Life quickly settled into a routine. We generally picked up guests in the afternoon from a morning flight, or occasionally from a private aircraft. We all mustered to greet them and take their luggage, all delivered from the airport by limousine. Onboarding was a key point for Maria, Lisa and me. George did the initial greeting, then Maria took over, whilst Lisa and I kept the champagne and canapes going. The cabins had been prepared by the “shore crew”, down to the champagne minis in the bar, chocolates on the table and towels in the “heads”. All guest cabins were en-suite.

Our first batch of guests were the senior executive team of a UK corporation, on a “team building” exercise. This designation effectively allowed the corporation to indulge its senior executives whilst avoiding benefit-in-kind tax. As I discovered, these were amongst our most difficult trips. Basically, the executives, exclusively male, started drinking at lunchtime and were, as we described them, “moldy” by dinner time. Lisa and I had to do the dinner service and I saw what Lisa had been talking about when she first saw my fake authentic Greek tunic.

Hands would appear from nowhere and slide along her legs, reaching up towards the top; she had a practiced turn which moved her away from the interloper without it appearing that she had avoided the grope. Her face never betrayed annoyance; she would turn towards the miscreant, smile sweetly and say, “Can I get you another drink, Sir?” I was astonished at her aplomb; a real professional.

It was hard work; at sea, Lisa and I handled the guest cabins and the guest areas such as the lounge and dining area. Depending on the guests, one of us could be up until 3 or 4AM, and the other up at 5AM to get breakfast. Maria helped out, particularly at dinner. Most dinners were “formal”. We dressed up in faux classical Greek dress and served the guests with food arriving up from “Chef” in the Galley. Maria generally did the wines and the bar, preparing drinks which we served, generally supervising, and keeping herself away from wandering hands.

As the guys had more drink, the less discerning they became and I had to learn to copy Lisa’s maneuvers as hands slipped up my legs. It became even more of an issue for me when we had mixed groups on board. Whether to match their menfolk’s groping of the female crew, or to express their own inner desires, the women were fascinated by my tunic and frequently slipped their hands up my legs, until I turned, smiled and said, “Another drink, Ladies?”. Generally, I took the late shift with the male groups and Lisa did the mornings. Most groups were mixed and we shared these. We never had an all female group; sign of the times back then, and maybe even now.

I didn’t mind the work, I even enjoyed it. Sharing a cabin with Lisa was bringing me to a place that I I didn’t really know existed, and I drifted easily along.

Shortly after I had started, I came into our cabin to find Lisa painting her nails. She had done her toenails and left hand already and was just starting on her right hand.

“Just in time,” she said, “you can do this for me”.

“I’ll try, but you seem to have done OK so far?”

“I’m no good using my left hand; it’ll take me ages.”

I enjoyed taking her hand and she showed me how to ensure that I didn’t have too much nail polish on the brush and how to spread it evenly on her nails. I then dried it off with the hairdryer which she had already used on her completed nails.

“Thanks, let me do yours.”

The thought delighted me, but I saw a practical problem.

“I can’t go around with pink nails,” I said.

“No, no, I’ll do them in clear varnish,” Lisa replied. “It won’t be noticeable.”

And so it all started… first clear nail varnish, then BB cream – to smooth out my complexion and protect my face from the sun – and muted eye shadow so that my eye lids would not stand out as white in a now lightly browned face. Lisa was clearly enjoying the process and, whilst feigning reluctance, I was happy to go along.

Maria noticed, but didn’t comment. She probably assessed that it was not likely to cause problems for the guests; the men probably wouldn’t notice and the women wouldn’t mind. George, our skipper, who shared an en-suite crew cabin with Maria, said nothing, likely having been briefed by her. Jorge and Dimitri, our two deck crew, both studying to become skippers themselves, were curious more than anything else, particularly as it was obvious that I was wearing a nightdress under my robe when I visited the heads. Chef, who shared with Greg, never commented on anything, and never spoke unless it was for a purpose.

Greg, our engineer, had started his working life as an Artificer in the Royal Navy and had recently retired as a senior Petty Officer. Recently divorced, he had moved to the Mediterranean to start a new life in sunnier climes. The Royal Navy, as indeed all Navies at the time, was definitely homophobic. He had already mistaken me for a girl when we first met, and viewed my changing appearance with some misgivings.

“You sure you’re not a girl?” he said one day as we both sat at the crew dining table.

“I think Lisa is trying to make us into a matching pair,” I replied. “I’m only around for a few weeks anyway...”

I didn’t finish my last comment, leaving it ambiguous. It could have meant that I’ll be done using makeup and wearing nighties soon, or I’ll be leaving the crew soon so he didn't have to worry.

“She’s a nice girl, but be careful,” Greg said.

