Maxie’s “Dutch Treat” (Part 1 of 2)

My name is Marc and my story began like so many others that are considered as being ‘different’.

I was raised and influenced by a single parent household that consisted of my mother, twin sisters and me. Mother desperately wanted a third daughter that she would name Marcia; instead she dropped the last two letters and I became Marc. A stint at summer camp further ignited and fueled my feminine side.

Abby and Beth were three years older than me; idolizing and wanting to emulate your older siblings is a natural thing. They always included me in their activities and gave the acceptance that young brothers need; my sisters were my role models. Our father had ‘gone away’ shortly after I was born; I never had a male role model.

Our 3 bedroom home allowed us to have our own bedrooms. Mom had the larger room with an ensuite bath. Abby, Beth and young me shared a girly pink bedroom which they decorated in a typical girly manner complete with a mirrored vanity, poufy feminine curtains and posters and photos of unicorns, mermaids and boys. As we aged our posters changed to pretty-boy movie stars and buff and shirtless young men with charming smiles and nice hair. I had a small but comfortable bed along a windowless wall.

My sleepwear was pretty little girl flannel pajamas with bunnies, unicorns and rainbows. Unlike me Beth and Abby wore age appropriate young girl sleepwear. We had warm young girl pink robes and slippers to ward off the cold Michigan mornings. The one inch raised heels of our pink slippers was preparing us for the higher heeled footwear that is in every girls future.

At age six I was deemed old enough to sleep alone and was promoted to the adjacent smaller bedroom. I refused to move in to it until it had been remodeled and made pretty ‘just like my sisters’. I selected lavender color paint, pretty curtains, a girly four poster bed with girly flannel sheets and bedding that included a matching ruffled sham. Having my own mirrored antique white vanity completed my room; it gave me a place to display my Barbie dolls and nail polish. Abby and Beth decorated my walls with their old posters. I added one of Taylor Swift attired in a gloriously feminine and sexy outfit. I often fell asleep staring at her beauty.

Since I was the baby of the family my mother and sisters treated me as just another girl in the family. When my sisters and their friends played house I became a living doll for them to dress-up and play with; painting our nails and wearing two inch heels was a routine part of playtime. I had an old pair of my sister’s two inch heels; we became proficient in wearing them without stumbling.

At age 9 mom took us to the mall and allowed Abby and Beth to have their ears pierced; after much begging and pleading on my part mom relented and, just like my big sisters, I too had my ears pierced. Cute earrings and studs became a routine part of my life. It was during this time that I began to be called Maxine by family and friends.

I had no objections to wearing sis’s hand-me down clothes, dresses and big girl shoes at home; as part of the family Maxie and I went on public excursions ith the family. In fact wearing skirts, dresses, blouses, ‘A’ cup training bras and nail polish (just like my mom and my sisters) was normal to me; I rather liked it. Cotton panties and camisoles were my only underwear during my younger years; they made me feel part of the family and very special.

On one of my birthdays, around 10 or 11, I awoke one morning to find that all of my cotton undies and sleepwear had been replaced by colorful ‘big girl’ nylon items! I was so happy that in front of everyone I quickly changed into my new ‘pretties’. Mom never commented on my choice of clothing; panties, dresses, shoes with heels and subtle use of cosmetics; it was part of life for me.

At my mother’s and sister’s insistence my hair was kept shoulder length or longer; just like theirs. Abby and Beth enjoyed giving me pony tails and girly pig tails with pretty ribbons and hair clips. Sometimes we’d all be wearing curlers and experimenting with hair styles; I found that Aqua Net hairspray was a good friend.

On more than one occasion we’d go to bed with our hair in tightly wound curlers which I enjoyed immensely. In the mornings after breakfast, while still in our sleepwear, mom would remove our curlers, brush our hair and find a barrette, hair clip or ribbon to get us ready (and pretty) for the day.

Mom had warned me that boys and men that appear “too pretty” were unsettling to many people. “Be sure to wash Maxie’s feminine hairstyle and makeup away by taking a shower and washing your hair” she warned. “Sometimes a boy’s beauty attracts unwanted admirer’s that are only interested in sex.” I would find this to be true later in life.

I took heed of mom’s admonishment and proved to myself that a quick shower and hair wash removed all traces of Maxie and her pretty feminine hairstyle. I still use this technique when I want to ‘butch’ myself up before going out in public.

