It Started On A Rainy Afternoon - Part 4 - Conclusion
By Pentatonic

Steve’s breaking up with me was an emotional disaster. Luckily I had my family. My Dad even let me cry on his shoulder while I was wearing this smashing looking dress. “My dear,” he said, “you have us, and believe me, this is not the end of the world, even if it seems that way to you. While I now know how wrong Steve’s parents are, it appears that he will not stand up to them like you did to me. Most important, we all love you.”

He handed me a tissue to wipe away my tears. “By the way, that’s a very pretty dress, and you don’t want to get tear stains on it,” he said with a smile.

I was fortunate that he, unlike many of my acquaintances, didn’t point out that there were lots of available guys out there. Both he and I knew it, but at that time all I needed to hear about was love.

Mom was Mom. I knew that I had her love. Likewise, Aunt Beth’s love was supporting. Emma had a more practical approach. She was trying to figure out who might be a good boyfriend for me. “Look,” she said, “you’ve got it all. You’re smart and very good looking. The only problem is that you’re a model and have money. Some guys can’t deal with that; it intimidates them,”

I poured myself in my school work and modeling to distract me from my grief. My career as a model had taken off, and I rarely had time to engage in self pity.

Then I met Charlie. It is true that the best way to meet a new boyfriend is at school. I met Charlie in the accounting class. Like me, he was a part time student and could not afford to go away to college. He had a part time job as a book keeper and lived at home with his parents.

One day, right after accounting class, he caught up with me. “Hi,” he said, “my name is Charlie. I don’t mean to be forward, but you seem to know your stuff, and I thought we could study together for next week’s test.” He smiled, and when did he had the cutest dimples in his cheeks. Unlike most of the other students, he was nicely dressed, he wore a sport coat, a white shirt with a matching tie, tan slacks and brown loafers. I was impressed.

“You always dress so nicely, I figured that you have a part time job like me,” he volunteered.

“True,” I responded.

“So, where to you work?” he wanted to know.

“I work at the Eames Agency. It’s a modeling agency.”

“Wow,” he exclaimed, “do you do book keeping?”

“Part of the time,” I answered. I was beginning to like him, so I didn’t want to tell him that I was also a model and scare him away. However, I thought, if we get together he would find out anyway, so I told him. “The rest of my time I’m a model for women’s fashions.” There, it was out.

“You mean, like walking down a runway?” he asked.

“Some of that, the rest are photo shoots,” I answered, “now for your original question, when and where do you want to study?”

“How about my house, on Thursday afternoon, about 3:00?” he said, and he wrote down his address.

“I have a photo shoot that day, but I should be finished in time. Let me have your number if the photo shoot runs late. Let me give you my card,” It was my Eames Agency card, with “Margaret” in bold letters on it. I added my cell phone number to it.

“I’m impressed,” he said when he looked at the card. “Well, I’d like to talk more, but I’ve got to get to my job,” he said.

“See you on Thursday,” I responded, as we went our separate ways.

The photo shoot ran a little late so I left for Charlie’s house without changing my makeup. When I arrived at Charlie’s house, a middle-aged woman answered the door, who I assumed was Charlie’s Mother. I could see that she was taken aback because I looked like a fashion plate. “Hi, I’m Margaret and I’m here to study with Charlie,” I said as a greeting.

For a few seconds she just looked at me. She then found her voice, “Charlie said that a fashion model was coming to study with him. I thought he was exaggerating, but it seems to be true. Please come in. Charlie’s in the den. Let me show you the way. Would you like something? I was about to start a pot of tea.”

“Tea would be most welcome,” I said, flashing her my best camera smile.

When she came in with the tea, she was carrying a part of a newspaper. “I don’t want to interrupt, but I have a quick question,” she said as she opened the Style section of the paper. I knew what was coming. She pointed out an ad for a local dress shop. “That’s you, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Will you autograph it for me?” she asked, which I did. She was thrilled.

About 5:30 Charlie’s Dad came home. Charlie’s mother spoke to him in hushed tones, but I could make out the words ‘fashion model’ and ‘in one of Charlie’s classes.’ Charlie and I had just finished a problem involving accelerated depreciation, and when he heard his father’s voice, he called out, “Come into the den, Dad, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Charlie’s Dad was a good-looking man, and when he smiled I could see from where Charlie got his dimples. “Dad, this is Margaret. She in my class, and we were studying for an exam.”

“I’m not interrupting your studying, am I?” he asked.

