Irresistible
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Perhaps because my staff were always giving me a hard time about my old-fashioned manners and conservative style of dress, I was in favor of a diversity hire. We had two races other than white covered, so when I was looking for a new secretary the office manager put forward a candidate she described as “gender non-conforming”. I thought that it would be to test me, so I had no choice but to go through with an interview.

The person who arrived was clearly a young man, with colored long hair, wearing eye makeup and behaving in a very effeminate manner, but wearing what might possibly be called “neutral” clothing – that is pants and a shirt with a very slight floral pattern under a jacket of a slightly feminine cut. The disarming thing was that the boy was charming with a cheerful disposition, and he had impeccable credentials. He had excellent typing and data input skills and two testimonials referring to his “natural and extensive ability to organize”. That was what I was looking for, and what I needed.

This image by LindaSummers214 on Deviant Art is entitled “The Boss can’t resist his sissy secretary”

I had decided that I wanted to hire this person (being careful with pronouns in these difficult times), but I did have a few concerns about what my clients might think. With some reticence and after confirming to them that I would be inviting this person to join the firm, I felt that I should express my views.

“I think that a relationship between a man and his secretary should be an honest one – don’t you?” I began. “I understand that you wish to express yourself but I my nature is more … reserved, and my clients value my advice for its … traditionalism. I wonder if you, from time to time, wear women’s clothes as opposed to … unisex apparel?”

“Would you like me to wear women’s clothes?” they said, but on seeing my discomfort, they did not wait for an answer. “I like wearing women’s clothes, and I am keen to fit in … if that would help.”

“Well, I think that it would, if you would be so kind?”

The name on the employment contract was Dean but the suggestion was that I use the name “Dee” and I could use the female pronoun to refer to her. She understood that I would be more comfortable with this, and the name and pronoun did fit when she appeared for work on her first day in a dress.

I think that she may have lifted her voice an octave or two as well, and when she answered the phone could well have been mistaken for being female. If a client would then appear at my office and have her come to greet him or her (or them) at reception, it would have been confirmed absolutely that my secretary they spoke to over the phone, was a woman. If I had any doubts they disappeared on the second day when she appeared for work in her black long sleeved blouse and short black dress.

“At the risk of being accused of molestation, can I just say that you look very attractive today.” I think it was the long legs and high heels that made me say it. Such words I would never suggest be spoken by another, but they just came out. I was trying to make a point. “It is just that the skirt is very short.”

“I like to show off my legs,” she said. “I think that I have good legs – don’t you?”

I was at a loss for words. Those legs were simply the best I have ever seen on a woman, and she was that. They were the perfect shape, and so smooth. She later told me that she kept her whole body hairless, which led me into thoughts that had not entered my mind since I was teenager.

“And please feel that you can compliment me anytime,” she said. “I am dressed like this for you, so perhaps I am entitled to expect those words?”

It was totally inappropriate perhaps, but I asked her whether I might purchase some business attire for her? After all, she was right, it was my request and I understood that she would have no proper wardrobe. I can only imagine what clothes she donned in private – perhaps frills and lace, or skimpy and sexy. I had in my mind that I would assist her by buying something more moderate, but she had to wear it so she needed to come with me, or rather I needed to go with her.

We went to a boutique nearby. I remember the look on the shop assistant’s face when we entered. I am not sure whether she realized quite what Dee was, but I don’t think that mattered. She reserved for me a look of disdain as if I was some kind of “sugar daddy” paying the bill.

As it happened, any thought of purchasing staid outfits was quickly dispelled. Dee got what she wanted and I paid. I was to learn that was how things were to be with her.

The thing is that this was what made her such a good secretary. She would manage my diary and make decisions about appointments – like short meetings where she knew they would be difficult, or other more pleasant meetings before lunch so they might roll into a meal. And for meals she would book at healthy places most of the time, but steakhouses when I needed a treat.

Her typing was first class, and everything arrived in my inbox with explanatory notes and reminders about the client so I could easily deliver small talk if required.

She was quite simply the best secretary I had ever had. She was so good that I made the mistake that I have always warned others never to do – I fell in love with my secretary.

I thought that I had the easiest cure for such love. It was – tell yourself that this person is not a woman, and because you are not homosexual, this cannot happen. It seemed like a good idea but it didn’t work. I actually thought about telling her to drop the female clothing and dress like the man she was, but I could not bear the idea. And I think that I realized that she might well refuse such a request. It seemed to me that she had become so accustomed to dressing as a woman that the man in her had disappeared totally – if he was ever there at all.

That thought made me feel less guilty about having brought about this situation for her. But the truth of it was that I reveled in her presence. Her soft hair, her wonderful legs, the smell of her – they all delighted me in a way that is so hard to describe.

But I was too old. Even though the thought of her brought on a male arousal in me, it was never one that could be called functioning. That was in my past. She deserved what I could not give her, and it was only a matter of time before the man who could give her that, emerged and visited my office.

He was divorced and wealthy despite of that. He swept her off her feet in every sense, which was something well beyond me.

I think of her often. I wonder now if she is a complete woman. I hope that she is, but even if she is not she was irresistible.

The End
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© Maryanne Peters 2025