Back on the Right Path

On the way back to the farm I had Emilita sitting next to me. She asked me how I managed to have five days off in my first stint and I said I was just lucky, I guess. I did point out that every opening hour that I missed was paid for and she did have to concede the point. Celestina wanted to know about the lady with the black Skoda and I told them she was called Portia and owned a big security company and liked the way we had sex. That seemed to settle them. I knew the rest of it was so wild they would never believe me, even though it was true.

Back at the farm we all put our things away and got started with our laundry. We all had an afternoon snack and I went for a walk around the farm yard. I was leaning against a rail fence as Parnima came up to me and said, in a quiet voice “That was some week for a novice. Do you still want to join us?” I waited a while and said that I do, but it must be understood that it would not be for ever, maybe a year or two. She said “I understand, we all came in thinking it was a finite experience but some of us have been here for five years or more. I think, in your case, your computer skills will be in more demand in the future.” I asked how much it would cost to join and she said it was ten thousand Euros, which I got back on leaving, plus my accrued profit share. In the meantime I would get free board and lodging and an allowance each week. She told me that I had already earned the first two allowances, which she would pay, in cash, at dinner tonight, when the other girls got theirs. I said I would join and she told me that my wallet, with my cards, would be given to me tonight and that the transaction could be done through the internet from the office computer.

As we walked back to the big house she said that none of the other girls had been serviced by five men in a row while wearing a single costume and that a couple of the crew were thinking of me as some sort of puta heroine. I laughed it off and said that I had been told that there was still a number of the Louis Society yet to show. She confided that Pavlina had told her that they had been put off to four at a time, over two days of the next stint. Then she said “Oh, by the way, we are all going into Madrid on the 6th July to see the Gay Pride March. We take the bus and stick together. Sometimes we are called on to help at the whiskeria but that is unusual as most of our customers are out there with their friends. That night I became a fully-fledged sister. I had my round to do in the morning so went to bed early.

The weekend and the following week were blissful in the normal activities. Catching up with the gossip of our customers and just hanging out with the girls. Although we were all together in the Madrid house, we usually only got together for breakfast. Here we had lunches and dinners and we all took turns to cook. I was becoming a dab hand at paella and also did a few of the dishes I used to cook for myself in England. On Saturday we got our runs completed as quickly as we could and, after a late lunch, got dressed in the most colourful and revealing dresses we had. We got in the bus and drove into Madrid. We had a parking space set aside for us at one of the restaurants we delivered to so we left the bus there and walked to Atocha Station to join the revellers for the five pm start of the march.

It was a very intense atmosphere of joy and a little drink and drugs and I did not know whether I was attracted or repelled. I could see the effort that had gone into the floats and understood that, on the floats, it was all for show; but the crowds of marchers were a cross between sweetness and satire. I had been thinking of myself as a woman and had dressed accordingly and I looked out of place among the leather, frills, impossible heels, bondage and downright blatant nakedness that was around me. Some of the guys looked like King Kong in drag and there were many tattooed girls. My grandparents would have had to pay to go to a circus to see just one, yet here there were dozens. The crowds that lined the streets were more sensible but I gather that sense does not have much to do with a pride parade. I expect that I would see similar outfits pass through the whiskeria in the future and may even have to wear them myself; but that was for fantasy fulfilment, not walking through the streets. We walked with the march to the Plaza de Colon and smiled and waved dutifully at the crowds that lined the route. It was a bit of fun but, as we drove back to the farm, I was in deep thought about my own intentions.

As I tried to sleep I worried that I had done something stupid in staying here. I had been happy enough as Gene, the computer nerd and sometime hermit; I had felt a sense of release when presented with myself as Gene, the woman and puta. I realised that the puta side of it was a bit over the top and the non-stop sexual activity was not what I really wanted. All right, it was good for now and I may come out of it a little better off. At least I would be able to read people better in the future as I was starting to be able to gauge the desires of strangers by their manner. I thought of the moment before meeting Claude at the restaurant and wondered if I was truly destined to look for a good man to settle down with. For that to happen I would have to be a good woman – and make sure that my new equipment was bright, shiny and unused for him. Now there was a thought. All of a sudden I came to a decision. I was doing womens work, dressing like a woman, pretending to be a woman and so I should be the best woman I could be. I decided that I had been wearing jeans for the deliveries all the time and would start to wear dresses and skirts. I needed to find a supplier of clothing that more fitted me and my style and I really needed a stock of tights.

Next morning I woke early and had a bath, making sure that my arms and legs were well shaved; my face was already permanently smooth and I knew that I would have to schedule some visits to the salon when I was back in Madrid. I had some ‘shadow’ tights in the drawer so rolled them up my legs before putting on a bright yellow button-through dress that I found in the wardrobe, which matched a pair of yellow leather calf-length boots I found as well. I looked in the mirror and thought that Twiggy would be proud of me. The girls gave me a bit of cheek at breakfast but I told them that, as I was now a paid-up member of the team, they will have to allow me to try my best to really be one of them.

In my deliveries I found that the look went down well. More often than not I didn’t have to carry the boxes as the men were happy to oblige. I even got a few kisses on my cheek in greeting and parting. I could live with this. At one restaurant the manageress always dressed well and I asked her where she got her dresses. She gave me the address of a seamstress in Valladolid and I visited her when I was in the town. She made me strip to my underwear and made many measurements and asked me what my style was. I had to honestly say that I was in the process of finding it but was attracted to sixties and seventies styles, similar to my vestido today. She showed me some pictures and I chose a few that I liked, mainly straight skirted with a buttoned bodice or fully button through. We looked at fabrics and I was very drawn to slippery ones, just like my affinity to slips. I showed her my credit card to record and paid her a deposit, in cash, when ordering ten various dresses and a similar number of skirts. She said she would text me when they were ready to try on. Before leaving I asked if there was anywhere in the local area that did high end lingerie and she gave me an address in Salamanca that was highly recommended.

As I headed south to Salamanca I realised that I had absorbed enough Spanish to be able to carry out conversation. It had come slowly, with me having a little, augmented by French and English but now I was getting on well with just Spanish. After making my deliveries I looked for the lingerie shop and found it in a side street. I found somewhere to park the van and went in. I was greeted by a well-dressed lady who asked me what I was looking for and I said “Slips, slippery slips.” She took me to a rack of the most gorgeous slips I had ever seen. I told her my size and she pulled some out for me to feel. I was in heaven and was glad my genitals were carefully restrained. I chose seven, in various colours, along with some packs of tights and paid for them with my credit card. With my bag of dreams she gave me a loyalty card and told me to come back again, soon.

Back in my room I put my new slips and tights away in the drawers and went down to help with dinner. After dinner I logged on to my bank and made sure my credit card had some positive balance as it was going to get a hammering over the next few weeks. When I looked at my normal account I saw that I was still well-off but would now need to get some work in if I finished here. I looked up gender reassignment specialists in Madrid and noted the addresses and phone numbers.

The week passed in a haze of femininity and I thought that I was, at last, on the right path.

Marianne G 2020