The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 9

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn I am exhausted when I finally slip into my new flannel nightgown and fall into my own bed. As sleep creeps up to me, all that I can think of is: what I can wear for my date with Sam!?!?

Tuesday Jan 3, Day 9

Morning comes too quickly. I think that I need to take a day off just to recover from the long weekend! More than anything else in the world, I want to stay in bed this morning so I take a few minutes to luxuriate in the warm feel of my flannel night gown while snuggling deeper under my comforter.

I smile as I recall the New Years party, two sleepovers, and the football party. It was a great weekend!

I still don’t understand why the two ladies were so willing to share my bed. It could be that they needed some sexual release, and I was a safe way to do it without forming awkward emotional attachments. It could also have been some kind of compulsion from the supernatural power that has taken so much interest in me lately. Maybe it was something else. I will have to ask Joanna and Anita sometime. I don't really know why they did, but it made for one a heck of a weekend.

My prior sexual experience is limited. Before to this weekend, I had only slept with my one girlfriend, Judy. I wasn’t her first, but even after a couple of months living together, we were both still learning the ways of sexual pleasure when it all came to an end. My time with Judy wasn’t nearly as satisfying as that of the past weekend. Joanna and Anita really helped me understand the joy of sex, from a male perspective. I could also see the pleasure that they derived from the experience. Maybe this weekend was meant to show me that sex as a woman can be very satisfying and nothing to be afraid of. I shudder at the thought of having sex with a man, however, knowing that the ladies enjoyed the weekend as much as I did gives me hope that sex as a woman will be just as wonderful as it has been for me as a man. Maybe making love as a woman is something to actually look forward to.

Thinking of sex with men, I am reminded of my upcoming dinner with Sam. I can guarantee that there will be no sex tonight!

Reaching down into my panties, I find that little Karl is still there. However, little Karl seems much smaller and not at all inclined to rise to the occasion. It looks like his romping days might be over. Not that those days ever really got started.

My hand also discovers that my testicles are AWOL. The scrotum is still there, but the sacks are empty. This new discovery jolts me awake.

Jumping out of bed, I strip down and stand before the full-length mirror, finding that I am nearing the end of my transformation.

What I see in the mirror is an underdeveloped female with a pretty face, beautiful hair, arms, and legs that are shaped more like a woman's than a man's. She has a hint of curves, but just a hint. The hips are slightly wider than the high waist. Her chest, neck and shoulders are also more slender than they had been even two days ago. She is still missing any hint of breasts other than the areolas which are more pronounced than they were yesterday. The biggest anomaly is the penis, albeit only a couple of inches long, hanging from her crotch.

I turn to get a better view of my backside. My derriere is definitely showing signs of rounding out into a feminine shape but still is much smaller than a mature woman's. I still have fresh, and vivid, memories of up close and personal interactions with feminine backsides this past weekend. I am nowhere near as shapely as either Joanna or Anita, but I am one step closer to being just like them. My panties should fit better today, I idly think.

As I stare at myself in the mirror, I realize that Jamie was right yesterday: there is no way that I can go to work today as a man. I am not really equipped to go as a woman either. I am three quarters female and a noticeable one quarter male.

Today sounds like a great day for telecommuting. Using my phone, I email Jim and Celeste my decision to work from home today. I let them know that they can call me anytime if they need anything.

I still need to get ready for work, even if I am telecommuting, so I head off to the shower wondering where I will find mom’s daily note. I am not in a rush to find it.

After finishing in the shower, I go back to my bedroom to figure out my clothing situation. I needn’t have worried. I found my day’s outfit on the bed along with mom's communication.

My dearest Karla,

I love the new name! I recommend that you change your middle name from Louis to Louisa.

Isn’t it great to have so many good friends? I think that it is a good idea to be open about your transition. A cover-up won’t work and would only make things worse. You will get some flack from various quarters, but that will blow over when people realize that you are not trying to hide anything from them. Just be honest and straight forward and you will be able to ride it out.

It is time for you to dress as a woman full time. The clothes in the master bedroom are yours to use. You can simulate the upcoming changes rather easily with a little padding here and there and a little makeup.

BTW, your father wants me to tell you to resist selling out to Jim for now.

Love always, Mom (and Dad)

Knowing that the ladies are probably waiting to hear from me, I take a picture of the note and clothes on the bed and text it to my group. I don’t mention the change to my anatomy.

There are quite a lot of clothes on the bed.

The outfit includes a pair of navy-blue women’s slacks with matching blazer, a white blouse, and a conservative low-heeled pair of women’s loafer shoes. Not too unlike what I see our women engineers wear to the office.

I also find some kind of white women’s stretchy brief with pads. The package says that it is butt enhancer shapewear. There is also a white bra with a box lying next to it. Opening the box, I find two silicone breasts - I have no doubt where those go!

Taking a deep breath, I face my new reality and slip on the panties, tucking little Karl between my legs. The firm panty keeps everything in place and gives me a fuller rear end and hips.

I have a lot of trouble figuring out the bra until I recall once watching Judy put hers on by doing up the clasps up front then spinning it around before pulling it into place. I find that the technique is much easier than trying to reach behind me to work the hooks. The breast forms fit the bra perfectly... of course.

I slip on the blouse and fumble with the backwards buttons, the last of which is much lower than I am used to. At least it covers up the bra and breast forms. I add the topaz necklace, which seems to be happily glowing this morning as it nestles in the V formed by the open top of the blouse.

It takes me a couple of minutes to figure out how to put on the sheer black knee-high nylon stockings, which I find with the shoes, without damaging them. The stockings are then covered with the slacks and I tuck in the blouse. There is no belt, or pockets for that matter. I will definitely need a purse if I go anywhere today. The waist is higher than I am used to. Turning in front of the mirror, I see that the butt enhancers do give me an acceptable female appearance behind and the panty gives me a flat feminine front.

The blazer is, fortunately, loosely tailored. I still don’t have the curves for a really sexy form fitting tailor job.

Slipping on the shoes, I stand up to walk to the mirror. Before I take my first step, my world view changes. I find it decidedly odd how things look a little different with only a couple of inches of elevation change! I know that I have taller heels in my mother’s shoe collection, but even this small heel throws me off kilter. I feel like I am standing on a slope with my feet pointed downhill. I take a few tentative steps towards the mirror and find that walking will be just a bit different, but not too bad.

Standing in front of the mirror, I critically evaluate my appearance.

Something needs to be done with my hair, which is still damp from the shower. Cautiously walking to my nightstand to get a brush, I return to the mirror. Mentally I try to come to grips with the reasonably attractive woman staring back at me. She looks almost sexy as she brushes her long hair.

She could use a little makeup. Unfortunately that is a skill that is in my future, not my present.

My phone dings with multiple notifications.

Jane: It looks like Karla is here to stay.

Anita: Please text us a picture once you are dressed.

Joanna: Any new physical changes?

Standing in front of the mirror, I take a selfie that shows the finished product and text it the group. While I am at it, I also do my daily head shots .

Joanna: Looking great girl friend!

Jane: I agree, you look very good. Hopefully your curves will appear soon!

Anita: Quite the professional woman.

Me: There are changes down below too.

Joanna: Oh! Do tell. Do you still have your joystick?