As a matter of habit and personal preference I still keep my hair long. By habit I nonchalantly tuck my hair behind my ears but at home I use a pretty barrette or hairclip to achieve the same effect. I learned that boys don’t wear barrettes in public; this truth goes back to what mom had cautioned me about looking to pretty.

Girlfriends

Abby and Beth’s girlfriends would bring over Teen Throb gossip magazines that were filled with photos and stories about music and movie idols. Sharon was a year older than my sisters and had discovered boys.

While styling each other’s hair or applying lipstick and mascara us ‘girls’ would pass the magazines around, reading, sharing and chattering for hours about who was dating who, current fashion, makeup trends and the love interests of our idols. I had a crush on two members of a boy band. It was harmless teenage girl fun.

Our activities evolved to getting pretty and then watching trending music videos, while lip synching and dancing to music. It was great fun. Dancing and prancing in skirts and heels was easy. We made and exchanged colorful friendship bracelets; I’m sure I still have a few lying in my jewelry box or perhaps in my panty drawer.

On one fateful day Sharon brought adult magazines that not only had adult gossip but also featured photos of naked women and men; our viewing materials at first were relatively tame; Playgirl and Playboy magazines evolved to more XXX and erotic materials. We were being pleasantly naughty young girls; we were a sorority of friends.

Centerfolds in the new magazines were very popular. It was our first experience of seeing adult genitalia; discussions and photo’s of penises and vaginas were now part of our together time. We wondered and marveled at everything penile related; wonderment about how a flaccid penis could become an amazing erection, the different look of circumcised ‘peenies’ vs uncircumcised; we debated which looked prettier; we wondered what it would be like to hold one.

I was volunteered to quench their curiosity. My peeny was in high demand; I was fondled, tickled and explored by everyone. They delighted in making my limp boy-bits become hard and long. Each girl took a turn. Sharon seemed already accomplished in such things, perhaps because she had a boyfriend.

Their ‘explorations’ soon evolved to outright masturbation of me and eventually themselves. I let them know what felt good and what didn’t; if they were gripping too hard, or jacking too fast or too slow I told them. Sharon let us know that she was already aware of this.

One day as they were having their fun with me I had my first orgasmic ejaculation! It surprised us all. Having a handful of warm sperm excited them beyond belief. All the girls felt the need to put a finger in one of my puddles and feel its slippery nature; I rubbed a bit between my thumb and forefinger. We agreed that there was a very faint odor. I yearned to have a long, hard, adult penis of my own that I could explore. Little did I know that one day that desire would become reality.

A day or two later it was Sharon’s turn to make me spurt. I removed my panties, laid back, made myself comfortable and waited for the thrill I knew was about to happen.

Sharon’s surprise “gift”

Sharon had a strange smirk on her face as she knelt between my legs; before touching me she applied a fresh coat of bright red lipstick to her pouty lips. Sharon wasted no time in making me hard and began skillfully jacking me off. It didn’t take long until I breathlessly panted that my moment was close; the girls gathered to witness the event. Sharon looked around the group for approval and smiled. “Look and learn” she said.

Sharon surprised us all; she first kissed the tip of my penis, looked at the red imprint she had just made and then engulfed my penis in her moist warm mouth. Our audience gasped at what they were seeing. I moaned in heavenly ecstasy.

Making sure everyone was watching Sharon slid down my rigid shaft and made a point of leaving a bright red ring at the base of my penis; I felt her trying to smile. “Lips are snug; never let your teeth touch the penis.”

For her finale demonstration on giving a blowjob Sharon began sucking and bobbing up and down my hardness! I began to moan and thrust my penis in and out of her mouth. Once again she said, “Look and learn ladies” and began tenderly teasing the entrance to my boi-pussy with an extended finger; I began to tremble with an urgency I had never experienced.

As soon as she rammed her finger home I spontaneously ejaculated into her mouth with a force and volume that was amazing. Sharon paused a moment and then began vigorously finger fucking me until I ejaculated again. I loudly moaned my gratitude for her skillful efforts. I felt like a very lucky girl. To our amazement Sharon swallowed my load and smacked her lips. I thought I heard a round of applause.

“That, my friends, is how you pleasure a man! My boyfriend gets really turned on by his own sperm and loves to French kiss me afterwards; it doesn’t taste bad and it’s pure protein like milk from a cow’s udder and!”

