Thanks everyone for being so kind about my first ever posting on BCTS, especially for the wonderful comments n PMs I think I’ve replied to y’all n I hope you like this second slice…. Take care my baby.

This crazy Friday was raising so many unanswered questions. Was this business running on child labour? How did Ms Wilson know his girl name when he’d only been given it less than an hour ago? Exactly who, or what, is the agency? Did he really have to come back tomorrow and if so, as Joseph or Seren?

Seren Dee Petty: Chapter 2

“Who is this pretty little thing? Pamela, you didn’t tell me you had two daughters …. what pretty name do you go by my dear?”

Immediately she saw Joseph’s lips beginning to form the shape of a J, Pam gushed the first girl’s name that came into her head. “Seren! This is my second daughter, Seren. Seren, this is Mr Stevens, hopefully he’s going to be my new boss.”

“Very pleased to meet you Seren,” said Brian as he gently shook Joseph’s hand. “Right, lets the three of us head up to the office and see if we can’t bring that about shall we?” And with that he strode purposely towards the entrance to the shopping mall, still holding Joseph’s shaking hand.

Joseph had no option but to totter in pursuit, taking three tiny steps to each of Brian’s strides, concentrating on placing one heeled foot in front of the other and not daring to glance over his shoulder at his mother. Who, he hoped, was following close.

Behind them, Pamela’s mind was flicking through a series of thoughts like automatic gear changes in an accelerating Mercedes. “Phew! Quick thinking there Pam, saved Joe from outing himself. (Click) kept alive the job interview, and good relations with Brian. (Click) office? Oh, Joe’ll just have to sit outside quietly, but who else might be in? (Click) well he should be able to fool them, his make-up’s really quite good and he’s doing well to keep up with Brian in those heels. (Click) you’ve dressed up before haven’t you Joseph? More than once! (Click) we’re going to have to have quite a chat when we get back to the house. (Click) oh my god, what are we going to do if I get this job?” (Vroom…)

By now they had reached the pedestrian exit from the car-park and Brian was tapping a code into the panel of a side-door, releasing Joe who turned to look his mother in the eye for the first time since she renamed him Seren. Pam shrugged and Joe gave a weak smile. He was still wrapped in the relief that blanketed his embarrassment when his mother’s quick thinking rescued him from being outed.

With all thoughts focussed on maintaining the illusion, Joe had not yet considered events beyond today. It was proving to be the most amazing Friday of his life. From the rare luxury of two hours home alone to experiment with make-up and outfits, and play out his fantasy of being a member of the Saturdays*. The shock and then fear at discovery by not only his mother, but his sister too. He certainly feared the consequences of little sis Sally holding this information. The guilty procession to the car, silent terror of a drive into anticipated humiliation and then his mother’s surprise collusion in the deceit of a stranger, and now? Now, Joseph was taking his first feminine steps in public. All his muscles were aquiver in fear and, perhaps, just a tinge of excitement.

“So, Seren,” said Brian, holding his briefcase in one hand and the side-door open with the other, in such a way that his arm created an arch for Pam to walk under. “Are you going to trawl the mall while your mother and I get down to business?”

“No!” Pam blurted. Softening immediately into a smile as she realised her interjection was both too fast and too harsh. “She’s forgotten her purse. Again! I’m not going to bale her out this time and anyway, I think it would affect my concentration in the interview if I was worrying about her being in the mall all on her own.”

Pam’s self-congratulatory feelings, on getting a complete set of correct pro-nouns despite the potential confusion of the situation, were quickly dissipated by Brian’s reply. “No problem. Hopefully Mary will be upstairs to keep her company and I did hear there might be a couple of temps coming in later.”

Joe’s heart quickened as he realised he was going to be under even more scrutiny rather than just hiding in a corner. While Pamela worried that, not only was the cat out of the bag, she was beginning to have kittens. Pam could only hope that they didn’t get fed well enough to mature into tigers and come back and bite them.

Entering beneath Brian’s arch, Joseph didn’t come close to needing to duck and climbed the stairs ahead of the two adults. Pamela again noting his proficiency in heels, that tapped their way to the top, where Brian tapped in another code and the trio entered a colourful and comfortably furnished reception area, mercifully devoid of all life forms.