I had no idea what he meant, but didn’t push the point

Lisa and I had both turned in one night when, unusually, she started talking to me from her upper bunk. She asked me about my school and my life there then asked…

“Have you a girlfriend back in Ireland?

I wasn’t expecting that; heretofore we had not really delved into each other’s private lives.

“No,” I replied, “all boys school… a bit hard to have one… how about you?”

It seemed right that the question be reciprocated.

“A girlfriend?”

“No, no… I meant a boyfriend!”

A few seconds of silence…

“Actually girlfriend would be correct, and I don’t”, Lisa said, a little softly and hesitantly.

Now I knew why she had started the conversation. She had been building up to telling me.

“Not a problem for me in case you’re worried about that,” I said. “Do the other crew know?” Actually I was rather taken aback but my debating experience helped me to hide it.

“Maria does; I told her one day when she saw George being a little too friendly with me,” Lisa replied. “I didn’t want her to see me as a threat. I think Greg knows now. He tried it on with me when he started last year and I told him that I wasn’t interested… and he’s quite friendly with George.”

The clear implication was that Maria had told George, who had told Greg. Maybe that’s what Greg meant when he told me to be careful. In a way I was very disappointed as I rather fancied Lisa – who wouldn’t. And it might explain why she was intent on making me as feminine as she, and I, could easily get away with. I had never knowingly met a Lesbian before; I thought it most appropriate to do so in Greece – after all the word lesbian derives from the name of a Greek island, Lesbos.

At the end of my third week we were docking for 3 days in Athens. The yacht was getting its electricity generator replaced. Greg would remain to supervise the work. Chef would visit his family and George, Jorge and Dimitri were doing a “Loran C” course ashore. This was a new navigation system that had recently been installed and would operate alongside the Decca… belt and braces. Following this we were to take the yacht, without guests, to Heraklion in Crete where we would pick up the owner and his family for a two week cruise to Paphos in Cyprus, then to Alexandria and back to Heraklion. I was due to leave the yacht after one further short cruise with paying guests from Heraklion to Athens. I was not looking forward to leaving as I had grown attached to the lifestyle, and to Lisa.

As there would be a lot of noise, coming and going and general mayhem, Maria, Lisa and I were to stay in a local hotel, the same one that George, Jorge and Dimitri were using for their course. We went ashore and kept the same sharing arrangements, George and Maria, Jorge and Dimitri, Lisa and I.

We all breakfasted together the first morning. I was now back in “civvies”, the shorts and t-shirt that I had brought from Ireland. When the three sailors headed off for their course, Maria and Lisa said that they were going for a girls day out.

“See you at dinner, so”, I said, a little disappointed to be left alone.

“Oh no, you’re coming along,” said Lisa, then to Maria,

“See you in the lobby in an hour”.

Lisa and I went back to our room and, as we went inside, ran her hand over my cheeks and chin…

“Shave again!”, more a command than a request.

I looked a little blank so she said…

“Girls day out, so you’re coming as a girl!”

“Does Maria know?”

“Of course, she’s the boss!”

I was over the moon, even though it was sunny morning with no moon around! I shaved very carefully, redid my underarms and legs standing in the bath, and came out. Lisa was standing half into or half out of a short blue dress with thin shoulder straps.

“My bra straps are too obvious”, she said, unhooked and discarded the bra, slipped back into the dress, turned her back to me and said,

“Zip me up”.

I obliged, she looked into the mirror, lifted and sorted her boobs and said,

“I think that’s fine.”

I couldn’t talk, she had unselfconsciously flashed her boobs at me, and I was mesmerized.

She caught my look…

“Oops… never mind, time to work on you; put these on.”

She pointed to my bed at a red dress and bra. I took off my shirt and fumbled with the bra…

“Here, let me close that.”

I slipped on the dress and Lisa zipped me up. Unlike her spaghetti straps, mine had a v neck and loose short sleeves, really just cap sleeves. The dress was loose below a high waist and flared nicely, hiding my male hips. I slid my shorts off under the dress.

“How’d you get the fit?” I asked.

“Remember Maria has your measurements from when she got your uniform”.

Lisa started to work on my face, cream, bb cream, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick. She fluffed out my hair and sprayed if to keep the style. It took some time until she declared that “that’ll do” and stood back to admire her handiwork. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw a reasonable imitation of a woman; I would pass if not scrutinized too closely. Lisa reached over my shoulders and slipped some bra inserts inside my bra brushing her hands off my nipples.

“If you do that I’ll forget that you’re a lesbian”.

My voice had returned.

She laughed,

“I might forget that you’re a man… look in the mirror!”

The ensemble was completed with a pair of the white flat shoes that we wore on board.

“We’ll get you some nice sandals, until then these’ll have to do”.

We stepped out into the corridor and Lisa closed the door behind us. I hesitated, I was terrified, I was thrilled, I was giddy. Lisa slipped her arm through mine and guided me to the lobby. Maria looked at me, smiled, took my other arm and said,

“Let’s go girls”.

