“So Valerie Swindon? Are you ready” Sally asked.

Sally was still dressed in her bathrobe sitting at the coffee table in Valerie’s expensive hotel room, sipping coffee and smoking.

“You definitely not coming with me,” Valerie pouted.

“Yes! That’s the look! Use that on the Dean,” Sally teased.

“Come on Valerie; you need to do this on your own. You’re going to live in that joint for the best part of two years so present yourself as fresh, intelligent, artsy, confident, and with just a smidgen of sex appeal,” Sally said.

Valerie smiled pessimistically. She had been out and about with Sally for nearly a week and was comfortable in her skin and had had dealings with shop assistants, bar staff, waiters and members of the general public. But today she would be alone. In a room. With a man.

“How do I look?” Valerie spun on her heels so that Sally could appraise her.

They had given considerable thought as to how Valerie should dress. When glammed up to the nines she could pass for a young lady of twenty or even older and she looked quite the seductress. That look was definitely not what was required today.

They had settled on a navy blue pleated A-line skirt with the hem resting mid-thigh, a white nylon long-sleeved blouse, and a navy blue blazer that hung to her hips. The ensemble was similar to the uniform worn by the girls at the Finishing School. Her classic brunette bob with subtle highlights was blunt cut just above her shoulders, centre parted, with a fringe that rested on her eyebrows. It shone in the lamplight having been shampooed, conditioned, and given the obligatory one hundred brush strokes.

Shoes were kept simple. The Finishing School uniform prescribed black low-heeled courts but Valerie had decided on a pair of wedge-heeled Mary Jane’s with the strap over the instep. White semi-opaque tights complimented both her skirt and her shoes and showed her coltish shapely long legs to advantage.

She accessorised sparingly with a silver necklace, bracelet, earrings and a ring on the ring finger of each hand. A simple black leather-banded watch was affixed to her right wrist. Her makeup was subdued, some foundation, powder, a dab of rouge, a sparing amount of eyeliner and eyeshadow but plenty of mascara. Her pink lipstick matched her nailpolish. She had completed the ensemble with a subtle splash of perfume.

Valerie was wearing practical underwear, white satin full-cut panties that she called ‘granny knickers’ and a lightly padded white lace bra that gave her chest the very slightest of shape.

She didn’t want to look like a schoolgirl but she didn’t want turn up looking like a strumpet either; both she and Sally agreed the outfit was a nice compromise.

“You look gorgeous darling,” Sally arose and embraced Valerie, kissing her on the side of the mouth so as not to spoil her lipstick.

“Remember what I said. No smoking, not before the interview anyway, you don’t want him smelling smoke on you. Sip a little mouthwash before you go in. Pull down and straighten your skirt when you sit, cross your ankles and…”

Valerie laughed and pulled Sally to her and kissed her.

“Shut up! You sound like my mom not my lover,” she smiled into Sally’s glistening eyes.

“Is that what I am to you? Your lover?” Sally stared longingly into Sally’s eyes.

“What do you think you are?” Valerie looked confused.

“Your prossie? Your harlot? Your whore?” she looked down at her feet.

Valerie lifted Sally’s chin and shook her head.

“All the wrong words.”

“My lover. My confidant. My best friend,” she smiled into Sally’s face and kissed her lightly.

Sally smiled back.

“Wait for me Sally. I want to tell you how I performed at the interview. And I have an offer for you,” Valerie said.

Valerie scratched around, throwing her cigarettes, lighter, purse, change of tights – just in case she laddered them, and the spare hotel room key, into her classic black leather handbag.

Valerie splashed out on a taxi to take her to the Chelmsford Finishing School For Young Ladies. She sat on the back seat concentrating on getting her story right. She had rehearsed it time and time again with Sally and it was mostly based on fact but it was the little details she needed to get right. She did not want to get caught in a lie.

The more she focussed on her interview the less she concentrated on behaving like a lady; she was getting better, but it was not yet instinctive.