“No, we’re finished,” Charlie responded. The four of us sat down and chatted until it was time for me to leave.

Both Charlie and I got an ‘A’ on the exam, and flushed with success we continued to study together, sometimes at his house, and sometimes at my Aunt’s. Gloria was really positively impressed with Charlie. “If he doesn’t ask you out for a date, you’ve got to,” was her sage advice. “If you want to,” Gloria suggested, “you could bring him here, and your Aunt and I could make ourselves scarce while you worked your feminine wiles on him.” I detected a salacious grin on her face.

Charlie did ask me out for a date, and thereafter we sat next to each other in class, two well dressed and employed students among the unemployed slobs.

Even though I had a new boyfriend, I still missed Steve.

* * *

A major advantage of having a boyfriend was that it deterred some unwanted advances. However, this did not deter Teri. “You haven’t told him, have you?” she accused. I admitted that I hadn’t.

“Well, if you have unfulfilled sexual urges, just call me,” she said. I didn’t think that was a good idea, and I just mumbled a vague reply.

Teri was really all tarted up at the next gender society meeting. She wore a short tight skirt that emphasized her lack of hips, way too much makeup and a tight top. One could see that she was wearing a garter belt and hose, not pantyhose. On her feet were skyscraper heels. One member sarcastically asked her if she was going into a new line of business, and if so, at what street corner was she plying her trade. Teri just glared in response. It turns out that her display was aimed at only one person, me. Since Gloria was not there, Teri hovered close to me the entire evening, touching me a lot, especially on my butt. She rubbed her shoulder against my breasts, attempting to excite me. She ignored any hints to leave me alone. To crown everything off, she asked me for a ride home.

On the way to get to my car, she put her arm around my waist and pulled me tight to her, When I glanced down I could see a bulge in her tight skirt. She was aroused. I was nonplused and didn’t even open her door for her, When we were both in, she leaned over the console and took my head in both hands and kissed me. I could feel her tongue pushing against my lips but I did not open them. She then put one hand behind my head and began rubbing my breast with the other. All the way to her house, she kept a hand up my dress, rubbing and moving closer to my groin. Since I was driving, I couldn’t fend her off that well. When we arrived at her house, I insisted that she get out and I quickly drove away.

When I arrived at my Aunt’s I complained about the evening, and how frustrated I was. Gloria suggested that I take this problem to my new boyfriend, which, at that moment, did not take care of my frustration.

* * *

Charlie was very interested in my modeling, and how the business worked. I wanted to take him with me on a shoot, for Coulters, a local department store, and I asked Ms. Eames if that was okay. “It’s fine with me, but you have to ask the photographer who is directing this shoot,” she said. “Hey, I have an idea. Have him sign our standard contract, and then you can truthfully say he is a model in training,” she continued. She called out to Virginia, “Can you print out a sheet of business cards with the name ‘Charlie’?”

Armed with his business cards, Charlie and I went to the photo shoot. I introduced Charlie as a model in training, and Charlie gave the photographer a business card. The photographer had no problem with Charlie being along. “Just stay out of the way,” he said.

Shortly after the shoot started, the photographer and the male model got into a terrible fight, and the model left in a snit. The photographer was really angry because the shoot could not proceed without a male model. Then he looked at Charlie. “Hey, you, model in training,” he said, “What agency?”

“Eames,” I quickly answered for him, “Same as I.”

“What rate?”

“Lowest,” I said, and quoted the amount.

“Give him a big smile,” I whispered to Charlie, which he did, exposing those cute dimples of his.

The photographer saw them. “Hey, you, errr . . . dimples, I didn’t get your name,” he said. He then said, ‘but that doesn’t matter. I have your card here, somewhere. What are your sizes?

Charlie rattled off his height, weight, shirt size, coat size, and inseam.

The photographer turned to the store representative. “Do you have any clothes his size?” he asked.

“Close enough to make it work,” the representative answered.

“Then let’s get to work, people,” the photographer announced.

“One thing,” the store representative said to the photographer, “I’ll let you deal with that other idiot model that you hired. We aren’t going to pay a cent for him, even if we pay a lot less for Dimples.”

The shoot proceeded as planned. Charlie did a wonderful job, paying close attention to what the photographer told him to do. The photographer printed out some digital copies, and shared them with the store representative. “The camera loves him, just like it loves Margaret. See what great talent I can supply on a moment’s notice,” the photographer bragged.

“You didn’t find him, Margaret did,” the representative said. “I’ll bet that Eames is going to love this. You might want to put Eames on your speed dial.”