The opening of the Shania Twain song, Feel Like A Woman, always reminds me of that moment. It was appropriate in so many ways and I remembered that scene through some very dark days that were to come.

I had a great day. The girls first steered me to a cheap shop where I was provided with some flimsy faux gold sandals and a matching shoulder bag. I was about to discard my slip-ons when Maria said,

“You’ll probably need those later”,

so I slipped them into my bag.

In guy mode, I would probably been bored as the girls appeared to drift aimlessly from shop to shop, not buying much, until we fetched up at a small café for lunch. I slipped off my sandals, rubbed my feet, and put my slip-ons back on. The girls grinned.

“You’ll get used to it.”

We had a nice, leisurely lunch, a luxury seldom enjoyed on the yacht. A bit more shopping saw me end up with some costume jewelry clip-ons, necklace and bangles. We were due to meet the guys at 7:30pm for dinner and were on our way back to the hotel for a glass of wine when we passed a hairdresser/beauticians close by. Maria and Lisa looked at it, looked at me, looked at each other and nodded. Maria went in, Lisa and I waited outside.

“What are you two planning?” I asked, trying to sound suspicious. I guessed what was afoot.

“Don’t tell me that you haven’t enjoyed being a woman today”, Lisa said.

“OK, but I’ve got to get changed before we meet the guys”.

“No, I think we’ll go out as three couples.”

“But I can’t… “

“Why not? They’ve already seen you in makeup, a tunic and a nightdress. Besides, it’ll be fun!”

Maria came out, gave us a thumbs up, and they both propelled me into the shop. I was seated in a chair before a mirror. The hairdresser spoke no English so Lisa and Maria discussed their preferences in English, and then Maria spoke to the hairdresser in Greek. No one consulted me!

The girls left for their glass of wine and I was left at the mercy of the beautician/hairdresser. My hair is a variety of red/brown with a tendency towards being unruly. The hairdresser washed and towel dried it, then proceeded to thin it out and layer it down around my head. Finally she worked on the front giving me a longish fringe before passing me to a colleague who proceeded to give me some highlights. I’d long since ceased to be worried; I just relaxed and went along for the ride. Then a third lady cleaned off all my makeup and proceeded to redo it. When she was almost finished, I recognized Maria’s voice behind me; they were back. Some more chatting in Greek, the make-up lady finished and I was looking into the mirror at a young woman. The makeup was good, but it was really the haircut that made the difference, clearly feminine, framing my face and softening its contours.

A face appeared on either shoulder, Lisa and Maria had joined me in the mirror, Maria smiling, Lisa grinning from ear to ear. They were also all glammed up, we were going directly to the restaurant. My transformation finished, I stood up and reached for my bag and wallet to pay. Maria caught my hand, this was the first time that she’d ever touched me, shook her head and said that it was on the Yacht’s expenses account. I slipped my sandals back on, received a good brush down from the beautician, and we all headed off to dinner.

“Hi Maria, Lisa, where’s Jim?”

George, always the consummate gentleman rose to greet us as we entered the restaurant. He looked at me, smiled and said,

“Hi, I’m George, this is Jorge and Dimitri”,

before turning back to Maria to ascertain Jim’s, my, whereabouts.

“George, Dimitri, Jorge, this is Jasmine. She’s replacing Jim this evening”.

Looks of confusion, then slow recognition as Dimitri pushed my chair in and I smoothed my dress under me.

Maria was helped to her seat by George whilst Lisa playfully bumped Jorge over one place with her hips to make the table a circle of boy, girl, boy, girl, boy, apparent girl!

Dimitri looked sideways and said lowly,

“I would never have guessed that you weren’t a girl”.

Jorge, on my other side, nodded, his eyes like two saucers.

“We asked Jasmine to join us so that we would have a nice, balanced boy/girl group for dinner…”

And then, we carried on pretty much as normal. I kept my voice low and soft, and Maria and Lisa covered all questions in relation to my transformation on the basis that it was a prank. Dinner finished, we wandered slowly back to our hotel, George linked Maria, Jorge linked Lisa, and Dimitri linked me, most considerately.

We arrived back to the hotel and split up, Dimitri and Jorge relinquishing our arms, and Lisa and I went into our own room and closed the door. We both kicked off our shoes, Lisa turned her back to me and asked me to unzip her. I slid her zip all the way down and she slipped the dress off and turned towards me. I couldn’t help but look at her boobs.

“Given that you’re a girl tonight, maybe we…”

She moved closer, and I moved towards her. I put my hands on her shoulders and drew her in. My own bra was getting in the way of my fully appreciating her embrace, but she was already unzipping my dress and I felt her undo the clasp of my bra. She slid my dress and bra forward off my shoulders, stepped back to let them both fall to the ground and moved in close again…