Me: You two wore it out. It is about half size and its two batteries are AWOL.

Anita: Dang! I was hoping for one more go at it.

Joanna: Me too!

Jane: You ladies really need to find yourselves a good man.

Joanna: Where do you find one?

Anita: Yeah. I haven’t had much luck there.

Anita: Speaking of good men, I hear that Karla has a hot date tonight.

Jane: Do tell.

Anita: My brother Sam told me this morning. He is over the moon. I haven’t seen him this excited since before he lost Karen.

Me: I am not going if I can’t find something besides this business suit to wear, I caution.

Jane: Have you checked in your mother’s closet today?

Me: No

I look in the master bedroom and notice a dress and accessories on the bed. I photograph the layout and text it to the ladies.

Me: Mom has me covered.

Joanna: I will come after work to help you get ready. I bet you don’t know the first thing about makeup.

Anita: I will come too.

Jane: You are in good hands.

A quick look around the room reveals a wide selection of bras in a drawer and several dresses, skirts, blouses, and pant suits in the closet. None of the items were here yesterday.

----<0>----

It is not long before I receive a call from Celeste.

“Hello Mrs. Jenkins,” I answer the phone.

There is quiet for a moment before she asks, “Can I speak to Karl?”

I sigh, “It is Karla now. There have been a lot more changes over the holiday.”

“Is that why you’re not coming into work?” She asks.

“Mostly,” I reply, “I’m three quarters female and one quarter male. It would be awkward at best. I don’t know any reason that I need to be physically present at the office today since I can get my work done remotely.”

“Can we do a teleconference?” she asks. “I would love see what you look like now. It might help me prepare the office for your return.”

“Sure,” I sigh. I expected this. “You might get Jim on the line at the same time. I’m sure that he will want to see this too. Can you give me twenty minutes and I will boot up our default video conference room?”

“Sure, Karl,” she hesitates, “I mean Karla. Twenty minutes. I will make sure that Jim is online to.”

I need the time to brush out my hair one more time and make sure that everything is in place.

----<0>----

I am nervously waiting in our virtual conference room when Celeste and Jim join in almost simultaneously.

They both look shocked when they see me.

“Karl?” Celeste asks, “Is that you?”

“Yes, Mrs. Jenkins. It is me but I think that I should go by Karla now,” I say, “don’t you think?”

“My God,” Jim exclaims. “You certainly have changed, Karl. I mean, Karla. Is it complete?”

“No,” I point to my chest, “these are silicone breast forms. I am still lacking female body curves and still have a vestige of my manhood in place. I suspect that all these ‘flaws’ will be rectified by the end of the week.”

“You sound 100% female,” Celeste observes. “Is your hair still growing?”

“I think that my hair has found its length. It hasn’t grown in the last twenty four hours. It extends to the small of my back.” I stand up and turn around so that they can see the length.

“Step back from the camera so that we can see the whole package,” Jim directs.

I adjust the camera and stand far enough back so that they can see my whole height then execute a slow twirl.

“Wow,” Celeste says in amazement. “You look completely female. That’s a very nice suit.”

“It is amazing what a little padding will do,” I reply dryly. “My mother picked out the clothes.”

“She’s still communicating with you?” Jim asks.

“Every day,” I confirm, “and each day I undergo some change. She usually leaves me with gifts of clothing and accessories too.”

“What do you hear from your dad?” Jim asks.

“Not much lately,” I tell him. “I think that all this feminization makes him nervous.”

“It makes ME nervous,” Jim declares. “I hope that it is not contagious.”

“Being a woman is not a bad thing,” Celeste retorts.

“I hope that you are right,” I reply, “because there is no stopping this train.”

“You look nice,” Celeste says. “Can you lean a little closer to the camera please.”

I do as requested.

“Just what I thought,” she says, “you are not wearing any makeup. Just a little makeup would complete the look and no one would question your gender for sure. Not that there is any doubt now.”

I laugh, “Yeah, right. I am not an artist. That’s not going to happen any time soon.”

“Ladies,” Jim looks impatient. “Can we get back to work here? Karl, sorry, Karla we need figure out how to explain your change to the staff and clients. I really don’t know what to say.”

“I think, whatever we do, we should be honest and straight forward about it,” I say. “Enough people already know that something is happening. George from the soils lab already knows. So does Jamie. They were both here all day yesterday at my bowl party. The genie is out of the bottle and she’s not going back in.”

“I agree,” says Celeste as Jim frowns. “I bet that we hear chatter on the office grapevine before lunch. There has already been a lot of talk around the office about Karl’s hair, voice, and softer facial features.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” Jim grumbles.

“You are the boss,” she says as if it is obvious to a blind fool. “No one gossips to the boss.”

Turning her attention to me, she suggests, “It is not good to let speculation run rampant. You need to get ahead of the curve and set the record straight before things get out of control. Might I suggest that you get your cute little derriere down here ASAP and mingle as much as you can today. Maybe have your lunch in the conference room and invite people to join you for a chat. Kind of informal like. The more people that are in on this change the better control you will have over the rumors. Girl, we just need to pull the bandaid off as quickly as possible.”

“But the changes are not complete,” comes out as a whine.

“Celeste is probably right,” Jim admits, “You look complete enough for me.”

“Did your mom leave you any makeup?” Celeste asks. “Bring some if you can. Some mascara, eye liner, a subtle lipstick, and some foundation would be a good start, and if she left some muted pink nail polish bring that as well.”

I just stare blankly at her.

“You don’t know what I am talking about, do you?” She sighs.

“You are speaking in a foreign language,” I point out.

“Well girl, if you are going native, you need to learn the language.” She informs me.

“Jim, in the best interests of the firm, I am going to order a lunch buffet for the conference room today, invite everyone to swing by, then I will go get our girl ready for her debut.” She firmly states.

She turns her attention back to me. “Go gather up what makeup you can find and text me a picture of it. I may need to stop by the store to get supplies on my way over.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I snap off a cocky salute.

“Don’t get smart with me, girl” she growls at me. “I raised two teen daughters. I know how to handle attitude.”

With that, we agree to Celeste’s plan and sign off to put the plan into play.

I find what looks to me to be a dizzying array of makeup stuff on my mom’s vanity and text a picture of it all to Celeste.

Less than an hour later Celeste shows up at my door in full drill sergeant mode.

Half an hour after she arrives, I am ready to walk out of the house knowing a lot more about the practical application of makeup than I did when I woke up this morning. She has also found a large tortoise shell barrette with the hair accessories that mom had left earlier and showed me how to pull back my hair on the sides and clip it back. I admit that it looks quite nice and keeps the hair out of my face.

“You still need a lot of practice with the basics,” she reminds me. “You are not ready for the big leagues yet.”

I look in the entry hall closet for a suitable coat. Mom hasn’t failed me. I find a mid-length hooded down coat perfect for today’s cold weather. I find a stylish grey knit cap with a girlish pompom on top and matching pair of feminine gloves stuffed in one sleeve.

Mom thinks of everything.

I slip on the coat and hat, shove the gloves in the coat pockets, and retrieve my new black nylon purse before heading for the garage.

Ready or not, it is time to meet the office staff as the new me.

----<0>----

So, I am a couple of hours late getting to the office. No big deal, right?