“Does he get one set of clothes that he modeled?” I asked.

“Sure,” said the representative. “Have him pick out what he likes, and Dimples, when someone compliments you on your clothes, make sure you tell him or her that they came from Coulters.”

When we returned to the agency, I related what had happened, including Charlie’s nickname of Dimples. “Thank God that we didn’t supply the idiot who walked out, and having Charlie was a stroke of good luck,” Ms. Eames said. “We should have some digital copies from the shoot in a few minutes. In the meantime, take Charlie to Joe for some head shots. I want to start making up a portfolio for him.”

When we returned to Charlie’s house, his Mother was overjoyed with the news and hugged both of us.

* * *

Charlie mentioned to me that a friend of his was throwing a Halloween party. “It’s costume,” he said. There was a temporary costume store at a local mall, and we decided to see if we could find costumes before accepting the invitation. I immediately found a witch’s costume. Then Charlie noticed a sign that said, ‘Plus sizes.’ Displayed was a plus sized snow white costume. I found one that might fit Charlie. “Take off your shirt, and slip it over your head, and we’ll see if it fits,” I said. He did, and it fit. We also bought a cheap bra.

We then found a cheap wig and a few accessories, and purchased them. On the way to his house, I asked him, “It doesn’t bother you wearing a dress, does it?”

“It’s only Halloween, so no,” he replied.

We showed his Mother the costumes, and I noticed a concerned look on his Mother’s face when she saw the Snow White costume. However, she soon got into the spirit of things, as we tried on our costumes. “What do I wear under this?” Charlie asked.

“I think that your usual underwear, and a pair of shorts,” I volunteered, “and a pair of loafers. The dress is long enough so no one will notice, and if they do, that’s just the way it is.”

Suitably costumed, we arrived at the party. Fred, the host, let out a hoot when he saw Charlie. “Do you like wearing dresses?” he asked with an evil smile on his face.

I answered for Charlie, “If he does, it would be humiliating for him to admit it, otherwise he would just be insulted.”

Fred looked a little crestfallen with my statement, “Sorry, it was just a joke,” he said, “but you have to say he looks good, but not as good as you. This was said as he was staring at my breasts,

We had a good time at the party, and I liked dancing with Charlie. On the way home, he said, “You really put Fred in his place, do you know what my answer would have been?”

“Only if you are comfortable telling me,” I answered.

“I do like wearing dresses,” he admitted, “I hope you don’t hate me for saying this.”

“I don’t hate you, and I like you even the more for being able to admit it.” With that, I pulled the car over to the curb leaned over the console and kissed him. Now I understood why his mother had looked concerned.

* * *

One day after class, I mentioned that I wanted to go to the mall to pick up a few things, and asked Charlie if he wanted to go along. “I don’t have to work today,” he replied, “so why not? I could use a new pair of slacks, so why don’t we go to Coulters and use some of the money from the photo shoot.”

When we arrived in the mens’ wear department, there were large posters in stands with Charlie. We stood close to one and admired it. This caught the attention of one of the clerks. “Can I help you?” she said.

“Do you have those slacks in slate?” Charlie asked.

The clerk did a double take. She looked at the poster and at Charlie. “Give her a smile,” I whispered, which he did, exposing those dimples.

The clerk made the connection. “That’s you, isn’t it?” she asked.

“Yes,” Charlie replied.

“Could you wait here for a minute?” she asked, and she went over to the cash register area and picked up a telephone. When she came back to us she said, “You know, I thought that you models only bought clothes at high end stores, but here you are buying clothes at Coulters. Let me show you some other clothes you might like.” While she was doing this, a well dressed man came over to us.

“I’m Mr. Sloan, the store manager,” he said, “and that’s you in the poster.”

“It is,” Charlie affirmed.

“Could you autograph the poster, and would you let us take pictures in front of the poster and buying clothes? The photos would be used for our store newsletter,” he said. “I’ll call your agency, and take care of any financial arrangements.”

A few minutes later a photographer arrived and started taking pictures. Mr. Sloan then turned to Charlie and asked, “Can I ask you why you decided to shop here?”

“I buy most of my clothes here,” Charlie responded, “and I thought it only fair to spend the money I earned at the photo shoot here.” Mr. Sloan beamed.

Mr. Sloan then turned to me. “You’re a model also, aren’t you? I thought I saw your posters in the womens’ department.”

“Yes,” I replied, “and like Charlie, I buy a lot of my clothes here.”

