Maria had gone when I awoke. Glancing at the alarm clock I saw that it was past noon. I stepped gingerly out of bed, wincing slightly as I made my way to the en-suite. My feet were a ruin after spending all night in heels. I surveyed myself in the bathroom mirror. The make up that I had neglected to remove last night was now re-arranged in a far more abstract pattern all over my face. The hairpiece dangled lopsidedly over one ear, mirrored by one remaining earring in the other. I found some cold cream to clean my face off and then lingered a while in Maria’s shower, allowing the heat to soak into my aching toes and calves.

Fortunately I didn’t have to roam the house naked to find my clothes from yesterday; someone had had the foresight to fold them neatly over a chair in Maria’s room. I slipped the suit back on again – it felt harsh and crinkly against my newly sensitized smooth limbs, but my own shoes were blissfully comfortable after the heels. Making my way through the house there was still no sign of life and I quietly exited, blinking in the bright midday sun as I headed for home.

There was no sign of Maria at work the following day, or for the rest of that week. Whilst I was desperate to talk to her, I was also extremely busy with the SERPO competition. Antonio had talked to me at Carnaval about his plans for the company to diversify out of oil into renewable energy and I wanted that to be reflected in our design for the new headquarters by making it sustainable. I’d had some interesting ideas about incorporating planting into the upper levels of the building – ‘skygardens’ I called them – and my excitement at developing the design concepts outweighed my anxiety about Maria.

Eventually the following week Maria reappeared. My phone rang and she asked me through to her office.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around. I know we need to talk.” She was cool and business-like.

“Yeah…well…I’ve been really busy too…”

“How is the competition looking?”

Unburdened by not needing to talk about personal issues, we both visibly relaxed as we talked freely and excitedly for a while about the new designs. Then she became serious again.

“Listen. There is something else.”

“I know we need to talk, but maybe it’s best if we leave it until after the competition is finished?”

“Yes, but that’s not it.”

“What then?”

Maria took a breath. “Antonio called. He wanted to say how much he and Tony Jr. enjoyed themselves at Carnaval. It seems like Sue made quite an impression.”

My stomach twisted slightly. “What do you mean?”

“He wants Sue to present the competition proposals in Sao Paolo the week after next.”

“Shit! What did you say? Did you not tell him that I’m Sue? I mean, it was all a joke, an act…”

“Perhaps you should have thought things through before you introduced yourself the way you did.”

“I know, but…”

“Brazilian men are the most macho on the planet. If Antonio knew that the girl he’d spent hours flirting with…”

“I wasn’t flirting!” I interrupted.

“It certainly looked like that from where I was standing.” She continued “If he knew Sue was really a guy then we could forget the competition. And probably a lot of other projects as well.”

“Tell him Sue’s ill, or something.”

“He’ll just put off the presentation until she’s better.”

“Tell him she’s gone back to the UK.”

“Don’t be silly. Why would she do that? He knows she’s really enjoying herself here. After all, you told him.”

I was silent for a while, then “So what do we do?”

She looked right into my eyes. “Perhaps Sue should give the presentation.”

“You must be joking. I mean…”

This time Maria interrupted. “You managed to be pretty convincing at Carnaval. I know it’s a big thing to ask, but just think about it, ok?”

I left the office that night with my head spinning. Being just over a week away from the most important submission of my professional career was more than enough to happily occupy my thoughts and seeing Maria had initiated an aching in me to be with her again. And now this. The bus home was full of young women heading out for the evening - dressed to party, hair done, faces made up. The woman opposite me was stunning. She wore a tight black clingy dress which finished just above her knees. A mane of tightly curled hair framed a face with beautiful deep brown eyes. How would it feel to stand there wearing a dress like that? What would I look like with my hair done in that style? My pulse raced. There were too many things going on in my head. Just concentrate on the competition, I told myself. But could I keep focused for another week?

The following day I told Maria that I would acquiesce and be Sue again for the presentation. I’d tossed and turned all night, but eventually the decision was easy. I’d put a huge amount of effort into the competition and would have done almost anything not to jeopardise the result. And besides, there was the little voice inside of me, the voice I tried to pretend didn’t exist, that whispered softly to me about how much Sue wanted to come out to play again…

Maria squealed delightedly for a brief moment before quickly recovering her professional composure and saying how much this meant to the practice, and how she’d make sure it would be made up to me. I’d already arranged with the print shop that I’d send them the completed drawings to mount onto boards overnight on the Saturday prior to the Monday presentation. That would give us Sunday to rehearse. Maria said that would also give us ample time to ‘get me ready’. I already had an inkling what that meant.

Sunday morning dawned with me still hunched over my drawing board, having been there non-stop since Saturday morning (and having existed on an average of four hours sleep that whole week). I eventually got everything off to the printers by mid morning, but it was mid afternoon by the time the finished boards came back. By this time Maria had already been on the phone three or four times and she joined me in the studio just as the boards arrived.

“We’re running late. We won’t have time to do everything we need to do today.”

“I know. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t leave a drawing half finished, could I?”