Apparently, not right.

I nominally occupy my father’s private office right next to my partner, Jim, in what passes for an executive suite in our mid-sized firm of about forty people. The suite is adjacent to the entry atrium. Celeste and another woman, Darlene, work from desks outside our offices but where they can keep an eye on the receptionist and lobby. The conference room is also just off the lobby. A hallway leads from the entry atrium towards the back of the building. On the west side of the hall we have a large open area, with cubicles, where most of our engineering takes place. This is where the design engineers and draftsmen/women reside.

On the east side of the hall, there is another large office space, with cubicles, where the surveying department bases their work. They have easy access from their space to an equipment storage area and to the vans and trucks in the back lot that are reserved for the survey crews. There is also a server room where our small IT staff works adjacent to the surveyors. The hall exits the backside of the building into a large parking area. Across the parking lot, in another building, we have a soils testing facility overseen by a senior geotechnical engineer with a staff that includes two junior geotechnical engineers and five field technicians.

I spend most of my time with the design engineers where I have a second workstation. From day-to-day I look pretty much like any other junior design engineer. Most of my coworkers tend to forget that I authorize their pay checks as I try to not make a big deal about my firm ownership. Jim is the face of the company.

Today, my plan is to make a beeline to my executive office and hide.

Somehow, word has gotten out that I had a sex change over the weekend. When word spreads through the office that I had arrived dressed as a woman, it seems that everyone suddenly has an urgent need to consult with me “over this detail in our current project.” It is obvious that my coworkers are checking me out, but fortunately, they are professional enough to stick to business. I try to act like nothing had changed.

After the third such visit, I realize that everyone wants to see me for themselves and are impatiently waiting for the promised lunch buffet, still an hour away.

Sighing, I get out of my office and do a walk through the design office, taking time to chat with people as I go. A few start to ask questions about my personal life, but I just smile and tell them that I will reveal all at lunch.

Walking through the survey department, most of the surveyors are there and stop what they are doing to stare at me.

“Jamie said that you had transitioned,” one of the women surveyors observed, “I expected to see a guy in a dress. You look damn good. Somebody did a great job on you.”

“I’ll tell all about it at lunch in the conference room.” I inform them.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” another surveyor says.

I give them a little wave before quickly walking the short distance to the soils lab. I have to walk quickly because I forgot to bring my coat and it is cold outside.

George looks up from his work as I enter the lab.

“Karla?” He asks with a questioning look.

“It’s me,” I admit with a smile.

“Wow,” he says, drawing the attention of everyone else in the lab.

“You looked the part yesterday,” he tells me, “But today… wow!”

“Damn,” the lab supervisor says, “George said that you were transitioning, but I didn’t expect this. I don’t mean to be disrespectful boss, but you turned out very nice. I just can’t understand why you are doing this.”

“Come over for lunch and we’ll talk about it,” I invite them. “That includes all of you. I’m buying.”

There are grins all around. “We’ll be there boss.”

While they are grinning about lunch, several of them seem to take a second to check me out. Not everyone seems pleased.

“Your transformation appears to be complete,” George says quietly as everyone else returns to their tasks.

“Not quite,” I blush, “but it is getting close.”

“Say George,” I change the subject. “I hear that you have a date with Joanna this weekend.”

“My,” he blushes, “word gets around.”

“She is a good friend,” I inform him. “She is also a very special woman. She may appear to be tough and prickly on the outside, but she can be very soft and loving when she wants to be. I need to warn you, however, to be on your best behavior. She doesn’t tolerate even the slightest misogynistic macho attitude. She represents women in divorce and harassment cases and has a very low opinion of what she terms as asshole men. She’s had some bad experiences with men outside work as well. She will bust your balls and walk home if you act like an asshole. So don’t strut your manly stuff.”

George blanches a little, “Maybe I should call it off.”

“Don’t,” I advise. “Just treat her as an equal and show some interest in her and all will go fine. You can do this.”

“I think she likes you,” I add with a wink.

----<0>----

Hiding in my office as the lunch hour approaches, I work on a short PowerPoint presentation to present the evidence of my transformation. At least the impromptu meetings went away after my walk through the office.

I text my girl friends: Wish me luck. I am coming out to the office in a company wide lunch at noon.

Anita: I thought you were staying home today???

Me: I planned to, but the firm leadership decided that I need to confront this head on to stay ahead of the rumors.

Joanna: Good plan. Let me know if you need any legal assistance. I love to prosecute civil harassment cases.

Jane: You've got this girl. Show them what you got. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

Anita: Jane is right. You've got this. Let us know how it goes.

As the final minutes tick by, I am sweating bullets, afraid that this whole meeting will blow up in my face. I will definitely need a shower when I get home.

Long before I am ready, Celeste pokes her head in my office, “I think everyone is in the conference room. It is very crowded but we saved you and Jim seats at the head of the conference table. I think everyone has filled their plates and they are wondering where you are.”

Jim is standing outside my office door after I take one last look in my office mirror before facing my coworkers.

“I still can’t believe this,” he admits, “But the evidence is staring me in the face. How about we go explain our anti-discrimination and harassment policy to our staff?”

I almost have to fight my way into the conference room. It is packed to standing room only. The crowd parts as I walk through the door to the head of the table.

The conference room is a fairly large room with a table that seats 20 with more chairs around the perimeter. There is a large spread of food along a buffet table at the far end of the room and it looks well used. There is not much left, not that I am hungry. I think that the butterflies in my stomach would push out anything I tried to eat.

Jim pulls out my chair for me, being the gentleman that he is, but I decline and invite Celeste to sit there. I prefer to stand during my presentation. Standing is a much better position to bolt from if I get the urge, which is not an impossibility. Also, it gives everyone a good view of my changes.

Before the meeting, I had asked one of our computer techs to warm up the computer and big screen. I find it ready to go, so I log in and bring up my presentation on the screen behind me.

First up is my corporate headshot that was taken just a month ago. With a click of the remote, a selfie that I took while making the presentation appears to the right of my first image. Below the corporate image is my name: Karl Louis Bronson. Under the selfie is my new name: Karla Louisa Bronson.

“Does anyone see any difference?” I ask the crowd.

“I didn’t know you had sister,” one woman says.

“I don’t,” I explain, “The image on the left is what I looked like a week ago. The other is a selfie that I took an hour ago.”

“You have a great makeup artist,” a woman from engineering comments with a hint of distain.

“There is no way this was done with makeup,” one of the other engineers rebuts before I can get out a response. “No one could have changed so drastically without hormones and surgery. Look at the pictures. Among other things, her jaw line has changed dramatically and her cheekbones are higher. That can’t be makeup.”

“And I worked with him, ah her, several times last week,” one the administrative staff pipes up. “A lot of you were on vacation last week, but Karl was here. Not in a hospital. Those of us who worked with him saw his hair grow out dramatically and his features soften as the week progressed.”

“So what DID happen?” one of the senior engineers asked. “If not surgery and hormones, what else? There is no such thing as magic.”

The next slide shows mom's first note by an image of the Christmas tree with the card and small gift under it.

“Christmas morning, I found a Christmas tree in my living room that I did not put there,” I explain. “With the tree was this note and the topaz necklace that I am wearing today. Pay particular attention to the last paragraph. I will read it for you.”

