Stamp Part 1

It was one of those days where you should follow the song lyrics. ‘Know when to fold, know when to walk away’. I was playing poker with a few of my drinking mates and we were betting in one pound coins.

I had a good hand and thought I had it made but, unfortunately had run out of coins. Moose, the only other guy left in the hand, said that he would allow me to show, without putting up any cash, if I would answer one question afterwards, with the right answer winning the hand, even if I lost with the cards. I thought that this was a good deal so agreed. Of course, he beat my hand easily and I had lost all my money.

He left the coins on the table and asked his question. “Which way does the Queen face on postage stamps, left or right?” Now, being a modern man, I had hardly ever used the snail mail and was trying to remember the last time I had seen an actual stamp. Then I looked at all the coins on the table and the Queen was looking right on all of them so I took a punt and said “Right”.

He smiled broadly and pulled an envelope out of his pocket and put it on the table. Of course the stamp clearly showed the Queen facing left. I was cooked like the proverbial goose. I sat back and said “OK, what do you want of me now I lost the bet. You didn’t say before?” I was thinking a portion of my next wages or even cleaning duties at his apartment. I would be OK with both. He floored me by saying that he wanted me to move in to his spare room for a month and, yes, take over the cleaning and cooking duties. The kicker was that he said that he would have control of my appearance during that time as he was expecting guests for several dinners during the month and that his winning me was a real help.

I had better tell you about us. Moose was so called because he had allegedly punched a moose on the nose when it had attacked him on a trip to Canada. How true it may have been I can’t say. His name was actually Algernon Brookes-Lacey and he was from the landed-gentry and worked as an investment banker in London. His apartment was big, three bedrooms and a good kitchen and he was a tidy person, if not as neat as me. His girlfriend, Laurel, was also from the upper crust and they had been going out for so long we had stopped wondering when they were going to get hitched.

I was christened Francis Garvan but all the guys called me Frank. I worked as a sous-chef in a good restaurant and shared an apartment with a couple of other chefs. One owned the place and the other two of us put a share in for food and ongoing expenses. I say ‘worked’ and ‘shared’ but that had all been thrown into disarray as we hit the first Covid lock-down. My boss had got us all together and told us that he didn’t know when, or if, he would reopen and had paid us our wages and entitlements as we left. The ‘shared’ part was also up in the air as none of us now had jobs and the owner of our apartment thought that he may head back to his parents and either leave the place empty or else try and rent it out to those who still had jobs.

Our poker playing host was a policeman and both Moose and I lived within walking distance but in opposite directions. Our fourth poker player lived in the same direction as me but some way further on. He was working in a hospital so had a card to say he was free to be on the streets. If we were ever stopped I could explore my pockets for my imaginary card while he flashed his.

It was all of this coming-together of circumstances that made me agree to the request. Having a solid place to live without having to pay out from my savings was a bonus as far as I was concerned and the cooking and cleaning part would be, I thought, a doddle. Moose was working from home so it would be easy to get him organised and to cook his meals, something I had been doing for dozens every day.

So, a few days later, our policeman friend picked me up outside my old home; loaded my suitcases and implement cases into the boot, and took me around to the block where Moose lived. He came down in the lift and took charge and said “Frankie, old pal, your time starts - now!” in a game-show voice. In his apartment he showed me my room for the next month and left me to it while I put away my clothes and put my stuff in the en-suite. I took my implement cases into the kitchen and, as I expected, there wasn’t a lot that he already had, so I put my kitchen tools out for use.

For the first few days it was steady going. He would be at his computer working his usual job and I got his kitchen up to scratch, ordering in food on his account using my own laptop. On the Friday he told me that Laurel would be around for lunch on Saturday and that he wanted me to ‘surprise them’ with something nice to eat and to make sure that I wore my full chef outfit while I cooked and served them. That was OK by me and I made sure I had the ingredients for a good meal for them.

On Saturday I was in the kitchen when he brought Laurel through, saying “Laurel, you have met Frankie before; he will be serving us lunch so we can go into the bedroom for a little while. Frankie, please have everything ready for one, please.” They went off while I continued; only surfacing again about ten minutes before lunch time with Laurel looking a little dishevelled. I got them seated, gave them some soup and poured their wine. Later on I gave them the main course and followed that with a very good dessert of my own invention, well, all you need to do is throw a piece of Victoria Sponge in a bowl, add a dollop of orange marmalade, top it with cream and a couple of slivers of Terrys Chocolate Orange and there you are.

After lunch Laurel left to go back to her job at the family owned clinic where she was the receptionist for her father, a well-respected doctor. I cleaned up and got everything washed and dried and Moose came in at slapped me on the back, telling me that I had done a wonderful job. He then told me that his parents would be in town in a couple of weeks Saturday and that they would not approve of him living with another guy so I had better make some changes before then. When I protested he reminded me that I agreed to him being in charge of my looks and this was his orders. I had the two weeks to make it so. Laurel would be around on Monday and help me place orders for the right things, using his account, of course. She would be back later in the week to transform me for the weekend.

I was not happy at this turn of events but, as I had taken the bet, I was duty bound to abide by it. I would not be going out so the whole charade would be kept within these walls. Monday Laurel came around, took my measurements and she had a list of things I would need to order now I knew my sizes. What made me take notice was that there was more than one outfit on the list and, when I questioned it, she said that I should get into my role by the weekend so that I would be ready for the following weekend and that the extra clothes would be ‘just in case’.

Now I am not the biggest guy around so the clothes fell well within the sizes that a normal, plumper woman would wear. One item was part of an order from an underwear supplier and was a ‘waist cincher’. I queried this with her and she told me that it, along with the black net stockings, was needed for the French Maid’s costume that was also on the list. I just said “You’re the boss” and filled in all the details, making sure that we had express delivery.

The boxes all arrived on Wednesday and she came back on Thursday so that I had extra time to perfect my role. She took me through all of the steps I needed to take now and learn if I kept it going. I bathed in water that smelled of lavender, shaved everything I could reach and then she got me to pull on some of the new panties so that she could work on the bits I had missed. I was then sent back into the shower with a couple of bottles and told to wash my hair using both bottles, twice. She was a hard task-master as she got me to try everything on and give her a fashion show. I felt like a real twit, I can tell you; but when I saw myself in the mirror I thought that I didn’t make an ugly woman at all.

The maid costume was an absolute hoot to wear. I looked like a doll and she looked at me and then said “That won’t do!” then left the room dialling a number on her phone. A few minutes later she came back and got me to change out of that costume and into a skirt and blouse that even I thought looked good on me. We had some strappy sandals that she got me to wear and then led me out of the apartment.

When I said I couldn’t go out looking like this she told me that we were only going down a few floors to a friend who had a personal salon set up in her apartment and that she would be taking me to a new level, all on Algys’ credit card which she waved in my face with a big grin on her own face. At the door she rang the bell and it was opened by a young girl who said “Ooh, fresh meat, come on in to my lair, lady, and let me turn you from a duck into a swan.

I was sat at a make-up table and the two of them had a quiet chat before Laurel left me in the clutches of this stranger with me dressed in drag. She told me that Laurel would be going back up to the other apartment for a bit of loud sex while I wasn’t there and that she would have a couple of hours because that was what it would take for her to work her magic on me.

Marianne G 2021