“Oh! I expected Mary to still be here,” said Brian. “No matter, make yourself comfortable Seren. Pam, you know where the boardroom is. I’ll grab a couple of cups of coffee, Mary’s sure to have left a pot, black no sugar isn’t it, and what about Seren?”

“You remembered correctly, I’m impressed. Just a little water for Seren, please, I don’t think she’s old enough for coffee,” called Pam as Brian disappeared around a corner. Joseph slumped into one of the welcoming sofas, hard, like the boy he is. But surprisingly, sweeping the short skirt of the flowered green dress beneath him with both hands, like the girl he appeared to be.

Pam leaned down and whispered fiercely in his ear. ”We’re nearly through this, so just behave yourself and do exactly as you are told. Do you hear me?”

“Yes mum.”

“To the letter!”

“Yes mum.”

“And put your knees together, the world doesn’t need to see your panties and I certainly don’t.”

Joe immediately clamped his thighs and blushed. Partly in embarrassment of flashing his panties and partly because his mum knew he was wearing them. Actually, Pamela hadn’t known her son was wearing panties. But she did now and she wasn’t sure if that knowledge made her more, or less, troubled.

Pam intercepted Brian to pass Seren her water, then followed him back down the corridor, turning right into the boardroom as Brian turned left to collect their coffee. Pausing on his return, Brian winked to Seren: “I’ll try not to keep her too long,” before also disappearing into the boardroom, clicking the door firmly closed behind him.

Joseph took a sip of water, picked up a fashion magazine from the small table next to the white leather sofa he was sitting in and released a huge sigh as tension, tight as a watch spring, began to unwind in his stomach.

Reception remained quiet save for the rustle of each turn of a magazine page, the occasional muffled laughter of his mother escaping from the boardroom and a sharp, three-word question in the voice of a middle-aged woman. “Are you Seren?”

Startled, Joseph looked up at a very stern Auntie-type, except better dressed and immaculately made-up, wearing an expression demanding an immediate answer. At Joseph’s weak nod and whispered “Yes,” the stern face gave way to a wide smile of gratitude.

“Oh thank goodness! The agency did promise you’d be here but, to be honest, I was beginning to doubt it. Right then! Chop, chop! Follow me and let’s get you started. Make sure you close the door behind you and be careful coming down the stairs, they’re a bit steep for those heels.”

The orders came fast and rhythmical, the last issued as the woman slipped through a door in the wall behind the reception desk. For once, despite his confusion, Joseph knew how to respond. It was, after all, just minutes since he’d received the clearest of instructions. “Do exactly as you are told. To the letter!”

Hanging firmly on to the handrail and watching to keep his feet at a 45 degree angle to the tread, it was not until Joseph had tip-toed to the bottom of the narrow wooden staircase that he noticed he was now in a large storage area. Littered with piles of long, flat cardboard boxes, empty clothes rails and the fifth person ever, to see him dressed as a girl.

“Julie, this is Seren from the agency. Seren, this is Julie, who is going to be helping you. I’m Mary Wilson, the shop manager, but you will call me Ms Wilson. Here, put these on,” instructed Ms Wilson as she handed Joseph a pair of small, white cotton gloves that fitted fairly snugly.

The youngsters barely had time to smile and say “Hi,” to each other before Ms Wilson was off again. “Right, let’s get started then shall we? The more we can get done tonight, the less we will have to finish off in the morning.”

This crazy Friday was raising so many unanswered questions poor Joseph didn’t know which to deal with first. Julia looked like she might be younger than his sister, was this business running on child labour? How did Ms Wilson know his girl name when he’d only been given it less than an hour ago? Exactly who, or what, is the agency? Did he really have to come back tomorrow and if so, as Joseph or Seren?

But all questions had to be put aside for now as Joseph turned his full attention to Ms Wilson’s instructions and, following her orders to the letter, set to the task in hand. The piles of boxes littering the storage area represented Steven’s Fashions new stock, delivered days later than promised, but just in time for the school holiday. Each of the flat cardboard boxes contained ten dresses of the same style, but not necessarily the same size or colour.