“Tomorrow is the first of the twelve days of Christmas. Each of those days, you will experience change that will prepare you to find your one true love. The changes may seem strange each day, but all will come into focus on the day of Epiphany.”

I let them read the note.

"Friday is the day of Epiphany," I point out.

“Someone was pranking you,” came from halfway down the table. “Not to be insensitive, but your parents died a year ago.”

“That’s what I thought too,” I admit. “Those of you who were in town will recall that it snowed overnight Christmas Eve. When I went to investigate, there were no sign of foot prints in the new snow. There was no evidence of a break-in either.”

I pull up the next slide which contains the second note.

“This note I found in my bathroom the day after Christmas,” I continue. “With it were bottles of shampoo and conditioner of the same brand that my mother used. My old shampoo was gone as were my shaving supplies. Fortunately, I guess, I didn’t need the shaving supplies. For the first time in a decade, I didn’t need to shave and I haven’t had to shave my face since. As the day progressed, my hair grew at a noticeable pace.

“I also found that my mother’s jewelry box, with all its contents, was back in my parents’ room." I put up a slide showing mom's jewelry box open on her vanity. "Her hair accessories were also back where they had been when she died. I called the jeweler that I had sold the jewelry to, and he said that he has already sold the pieces to a wide variety of customers. It would have been impossible to track down every piece to reform the collection that returned to mom's vanity.

“By this time, I was getting annoyed by whoever was pranking me. So, I set tells on all my doors and windows in case someone was coming in the house when I was gone or asleep.

“And the note was correct about the Mayor,” one of the senior engineers added. “I was in the meeting and the Mayor was being difficult until Karl asked him about his secretary.”

“Thanks,” I offer.

People are pretty quiet now. You can tell, however, that there are still some that are not yet believers.

“This is the last note that I will show you,” I inform them as I put the third note on the screen. “The notes get increasingly personal as the days go on. There is enough evidence here to make my point.”

“I checked all my tells that morning and none were broken, but there was the daily note along with the body wash mentioned in the note." I put up an image of the new body wash products. "My normal soap was gone. Later in the day, I found moisturizer, feminine razors, shaving cream, and deodorant in the master bathroom.

“Instead of following my mother’s advice,” I continue, “I went to my normal barber and had a business haircut. By the end of the day, it had grown out again and was a mess.”

“I told him to get it fixed,” Jim mentions.

“Pay particular attention to the part about meeting my old friends at the coffee shop for lunch.”

'You should go to the coffee shop today. Your old high school girlfriends, Anita and Jane, will be there. You should join them for lunch."

Continuing on, “Coming back to the office after my haircut, I was passing the coffee shop when I coincidentally bumped into my old high school friends, Anita and Jane. They invited me to join them, just as the note had prophesied. I took my mother’s advice and had a great visit with them. I told them about the bizarre happenings. Anita has always been interested in the supernatural, so she invited herself to my home that evening see for herself.

“Anita noticed that my skin was unusually smooth and soft for a male and that the body hair on my arms and chest had a softer, more feminine feel, than they expected on a man. And no, I did not let her examine me any further.”

“Too bad,” muttered a woman off to my left.

“Jane and Anita have been in the loop every day since,” I continue suppressing a grin, “Anita brought her friend Joanna over the next night to hear the story and view the evidence. Both have been over daily since then to see what ‘gifts’ my mother has left and to see what physical changes I have experienced. Jane has also joined us when she can. All three of them have had been with me throughout my transformation.”

“It looks as you have completed the transition,” one man observes.

“Not quite,” I smile sadly. “I am currently somewhere in between.”

“But you have the breasts and butt of a woman,” one guy points out.

“Yeah,” a woman points out, “but he doesn’t have any curves to speak of.”

“Padding can make up for some of those deficiencies,” I grin as I pat my butt.

“And,” with an evil grin I put a hand down my blouse and pull a breast form from my bra to gasps around the room, “silicone can make up for more.”

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Jim mutters behind me.

As I stuff the form back in my bra, “If the notes are correct, I won’t need the padding or the silicone much longer.”

“What about down below,” one young woman asks with a blush.

“I am not going to show you that,” I smile gently back at her. “But let’s just say that I am technically still male there. However, there are major changes in progress as we speak. I don’t expect to remain male there much longer.”

Jim pipes up, “I will thank you to keep that to yourself.”

There is a general chuckle around the room in response to Jim’s comment.

“There is a lot more that has happened along the same line,” I mention in closing, “However, I think I have presented enough facts to show you that what is happening to me defies rational explanation. And, before someone asks, I have not been a closet transsexual. Never in my life have I considered becoming or being female. This is not my choice, however I must admit that I am not distraught over it either. As near as I can tell, slightly over half the world’s population lives successfully as women. If you women can do it, then maybe I can as well. I don’t have any personal relationships that will be damaged by the change, so I don’t need to worry about a major reshuffling of my life. I just have a lot to learn.”

“I’ll say!”, a woman from the back calls out, earning chuckles from the women in the crowd.

“That’s about all I have for you,” I conclude. “If you still don’t believe that this is supernatural, then I invite you to supply another explanation that fits the facts. Until last week, I didn't believe in the supernatural either. Now I find it hard to deny.”

“There is still some food back there,” I remind them, “so help yourselves. We have a little time for questions still. I will answer what I can. Thank you for your attention.”

"Have you sought help from the medical profession?" Comes from one of the surveyors.

"Yes," I tell them, "I met with my family doctor twice last week. After examining me, he confirmed that I was still male at the time but my blood tests showed hormone levels consistent with a woman my age. He did an ultrasound and did not find any female reproductive organs so he is mystified by the results of the blood tests. He did, however, chronicle changes to my body that made me appear more feminine. He also could not account for the phenomenal growth of my hair nor the loss of my facial hair."

Some idiot calls out, “Are you still going to sit for your licensing exam in the spring?”

I didn’t have to answer that question. One of our more senior women engineers replied in disgust. “And why wouldn’t she, Carlos. She is just becoming female, not having her brains sucked out.”

I just raise my eyebrows. A woman near me mutters, “What an asshole.”

Jim takes this opportunity to stand up and remind everyone of our anti-discrimination and harassment policy. He pointed out that no one is irreplaceable. If there is verified discrimination or harassment against anyone for any reason that behavior is grounds for dismissal and possible court action.

I add, “My good friend, Joanna Goodheart, attorney at law, has volunteered to help us prosecute any civil discrimination or harassment suit. She has a very good track record with those types of cases.”

“Oh shit,” Carlos groans. His recently divorced ex-wife did quite well in the settlement with Joanna representing her.

As people file out, I head to what is left of the buffet. I notice that the men give me a wide berth, and a few of the women. I do get encouraging words from several of the ladies, most offering to help with my feminine education.

When everyone has returned to work and the administrative staff starts putting the conference room back in order, Jim, Celeste, and I adjourn to Jim’s office.

“I hope that some work gets done this afternoon,” Jim mutters.

“Don’t worry about it,” Celeste dismisses his comment. “You know how it is, everyone is coming back from a long weekend and/or vacation. It will be slow today regardless.”

