Acting as a Cleaning Lady Chapter 10 Our New Careers
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Acting As A Cleaning Lady - Chapter 5 - Learning New Skills free porn video
Acting as a Cleaning Lady
An Unfinished Story by Susannah Donim
If Dave is to become Maria full-time, he has a lot to learn.
Chapter 5 - Learning New Skills
So in gown and flip-flops, my new feminine flesh jiggling
disconcertingly, I wobbled along behind her down the corridor to the
hairdressing salon. As Vera had predicted I couldn't seem to stop my
new butt swinging from side to side.
At the salon Vera introduced me to Sharon and left me with her. She
led me to a chair that looked like something from a dentist's surgery.
I soon found out it could be raised or lowered, swivelled or tilted,
and there was a dangerous-looking apparatus beside it that looked a
little like a dentist's drill.
I sat down at Sharon's invitation and found out for the first time
what it felt like to sit on big, round feminine buttocks. They were
like high cushions. I was afraid I was going to fall off my own
backside.
"Before we start, when did you last use shampoo on your hair?" asked
Sharon.
"Thursday night, I think. Why?"
"We recommend you wash your hair between twenty-four and forty-eight
hours before we dye it. That allows the natural oils to develop, and
then the dye binds to your hair better. Thursday night would be..."
She paused to work it out. "...about thirty-six hours. So that's
fine. Did you use conditioner?"
"I've never used conditioner," I said. "I'm a guy... underneath all
this, I mean."
She laughed. "That's good too. Conditioner removes the natural
oils."
Sharon was a chatty lady who went on to describe what was coming next.
"We've got you down for hair extensions," she said, "because the
average young Spanish woman would probably have hair down to the
middle of her back. Now there many different types. Some are purely
decorative, like for a fun night out; others won't work for hair of
the length we have in mind for you. It may also depend on how long
you'd like them to last. The instructions I've been given are: to
last indefinitely with minimum maintenance. Does that sound right?"
I nodded glumly. I certainly didn't want to spend my spare time
messing with my hair.
"OK," she continued, "so going up through quality and price: there's
the instant option - clip-ins, but that obviously won't work for you.
Then there are tape-in extensions; they have a line of adhesive along
the top of the strip which sticks to the roots of your own hair.
Tape-ins are quite good, but you can tell they're artificial if you
look closely and you know what you're looking for. Also they only
last around a month.
"Next up is micro-rings or micro-beads. These are small clusters of
hair extensions which are clamped onto strands of your own hair with a
tiny bead or metal ring near the roots. They last for around three
months, depending on how fast your hair grows out. The upside of
micro-rings is that you don't need to use glue or heat when you apply
them. The downside is that the ring can damage your hair over time,
especially if gets hot when you have your hair done.
"Another method is a weave, which is good for thick, coarse hair
types. I would braid your own hair tightly and then sew the extension
weft to the braid. It needs checking with your stylist every few
weeks to make sure the braids are still intact; they may need
tightening up.
"Finally, there are pre-bonded hair extensions. The extension hair is
bonded in advance rather than using loose hair during a fitting. Pre-
bonded extensions are fitted using a heat gun, which melts a small
keratin bond to a section of your own hair. The infusion of keratin
helps to protect the natural hair it is applied to. It's usually good
for four to six months."
She paused to let it all sink in. "So what do you think?"
"I'm totally blinded by your science," I sighed. "What would you
recommend?"
"Well, I think clip-ins and tape-ins are probably out. All the others
are possible. The pre-bonded extensions last the longest and require
the least maintenance, but if you need to remove the extensions, you
need acetone to break down the bonds. Of course you can always just
get a crew cut. Also you need to avoid excessive heat, though
ordinary washing in lukewarm water will be fine."
"OK, I'm happy to go with that then. How long will it take?"
"Probably about an hour, but then we still have to dye it black and
style it. You'll be here for a while yet, but we can do other things
while we're waiting for it to dry."
= = =
Sharon put a plastic cape around my neck and helped me get comfortable
on the dentist's chair. After that I don't really remember much of
the next hour. What I had mistaken for a drill was in fact a 'fusion
heating iron' for melting the keratin bonds and applying the
extensions. After five minutes of this treatment I was finding it
hard to stay awake. I was still half-cut. Sharon talked incessantly
but softly while pressing loops of hair to my head. I dozed off in a
fog of alcohol and warmth and chatter.