Sharon looked at me and said, “Maxine, you shouldn’t miss out on what all of us girls do.” Using two fingers Sharon scooped up a wayward puddle of my sperm and brought it to my lips.

I sucked her extended fingers and my viscous sperm into my mouth. I sucked and swirled my tongue just like Sharon said. For a brief moment I felt like I had just been intimate with a man; I wanted to experience that again. I vowed to never forget Sharon’s lessons.

As Sharon slowly withdrew her finger from my mouth she smiled at me and winked. “You’ll do fine Princess, you’ll do fine. What a girl like you needs are larger breasts. We need to get you out of an A cup bra.” I received another sly smile and wink.

The Gift that keeps on giving

A few days later Sharon stopped by and gave me a brown bag with two unopened containers of pills. “Maxie, someday you’ll thank me and maybe your boyfriends will too. These pills are a starter set of male hormone blockers and the other is low dose estrogen tablets. Think of them as daily ‘vitamins’; read the instructions and be very careful. Call me if you need more.”

As Sharon watched I got a glass of water and took one of each. I whispered a grateful, “Thank you Sharon, you’re a good friend.” 3 months later I was proudly wearing a B cup bra.

Don’t get me wrong our adolescent activities were not a one way street. They had had their way with me so it was only fair that I should have a go at them. They all offered their hairless vaginas to me to explore and I took full advantage of the opportunity; their slits looked so very beautiful; I wished that my pubes were just like theirs.

Life changes everything

Life changes things; penises get longer, testicles descend, cute young twats grow hair, real girls develop titties and menstruation begins. Blood spotted panties and tampon usage became the topic of choice.

The girls proudly showed off the white strings dangling from their maturing cunts; all except for me. Sadly I had nothing to show or share on the matter until someone figured out that I too could experience a dangling white ‘mouse tail’.

Rite of passage: first tampon

After swearing an oath of secrecy amongst ourselves I was easily talked into giving one a try. I removed my denim skirt, dropped my panties and bent over; after liberal use of a lubricant, 2 minutes of probing, the plastic applicator slid gently into my boy-pussy; the cotton wad symbol of womanhood was firmly in my love canal. I let out an involuntary girly squeal.

My first tampon felt odd at first but the symbolism of being one of the girls made me very happy. I didn’t understand why I developed an involuntary erection during the insertion process. I now know that it was due to having my boy-pussy filled. I had endured a sacred rite of passage that all young ladies go thru. I wondered if I was still technically a virgin.

I was soon able to easily do the insertion by myself and did so once a month even after our ‘band of sister’s sorority’ was no more.

Life goes on

Sadly people graduate, move away and their interests change. Adolescent naughty turns into feelings of young adult guilt and shame. Adolescent girl activities fade as boyfriends and womanly urges kick in.

Abby and Beth

My sisters graduated high school and left home to a local residential college. Our clique of girls discovered boys and stopped coming over. And mom found a boyfriend.

I was left with fond memories of exciting experiences, a closet full of my sister’s clothes and an abundance of their cosmetics. I was proud to have been part of a sisterhood.

As a parting gift my sisters gave me a beautiful gold anklet and a pair of cubic zirconium ear studs which I continue to wear when opportunity allows. I added their items to my jewelry box.

After their car drove away I went to my room for a good cry; it went on for a long time. When I turned my mascara stained pillow over I discovered a note that said, “Stay pretty Sis. Don’t forget to take your medicine. We will always love you” The note was signed “Abby and Beth.” I returned to my sorrowful crying.

Life goes on

High school was difficult. Although I continued my girlish ways at home and continued with my blockers I could no longer outwardly be Maxine at school; I was now Marc. When asked about my ‘man boobs’ I said I had gynecomastia. Most everyone believed it; I never dared wear a bra at school. I found that a snug bandeau or Ace bandage partially hiding my breasts made my life easier.

I did ok academically but due to my size, introverted nature and hair length I did not do well socially or in sports. Drama class, pep squad and being team locker boy do not qualify as sports. As locker boy I passed out towels, cleaned up the area and routinely got to see Coach Thomas and a lot of naked boys in the shower; it was obvious that by comparison, I didn’t ‘measure up’ to my class mates. Seeing their wet naked bodies created odd stirrings in my loins and renewed my interest to explore forbidden fantasies.