It was only when she became aware that the cabbie was staring at her in the mirror that she realised she was sitting with her legs wide open, her skirt had ridden up and the crotch of her white knickers was prominently displayed for all to see.

She saw the look of alarm on the cabby’s face when she caught him perving and she tormented him by opening her legs wide, rubbing her crotch and sticking out her tongue at him. He blushed a deep red and his eyes shot to the road in front of him. Valerie laughed to herself but also scolded herself for not concentrating on being a full time lady.

The cabbie did not get a tip.

Valerie was dying for a cigarette but it would have to wait. She smoothed out her skirt and patted her hair and took in the façade of the old but elegant building. It was red brick with slate tiles on the roof and white framed windows in rows delineating the four floors. Extensive gardens surrounded the building. Emily Milford had described to her the playing fields, botanical garden, and small wood at rear of the school. Wide stone steps led from the sweeping gravelled driveway to large wooden double-doors which opened to the entrance foyer.

Valerie watched the young ladies in the school’s uniform skip up and down the worn sandstone steps and the serious faced faculty members carrying briefcases and bundles of files in their arms. A bell sounded and almost at once the place seemed deserted. School was obviously in session.

Valerie rummaged in her bag and found small bottles of perfume and mouthwash. She gargled and swallowed, wincing at the bite of the mouthwash, and then sprayed herself liberally with perfume.

She took a deep breath and climbed the steps and entered the foreboding entrance hall with its high ceilings, tall narrow stained glass windows, imposing portraits of persons long passed on, crossed flags of the Union Jack and the school banner. There was even a suit of armour in one corner. Wide staircases with wooden balustrades led from either side of the entrance hall to the first floor from were she could hear mutterings which she presumed was the teachers and professors lecturing their students.

The two floors above the school rooms were the dormitories The ground floor consisted of the teachers studies, a library, administration offices, a kitchen and the cafeteria.

Valerie saw a wooden plaque hung on a shingle above one of the doors with the words ‘Dean of Admissions’ embossed in faded gold lettering. Everything about the school seemed at little old and worn; like it had seen better days.

Valerie approached the door and knocked gently.

“Come,” a gruff voice behind the door commanded.

Valerie entered the gloomy office and closed the door behind her. A mole-like older man with hunched shoulders and wire-framed glasses perched on the edge of his nose looked Valerie up and down. He was dressed in a black, billowing, professor’s gown, the sleeves of his shirt protruding from the slit sides had sliver metal sleeve-garters to keep the cuffs from falling onto his hands.

There were piles of books and files on the Dean’s desk and dust motes drifted in the air, a beam of wintry light managed to percolate through the sooty windows.

“Sit, sit, sit,” the Dean pointed to a wooden chair positioned in front of his desk.

Valerie sat down on the hard chair, carefully smoothing her skirt under her and arranging it modestly, closing her knees and crossing her ankles. She set her handbag on the floor beside her and gave the Dean her full attention.

“Your stepfather is William Styles,” the Dean began without preamble.

Valerie nodded.

“Speak up girl! Speak up!” the Dean admonished her.

“Yes, but I just refer to him as my father,” Valerie blushed.

“Hmm…commendable, commendable.”

Valerie very soon realised that the Dean of Admissions, who was also the head of the English and History Departments, was a blatherer who constantly repeated himself.

The Dean was head down studying documents which she recognised as the letters of recommendation from tutors who did not exist and school reports from two schools she had never attended. They were the documents she herself had forged. Now would come the moment of truth.

“Mmm…you appear to be a fine student and come highly recommended. Your father has paid your tuition and board for one year in advance and paid extra for a private dorm. Your father must love you very much,” he looked up and blinked at her myopically.

“Oh he does Dean. I just wished I saw more of him but with mother gone, and he required to travel extensively for work, my only option is boarding school and yours comes highly recommended,” Valerie smiled.

“Mmm…I see, I see,” the Dean nodded his head.