One last photo showed Charlie paying for his purchases. “I want everyone to know that you actually bought clothes here,” Mr. Sloan explained.

“Could you sent copies of the photos to my agency, Eames, along with a copy of the store newsletter?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he responded. The photo taking had drawn the attention of other shoppers, and we soon had a crowd. Mr. Sloan announced that the models for the store shopped at Coulters. Charlie and I flashed smiles.

When I returned to work, I explained to Ms. Eames what had happened at the store. “I told Mr. Sloan that we would give him a special rate, provided that he told all photographers that did the store’s work that the store wanted Eames to be the sole agency for their work.”

* * *

It was a rainy afternoon in November when Charlie and I were studying at his house. His Mother was away for the whole afternoon, and we had the house to ourselves. “I thought about what you said, and I wonder if you want to show me what you look like in a dress,” I said.

“Are you sure?” he said.

“Yes,” I answered, and then I asked, “provided you have any dresses or skirts here.” With that he led me to his closet, where he had a feminine wardrobe in the back. After seeing this, I added, “I therefore assume that you have the necessary underclothes.”

“Bottom drawer of my dresser,” he replied. With that he started to undress. When he was down to his undershorts, he stopped. “Hand me a pair of panties, and I’ll go into the bathroom to change.”

He made a nice looking college aged girl, with cute dimples. I just had to kiss him, and then one thing led to another. However, I had to hide my ‘secret’ from him,

* * *

One evening I casually mentioned to Gloria and my Aunt that Charlie was a cross dresser, and related how I had found out and what I had done. “And, let me guess,” Gloria said, “you just forgot to tell him about you.”

“Well . . . yes,” I admitted.

“If you want the relationship to continue, you have to tell him,” my Aunt declared. “Why don’t you invite him over here for Sunday Dinner?”

After dinner that Sunday, I said, “Charlie, you have been forthright with me, and I appreciate it. I really want our relationship to continue, but there is something about me that you need to know.”

He waited for me to continue. Well, here it goes, I thought. “You know what transgendered means, don’t you?” He nodded his head. “Well, I’m a transwoman. I was born male. I am in transition and will have my surgery this spring.”

He looked surprised, but not shocked. “Does that mean that you have a . . . er . . .”

“Yes,” I answered.

His next statement surprised me. “Could I see? After all you made me show you mine,” he said.

“Not at the dinner table,” interjected my Aunt. “Let’s go upstairs,” she then added as if it were agreed that I would strip. Well, I guess it was agreed, because I had no problem with it. The only problem was that my Aunt and Gloria wanted to watch. “Let’s use my bedroom,” my Aunt suggested.

When we were all in the bedroom, I began to disrobe. Actually it was more or less a striptease. It caused an obvious reaction with Charlie, “Why don’t you also undress, Charlie?” my Aunt suggested, and he began to disrobe. Finally, both Charlie and I were naked, and fully aroused. “You take care of him,” Gloria said to me, “and I’ll take care of you.”

“Let me,” Charlie said, “I’ve always wanted to know what it is like.” And so that was what happened.

* * *

After that, Charlie became my best female friend as well as my boy friend, and with Charlie as Charlene we went shopping and doing other kinds of girl friend things. One very interesting thing was that Charlene and I were hit on by boys at the mall. It was a new thing for Charlene, but she handled it well.

Charlie told his parents that he had told me that he cross dressed, and his parents were happy that I did not object. Thereafter, there were many occasions where Charlene dressed when I visited her home.

I realized that I was falling in love with Charlie, and he with me.

* * *

Coulters was putting on a show of new bridal gowns in the store, and they specifically requested that Charlie and I be models. Charlie wore a tux, and I modeled bridal gowns. If only this was for real, I thought.

* * *
Over the holidays, I had a brief but intimate talk with Charlie. “You like to cross dress,” I started out to say, “and that is perfectly okay with me. What I want to know is whether you want to transition and become a transwoman.”

“I don’t,” he replied, “but why do you ask?”

“Because I love you and want to marry you after my surgery,” I blurted out.

“Aren’t I the one who is supposed to propose?” he asked with a grin.

“Okay,” I answered, “so what are you waiting for?”

He then got down on his knees. “Will you marry me?” he proposed.

“Yes, on one condition, I’m the only one wearing a wedding dress at our wedding,”

* * *

Epilog.

I had my surgery and Charlie and I were married. This brings me to today’s date. It is a rainy afternoon, and my husband and I are entwined together on our bed.

The End