Turning to me, Celeste says, “I think that went well. I was a little worried up front that Carlos and some of his buddies would be assholes, but everyone else seemed to take it in stride. I think you did the right thing putting everything on the table. It will keep the wild rumors down. People appreciate it when you respect them enough to be straight with them. Throwing out the challenge to find another explanation that fits the facts was a good move.”

“Yes,” Jim agrees, “It went better than I thought. I was watching a few people who appear to still be skeptical. I think we have several conspiracy theorists in the firm and they are thinking that you are fabricating facts to hide whatever is really going on. Fortunately, you have a reputation of being honest and straight with people, so hopefully that will sway them.”

“I agree,” Celeste smiles, “Everyone likes you. Integrity is important in our business and by putting everything on the table, everyone will respect you that much more. I actually expect that, as a result of your presentation, people will be even more loyal to the firm than they have been. They like to know that we trust them.”

“Thanks for your support,” I say with unexpectedly watery eyes, “both of you. I couldn’t ask for better colleagues. I really appreciate you helping me get through this.”

“I still can’t believe that you pulled that breast stunt,” Jim shakes his head.

“It was perfect,” Celeste disagreed. “It lightened the tension in the room and showed how open Karla is. She came across as being fun as well as honest.”

We spend a few minutes more analyzing the meeting before moving on to more mundane stuff, like where to house a couple of new structural engineers and a structural draftsman, how to drum up enough business to keep them busy, and other business development challenges.

Eventually, we all have other work to do. As Celeste and I get ready to head back to our desks, Jim asks me to stick around for a minute.

When Celeste is gone, he asks, “Not to be crass like Carlos, but is this transition going to change any of your professional plans? We need to look to the future of the firm.”

“No,” I assure him with a frown, “my professional priorities are the same. Do you think this transition will change that?”

“Who can tell?” He shrugs. “Major changes in a person’s life sometimes cause a shift in priorities. I just need to know what is on your mind. While I am effectively the managing partner because of my experience and the fact that you are not fully licensed yet, you are the majority owner and could technically change all that. I just need to know where I stand. You also know, as I told you after the death of your parents, I am willing to buy you out if you want to do something else. Your father and I built this firm from the ground up. It is everything to me and I really don’t like feeling vulnerable.”

“Jim,” I assure him, “you were my father’s closest friend. I hope that we can be friends too, even with the age, and now, gender differences. Dad trusted you with everything and I do too. You have always been like a second father to me. Some day I hope to be a truly equal partner as I grow within the profession but as long as you are still around, you will always be the true leader of the firm. We both know that I am not ready to take control, but you are mentoring me, which I appreciate that more than you know. I can see that ten or twenty years from now, you are going to want to retire. I hope to pick up the load and carry on from there as the second generation of leadership, but I need your help to learn the ropes. As long as we can work together with respect, I don’t see things changing. Jim, you are the one non-replaceable person in this firm. I promise that I won’t do anything to push you out of the way.”

“That’s good to hear,” he visibly relaxes. “But I want you to know that the offer to buy you out is always on the table.”

“Thanks, Jim,” I smile at him. “Have you thought of what would happen if we become a certified Woman Owned Business? We could land more government contracts. We should look into that once I become a certified genetic female with a full engineering license.”

I can tell that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. He leans back in his chair with a thoughtful expression. “We will have to look into that,” he says contemplatively.

----<0>----

When I get back to my office, there is a note to return a call from my friend John at the local paper.

“Hello John,” I greet him when answers the phone, “what’s up?”

“Who is this?” He inquires.

“Sorry,” I apologize, “my voice has changed. This is Karl Bronson returning your call.”

“It sure has changed,” John is surprised, “but the voice change fits with a tip that I received about an hour ago. Someone called me say that you came out as a transgendered woman at work today. They thought that it would make for an interesting story.”

“Come on John,” I sigh, “We talked about this at the New Year’s party. I am not transgendered, but I am morphing into a woman. It is not anything that I am doing to myself, and I fully expect to be a genetic woman, right down to the chromosomes, when this is over. So, I don’t think that the label transgender really applies. Whoever called you wasn’t listening too close to our informal lunch meeting. Why should it be newsworthy anyway? Transgenderism is nothing new. I bet you can find plenty of transgendered people around town. And like them, I don’t really want to splash my status across the front page.”

“Like it or not, Karl,” he starts.

I interrupt him, “I go by Karla now, John. I will get my name legally changed once my physical changes are complete.”

“Sorry,” he says, “It should be easy enough to remember the new name, Karla.”

“As I was saying,” he continues, “Like it or not, Karla, you are important to this city. You are the majority owner of a company which is growing and brings high-tech jobs into our community. You can’t hide that, and neither can you hide your changes. My source tells me that you look completely female now. By the way, I can’t believe you really pulled a silicone breast out of your bra in front of the whole office. He sent me a video clip of that stunt. I found it to be hilarious but there a people out there who will be offended. If I were you, I would look to see if it gets posted on YouTube. The video was creatively edited to look pretty crass, not what I have come to expect from you. Anyway, what I am offering to do is to put the record straight in a public forum. I think that my source wants to discredit you. Give me an exclusive interview and I can tell your story for you in a better light than a gossip rag.”

“I don’t know, John,” I reply indecisively.

“Think about it, Karla,” he presses his point, “This is basically just doing what you did for your office, just for the whole community. It is gossip control. The best way to squash malicious gossip is to get everything out front. It is best to be ahead of the curve. And I have to tell you, if my source is right, misinformation is already spreading. We need to get this in Sunday’s edition before the misinformation sinks in too deep.”

I sigh, “You make a great point. How do you want to do this?”

“I can come by your house when you get off work this evening and we could go over your evidence and you can tell me your story,” he sounds excited.

“I can’t tonight,” I firmly tell him. “I have a commitment that I really can’t break. How about tomorrow afternoon at my house, say 4:30 or 5? I might be able to have a couple of creditable witnesses to share their observations.”

“That will put me in a deadline time crunch,” he says, “But it can still work. Are you sure that you can't reschedule your evening tonight?"

"That is not negotiable," I firmly inform him.

"Okay, Okay, I get it," John relents. "I will see you at 4:30. You are still living in your parent’s house, right?”

“Yes, I am. See you then,” I agree before hanging up.

While I was talking with John, my cell phone was pinging like crazy.

Anita: I can’t believe you did this. She has a YouTube link embedded in the text.

Jane: OMG!

The message from Joanna seems to come from a tiger waiting to be let loose.

Joanna: Carlos is an asshole. Let me sue him for you!

I click on the link and find a video entitled: "Is this the leadership our community wants?"

I watch a 20 second video of myself patting my butt with a big smile and saying, “Padding can make up for some of those deficiencies and silicone can make up for more” as I pull out my breast form.

It is on Carlos’s YouTube channel and already has a thousand hits. The video is going viral.

Me: Sue him Joanna.

Me: I am going to see if I can fire him.

With that, I head off to see Jim and our small HR department. Both agree that Carlos has crossed the line.

Jim ends up calling Carlos to his office for a meeting with HR. I stay out of it.

After meeting with Carlos, Jim reported back to me that Joanna had gotten to him first, threatening to sue him into oblivion if he didn’t take down the video immediately.

