete and the others were nonplussed. What on earth did their boss want with a non-entity little secretary from another company? I wasn't much wiser myself, but I had no doubt now that he knew exactly who I was. He glanced at me, put a finger to his lips to ward off any questions or protests I might have come out with, and virtually frogmarched me the length of the floor to his office. "No interruptions," he barked to his secretary as he pushed me inside, "for any reason at all. Understand?" He closed the door behind us - and started laughing. "Jim, you great pillock! How on earth did this happen?" "I'll explain, if you stop staring at my legs. After all you've seen them before, on the rugby field." "Not shaved, in stockings and high-heels, I haven't. The boobs are new too. C'mon - give!" So I explained. * * * Fred Murray and I were inseparable for three years in engineering lectures, at parties, and on the rugby field, where I was a slippery, nippy scrum-half and he was a massive and terrifying second row. We were each other's wingmen with the ladies, though he was effortlessly successful while I was happy just to escort his conquests' best friends. His size 14 sock was virtually a permanent feature on our flat's doorknob, signalling his need for me to spend the evening elsewhere. The time I spent in the library as a consequence no doubt contributed to my first-class degree. How he scraped an upper-second was a mystery to both of us. Marilyn was the only interruption to our friendship. He fancied her something rotten but unlike just about every other undergraduette at the university, she only had eyes for me. He backed off with good grace when it became apparent that we were soulmates. I have never looked at another woman since (apart from to admire her dress sense, I mean). Unfortunately after university Fred and I took jobs in different parts of the country and gradually lost touch, apart from Xmas cards. He joined Romex and was sent all over the place but seemingly never where Marilyn and I were. Finally the crazy work schedule I had to live under to set up our own business ruled out travel, holidays, sometimes even mealtimes. * * * "So when you sent me the email about setting up Lightning I made a mental note to put you on our 'Prospective New Suppliers' list'," Fred said. I had sent that introductory email to pretty much everyone in my Contacts list. I had forgotten it included Fred - and of course I had no idea he had risen to such great heights within Romex. That explained a lot. In my office girl guise I felt even smaller now next to him. "I've seen your proposal, and your track record," Fred continued, "and your price schedule is very attractive. How on earth can you manage those discounts?" "No overheads," I explained. "We have a tiny, 'no frills' office; we hot-desk; and we do virtually everything digitally. Also we have a network of small suppliers and distributors. It's the Japanese model. We never use big companies, because we'd just wind up paying for their big fancy offices and their CEOs' private jets. Everyone in our supply chain is lean and hungry." "Brilliant!" he laughed. "I shouldn't say this, but I think you have it in the bag..." "That's great..." I began. "Or it would be," he went on, "as long as I don't veto you." "What! Why would you do that? Anyway I thought you had nothing to do with the selection process?" "Not the selection, but I can still reject their recommendation." He saw my face clouding over. "But I won't - if you do something for me..." "What?" "Have dinner with me on Saturday night." "What!" "You and Marilyn, I mean. It'll be great to see her again too." My relief must have shown. "I mean you as Rosie, of course." I started to object, but he stopped me. "Well, if I had dinner with Marilyn and Jim, I'd be the gooseberry, but with Marilyn and Rosie, I'll be a stud - the envy of every man there!" Same old Fred. * * * We spent more than an hour catching up, then he arranged for me to be taken back to our little office in a Romex car. Missy and Ken were waiting on tenterhooks. "What did he say about the meeting?" Ken asked. "What did he want with you?" Missy demanded to know, sure that I'd stepped outside my secretary role. I decided to keep most of my conversation with Fred private. "He asked me out to dinner," I said, and pushed past them to my desk. "What!" they said, almost in