Margaritas, Beaches, and Bikinis

Chapter 3: The Nightly Bedtime Ritual

So I bought some new clothes, filled my black Ford Taurus up with gas. And last but not least my phone was on charge. And my outfit for tomorrow, a nice breezy sundress had been laid out along with a pair of boy shorts to hide the bulge and small lacy white bra to hold my girls.

I'd also showered, deep conditioned my hair, washed it, blow dried it, and because I felt cute I'd divided it down the middle and fashioned each section of my hair into two cute pigtails. With each pigtail tied off with a cord of tricolored ribbon. My legs felt like they were on fire because I'd tried for the first time in my life a home waxing kit. The results had been worth the pain though. Or so I thought they had been.

Up next I slipped into a loose cotton nightgown that reached just below my knees. Once all that was done, I fixed myself a glass of mineral water on the rocks, and took my nightly estrogen. Those little blue pills were the tracks the train ran on.

Anyway all of that out of the way I decided that I needed to write or at least make a dent in my backlog. Now sometimes I can write quickly, other times I write slowly. Lately I've not been writing at all. I've been reading a lot though.

You see, when I was a teenager, I guess I was around sixteen at the time, I stumbled upon a story site called “BigCloset Top Shelf: TopShelf TG Fiction in the BigCloset” and well it blew my mind. Now, I've read stories in the past of male characters becoming female. And I'd written a fair few stories were popular male characters from either anime or video games get forced into crossdressing in public.

But I never knew there was a whole genre devoted to the topic. Here on this humble site I discovered women who I personally consider the best of the best. The elite of the craft. The first one that comes to mind was a talented brunette named Emma Anne Tate, who for some reason reminded me of Jane Austen. Maybe it was her brunette colored hair and her sharp wit and darling prose.

Up next was a blonde haired beauty named Joanne Brabarella, her pose was simple, earthy and straight to the point. And her stories featured realistic characters and featured real life places. And that is what I most adored about her writing. That and the fact that she had infected me with a love of french maid outfits her stories often caused my virgin heart to flutter. But I had my own fetish for the classic Playboy Bunny Suit.. so who was I to judge.

Up next on the list was the amazing Shiraz who I personally considered among the best of the best. She was the mastermind behind the Tammyverse all of her stories centered on the darling Tamara Smart and her many misadventures in and around the Scottish Highlander town of Thurso.

And last but not least, we had SnowFall, who was the best writer of the lot. Her 'Frills' was to the Transgender fiction at it's best.

Just then my phone started to ring. Taking a deep breath I picked up the phone and swiped to accept the call.

“Good evening.” I said, taking a deep breath. It was my editor calling.

“Hey! Tomorrow is the big day!” My editor seemed to be in a good mood. This was either a good sign or a bad sign.

“Yep, I just finished filling my car up with gas. I'm already packed. And I'm hoping to get some work done for you.” I said, closing my eyes.

“Wonderful! I was just calling to check in on you. And I was wondering if you've had a chance to work on any of the Emily projects.” And just like that her voice had gone from being cheerful to foreboding.

“Not really..” I said, taking a deep breath. “I did manage to write around five hundred or so words for a new Emily short story though. Its working title is called 'The Phantom at The Prom'.”

“Let me stop you right there.” My editor said in a snappish tone of voice. “I don't want another short story. I want you to finish what you've started. I can understand you've gotten stuck on the main story. I can understand your hoping that these so-called 'side stories' will keep people hooked till you can return to the main story. But, before you go chasing foxes through the underbrush. I want you to focus on one thing at a time.”

“Yes ma'am.” I said blushing.

“You know I always thought blondes were bimbo's and brunettes were the smart ones.” My Editor said with a sigh. “But I'm starting to think that you might be the first brunette bimbo I've ever come across. I mean really, can't you get your scattered brain cells together long enough to focus on one thing?”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

“Yes ma'am..” I said as I cradled the phone I my shaking hands.

“I mean you've never been to prom have you?” My editor asked, it was a direct question.

“Yes ma'am..” I said, taking a deep breath.

“And I bet you've never worn a formal gown a day in your life, am I right?” It was another direct question. One that cut me like a knife.

“Yes ma'am..” I prayed that God would strike me dead.

“So, how can you possibly write about a young girl trying on her first formal gown without having lived that yourself? You know what, I'll take that a step further. How can you write about wearing a formal gown when you've never even worn one yourself?” My editor said her voice rising with each word that left her mouth. God somebody was in full on bitch mode today.

“.....” I paused and took a deep breath and slowly I started to count backwards from ten to zero, starting at ten of course.

“You know, forget it.. Have a good trip and don't forget about sending something I can publish.” My Editor then paused. “Or think of an Emily story you can finish?”
And wit that being said she hung up. Leaving me holding my phone in my hand.