Carlos had deleted the video from YouTube by the time he was summoned to Jim’s office.

The office asshole was seen cleaning out his desk shortly after his meeting with Jim and HR.

He was fired for violating the company policy on discrimination and harassment.

I informed my text group that: Carlos is looking for a new job. Thanks for your help, Joanna! Send me the bill.

Word of Carlos’ firing got around the office at light speed. I don’t think that we will see any more issues as everyone else seems to like their job.

----<0>----

I am running a little late by the time I pull into my garage. I notice Anita’s car at the curb and Joanna pulls into the driveway as I shut the garage door.

I find Anita up in the master bedroom examining the outfit that mom left for me to wear on my date with Sam and making sure that all the right makeup is arrayed on the Vanity.

“We don’t have much time to get you ready,” Anita seriously announces.

“And I want to hear your side of the story about your office antics,” Joanna says.

“I really need to take a shower,” I complain. “I was sweating bullets at work today.”

“Well then strip off,” Joanna says, “I want to see your changes anyway.”

“Ah…” I start to stammer.

“Come on girl,” Anita rolls her eyes. “We’ve both seen you naked before.”

Kicking off my shoes, I start to strip down.

As the bra comes off, I sigh in relief.

“It feels great to take your bra off, doesn’t it?” Anita knowingly asks.

I just nod a positive response.

“We all feel that way at the end of the day,” Joanna informs me.

Once naked, the ladies have me stand still while they walk around me examining today’s progress.

“What a shame,” Joanna says, fondling what is left of my genitals.

“Not much left down there,” Anita sighs. “And your testicles really are gone.”

Joanna runs her hands over my chest. “I think I can detect the start of breast growth.”

Anita also runs her hands over the same region and pokes at my nipples. “I think that you are right. Do they itch, Karla?”

“Yes, it’s been getting worse as the afternoon wore on.” I admit.

“I don’t think that you’ll be needing those breast forms much longer,” Anita comments with agreement from Joanna.

“I hate to break it to you, Karla,” Joanna informs me, “but you really need to shave your legs before you slip into that panty hose your mother laid out.”

“You might as well do your underarms as well,” Anita points out. “And you really do need to get in the shower soonest. There is not much time. Don’t forget to wash off your makeup.”

They crowd into the bathroom to talk to me while I am in the shower.

At their instance, I go over my day in some detail. I told them how Celeste really pushed for me to come in today and how she came over to help me with my makeup. They both agreed that the office meeting was a good idea, but that I should have skipped the demonstration.

Joanna told us about her conversation with Carlos. He was defiant at first, but Joanna reminded him of her success during his divorce negotiations and he wisely acquiesced to her demand to take the video down. I told them about his firing. Neither one felt sorry for poor Carlos.

I told them about my conversation with John. Both agreed to meet us here tomorrow as soon as they can get away from work. It will be nice to have some witnesses to reinforce my tale.

I was very careful shaving my legs and arm pits as we talked. Those are not areas that I have ever shaved before. It took a lot longer than doing my face. When I exited the shower, they showed me how to wrap my hair in a towel to absorb most of the moisture. Anita handed me some moisturizing cream to rub on my freshly shaved legs. She mentions that I might want to look into waxing. Apparently, I can go longer without shaving if I wax regularly.

Mom had set out another padded panty for this evening’s use. It doesn’t take much to tuck what is left of my penis away as it has continued to shrink during the day. I get instruction on the proper technique for putting on the panty hose that we found on the bed. Tonight’s bra is much lacier than the one I wore to work and is a perfect fit for the breast forms.

Next comes the dress. It is a lined dark blue and purple dress that falls just below my knees. I am told that the outer layer is chiffon, and that it has an empire waist, perfect for hiding inadequate curves. The dress has very short fluttery sleeves and a high neckline. The very silky lining feels light and airy, sending shivers across my skin. The shoes are black pumps with a short and moderately wide 2-inch heel. Fortunately, they have a closed toe as we don’t have time for toenail painting.

I am seated in front of the vanity and the ladies double team me. Joanna uses the hair drier and brush to dry and style my hair while Anita starts adding nail polish to my fingernails. Anita moves to my face as the polish on my fingernails dry, trying to explain what she is doing but she might as well have been speaking Japanese for all I understood her. Anita finishes up my makeup about the same time that Joanna finishes putting my hair into a very fancy French braid. She adds some sparkly butterfly hair pins from my mom's collection.

While all this is going on, we engage in non-stop chatter analyzing my day and discussing tonight’s date.

Somewhere in the conversation, I tell Joanna about the counsel that I gave to George in anticipation of their Friday night date. I have to assure her that George is really one of the good guys. To myself, I just hope that he doesn't make a liar out of me.

Anita tells me how depressed Sam has been since Karen’s passing and how much he has changed in just the last day. She begs me to not crush his feelings.

When they finally declare me ready, I stand in front of the floor length mirror and my mental self-image experiences a major shift. The woman staring back at me is amazing. I twist and turn to view as much of me as possible, making the dress sway. It slowly sinks into my subconscious that this is me. The new me. The tall, willowy (I’ve lost at least forty-five pounds and have a much finer bone structure than I used to have) brunette with the long slender neck and shapely legs is me.

The sensations are like nothing I have ever experienced.

The feel of nylon on my freshly shaved legs is delicious and sexy. Having never worn a dress before, the feeling of it swishing around me as I move is a newly discovered sensuous delight. I resist the urge to do a twirl.

The heels on my shoes are taller, and narrower, than I wore to work today. I find the extra height to be a little disconcerting. The shoes don’t seem practical for winter weather, but they do look stunning.

When seeing a woman in heels pick her way across a snowy parking lot, I have often wondered why they don’t wear more sensible shoes. I am starting to understand why. The shoes look incredibly sexy.

This being a woman gig certainly has its perks. A big smile slowly grows on my painted lips.

“Somebody likes what she sees,” Joanna grins as she stands behind me looking in the mirror.

“She should,” Anita retorts, “We’ve spent an hour and a half creating this masterpiece. I just wish she had pierced ears. That pair of dangly diamond earrings in her jewelry box would be a great finishing touch.”

My two best friends grin and give each other a high five.

“We better take some pictures,” Joanna points out. “A girl’s first date is something to remember. Let’s go downstairs and use the fireplace as a background.”

It only takes a few steps for me to realize that, while the shoes may look sexy, it takes skill that I don’t have to walk gracefully in them. I have to keep a firm grip on the handrail to keep from falling down the stairs.

“Walk more on your toes and take small steps,” Anita advises.

After posing me for pictures in the living room, Joanna has me sit on the couch.

“I wish we had more time to work on your mannerisms,” she sighs. “You move like a man in a dress.”

She sits down beside me explaining how to smooth the skirt of my dress as I sit.

“And for god’s sake,” Anita adds pushing my knees together, “Always, always, keep your knees together.”

The doorbell rings, signally an all to early end to my lessons.

Joanna motions to me to stand up while Anita answers the door.

“Don’t stand like a man,” she admonishes me. “Feet together. This is not a wrestling match.”