I was dreaming sweet dreams of Sally and I taking each other's bras
and panties off when Sharon shook me gently awake.
"All finished, love. Now I have to move you over to the sink for your
tint."
I tried to get to my feet. My head ached and my mouth was dry. All
the changes struck me together. I was heavier, with new wobbly flesh
in unexpected places, and there was so much hair! It fell in my eyes,
down my back, and down my front to my breasts. I saw myself in the
salon mirror. I couldn't see my face for hair - and it was several
different shades of brown. It looked weird. I staggered. I was
desperate for the toilet.
"Careful, pet!" said Sharon. "Oh, did Vera fill you full of booze for
your waxing? I keep telling her not to overdo it. Let me get you
some water."
I drank three cups, which helped and Sharon led me to the Ladies.
Well there wasn't much point in trying to go to the Gents now. I
entered a stall and worked my panties down to my ankles. I sat down
and again had the sensation of sitting on a pile of cushions. I tried
to make sure my faux vagina was pointed generally downwards before
relaxing the familiar muscles. The wee caught me by surprise. It
came out quickly in a spray, fortunately most of it in the right
direction. I grabbed some toilet roll and wiped up the surplus on my
legs and the toilet seat. At least I knew how to do better next time.
I pulled my panties back up, fastened my gown, and went to wash my
hands. I couldn't help but react at the sight of the unfamiliar freak
in the mirror. Why on earth was I doing this?
When I'd got myself back under control and returned to the salon,
Sharon showed me to an ordinary hairdresser's chair in front of a sink
and a mirror. She swivelled the chair around, tilted it, and pumped
the pedal to get me to the right height so that my neck rested
comfortably on a smooth recess in the side of the basin.
"First I need to cover your face and neck with grease, especially
around your hairline. The dye will stain if any of it runs off your
hair onto your skin. With a layer of grease on you, any overspill dye
will just wipe off."
She rubbed something that looked and smelt like Vaseline all over my
forehead, neck, and where my sideburns would have been if Vera hadn't
ripped them out. Then she put on a pair of latex surgical gloves and
picked up a small basin which she filled with thick black liquid from
a jug.
"I'm going to apply the dye using a toothbrush and a small sponge,"
she said. "I find it's the best way to make sure that it's applied
evenly and that I don't miss any strands. This will take a while.
You might want to close your eyes. The fumes from the dye are
harmless but they might make your eyes water a little."
I was happy to do that. I could feel Sharon colouring sections of my
hair from the roots out, although I couldn't tell the difference
between my own hair and the extensions. I think I must have fallen
asleep again, because when she announced she had finished, nearly an
hour had passed.
"You dozed off again, Maria," she smiled. "I finished twenty minutes
ago, and now it's time to rinse."
I quite enjoyed the next stage. She washed my hair in clear, lukewarm
water, gently massaging my scalp to make sure there was no surplus dye
anywhere. She rubbed my face all over with wet wipes to remove the
grease. Then she turned me round.
I saw a mass of long, unkempt, jet-black hair, with my dark brown face
peeping out, as though from behind two curtains. How on earth was I
going to manage all that hair? I noticed she had also dyed my
eyebrows.
"OK, a couple of maintenance hints," Sharon said. "You need to get
your wife to dab dark tint on your roots with cotton wool about once a
week. I'll give you some of the dye I used. She'll probably know
what to do. Secondly, don't try to shampoo your hair for at least
twenty-four hours and the longer you can leave it the better. And
don't use a shampoo that contains sulphates. They swell the shafts of
your hair and leech the colour out.
"Now I need to trim your hair and style it. The extensions are
theoretically the same length, but they never seem to come out exactly
even."
She attacked my new mop of hair with comb and scissors, slipping in
hair grips to hold it in place. After about fifteen minutes of this I
began to look human, rather than like something from Planet of the
Apes. My hair was still very wet though, so she put me under the
dryer.
"I'll call Charlotte to do your lip fillers next," Sharon shouted over
the noise of the dryer. "Here's a magazine to look at while you're
waiting."
She handed me a copy of Woman. I didn't know if she was joking, or if
that was all they had. I suppose it would be sensible to get used to
such reading material. Perhaps I should try and get hold of some
Barbara Cartland novels in Spanish.
= = =
Charlotte, the nurse, bustled in about ten minutes later. She
introduced herself and explained what would be happening and what I
could expect.
