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Adwomen
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters
Siobhan and I had gone through a similar education for a career in
advertising. We shared a modest apartment in the city. We were both
young and ambitious, and short of money. The only real differences were
that she was a woman, and I wasn't; and I had talent, and she didn't.
So, imagine my private disgust when she got a prime job at the Garret
Agency, and I was still only free-lancing. She got the job because she
was what I was not. The Garret Agency only hired women.
Penelope Garret had been a high-ranking executive in one of the world
largest advertising firms, but could not get advancement. She bemoaned
that the industry was dominated by men, so she left her job to set up
her own business, offering new approaches in marketing and promotion.
The Garret Agency was highly successful.
Siobhan was only able to keep her position because of the work I did for
her behind the scenes. We negotiated a deal and I received some of her
salary package in return for doing a lot of her concept work, including
scripting some of her presentations.
But it could not last forever, and when she was offered the opportunity
to lead a team (based largely on the quality of the work I had done) she
knew that she could not continue as she had done. She could not take
the work home and have me do it for her. She needed to perform on the
job. The problem with leading a team is that they look to the team
leader for inspiration and she had none. She would be found out and she
would be put out. Simple as that.
She was given two trainees from the staff but given the opportunity to
recruit one person from outside to be on a level above those trainees.
That is what led to her extraordinary idea. An idea that would change
my life forever.
It was obvious that I should be that additional member of the team, but
it was not possible. But Siobhan had the solution. I needed to go from
being Eddie Boyd to Emma Boyd. And it needed to happen fast.
When she put the proposal to me I just laughed. I told her: "That is
the single craziest thing I have heard in a lifetime."
"Look at yourself Eddie," she said. "You are not a big guy. Get rid of
that thing you call a beard and tidy up that hair and would not look
half bad as a girl. In fact, with those cheekbones and big green eyes,
you would make a better-looking girl than a guy."
I had let myself go a little working from home and not mixing with
anybody other than her. The truth was that I lost a lot of confidence
in myself. The only thing that I was good at was the work, and I put
effort into that. I had lost weight, was pale from lack of sun, my hair
was long and I had not shaved in six months - not that much growth had
resulted.
"Let's try a makeover," she said excitedly. "If I can convince you that
you could get away with it, then you have to consider it. And even if
you slip up, we could say that you are a transwoman. I can't see Penny
Garret firing you if you are trying to be a woman."
That last comment got me to thinking that it might just work. I said:
"Maybe I could just take the job as a transperson? Like, just half a
woman?"
"No," she said. "That's our back up position. I tell you, I think you
could pass as a girl. You just need to follow my instructions. Now
let's go to work on that face. Starting with a shave ...".
That is what she did. She just gave me a makeover from the neck up. I
shaved closely and she washed and styled my hair. When I looked at
myself in the mirror I realised that she was right. Provided I said
nothing and did not move, I could pass for a woman. In fact, I was
quite pretty.
The possibility started to appear real, so I opened negotiations. I
said: "To do this I still want a share of your salary on top of anything
I earn. In fact, I want the package you are getting, with the
difference out of your pocket."
She was pissed. But she had to bite her lip. "Ok," she said. "But you
are a prick". She was smiling as she said it, but she meant it. The
hell with her. If I was going to go through with this it needed to be
worthwhile. Without me she would not have the job. With me onboard we
could go places.
We had some time to get me ready, and we needed it. It was not my
appearance that was the problem, it was as I said - if I said nothing
and did not move I was Ok. I did not carry myself as a woman. It was
that way I walked and moved my hands. It was all wrong. I needed to be
instructed by Siobhan and to watch women more closely to understand the
differences. Fortunately, observation and imitation fitted with my
artistic bent, and I picked things up fairly quickly.
When it came to my voice, Siobhan suggested that I keep talking to a
minimum. Essentially, she was suggesting that I should whisper with her
and let her do the talking. I could see where this was headed so I did
my own work on this. I found voice coaching for transwomen on the
internet and worked diligently to get it right, but I did not discuss it
with Siobhan.
My facial stubble returned a little so we both realized that I would
need more radical work to stop me developing a five o'clock shadow
around five o'clock. That, and the full body wax was the hardest thing
about "my transition". But when the inflammation had subsided and the
moisturizers had done their thing, I found that I quite liked the smooth
skin. My hairless body was sensitive, but then there were the silky
undergarments. It really did feel nice.
Then Siobhan appeared with a syringe and a bottle of pills.
"Oh no," I said. "If that is what I think it is then that is going way
too far."
"Look," she began, "you have to face reality. This isn't forever, for
either of us. But while you are pretending you need to get it right.
These pills will stop any beard coming back and will soften your skin
and improve your hair. And they will prevent erections. In an office
full of women a tent in your dress would not be a good look."
"And what about the syringe? I asked.
"Yes," she replied, "they are more of the same, but I am suggesting
monthly shots to coincide with a monthly cycle. You will not understand
this Eddie, but you will be in a woman only environment. This is
essential."
I didn't understand, but I went along with it. I am not sure why. I
remember thinking as I felt the cool fluid entering my system: 'where
will all this lead me?'. Anyway, it was the last time she ever called
me "Eddie".
...
(Just the first part)
© Maryanne Peters 2019
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