It’s ironic that the penises I had hoped to hold and explore as a young Maxine were now everywhere I looked. Trust me, I looked a lot; sometimes I felt a stirring in pants. I was smart enough to know its okay to look but not okay to touch… unless you are asked.

Summer Camp – I get asked

I had turned 15 years old and as a reward for completing 10th grade mom sent me to a boy’s summer camp in our nearby mountains. “Camp will be good for you, you’ll make a lot of friends and experience many new things” she said. And she was right.

Camp consisted of 3 separate ten day sessions spread over a 2 month period. I attended the last session of the summer.

By habit Mom mistakenly enrolled me as Maxine rather than Marc. When roll call was taken and “Maxine” was called the entire assemblage tittered and giggled; my shoulder length hair, 5 foot 8 height and ‘gynecomastia’ didn’t help my situation; one camp counselor, Troy, in particular perked up at my appearance as well as my name.

Troy was 18 years old and was in his second year of being a camp counselor. Each cabin held 8 boys and Troy was able to select which campers were assigned to his cabin. He selected his campers carefully and he selected me. Troy was also 3 years more gay than I was.

As luck would have it I was last in line for the obligatory camp T-shirt; the only ones left were one size too small. The form fitting snugness of my under sized T-shirt brought attention to my developing titties. I was not particularly big up top yet from Sharon’s pills but I clearly had girly chest “bumps”. My ‘I have gynecomastia’ explanation went on deaf ears.

No one noticed or commented on my shaved legs except Troy. “Nice legs Maxie; anything else shaved?” he asked. Yes, there was another shaved body part; I ignored his question.

Adding frosting to the twink cupcake that I was

For a summer camp skit, based upon my chest bumps and long hair, I was selected to play a girl in a camp skit; the ease, in which I slipped into my role, applied my makeup and wore a dress amazed many. For Troy my apparent femininity was an opportunity waiting to happen.

“Asked”

It wasn’t long after the skit that Troy asked, “Have you ever had an orgasm? Has anyone other than yourself touched your boy-bits?” I replied yes to both questions. Moments after answering his questions Troy asked me to accompany him on a short nature walk where he only took ‘special’ campers. Sizing up Troy and the opportunity to quell my curiosities I said “I think a walk could be very enlightening.”

Troy led me down a faint trail, through a grassy glade and behind a secluded rock outcropping; the walk took about 10 minutes.

Upon reaching Troy’s ‘special place’ we sat on a very long log. Troy placed his hand on my inner thigh and told me I was special and attractive. After a few minutes Troy put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. He began gently kissing my neck and lips and gently placed his free hand on my crotch; I eagerly reciprocated.

In acknowledgement of my submissiveness, and without being asked, I removed my t-shirt offering Troy my pert B cup titties. Troy’s lips latched onto my breasts like a puppy to its mother’s teats; his tongue danced, his lips nursed erotically on my erect nipples and he stroked me where it mattered most.

Our kissing became steamy and urgent; I cupped his hardness through his pants using my thumb to caress the length of his forbidden fruit. My mom was right; summer camp was going to be very special and I would indeed “experience many new things.”

An offer to good to refuse

We stopped our activities before either of us exploded; Troy was hungry for young boy’s sperm; he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.

“Maxie, when we take our walks, if you let me suck your penis all you have to do is jerk me off; no need for a reciprocal blowjob unless you want to. Perhaps someday you will give it a try some day; for a twink like you it’s just a matter of time until you do.”

Troy’s proposition seemed like a ‘no-brainer’. Besides I had needs and desires of my own that I was anxious to resolve.

Special sessions

To give Troy access to me and my titties I kicked out of my shorts and underwear; Troy also got naked from the waist down; the meadow grass was not uncomfortable. I skillfully jacked Troy to orgasm as he played with my titties and sucked my cock to orgasm; we kissed passionately afterwards like Sharon had described. Troy was pleased that I had shaved my pubes prior to camp; he got what he craved.

Although I skillfully dodged most of Troy’s ejaculations I always seemed to soil my hands. Troy watched as I licked his warm seed from my hand and fingers; I got what I craved.

The third date

Our excursions into the forest became daily. There was no pressure to reciprocate his blowjob; that happened on our third ‘date’.

