WORKING DAY

By Joannebarbarella

She got up about 9.30 a.m. on the Saturday morning. For most it would be a lazy day, a day off, but not for her. This was the height of her working week and she had planned for it. Today was the day when the money poured in. Even though she had not risen particularly early it would be a long day.

She sat carefully on the side of her bed and stripped off her nightie, so that she was naked before she activated the alarm-clock-like mechanism next to her bed. She quickly donned the anklets, bracelets and ear studs which she had to wear. Once they were in place and the connection verified she got up, stretched sensuously and sashayed over to the bathroom, putting a little extra swing in her hips as she did so. There she performed her ablutions, wiping herself clean when she finished.

She put on her shower cap and stepped into the cubicle after she had the water flow and temperature set. Plucked the scented soap from the little shower alcove and starting to lather up. It was second nature by now to make sure that her fingers lingered lovingly and sexily around her vagina. It was a measure of her skill that she made it seem natural, a part of her everyday. When she washed her breasts she played with her nipples for a while, twisting them suggestively between index fingers and thumbs, to get that little frisson that was so enjoyable. Washing off the soap took a while too.

Getting out of the shower she dried herself, carefully and sensuously, on a large fluffy towel, then stood in front of the full-length mirror and admired herself, taking her time, her gaze lingering and slightly unfocused. The beautiful young girl who looked back at her smiled. She shook out her hair and shrugged into a semi-transparent bathrobe. As usual she was enjoying herself. Work could be fun if you were lucky.

She slipped on a pair of high-heeled mules and crossed back to her dressing room, where a pair of pink bikini pants and a front-fastening under-wired bra replaced the peignoir; took her time selecting the clothes she was going to wear, taking the opportunity to pull out various items and feel the fabrics and the textures of each before discarding them and going on to the next selection. Finally she settled on a pair of boot-cut-jeans, which she pulled on after sliding some knee-high stockings up her legs. This was followed by a light blue satin blouse decorated with small embroidered flowers. She left the neck open by three buttons and carefully tugged the collar into place to show some cleavage.

Now to the dressing table, where she sat down to apply her make-up. Again she lingered and concentrated as the brushes touched and dusted; just a light coating this morning but, as usual, she took her time, as if she were giving a lesson. When she was done she brushed out her hair and used a little spray to fix it lightly in position. As she was going to the salon soon it didn’t need to be perfect.

A thin-band gold watch; a Rolex for class, two gold bangles on her right wrist and a three-strand gold necklace completed her look. The only things left to do were to pull on a pair of black calf-length black boots with 4 inch heels and stuff a light blue leather clutch bag with her purse and emergency kit, which included the very latest in computer/phones. Heels were obligatory when she was working. Nobody wanted her in flatties.

Out to the garage and into her smart little pink Honda town car. Next stop the salon for her appointment at 11 a.m. As usual on a working day she would have the works, two and a half hours in the chair being totally pampered, hair, facial, eyebrows, nails, make-up job; nothing spared. She actually loved this part and she knew it would be appreciated later on. When it was done she went to a small up-market cafe and had a light leisurely lunch with a glass of white wine.

Then it was time to hit the shops. The point was not really to buy, well, unless something special showed up, it was more for the sheer pleasure of looking at beautiful things; handling lovely fabrics; holding dresses, skirts and tops against one’s body to see if you liked them; trying on shoes by the dozen; just plain fun; just to feel it.

It was after five when she went home again. Two and a half hours before her date tonight came to pick her up. She relaxed with a cup of tea and watched a little TV, and about six o’clock went up to her bedroom to change for the evening. She already knew what she was going to wear, but as ever made a production out of taking off her day-time gear, right down to the skin, and wandering around in her peignoir and mules.

Her wardrobe had a large selection of evening wear, all very glam, and she pretended to dither over what to pick, until finally she selected a stunning silver gown by Dior and matching Jimmy Choo sandals, threw them on the bed and slipped on a pair of sheer shimmery panty-hose. She freshened her make-up a little. It was still pretty good, but did need a slight touch-up, mainly new lipstick, a little darker, more sensual.

She slipped into the dress, which was veeerrryy low-cut, neckline down to the waist, and backless too, figure-hugging skirt slit from the ankle to the knee, so that she could walk. She applied double-sided tape to the swell of her breasts and another layer a little below. She didn’t want any embarrassing wardrobe malfunctions, besides it was all part of the experience. Then she climbed into the sandals, changed her jewellery to silver to match the outfit and put in a pair of very special silver and diamond and lovely and long dangly ear-rings. It only needed her to grab a silver Fendi clutch-bag and a black pashmina shawl for her to be ready to go out.

She went downstairs carefully in the 5 inch heels and was about to sit when the doorbell rang. It was her date, right on time and carrying a dozen roses. She gushed suitably, got him a glass of red wine and went to put the roses in a vase, arranging them nicely. She gave him a kiss for being so thoughtful, careful not to mess her lipstick but still aware of the moment and the subtle feelings.

It was about eight when they left to go to the dinner-dance arranged for that evening. They were greeted warmly by the maitre d’ and seated at a very good table. The food and wine were as good as usual. The service was impeccable. She only drank a couple of glasses of champagne, mindful of what was expected of her later in the evening. Getting drunk was a definite no-no.

After dinner they danced and laughed. They were both excellent dancers and showed off on the floor, especially in the dramatic Latin dances like the tango, drawing occasional applause from other guests, until it was, at last, time to go home.

Now it was the piece de resistance. Naturally she invited him in for “coffee” and when they had gone through that ritual they kissed and cuddled, until she took him by the hand and led him up to her bedroom. They slowly and sensuously undressed each other and stood naked gazing at the other, as lovers do, their hands caressing the erotic places, arousing their sexual desires. Then she pulled him down onto the bed and they played and made love sensually several times in different ways until both lay back satisfied. He, being a man, soon went to sleep. That too was a part of things.

With a slow and exaggerated stretch she concentrated on the experience of making love, then slid from the bed and with a languorous strut moved to the dressing table. She sat, and with a final stretch and run of her fingers through her hair as she gazed at her reflection, took off all her jewellery, bangles and bands and only then hit the control button on that alarm-clock-like device on the bedside table. She pressed “Send” and all the details of her day; her Real Life Blog, were transmitted to an organization called Bare Cupboard.

The new technology, introduced only a few years ago, enabled every sensation she had felt during the day to be experienced by subscribing bloggers using the website. This particular site catered to transsexuals, transvestites, cross-dressers and transgendered people of all shades. People who wanted to experience what it was like to truly be a woman. She supplied that experience to them. They could feel every detail of her day, from showering in the morning to making love at night, as if it had happened to them and she knew she was good at it.

It just cost a little money. She knew she could expect over 1000 hits tonight, with 200 residuals during the next week. The price was $20 a hit, so cheap for a day’s entertainment, well a day’s feelings actually. The site took 20% for supplying her with the equipment, so she would make about $20,000 for today. Not bad for a Saturday, even if it was a few hours into Sunday. Beat working for a living.