“As you are likely aware and as I explained to your father, Chelmsford Finishing School for Young Ladies is now more of a liberal arts college than a traditional Finishing School per se. Our curriculum is preparatory for young ladies designing on a career in the arts, rather than those seeking academic achievement,” he explained.

Valerie was about to nod when she realised her mistake and answered verbally.

“Just what I’m looking for Dean,” she smiled.

“Our syllabus is eclectic and quite liberal and well as ‘the three Rs’ includes: music, literature and the fine arts, practical beauty and deportment, fashion design and styling, grooming and etiquette, communication and job interview skills. We are a preparatory school of some prominence,” he said proudly.

“Which is why I would love to attend,” Valerie gave him her biggest smile.

“Consider yourself enrolled. I’m Dean Jenkins by the way and very pleased to meet you,” he extended his hand across the desk and Valerie shook it with ladylike charm.

There were some documents requiring her signature, one of which was the school’s Code of Conduct, which Dean Jenkins gave her to take away, read and sign. He explained to her that as she was joining mid term, a senior girl would be assigned to her as a mentor and chaperone. Valerie had two days to prepare herself and was to report to the school on Wednesday in uniform and with all her possessions.

Valerie made a point of thanking the Dean for accepting her application without being pretentious or fawning.

As soon as she was in the taxi heading back to her hotel she lit a cigarette and grinned to herself.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” she punched the air.

The taxi driver looked at her in the mirror and smiled.

“You got in then I take it?” he grinned, assuming rightly she had attended an enrolment interview.

Valerie nodded at him and smiled.

“I’d let you into any school I was in charge of,” he winkled at her and chuckled.

“Cheeky,” Valerie grinned back but she hitched up her skirt and gave him a tasteful glimpse of knicker as a reward.

Valerie burst through the door of her hotel room and flung her handbag on the couch; she looked around excitedly and saw Sally lying on the bed in a redolent pose dressed only in black stockings and suspenders, red satin and lace knickers, matching bra and black highheels. Her makeup was heavy and alluring and she was sipping a flute of chilled champagne with another glass on the opposite bedside table waiting for Valerie.

She beamed at Valerie and patted the bed beside her. Valerie slipped out of her blazer, skirt and blouse and leapt on the bed beside her lover. She scooped up her glass of champagne and clinked glasses with Sally and downed the contents in one gulp.

She dropped the glass on the carpeted floor and leapt on Sally who squealed with delight and wrapped her arms around Valerie.

They kissed for what seemed like an eternity.

Valerie pushed her groin into Sally’s and their cocks rubbed together through layers of satin and nylon. Sally pulled down Valerie’s knickers and reached into her tights to find her erect and leaking precum.

“Mmm, someone is ready,” Sally beamed up at her lover.

Valerie pulled the gusset of Sally’s panties aside and pressed her glans into Sally’s sphincter. She could feel the slick lubricant and she pressed forward and slowly entered her lover.

“Mmm and someone else is ready too,” Valerie cooed and ground her pubis into Sally’s groin.

Sally encouraged Valerie to lie down on her back so that she could straddle her; this way Valerie’s cock was buried deep inside Sally’s anus and she could ride up and down on it controlling the tempo. Valerie gripped Sally’s hips and guided Sally up and down on her hard cock, driving herself deep into her lover.

Sally threw back her head and groaned, she loved being impaled on Valerie’s hard, long, thick cock and she wriggled her buttocks to get Valerie’s shaft rubbing on her prostate.

“Oh my god you are in me so deep!” Sally moaned, writhing on Valerie’s turgid member.

“Fuck me you bitch! Fuck me hard!”

Valerie lifted her buttocks off the bed to thrust into Sally as deep as she could go. She grasped Sally’s cock and caressed it. She felt it pulsate in her fingers and Sally ejaculated hot semen all over Valerie’s belly.