Suddenly, what I am doing comes home to me and butterflies sprout in my stomach. I, a three quarters woman, am going on a date with a man. What am I thinking. Just a few days ago I was having the sex of my life as a man, totally captivated by the women who shared my bed. Not a thought had passed through my mind about spending time with a man. While sex is not on the agenda tonight, I have been gussied up to go out with another man. Another man. Just like me.

Well, maybe not just like me.

No, that’s not right I tell myself. That beautiful woman that I saw in the mirror is me and I am no longer a man. Even with my remaining vestiges of maleness no one will ever call me a man again. I am not quite a woman yet, but my self-image shifted while I was standing in front of the mirror. Deep in my heart I know that I like the new me. The question of the night is, does the new me like men? I suppose that I am about to find out.

I hear voices in the entry before Anita ushers her brother, who is carrying a small bouquet of flowers, into the living room.

When Sam first notices me he stops cold and stares. For a long time.

My god, I think to myself, he’s seeing a man in a dress. I suddenly get the urge to run and hide. All this work and he still sees the man in me. I just stand there with my hands clasped in front of me and look down.

Sam finally speaks.

“Wow, Karla you look amazing,” he says in awe.

“Not like a man in a dress?” I ask nervously.

“All I see here,” he tries to assure me, “are three beautiful women, one whose beauty eclipses the rest.”

Anita gives him a playful slap on the arm, “At least Karen taught you well.”

“Sam,” Joanna directs with all the pride of a mother seeing her daughter off to the prom, “Go stand by Karla. We need a picture to remember her first date.”

He presents me with the flowers before putting his arm around my waist for the picture. I notice that, even in heels, he is at least two inches taller than I am. He is tall and broad. His arm around me feels sturdy and makes me feel secure. And I can’t ever remember having these thoughts about a man.

Joanna and Anita both take pictures like proud parents. When they are done, Anita takes the flowers to put in a vase for me.

“I think we should go,” I suggest.

“It is a work night,” Joanna reminds us, “Don’t stay out too late.”

“Yes, mother,” I say sarcastically, but with a smile.

She just sticks her tongue out at me.

“And be sure to treat her like a lady,” Anita admonishes her brother. “Karla is new to this.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam snaps off a salute to his sister.

Sam helps me into my comfortable new winter coat then Joanna hands me my purse. “You don’t want to forget this.”

“Enjoy yourselves,” Anita calls out as I cling to Sam’s arm while making our way to his car.

“Not too much,” Joanna adds.

When Sam holds the door of the car open, I realize that I can’t just gracelessly climb in like I usually do and hesitate.

Joanna and Anita are still watching us from the doorway to my house.

Joanna calls out for all the neighborhood to hear, “Sit first then swing your legs in. Keep your knees together.”

I inelegantly do as she says and am happy when Sam closes the door.

The ten-minute drive to the Carriage House is a bit awkward, reminding me of my past first dates. It takes a little time to find common ground.

I am not sure why I am nervous. I suspect that little bit of me is worried that I will be caught out as a man masquerading as a woman. The new sensations of being dressed up as a woman, particularly in public, are also unknown territory and I am afraid of making a fool of myself.

Sam comes across as being a bit nervous too. Is he worried about being seen with a man in a dress? Or is it that he has not been on a date in a while?

After parking the car, I start to open the door.

“I will get that,” he tells me as he exits the car.

“Keep your knees together, Keep your knees together,” I mutter to myself as he opens the door and gives me a hand out. If not gracefully, I manage the exit maneuver without flashing anyone.

I cling to his arm for dear life as I try walking in heels on an icy path for the first time.

“I take it that this is your first-time wearing heels,” He comments.

“Yes,” I admit, “First time in a dress too. First time in panty hose and today was my first day in a bra. It is all taking some getting used to. I need more girl lessons.”

As I gingerly work my way up the icy steps to the covered veranda, he casually says, “Anita tells me you became somewhat of a YouTube celebrity today.”

The shock of his statement causes me to miss a step and I almost fall down the steps. Grabbing harder to his arm is the only thing that keeps me from going down. “Don’t tell me that you saw that awful video,” I cringe.

“No,” he says, “It got taken down before I heard about it.”

“Thank God for small miracles,” I am really happy that he didn’t see it. As a matter of fact, I wish that no one had seen it, but Joanna told me that it had over 4,000 hits before it was taken down. “The clip was taken out of context. Believe me, in context it wasn’t as crass as the video would make you think.”

Sam smiles, and gallantly opens the door for me as we enter the old restored Victorian home.

The Carriage house is at least a hundred years old, built when lots were large and the homes of the well to do had style. This Victorian house has a large, covered veranda and a turret on one corner with steep gabled roofs. The trim is detailed and finely crafted. The turret tower extends both stories and creates very pleasing nooks in the living room below and what was a bedroom above. The interior has been completely renovated in recent years, staying true to the building’s origins. The hardwood floors creak here and there and seem to magnify the sound of my heels clicking on the wood except where exquisite rugs have been strategically placed. I have never actually been here, but it was my parents’ first choice when they wanted a romantic night out.

The hostess behind the podium greets us and confirms our reservation. “It will be just a few minutes before your table is ready. May I take your coats?”

Sam helps me out of my coat and hands them to the hostess who disappears into an adjacent room while we take a seat on a small bench by the door. Sam taps my knee to remind me to put my knees back together.

I sigh, remembering, once again, that this girl stuff will take some getting used to.

“Thanks,” I blush as I snap my knees together and arrange the skirt of my dress neatly over them. I am just glad that this dress falls to just below my knees. I hate to think how I would manage a shorter cocktail dress. Thanks, mom, for not getting me one of those.

The hostess returns and studies her screen for a few moments before announcing that our table is ready. Wouldn’t you know it, our table is upstairs. It appears that I will get lots of practice in these heels tonight.

We wait for a young couple coming down the stairs before starting our ascent. I have to admire the gracefulness of the diminutive young woman in really tall stiletto heels and wearing a short cocktail dress. She practically flows down the steps modestly and without a care in the world.

I glance at Sam. I think that he is just enjoying her legs.

As the couple nears the bottom of the steps, the girl looks at me with a confused look.

“Miss Bronson?” she asks as if she doesn’t believe her eyes.

I take a closer look at her face before recognition sets in. Theresa is an accounting student at the local college and is interning part time with our accounting department. She also helps with reception when needed. She was also at today’s meeting.

Damn.

“Hello, Theresa,” I greet her cautiously. “How was dinner?”

“Great,” she brushes off my question. She has something else on her mind.

“I am so glad that I ran into you,” she gushes. “I want to tell you how great your presentation was today. That was very brave of you. I was just telling David all about it.”

“Ah,” I don’t know what to say, “Thanks. It needed to be done.”

“I am glad that you did,” she says passionately. “Some of the people were spreading all sorts of nasty rumors about you but you set them straight and you did it with class. Your prosthetics demo was hilarious and really made your point. I will never forget that.”

“I wish you would,” I grimace. “That stunt is already causing me grief.”

“I can imagine,” Theresa commiserates with me. “I saw the video and it was way out of context. But at least it rid us of Carlos. I think that the entire female staff was happy to see the last of that chauvinist bastard. From what I’ve seen and heard, he has been a thorn in the side of all the women in the office.”

She gives me an enthusiastic hug as she says, “On behalf of every woman at the firm, thank you for firing the bastard.”