I had finished jerking Troy and was leaning casually against a pine tree. Troy stood up to stretch; “Damn you’re good, Princess!” he complimented. His still rigid penis bobbed mere inches from my face.

I succumbed to long repressed desires; I leaned forward, brought Troy’s hardness to my lips and I kissed the wetness off the tip. Troy looked down, smiled and said, “Take your time Princess; it was only a matter of time until you sucked your first cock. Girls like you can’t help themselves; you were destined to be a cocksucker.”

I took his shaft into my mouth and did what needed to be done. Reminisces of Sharon’s plump lips, puckered cheeks and dancing tongue flashed through my brain; the more ardently I nursed on Troy’s penis the more aroused I became. I regretted that I was not wearing lipstick; I longed to see red rings of MY lipstick on Troy’s hardness.

Towards the end of my first experience with fellatio, and recalling Sharon’s training, I boldly slipped my middle finger deep into Troy’s backside; the result was instantaneous. I was pleased that my mouth and lips were able to feel Troy’s pre-release swelling. The force of his ejaculation and his post orgasm contractions and squirts were thrilling to me; my penis had never been so hard. I had no choice but to relieve myself onto the forest floor.

Pleased with my oral efforts Troy said, “This isn’t your first rodeo is it, Maxine?”

Knowing that it’s impolite to speak with your mouthful I smiled seductively, made sure he saw me swallow his offering and said, “You’re my first.” I had performed my first blowjob; yet another rite of passage.

Troy knelt down, said thanks, and kissed me tenderly on my wet lips and softly said, “There’s no turning back Princess, like me, you are a cocksucker now and, like me, always will be. There’s one more part of life that will complete you.”

Last week at camp; Maxie gets ‘assed’

Shortly after a mutual gratifying naked sex session among the pines I succumbed to another fantasy. Without being asked I positioned myself on my hands and knees doggie style on the soft forest floor with my titties dangling downward; I spread my virgin cheeks. “Don’t make me beg” I implored as I offered myself to Troy.

Troy smiled: “A twink like you will always have a need for a man like me.” He produced a travel sized tube of lube and made his penis and my pussy slippery. Troy knelt behind me. I reached back and centered his prick where I wanted it and wiggled my ass wantonly; it took awhile but Troy slid delightfully and deeply into my pussy. As I felt my anal ring being stretched I knew that my next penetration would be easier.

Troy managed to fondle my small but dangling titties and introduced me to the etiquette of providing a ‘reach around’ for your sex partner. In my mind I could hear Sharon saying, “You’ll do fine Princess, you’ll do fine.”

Feeling the slap of Troy’s testicles against my ass was fantastic. I took his pounding well. I moaned at the pleasure of being sodomized and tried to back more fully onto his rigid prong; I was blessed with my first anal orgasm; I truly felt like a woman. It was another significant rite of passage. It would not be my last; I had indeed ‘done fine’.

There were three more forest fucks before the last day at camp; I tried milking Troy by clenching my pussy muscles and not allowing him to easily pull out; my technique was pleasurable for both of us. For these last sessions I had the foresight to bring a tampon so as to cork myself and not be seen leaking Troy’s sperm down my leg and into my socks when we returned to camp.

On our last hookup Troy was my bitch. I screwed him to my heart’s content and kept screwing him even after my ejaculation had hosed his innards; I considerately gave him a ‘reach around’ as I humped his ass. Mom was correct, camp was good for me and I did experience many new things.

Camp is over

When we got home Troy gave me an inexpensive neck chain; my first reward for being such a good cocksucker. Troy and I continued to “date” (or mate) for several months. I came to understand and appreciate what being a “submissive bottom” entailed; Troy ‘fit’ me perfectly and I liked it. The slapping of his testicles against my ass made me feel feminine.

Little did I know that my experiences with Troy and the “suggestions” from Sharon would figure prominently in my future.

The REAL story – High School is over; career choice

After graduation I was young, naïve, innocent, gullible and in search of a career. My twin sisters had left home for college and mom had found a boyfriend. The three of us had been a tight knit family for more than 20 years. We understood each other and supported each other completely including when I dressed and got pretty. Life moves on and so must I.

After high school I knew that the military was not for me. Based on my background and life experiences I seriously considered cosmetology as a career field. Instead I entered a vocational trade school in order to have a more secure source of income; reluctantly Maxie went on a prolonged vacation.