This invoked Valerie’s orgasm and she pulled Sally down on her pulsing cock and drove it deep inside Sally as her cock spasmed, filling Sally’s anus with her seed.

Sally writhed and wriggled on Valerie’s cock, spraying her spend as she came and Valerie held onto Sally’s hips and followed her gyrations with her groin as her own ejaculate filled her lover’s back passage.

The two transvestites gasped and shuddered and spent themselves and then Sally fell forward and they kissed and caressed as Valerie’s cock slowly deflated inside Sally’s behind.

Sally climbed off and they lay side by side kissing and stroking each other.

Valerie disengaged after a while and poured them more champagne and lit them both cigarettes.

“So I’m guessing the way you just jumped on me and shagged me that you had a successful interview,” Sally laughed.

“I report to the school on Wednesday for indoctrination,” Valerie grinned.

“You were never in doubt honey,” Sally kissed Valerie quickly on the lips.

“So what’s this offer you have for me?” Sally leaned on one elbow and looked at Valerie quizzically.

“Well you know I’m a woman of means,” Valerie lazily stroked Sally’s thigh.

“Well yeah. You spending up big time on clothes, on this hotel room, on everything,” Sally replied.

“And on you,” Valerie sniggered.

“Hey honey; you know I can’t accept any more money from you; I’ve had a great time this week at your expense,” Sally stroked Valerie’s face.

“Hey I’m offering you a business venture babe not charity,” Valerie countered.

“So you know I have some money. I have a lot more than you might think and I have this idea. I buy a nice apartment close to London. Somewhere where nice you can work out of instead of walking the streets,” Valerie started.

“Oh no Valerie I couldn’t possibly accept,” Sally interrupted.

“Hey let me finish darling. This is no free ride. You work out of the apartment and we split the proceeds. And when I get breaks and holidays from school I come stay with you,” Valerie grinned.

“Oh Valerie that is just too generous. But isn’t there someone else you would rather stay with?” Sally looked at Valerie soberly.

“Darling there is no one else I would rather spend my time away from school with than you. I think…well…I think I’m falling in love with you, just a little,” Valerie smiled down at Sally.

Sally reached up and pulled Valerie’s face to hers and they kissed. And they caressed. And they fondled. And they nuzzled…and of course they made love.

Finding Sally an apartment was not as difficult as they thought it might be; especially when the two delightful creatures turned on the charm with their selected real estate agent but more especially when cash was offered.

They bought a recently renovated three bedroom two bathroom apartment for twenty thousand pounds on the outskirts of Soho. Not right in the heart of the red light district, but close enough to ensure Sally a ready supply of punters. The flat was put in Sally’s name for obvious reasons and they spent a fun filled day picking out the furniture.

Valerie made an appointment with Mrs Delaney’s Couturier and Haberdasher, the dressmaker and couturier who was appointed to provide school uniforms for the women and girls who attended the Chelmsford Finishing School for Young Ladies.

Sally had gone to great lengths to teach Valerie how to tuck and gaff properly. It would be so important when she interacted with the other girls at the school; and today would be Valerie’s first time undressed in front of someone besides Sally.

Sally showed Valerie how to push her testes up inside herself and then push her penis back between her legs, pulling the scrotal skin up on either side. She then gaffed with surgical tape which gave her a flush mound; she could even sit on the toilet and urinate just like a woman. When she pulled on and smoothed her knickers it looked like she had a pubis just like any woman.

So Valerie gaffed and pulled on her ‘granny knickers’ matching padded bra and, having dressed in the same outfit that she wore her interview, they took a cab to Mrs Delaney’s Couturier and Haberdasher, located on the High Street in Chelmsford.

Pauline Delaney herself attended to Valerie in a private fitting room. As Valerie’s was a rush job, Pauline found some completed pieces and helped Valerie try them on, promising to take her measurements and provide her with tailored uniforms for the next semester.

Valerie sat on a padded stool, stripped down to her knickers, tights and brassiere.