“You should have asked for more help”

“There have been three of us here all night. Any more wouldn’t have made any difference.”

We reviewed the presentation boards as they arrived. Maria’s agitation subsided as we went through them, replaced by, I was relieved to see, delight and enthusiasm. She was thrilled by how the scheme looked.

We loaded the drawings into Maria’s car and set off for her house. Amazingly, considering the mental turmoil I’d been in over the last week, I’d managed to retain my focus on the work and I was proud of what I’d achieved and very happy with Maria’s reaction. But now the adrenalin that had kept me going had dissipated, I was tired. Really, really tired.

Maria, by contrast, seemed almost high with anticipation at the events of the next day or so. She babbled excitedly at her increasingly comatose passenger.

“So I booked a hairdresser. She’s been there since 11am this morning when we expected you. It’s lucky I was able to keep her on…I was thinking a nice ‘up do’…nothing too formal, but with some loose curls you could look really cute…and nails. Stick ons might have been okay for a costume party but what if one pinged off in the middle of your presentation. Disaster! Oh, and boobs…”

“What?”

“Haha! So you are with us then? I was beginning to think you had passed out. Yes, boobs. Not real ones, silly. Some glue on prosthetics. They do look really convincing, though. Not that anyone’s going to see you topless…Oh, and we’ll need to pierce your ears as well. The costume jewellery you wore at Carnaval is fine but it’s impossible to get regular earrings if you haven’t got pierced ears…”

I sighed. I really didn’t have the energy to argue.

Arriving at Maria’s house I was dispatched once again into the shower with a razor. The hair on my arms and legs had barely grown back at all since the ball, and before too long I was smooth again. Once dry, Maria and another lady, who I assumed was the hairdresser, presented me with the prosthetics. Maria had been right – they really did look quite realistic and were a surprisingly good match for my skin tone. I laid on my back whilst they were glued in place and then, sitting up, felt their weight as they pulled on the skin of my chest. It felt kind of weird, but not unpleasant.

Next I was placed into a chair with a high back which was cut away into a rounded shape which rested into the nape of my neck. My own hair, shampooed and conditioned now, hung loose over the headrest and Maria explained how she was going to add ‘just a little’ length and more body with some extensions. The lady produced some strands of very realistic looking hair the same colour as mine and, running her fingers through my own hair, began attaching the extensions strand by strand. The sensation of having my head and scalp massaged like this was enough to tip me over the edge and within a few minutes I was fast asleep.

My re-entry into consciousness was slow at first, but as soon as I remembered my situation I sat bolt upright and opened my eyes. It took several further seconds before I realized that the figure reflected back at me in the mirror was myself. It had a green face (some kind of face mask I imagined) and a head encased in a net full of rollers. At least the hand that raised itself to my mouth in shock looked the part, the slim fingers further elongated by immaculately glossed acrylic nails. I stood up, a little too suddenly, and had to grip the arm of the chair for support. Maria had been sat quietly behind me reading a magazine and now she stood and walked towards me.

“Hehe. You look funny!”

I must have looked doleful in reply, for she went on “Aww. Sorry. I don’t mean to tease. That’s you all done now. You can wash the mask off. It’s been on long enough.”

With my face back to its appropriate colour again, at least I now looked human. I leant into the mirror above the washbasin for a closer look. With the face pack off, my skin felt incredibly smooth and soft. How they’d done it without waking me I don’t know, but a small diamond stud gleamed back at me from each earlobe and my eyebrows had been plucked into a fine arch. In leaning over the washbasin my posture thrust out my newly acquired chest, pushing open the towelling robe I was wearing to reveal what I thought looked to be a pretty impressive décolletage. While I now at least looked human, there was no doubt that even without make up and appropriate clothes, I could only be taken for a female of the species.

Maria came closer “Are you ok?”

I shrugged my shoulders “I feel ridiculous.”

“Hey. It’s going to be fine. Thank you.”

She reached up and planted a soft kiss on my cheek. I wanted to grab her there and then, throw her to the floor and make mad passionate love to her, but how could I? How could she possibly find me attractive now after I had so completely humiliated myself?

“It’s late. We should go to bed. We’ve got a big day tomorrow. We didn’t get time to practise the presentation did we?”

“We’ll be ok. I’ve been practising it in my head all week. How long was I asleep anyway? I’m still tired…”

“You’ve got a lot of lost sleep to make up for I bet. You’ve done a fantastic job with the design. Thank you.”

We looked at each other for a second in silence. Despite the way I looked and felt, I had a sudden, brief, sense of connection and then Maria averted her eyes and it was gone.

“I’ve made up the spare room for you.”

“Thanks. Goodnight.”

In the room the bed had been turned down and there was a long, baby blue coloured satin nightgown draped across the covers. I looked at it for a moment and then took off my towelling robe and draped it across a chair. I picked up the gown and let it fall softly over my body, nestling my new breasts into the cups, and climbed into bed.