“You’re welcome?” I gently hug her back, “But Jim fired him. Thank Jim.”

“Whatever,” she smiles at me as we break the hug.

The hostess gives a discreet cough.

“Sorry to hold you up,” Theresa winks at me. “Enjoy your dinner.”

The hostess waits patiently while I negotiate the stairs.

“You must not wear heels often,” she diplomatically observes with a gentle smile.

“First time,” I grimace. “I should have practiced more. Sorry to be so slow.”

“Take your time,” she says with a playful grin. “We don’t want to be filling out an accident report!”

----<0>----

We are seated in a private alcove without further incident. The candlelight and elegant furnishings are very romantic. I certainly hope that Sam doesn’t get any indecent ideas.

After ordering our dinners, we enjoy a glass of wine while we wait.

“Theresa is certainly a fan,” Sam observes. “I am intrigued about this meeting.”

“Really?” I ask. “It is just a part of a day full of new and difficult experiences.”

He just smiles at me.

“Okay,” I warn him. “You asked for it.”

I don’t hold much back. I start by telling him of waking up missing some of my male equipment and the decision to stay home until the change was complete. I continue by explaining how Jim and Celeste convinced me confront the issue head on with our office as a form of controlling the narrative.

It takes a while to give him the details of my presentation when he asks a number of insightful questions. He laughs at my description of the padding and silicone demonstration. He is still chuckling when our meals arrive.

While I pick away at my meal, I recount the flurry of activity precipitated by Carlos’s video. He comments that such quick damage control would never happen in a bureaucracy like the Air Force.

I ask him about his work. He tells me how the Air Force put him through dental school and has had claim on his services ever since, but that his commitment will be done next summer. His first duty station was on the east coast. When he was offered an overseas assignment in Germany, his wife, Karen, had jumped at the idea. She always wanted to spend time in Europe. They did have a great time there until she suddenly fell sick. Within a week, she was rushed into surgery to remove a fast-growing brain tumor. She died the next day.

His eyes stared off into the distance as he recounted his grief and how hard it is to go home each day to an empty apartment.

I reach out to hold his hand across the table when tears start to form in his eyes. After a moment, he regains his composure and looks into my eyes.

“I’m not the only one who has lost loved ones this year,” he acknowledges my own loss, “but sometimes it feels like it.”

I know how he feels.

“You loved her,” I gently say, “losing her leaves a huge hole. Losing my parents left a hole in my life that is still very much there. I can’t imagine losing a spouse with whom you had hopes and dreams. Tell me what makes you smile when you think about her.”

As we finish our main course, he proceeds to speak lovingly of a beautiful young wife who was full of energy and excited to explore the world. He talks of her smile and laugh. He smiles when he recalls snippets of stories about their shared experiences. He talks of how he loved to hold her in bed at night and watch her wake up first thing in the morning with a smile on her face. Every day was a new adventure for her, and she was eager to share it with him.

“In some ways,” he says looking into my eyes, “you remind me of her. You are straight forward, honest, and address problems head on. You let people know where you are coming from. She was like that.”

“I can see why you love her,” I say. “I think that she will always be in your heart.”

“I certainly hope so,” he says with a sad smile, “but my grief councilor tells me that I should start making room in my heart for a new love. He tells me that new love will bring sunshine back into my dark life. I have had a hard time taking steps in that direction.”

I reach across the table again and give his hand a squeeze of sympathy.

“Anita has been telling me about those notes from your deceased mother that you shared with your office. Do they help you move on?”

“They do open the door to believing in an afterlife,” I admit. “It is really nice to know that I have not totally lost connection with them. Thinking that we just might see each other again someday makes me feel much better about their loss."

“Karla,” he says with a seriousness that I haven’t seen in the short time that I’ve known him. “Can I share something with you privately. I haven’t told anyone about something that I think that only you can relate to.”

“I promise to keep sacred anything you want to share with me,” I tell him earnestly. “But don’t share anything with me that you don’t really want to.”

He looks contemplative before saying, “I received a note from Karen last week.”

A chill runs up my spine.

I wait for him to continue.

“She reaffirmed her love for me and said that it hurt her to see me so sad.” He says slowly. “She told me to be assured that she was well and missing me too but that she is in a place of light, happiness, and multiple exciting new adventures. She encouraged me to make some new friends and not to be afraid of new love. She specifically told me that I was going to be invited to a party on Monday and that I should be there. When Anita told me that I was welcome at your party, a chill washed over me. I would not have come to your party if Karen hadn't told me to. I am very glad that I did come because our conversation in your kitchen was better therapy than I have received from my counselor. After we talked, I knew that I wanted to get to know you better. I wanted to see your smile again.”

Oh boy, is this guy falling for me? I like him. He is great to talk to and he has the makings of a good friend, but with my changes can we leave it at that?

“I still feel that way and am sorry to have to leave tomorrow to return to duty. Can I call you from time to time?” He almost begs.

“Sam,” I cautiously say, not wanting to crush his hopes. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share Karen's communication with you. You can be assured that I will keep it to myself."

I hesitate a moment before continuing, "Sam, I feel very comfortable with you and would dearly love to develop our friendship. Where this will go is anyone’s guess. Unfortunately, right now, my life is such a jumbled mess that throwing romance into the mix might just drive me around the bend. I don’t even know where I stand on forming romantic relationships with either men or women. If you are looking for a friend, then I’m your girl. I would love to be your friend. If you are looking for more, I can’t promise anything until I sort out my issues.”

“Fair enough,” he says with hope in his eyes. “Friends is good. I will take it. Just know, however, I’ve felt more alive in the past two days than I have since Karen passed and I credit that to you. Thank you, my friend.”

About this time, the waitress shows up with the bill and hints that they are getting ready to close for the night.

Sam smiles and hands over his credit card.

I am seeing that being the woman has its perks.

----<0>----

When we arrive at my house Sam walks me to the door “to make sure that your heels don’t do you in.”

He waits until I unlock the door and turn the lights on before taking me in his arms. I wasn’t expecting this but do not resist when he gives me a long slow gentle kiss. When done, I find that somehow my arms had found their way around his neck.

They are still there as we gaze into each other’s eyes. I can hardly break the gaze.

He kisses my forehead. “Thanks for a wonderful evening, Karla. I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany tomorrow.”

I go up on my toes and peck his lips. “I really enjoyed it too. Thank you. Talk to you soon?”

“I can hardly wait,” he smiles softly at me.

I quickly remove my traitorous arms from around his neck and duck into the house.

OMG! What did I just do?

----<Author's Note/Apology>----

Okay... so my initial research into what constitutes the twelve days of Christmas was a little off. The way I understand it, after further research, is that the night of December 25th is the First Night of Christmas, with December 26th being the First Day of Christmas. It doesn't really change the story except in the titles and a couple of minor statements, but once hit counts drop off I will be renaming the chapters with December 25th being Day 0 and January 6th as Day 12. For now, I will let the error persist until all chapters are posted.

All the chapters are written (and have been for weeks) and are just waiting for the correct day to release.

Until the change is made, the day numbers represent the days of the story instead of the Days of Christmas as originally intended.

Sorry!

----<0>----

Update 1/23/2023: I have updated the chapters as outlined above... Enjoy!