After trade school I was accepted into a Union apprenticeship program that would give me a purpose and career. I discovered I liked carpentry and construction and became very handy with tools and figuring out how things worked and how things got repaired.

When a general contractor took me under his wing I began wearing a bandeau breast minimizer under my work clothes. During my two years with Bob’s Builders I learned building codes, OSHA requirements and how to work with local authorities in order to get projects done. I could work independently and without close supervision.

In my early 20s I moved away from home and started a one person handyman business I named ‘Marc’s Maintenance’. I did good work for a fair price. I’ve been known to reduce my rates for a good cause or a sad story.

Business was slow but steady; I kept alert for additional money making opportunities that didn’t involve construction. These factors, just like summer camp many years ago, started me on an interesting adventure that I would never have dreamed possible.

I leave home

I moved into a modest 2 bedroom rental home in Middleton in early Spring. Middleton is in a rural area of Western Michigan where rental homes were cheap and spaced comfortably apart. The only furniture I brought was a double bed, a white mirrored vanity and an abundance of women’s clothing, cosmetics and my special low dose ‘medicine’. Years of being a girl makes for an interesting and eclectic wardrobe.

Neighbors

During my first day of moving into my new place I walked over and introduced myself to my next door neighbors. “Hello, my name is Marc.”

I was pleased that my closest neighbors were a mother and daughter that lived together; they owned a small but promising beauty salon that they operated out of their home; they hoped to expand the business someday. Vivian, the mother, was in her mid 30s and her equally attractive daughter Melanie (“call me Mel”). When I said I was a general contractor did handyman services they seemed to perk up.

Vivian and her daughter were licensed cosmetologists/hair stylists with particular skills with wig styling. Mel wanted to follow her mom in the cosmetology and beauty business. Viv had years of experience working for local salons; she hoped to open her own shop some day.

They had lost their husband/father in a deadly traffic accident several years earlier. The insurance company for the man that killed him had a highly paid corporate lawyer and Viv, as she preferred to be called, did not have adequate representation; she was awarded a settlement that was much less than what she deserved.

Her proceeds were enough for them to leave the sad memories of their dead husband/father behind and move to a newer 3 bedroom 3 bath house. Vivian’s new house was the perfect solution for her life goals; there was a fully finished downstairs ‘mother-in-law’ suite downstairs with a private entrance. The two planned on converting it to a work from home beauty salon of their own design. Finding a reliable contractor at a reasonable price to make the needed conversion was worrisome.

During the first week that I had moved next door V & M invited me over for coffee and donuts so we could get acquainted. We made the usual small talk; they asked if I had a girlfriend. I replied that I was in-between relationships; I was polite but deliberately vague.

They inquired if my contractor/handyman business kept me busy.

“Business has been slow. I hope it picks up soon or I may have to get a ‘real’ job.” They smiled at my attempt at humor. I considered telling them I had thought about cosmetology as a career but did not.

In return they made me aware of their circumstances and business goals. They let me know they were single and not looking to change that any time soon. I could sense them checking me out and hoped that my eyebrows weren’t too femme and that my panty line didn’t show. I wondered what they would say once I left.

Two days later they invited me over for lunch; they wanted to get my thoughts on a business proposition.

A perfect solution they said

Having a handyman (me) living next door was a blessing for both of us they said. Our meeting was pure serendipity and we could all benefit from having met they said. They would hire me to make their salon idea into a functioning business and I could take on side jobs as opportunities arose.

We discussed their ideas on shop layout, design and their timeline. I offered a few ideas of my own. We also discussed my “busy” schedule (I had nothing steady for the foreseeable future) and my fees. The prospect of becoming their Facilities Maintenance and Repair Person was an interesting concept as was the prospect of steady income.

I could tell that there was something troubling Viv and Mel and that it was causing a lot of stress. I asked them, “I sense you two have a strong anxiety about something; is it about my ability to complete your shop?”

“No, Marc your job skills aren’t an issue. We’re worried about buying Dutch’s beauty salon.”

They mentioned they were considering acquiring a salon from a retiring salon owner but there were demands they had to meet… something about proof of their ability to be able to fulfill the seller’s requirements prior to letting his business be sold. It was an involved process by a man called Dutch they said.

“Who is this Dutch guy?” I asked.