"I'm going to give you a local anaesthetic inside your mouth to numb
both lips. Because of the way the nerves in your face are formed, the
bottom lip is easier to numb, so the top one will hurt a little more."
She used a small Botox needle to give me four injections, one in each
corner of my mouth. The first one stung a little, but it wasn't too
bad. As the anaesthetic went in, I felt a cooling sensation wash over
my chin and cheeks. It was a little like drinking cold water straight
from the fridge. A numbness crept over my mouth very soon after that.
I have to admit that Charlotte really knew her business. She quickly
moved on to the fillers themselves before I had time to think about
what was happening, or how much it would hurt. Those injections stung
a little more, but they were only uncomfortable, and nothing like as
bad as the waxing I had already endured.
My lips felt numb now and from what I could see in the salon mirror
they looked quite big. Charlotte assured me this was mostly due to
the swelling and that would go down within a couple of days.
"You might get a little bleeding," she added. "Also the filler can
cause a reaction and then bruising, but it's usually not a big deal.
A little ice can help with the swelling, but you can't do anything
about bruising. You just have to wait till it clears up. You can
cover it with a dark lipstick. Your lips will probably be a little
sore for twenty-four to forty-eight hours," she added, "and there may
be some residual swelling for a week or so, but after that you should
have lovely, kissable lips!"
"And how long will it last?" I mumbled, struggling now to form
intelligible sounds.
"Eight to twelve months," she said, obviously well-practised at
interpreting the mutterings of clients with swollen lips.
"What?" I screeched. "That's twice as long as I wanted."
"Oh sorry, dear," she said. "I'm just doing what it says on your
treatment sheet. We can reverse it after about a month, you know.
Dangerous before that."
= = =
After Charlotte left I tried to read my Woman, but my throbbing lips
rather spoilt my concentration. Anyway Sharon was soon back.
"OK, let's get you out from under there. You should be dry by now."
She lifted the plastic hood and hefted my hair in her hands.
"I'll just comb it through and get rid of any snags. My instructions
are to keep it simple because as a poor immigrant girl, you can't
afford expensive hairdos, and you'll need to be able to look after
your hair yourself. If I do more to it, it'll be obvious you've had a
professional styling. But you do need to know how to keep it under
control, and out of your face while you're working."
She reached for a book with colour photographs of girls with a variety
of simple hairstyles. Well she claimed they were simple.
"Ideally you should be able to do any of these in five minutes," she
continued. "Don't worry, I'll walk you through two or three, and you
can take this book with you. It has detailed instructions for all of
them." She winked. "Every girl likes to choose her style for
herself," she said.
"First, the easiest of all, the old-stand-by, the low ponytail. We'll
probably send you away with this one today. It's perfect for long,
same-length strands, as of course yours are with your new extensions.
You can change it to a regular high ponytail quite easily."
She was twisting the length of my hair round as she spoke.
"It's possible to keep it tidy like this all day with no artificial
aids, but you'll probably find it easier to use a scrunchie, or even
just a rubber band. Also, you have so much hair now that you may want
to keep your bangs out of the way with a couple of hair grips. OK,
next..."
She untied the ponytail and removed the grips.
"For this one, you make a centre parting, twist the locks that are
hanging down at the front away from your face, and pin them at the
side. You can use grips or bobby pins."
That looked quite easy, but it didn't feel as secure as the ponytail.
Sharon removed the grips again and hair fell forward all over my face.
"For this next one, just twist the front of your hair - the bangs -
into a knot and secure it with an elastic band or grips."
That felt a little safer, but harder to do.
"If all you want is to get your hair out of the way, you can just
sweep the hair at the front to the side, and clip it with a bobby pin
or two. This one's very easy, but your hair may be a little too long
for it."
That became obvious when the sheer weight of the hair popped the hair
grips out. She had more success with a bobby pin, but it just looked
shaggy.
"OK, maybe not," she admitted.
"Some days you can't be bothered, so you just brush the front of your
hair and your bangs back and pin it all in place. You can get extra
volume by a little back-combing."
That didn't feel like a hairstyle at all, and I was pretty sure it
wouldn't stay in place for very long. Sharon hurried on to the next.
This one took her a little longer, so heaven knows how long it would
take me.