“You’ll have to take off the tights sweetheart; the Finishing School is one of the few places left that mandates stockings as part of their uniform.”

“You’ve read the code of conduct I take it?” Pauline asked.

“Yes I have. I think it goes something like this: ‘Hosiery: sheer tights may be worn in place of stockings after school tuition hours and on weekends but stockings only are to be worn when in uniform in public’. I think that’s rather archaic,” Valerie commented.

She realised her mistake as she watched Pauline’s face redden with anger.

“That’s the problem with young women these days. They want everything to be easy and not have to pay attention to detail. It’s so simple to pull on a pair of sheer tights or pantyhose as our American cousins call them, but the ritual of snapping welts to garters, smoothing out wrinkles and straightening seams is character building. It requires patience and attention to detail. And that is why stockings are still the mandated hosiery for Chelmsford Finishing School for Young Ladies,” she scolded.

Valerie actually quite liked the feel, fit, and style of fully-fashioned stockings and was not about to get into an argument about hosiery with Pauline.

Her issue was that she liked to wear her knickers over the gusset of her tights as it helped keep her gaff in place and it also looked neater.

“Then may I have a little privacy while I remove my tights?” Valerie asked sweetly.

Pauline obliged; she didn’t want to be in same room as lady removing her knickers.

“Of course dear; I’ll be back with some items for you to try on in a jiff,” she smiled, her tirade over.

Valerie whipped off her knickers, pulled down her tights and put her knickers back on. She was pleased with her gaff and confident Pauline wouldn’t have an inkling that she was not a real woman.

The rest of the fitting went well. Pauline fitted her with a black garter belt to which she helped her clip the welts of the grey, fully-fashioned stockings, as approved by the school.

“Put the garters under you knickers dear, then you can pull your knickers down when you need to tinkle without removing your stockings,” Pauline tittered.

‘Tinkle or fuck,’ Valerie thought to herself and smiled.

Pauline helped her step into a pleated grey skirt, the hem of which sat high on her thighs, and fitted her into a white cotton blouse to which she helped Valerie affix the school tie.

“When you get assigned to your house, you can wear the house tie dear,” Pauline explained needlessly, but Valerie just smiled and tucked the blouse into her skirt and zipped her skirt closed.

She tried on several pairs of shoes until she found a pair that fitted her perfectly. The black patent leather, low-heeled court shoes looked quite nice with the uniform ensemble. They found a blazer with the school’s crest and motto embroidered on the pocket and she was nearly done.

The final accoutrement was the vintage French-style straw topper. Pauline placed it on Valerie's head and lead her over to the full-length mirror.

Valerie loved it!

“Wow!” she squealed.

“Yes the uniform is very lady-like. And if I may say so…a little bit cheeky in this day and age,” Pauline grinned.

“Sort of Saint Trinian’s,” Valerie beamed.

Pauline grinned at her.

“If you say so dear; but I’ll never admit to agreeing with you in public,” Pauline winked at her conspiratorially.

“Now that I know what fits you I’ll put together two skirts, three blouses, one tie, one topper, one pair of school shoes, one blazer, the sussie belt and five pairs of stockings. I take it you will buy your own knickers and bra; just buy the same ones you wore today dear. They are acceptable,” Pauline said.

“Perfect but can I show my friend before I take the uniform off?” Valerie beamed.

“Of course dear. I actually thought she was your mum,” Pauline sniffed.

Valerie emerged from the fitting room and posed for Sally.

“Oh my god look at you!” Sally grinned.

“You look wonderful…and very schoolgirl like,” she smirked.

Sally pulled Valerie close and hugged her and then jovially pinched her bum.

She kissed Valerie’s ear and then naughtily bit her earlobe.

“I can’t want to shag you in that outfit,” she whispered and squeezed Valerie's bum.

Pauline Delaney cleared her throat and gave them both a disparaging look.

“Ahem…cash or cheque?” she asked.

To be continued.