“Dutch is a very wealthy homosexual salon owner that caters to the LGBTQ community. He owns “The Woman Within” beauty parlor which is one of our competitors. He’s retiring soon and wants an appropriate buyer. If we are able to acquire “The Woman Within” we’d be set for life and you wouldn’t need side jobs. You would then be our full time Facilities Maintenance Manager with higher pay. We have many things to resolve before we will know if we get his salon.”

Our conversation returned to V & M’s immediate need of making part of their home into a functioning hair and cosmetics salon.

“The nature of our business”

“Marc, before we go further there’s something you need to know.”

Viv explained: “A large portion of our clients have special and socially embarrassing beauty needs that required confidentiality, understanding and empathy. My clients need to feel comfortable and secure.”

Feeling a bit puzzled I asked “Why?”

“Some of my best clients are men; some are gay, some are not. Let me know if this will be a problem for you.” It turned out that V & M were LGBTQ friendly; accepting and welcoming to everyone.

On a practical level alternate lifestyles (and girls like me) were a substantial source of their revenue; a segment of the paying public that V & M were determined to expand with the acquisition of Dutch’s business.

I was not fazed by her comments; I knew men that loved to look pretty and I am one of them.

“Your special clients will never be an issue for me.”

Should I take the job?

I had personal reasons for making their business a success; my income and livelihood were linked to their success. Not having a daily commute to a distant job site and having the security of a steady paycheck was very appealing as was prospect of becoming their Facilities Maintenance Manager if their business grew. And, perhaps, I could learn the cosmetology business. Viv also offered free salon services and an occasional home cooked meal as part of the deal.

After a bit of negotiations we agreed upon my weekly rate. The three of us shook hands. When I shook hands with Vivian she held my hand a bit longer and checked my nails. “Marc, it looks like you need to refresh your manicure” she said. “I can tell it’s been awhile.” She showed my shaped but unkempt nails to Mel. Mel smiled and added, “Yes, they need some care.”

To celebrate our new arrangements V & M opened a bottle of Chablis and we sat comfortably in their living room and talked more about their salon.

First day

I reported to work wearing my usual gender neutral Dickie’s work pants and shirt with a breast minimizer bandeau. My long hair was in a relaxed pony tail and was tucked under a John Deere ball cap; small, gender neutral, gold ball ear studs completed my ‘work outfit’.
At the end of the day as I was packing up my gear Mel pointed at my ears and said, “Don’t you have any more attractive earrings than those little girl studs?” I couldn’t help but blush.

The next day I showed up sporting modest ½ inch gold hoop earrings. V & M smiled and said, “Those are much nicer Marc.” I thought so too.

Over the next week I enlarged the salon’s bathroom; I added two toilets (with privacy partitions) and a second shower stall large enough for a 6 ft 6 inch ‘woman’. Long mirrors, like those found in a ballet studio, and a long faux marble counter were classy. The lighting was perfect.

Feeling accepted

On another morning I was sporting my usual a ponytail while keeping my shoulder length hair out of my face with basic tortoise shell hairclips. As Mel walked by she tilted her head as if puzzled, said “Good morning Marc” and went upstairs into the main house. I continued with my work.

Returning from lunch I found matching 3 inch rectangle rhinestone encrusted barrettes on my toolbox with a note in Viv’s handwriting. “This is a classy place MARC(ia), give these a try.” There was a hand drawn smiley face and the letter “V” on the note. I chortled inwardly as I swapped the new for the old; they were very pretty. Her adding the lower case “ia” at the end of MARC was acknowledgement that they understood who I was.

After many months of being very straight I was beginning to feel like Maxie again. I replaced my bandeau with a snug sports bra that didn’t over emphasize my breasts and I began wearing barrettes and gold hoops frequently at work; I wished that my mom and sisters could see my pretty new clips.

In the main part of V & M’s salon I added a half dozen floor to ceiling gym rental lockers for girls that could not take their dresses and accessories home. I also created an area where clients could change clothes and shoes before going out on a date. I would speak to Viv and Mel about other amenities that could generate income for them.

Work goes on

I installed shelving and glass display cases for Viv’s wigs and beauty products. A pair of large screen TVs and a respectable sound system added to the salon vibe; customers of any gender would be comfortable and at ease. V & M were pleased with the bathroom remodel and changing area I had built.