"This is a French Twist," she said as she finished. "It takes a bit
more effort - and skill - but it's good for long hair like yours, if
you really need to keep it out of the way. The book shows you how to
do a braid. It's actually easier than it looks, but I suppose most
girls learn to braid their hair when they're little. You should try
it sometime though. It'll look good on you."
Actually, it did. Perhaps I would try it when I had a little time.
"OK, you might find this one a bit of a challenge. It's called a
Braided Pompadour. You might want to try it for a night out." She
chuckled. "I'm sure your wife would love to help you with this."
The hell she would. Not Sally's scene at all. I didn't think Maria
would ever sport a 'Braided Pompadour'.
"Finally, you might just find it easier to use a headband some days,"
Sharon said. "It's especially good for girls with thick bangs - like
you. Just put on an elastic headband, leaving some hair loose in
front, then roll back the loose hair and tuck it under the band to
hold it in place.
I thanked her for the instructions and the book and privately resolved
to keep my hair in a 'high ponytail' for as long as I had to be Maria.
"Right then," Sharon said, brightly, "are you ready for me to do your
facial prosthetics and makeup now?"
"Ready," I muttered, semi-intelligibly, "if not actually prepared...
owww!"
"Oh, are your lips hurting?" she said sympathetically. "No lipstick
today then. They look red enough already."
She wheeled over a trolley full of paints and pastes. Prominent on
the top shelf were some strange-looking, flesh-coloured pieces,
presumably of the same material my boobs and bum were made from. She
picked up one of them and started smearing adhesive on it.
"It only takes a minute or so for the glue to set," she said, as she
pressed the thing down on top of my nose, "but I need to keep holding
it in place. Try to breathe through your mouth."
She let go and then dabbed around my newly-enhanced nose with a wet
wipe.
"I need to make sure there's no overflow of adhesive," she explained.
"I'm pretty sure I didn't get any up your nostrils. Believe me,
getting glue off your nose hairs would be no fun at all, but we don't
want any around the join either." Apparently satisfied, she reached
for a stick of makeup. "This is just to cover the edge between the
prosthetic and your face."
"I assume that's the same 'permanent' makeup Vera used on my
cleavage?" I said, painfully.
"Yep," she said, and sat back to examine her handiwork, "and that nose
is part of you now. It makes quite a difference."
She moved away to let me see myself in the mirror. At first I was
horrified. I saw a monstrous new conk that seemed to dominate my
face, but after a few moments' adjustment I realised it wasn't that
bad. It was noticeably bigger than my own nose, yes, but it wasn't
all out of proportion. It suggested a change of racial type. With
the long black hair, I was starting to look more Mediterranean, less
Anglo-Saxon - exactly as we wanted, and what Ingrid had promised. But
now it was the colour of my eyes that caught the attention. They were
too pale blue for a Hispanic girl.
Sharon turned her attention to two smaller pieces.
"These will make your cheeks a little plumper."
I saw they were mirror-images of each other. She painted each of them
with adhesive and stuck them on my cheeks. Before I had a thin face
on a fat body; now they were beginning to match.
Sharon was painting adhesive onto a longer strip of fleshy plastic,
which at first sight looked a little like a skinny banana.
"This piece is designed to make your chin rounder, more feminine, and
a little... er..."
"Fatter?"
"...plumper," she said, "to fit with your overall figure. This will
have to be removed when you come in for your next waxing, because of
course your beard will continue to grow underneath it even with the
anti-androgen cream Vera gave you. It will probably get itchy."
She held the thing in place for a minute, then repeated her activities
with the wet wipes and the makeup. When she eventually let me see
myself, I was truly impressed. My face was completely different now.
I was all plump little Maria. Dave was nowhere to be seen.
"Makeup next," said Sharon. "I'll explain everything I'm doing as I
go, because you'll need to be able to reproduce it for yourself. I'm
only going to do a basic daytime makeup. I suggest if you want a
heavier, evening look, your wife can help. I'll give you a full set
of cosmetics for your colouring.
"First, I'm going to dye your eyelashes the same dark colour as your
hair. You probably won't need any mascara on them then. They're
quite long for a man anyway, and you're not trying to be a fashion
model, are you?"
"Absolutely not," I confirmed, "and please keep the makeup to a
minimum generally. I don't want to attract attention - least of all
male attention."
That was the most I had said since my lip filler injections, and it
was painful.
"Ah you say that now," she grinned, "but just wait till you've been a
woman for a while..."
