The Perfect Store
(c) 2017 by Haylee V

It was my first temporary assignment -- a secretary. When you're 22, fresh out of college, and transgendered, it's not exactly easy finding a job.

He was everything I dreamed of in an ideal man - handsome, in a cute, boyish way. Not overly muscular, like a gym lunkhead, or chiseled in stone (with a self-important attitude to match) like some six-pack abbers I knew, but tone, buff, and cut just right. Rich, without the conceited snobbery of the wealthy or silver spooned. He made his fortune the old fashioned way, through hard work and dedication. Suave and debonair, with a distinct air of Southern grace and charm.

Unfortunately, he was also, at this moment, my prospective boss. And watching (with keen interest, I might add) as I drooled all over him.

"Veronica Closet?" he asked, badly mispronouncing my surname.

"Close enough, Sir", I semi-corrected. "My mother and father pronounce it Cloe-zhey, being originally from Nice, France, but given the way it's spelled (Clausait), a very good try."

"Ahem. Please excuse me, then, Ms. Clausait. You're here for the secretary position, I assume?"

"Yes, Sir. And I'm very eager to work under you. I'll do my best."

"I'm sure you will. You begin tomorrow."

When I arrived, he put me right to work, filing. I went about my task, and completed all my assignments by lunch.

"Since you're done with your morning tasks, and it's about noon anyway," he hinted," How about calling it a day? You can come to my place, and I can show you around, since you may need to work from there some days while I'm away on business. I'm an excellent cook."

I could hardly contain my excitement, and quickly stammered out, "Th- th- that would be... lovely!"

We pulled up to his condo about fifteen minutes later, and he opened the door and ushered me in.

Feel free to make yourself at home, Ms. Clausait."

"Roni," I gently interrupted.

"Umm... right. Roni. I'll just change into something more comfortable, and start lunch."

Soon, the smell of bacon-wrapped filet mignon filled my nostrils, as I heard a cork pop from a bottle of champagne.

"I hope you don't mind drinking White Gold. I'm a big fan of Moët & Chandon, and it's the only brand of Dom Perignon I could find in this area."

Dom Perignon? Filet mignon? Does he eat like this every day?

I gently took the proffered flute, savoring its heady aroma before taking a tiny sip.

"Steaks. Champagne. A girl could get used to this rather quickly. next thing you know, we'll end up in bed together."

"Would that really be so bad? You're drop-dead gorgeous, and I'd love the opportunity, if you'll have someone like me. And not just tonight, Roni..."

"I... I... I can't." I cried, tears forming in my lids.

"But why?"

"Because. You need a real girl. And I'm just a... a... a..."

He began to disrobe. As his boxers fell to the floor, I noticed a little triangular patch where a certain appendage should have been.

It was only then that I began to shop at Vic Toria's Secret...