I was concerned that once I finished the V & M shop that I’d be out of a job and once again hustling for an income; maybe the hustling would be contractor related. I had personal reasons in V & M acquiring “The Woman Within”. How could I be of help?

Being social

In addition to an income V & M provided me with someone to talk to even if the conversations revolved around cosmetics, hairstyles and fashion. My older sisters, our girlfriends and I had chatted constantly about clothes, cosmetic and boys. I knew I could carry a decent conversation with V & M. The smell of nail polish and cosmetics were not new to me; I knew what it takes to be pretty.

Invited to dinner

Shortly after being gifted the pretty hair clips I was invited to a home cooked meal at their house. Based on my Maxie experiences of my childhood (and V & M’s not so subtle hints) I felt I had nothing to lose.

Maxie goes to dinner

In preparation for the evening I asked myself what degree of ‘girl’ do V & M want to see? When refrains from a Bonnie Raitt anthem song began echoing pleasantly through my head; “A little mystery to figure out babe, let’s give ‘em something to talk about…” I decided to be in full Maxie mode; it had been a long while and Maxie needed social interaction.

I took a nice warm shower; I used a fresh blade and re-shaved my armpits, legs and pubes. After my shower, and with another fresh blade; I shaved my face super smooth. I am blessed to have very light facial hair; stubble on a woman is a major turnoff. I didn’t forget to moisturize my legs and face.

As usual I used half dozen medium sized Velcro hair curlers to keep my long hair out of the way when I shaved my face. The curlers go in easy, dry quickly and create a much fuller and feminine head of hair with minimum effort. I left my curlers in place and continued to get ready.
I am well versed in tucking my boy-bits and after getting that done I donned red high cut French panties with a subtle lace trim and a bow in the front. Black thigh top stockings were next. The beautiful gold anklet that my sisters had given me was nicely on display.

Speculating that Viv and Mel may be curious to see how much of a bust their handyman had I opted to wear my most flattering 38 C push-up bra.

Rather than startling L & M by wearing a dress on our “first date” I opted for femininely stylish khaki colored pleated ‘ankle slacks’ with the zipper in the back. They were form fitting and didn’t have pockets; I presented a smoothly feminine front. Not having pockets required I wear my Michael Kors clutch purse.

My top was a long sleeved baby blue light linen blouse with pearl buttons down the front and at the cuffs. For effect I left the top button of my blouse open so my delicate gold chain and cross were visible.

After shaping my fingernails they received a shiny coat of light pink polish; I painted my toenails ‘Happy Red’. Perhaps V & M would offer an alternative for my fingernails; I was feeling nervous.

I contained myself and used a sparing amount of blush and two coats of Sephora mascara on my lashes. I spent more time on my eyebrows than I should have plucking wayward hairs and restoring them to a reasonable androgynous shape. I debated on a lip color but elected on ‘Faded Rose’ transparent lip gloss from Jafra.

Removing my curlers I brushed myself into an acceptable womanly hairstyle. After clipping in my new barrettes I lightly sprayed my hair with Aqua Net and looked into my mirror. I was pleased at the results and wondered what magic V & M could do for a girl like me.

For accessories I selected a modest friendship ring, a silver ladies watch and 4 bangle bracelets. Cubic zirconium chandelier earring matched the sparkly barrettes that V & M had gifted me. My shoes were sensible pointy-toe black flats with a one inch heel to avoid any embarrassing falls. My gold anklet looked very sexy against my black stockings.

After a long gaze into my full length mirror, I applied a hint of ‘Cashmere Mist’ perfume and was ready. I opened my MK clutch, transferred my ID and by habit, a tube of lipstick. I grabbed a black sweater and left.

The reveal

I stood at Vivian & Melanie’s door for a moment before ringing their doorbell. I adjusted my sweater sportily over my shoulders like a cloak and took a few deep breaths. I knew they had been coaxing me to reveal the inner me; the inner Maxie. I was glad I decided to wear slacks. I rang the doorbell. The door opened.

End of Maxie’s “Dutch Treat” (Part 1 of 2)

In part 2 of Maxie’s “Dutch Treat” (Part 2 of 2) you see the reveal and discover another meaning of a Dutch treat.

I have 32 other stories on Big Closet and I hope you read a few. Some are very PG and deal with acceptance. Do an Author Search for Donna T