In the end, I convinced her to use just a little foundation to conceal
my coarse male skin, and a little eyeshadow. She gave me some
lipstick that she was confident was the right shade for Maria, but by
mutual agreement we didn't apply any to my sore, swollen lips.
When she'd finished Sharon swung me back round to look at the finished
product.
"OK, what do you think, Maria?"
In the mirror was an unmistakably feminine figure in a pink plastic
hairdresser's cape over a woman's dressing gown, under which, I knew,
I was wearing only a pink bra and knickers. (Why this obsession with
pink, I wondered. Was this a psychological ploy to get me accustomed
to my new gender?)
I grunted approval and tried to smile. It was the best I could do
with my swollen lips. But my disguise was completely convincing. I
could see no masculine indicators at all. There were no remaining
obstacles to taking up my new career as a Spanish immigrant cleaning
lady.
Yippee.
= = =
Sharon took me back to Ingrid's office. I was sobering up now. My
butt-swinging wiggle felt completely natural, even though I was
wearing flip-flops. No doubt it would be even sexier if I ever wore
heels. I couldn't help wondering what Sally would think when she saw
me.
"Ah there she is," said Ingrid, "and what a transformation!"
I thanked her and Sharon with as much enthusiasm as I could muster.
"My pleasure," said Sharon, with a warm smile. "Do drop by and see me
next time you're here."
To my surprise she quickly kissed me on the cheek and left. As a
newly-minted girl I supposed I'd have to get used to kissing hello and
goodbye.
"I have your contact lenses here," Ingrid continued. "Have you ever
worn contacts before?"
"Yes, I needed them for a play I was in once," I said. "I was playing
a vampire so they were bright red. They took a bit of getting used
to."
"Well these aren't corrective at all, so they shouldn't change your
vision, but they'll darken your eyes to match your skin and hair
colours. They're soft, so you should find them quite comfortable.
You can wear them throughout the day, but take them out at night and
store them in this fluid to clean and disinfect them."
She gave me a plastic bottle and a little case with two tiny round
basins.
"Also once a week you need to soak them overnight in enzymatic fluid
to get rid of the protein deposits. You dissolve one of these tablets
in ordinary saline solution."
She gave me a packet of what looked like aspirins and another plastic
bottle.
"They're monthlies, so I'm giving you a pack of six."
I slipped them in and was a little surprised that they didn't seem to
change my vision at all; not even to make everything seem darker. I
looked in Ingrid's cupboard mirror. The lenses were the final piece
of the jigsaw. Everything about me now said: Hispanic.
"I've called your wife, and she'll be back to collect you very soon.
You've just got time to get dressed."
She indicated the suitcase Sally had brought which was on a table in
the corner of the office. I opened it up. I wasn't surprised to see
that my loving wife had packed a white, floral dress for me. There
were also nude pantyhose, a red cardigan, and Sally's old handbag.
What was missing were shoes.
Ingrid saw my confusion and quickly understood the problem.
"I think we can help with shoes, Maria. What are you? A man's size
eight?" I nodded. She had a good eye. "You get dressed. I'll go
and find something for you."
So I found myself putting on a dress again, struggling to do up the
zip behind my back. Are all women double-jointed, for Pete's sake?
Memories of Fifi's maid uniform surfaced. I had to admit it: I had
missed this. I particularly loved the feeling of nylon on my waxed
legs.
Ingrid came back with several shoe boxes.
"I've got some flats for you and some low heels, both wide-fitting,"
she said. "Sit down and you can try them on. You can have one of
each with our compliments, as you've been such a great customer."
I thanked her but that worried me a little. Just how much had we
spent today?
All of the shoes Ingrid brought fitted fairly well. I picked out an
especially comfortable pair of black flats and a pair of white heels
to match my dress.
"You should wear the heels home," she said, "for practice."
I put them back on and checked myself out in the mirror.
"The original owner of those clothes was an older lady, wasn't she?"
Ingrid said. "I think you need to get some outfits more suited to a
twenty-something. I can't imagine a younger woman wearing a dress
like that, except maybe ironically."
I had to agree, but of course we had no spare money for an age-
appropriate wardrobe for Maria.
I examined myself more closely in the mirror. I twirled, seeing my
skirt whirl outwards. I caught Ingrid watching me with a sardonic
smile on her face. I stopped immediately, embarrassed.
I was now playing the part of Maria full time, and I couldn't take my
costume off.
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