The girls, as Ms Wilson referred to Julie and Joseph, were each to work from their own box, slip one dress at a time onto a hanger, check the dress-size on the label and click a corresponding number onto the hanger. Each dress was then to be hung on a rail, next to those of the same style and colour and placed in order, according to size.

Julie already had an open box in front of her and was lifting out her first dress. Joseph took time opening his first box, positioning it between himself and Julie, so he could get a good look at what she was doing. Julie was wearing jeans and trainers but instead of bending over, she still bent at the knee, crouching to lift out the dress and keeping her legs together through the whole move.

Joseph then did his best to copy her poise, grace and fluidity, immediately realising that even though his dress was short, this technique would keep his panties covered. He was nowhere near as poised as Julie, especially not at first. But given he was not wearing trainers, but two inch heels, and that he was operating under the watchful eye of Ms Wilson, he did ok for a young girl, and absolutely brilliantly for a boy.

He couldn’t match Julie for speed though, even given her head start Julie was opening her third box before Joseph was half-way through his second. He also noted that while Ms Wilson watched him closely and every so often double-checked that the size labels on dresses he’d put on the rail, matched the coloured number he’d clipped to the hanger, she made no such checks of Julie’s work.

“She’s obviously an old-hand at this,” thought Joseph, and was again confused by Julie’s apparent young age. He was delighted however, that for all Ms Wilson’s checking, she found nothing untoward. Yes, he wobbled on his heels sometimes as he straightened up from his crouch, dress in-hand. But he was taking care not to let the dresses touch the dirty floor, was moving slowly and deliberately so as not to step on them as he turned to the rails and was proving to have a good eye for colour and style. Easily picking out even subtle differences in hue and design, to place dresses in exactly the right position on the rails.

Ms Wilson didn’t let on for a moment how pleased she was. Girls from the agency had been a pretty mixed bunch over the years, but Seren might just be one of the best. Julie could tell she was pleased though, as before Joseph had even finished sorting his third box of dresses, Ms Wilson announced that she would: “Leave them to it for a few minutes,” and carefully tip-tapped her way up the stairs.

“My, you’ve made a good impression,” said Julie, immediately the reception area door clicked shut behind the exiting Ms Wilson. “She usually stands over agency girls for at least the first two days and almost never leaves them alone with new stock.”

“You think?” answered Joseph, grinning. “I am concentrating very hard, trying to make sure I get everything right and especially don’t do any damage to these wonderful new dresses.”

“Believe me, Mary’s impressed, and so she should be. You can’t imagine how rough some of the girls can be with the stock and how mixed up they get with which dress goes where. I’ve been watching you and you might even have a quicker eye than me in spotting little design quirks or detail changes that separate one set of dresses from another.”

“Thanks Julie, but I think you’re just being nice. I mean, how can you be watching me and yet still get through your boxes so quickly? You do three dresses to every two of mine.”

“Of course I’m quicker, I’ve been doing this since I was tall enough to reach the rail.”

“But you’re only a little girl.”

“And you’re not, pretty little princess? You might have fooled the agency and you might have fooled a hassled Ms Wilson who was in desperate need of an agency girl. But you don’t fool me, I’ve been watching you very closely and I’ve worked out your little secret.”

Joseph froze, holding in front of him a beautiful lilac party gown, in just the right size. If he was standing in front of a mirror, his reflection would be jumping up and down, screaming: “Buy it!” But he was standing in front of Julie and she was staring him straight in the eye and sporting the wickedest of smiles. Joe felt the heat of his rising blush, beginning at the top of his sternum, racing up his neck, hiding beneath his make-up and then popping out on both ears at the same time, rushing to a pulsing red at their tips. He tried to swallow but his mouth was dry and instead he croaked. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said, I’ve been watching you closely. Real close. Ok the outfit’s perfect and the make-up’s done pretty well, but it’s way too thick and that foundation is for oldies. Bet it’s your mum’s. That lipstick shade is from last year, those eyelashes are too long and beautiful to be anything other than false and what teenage girl is gonna be wearing false eyelashes to work. And you’re doing pretty well on those heels, but I saw you wobble more than once when you were picking up dresses. So come on Seren, just admit it.”

“Admit what?” whispered Joseph, feeling the first prickle of an embryonic tear.