I lay awake for a long time, worrying about what the following day would bring. Not that I was tossing and turning – the forms on my chest and the curlers in my hair put paid to that. When I eventually fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, I dreamt that I was a bride making her way up the aisle to be married. I was dressed in the most gorgeous of gowns and floated serenely between packed rows of guests. Reaching the altar, my groom turned – it was Maria, wearing a full English morning suit. She smiled lovingly but as she lifted my veil her smile turned into a laugh. I reached up to my face and felt my beard – I was Dave, not Sue. I turned to the guests, my friends and family, and they were all laughing and pointing at me too.

I awoke in a sweat, my gown soaked and clinging to my body. Maria was knocking at the door – “Sue, it’s time to get up.”

I groaned in acknowledgement and she entered.

“It’s no good. I can’t go through with this. Look at me for christsake…”

She studied me, concerned. “Hey, hey…it’s ok…you’re going to be fine…just take a shower, you’ll feel better.”

I was too tired to argue.

A few minutes later, slightly refreshed but still with the worst butterflies I could ever remember, I joined her in the kitchen.

“Maria, I can’t pull this off.”

“Heyyy. You can! You already have! You’ve passed once right under Antonio’s nose at Carnaval. Christ you’ve even been dancing with him and he didn’t notice you weren’t…” her voice tailed off.

“Yes, but that was different. I mean, it was Carnaval and it was fun and just a bit of a laugh. This is serious. I mean – what if he finds out?”

“He won’t. Trust me.”

I held her gaze for a moment. She was dressed, ready to go, wearing a maxi length clingy jersey dress, strappy with bare shoulders and a chiffon scarf tied loosely around her neck. The dress suited her curves; her body was amazing, but her eyes, her deep chocolate brown eyes were what made me want to never let her down. I sighed and didn’t say anything. She knew that her charm had won the day and a hint of a smile passed her lips.

“Honestly. Do this and I’ll be forever in your debt.”

“OK” I submitted.

She gave me a squeeze. “Come on. Let’s get you ready. The car to take us to the airport will be here in an hour.”

We headed back into the room I’d spent the night in. There was a walk-in closet and she emerged carrying a clothes hanger, its contents wrapped by a plastic dust cover, and some other loose items in her hand. She handed me a bra and a pair of panties. “Put those on in the bathroom if you like.”

I managed the panties fine, but, unfamiliar with my new long nails, the bra defeated me and I went back to Maria for help. “Hook it in front first and then spin it around.”

A corset type thing was next. “This is a waist cincher” Maria explained. “It will give you a nice trim tummy’” She wrapped it around and zipped me into it.

“OK. I’ve got this body for you next. It’s from Wolford – very classy. It’s like a swimsuit – step into it legs first, it will stretch so the straps go over your shoulders.”

I took hold of it, and put it on as Maria directed. It felt soft and slinky, clinging to my body. Maria took a step back to review the result.

“Hmm. That won’t work. The body is really thin – you can see the waist cincher and your bra through it. We should have tried your outfit on last night…Let me think. I’ve got another idea.”

I undressed. She disappeared for a few moments and returned with another garment.

“Ta da! Magic knickers, I think you call them in English.”

“What?”

“I think panty girdle is the proper name. They’re mine, so they might be a bit tight on you, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing…”

I pulled them up my legs. They were thick, elasticated and very tight. They had a similar effect to the waist cincher, pulling my tummy in and also giving me a nice flat front below that.

“You should be ok without a bra – the glue will hold the forms, I’m sure. Try the body again now.”

I pulled it back over my legs, adjusted it over my breasts and slipped the straps over my shoulders, smoothing the fabric down across my waist. Even I could tell that it fitted better now.

“Perfect!” Maria exclaimed. “Now for hair and make up!”

I sat down at the vanity unit and Maria positioned herself in front of me. I relaxed and closed my eyes whilst she did her stuff. When she’d completed the eyeshadow and liner she gave me the mascara – “Probably easiest for you to do this yourself. Besides, you need the practice.” She smiled. She asked me to do my own lips as well. I concentrated hard as I outlined them with liner and infilled them with a pale, natural pink and then blotted on a tissue. “This is supposed to be long lasting, but I’ll bet you still need to touch it up during the day. I’ll pop some things in your handbag just in case.”

She gently removed the hairnet and undid the rollers. She brushed and teased my hair for a while and then, half a dozen clips held between her teeth, she started to pull it into an up-do. A few minutes later there was more teasing and poking of various strands here and there, a tug of a bang into place in front of each ear and then she pronounced herself happy with the result by dousing me generously with hairspray.

“Don’t look just yet.” She span the chair around so I was facing away from the mirror. “Let’s get you finished. Nearly there.”

She took the hangar she’d brought through earlier and slipped off the plastic cover. Inside was a two piece, off-white fine wool jersey trouser suit.

“I meant to get you to try this on yesterday but we ran out of time. I hope it fits.”

I slid the trousers on. They were quite widely flared at the bottom, and satin lined, and they slid sweetly up my smooth legs. The waist band was deep, three buttoned and I struggled to fasten it until I realised it buttoned on the opposite side to what I was familiar with. They sat on my hips, the contrast with the black Wolford body emphasising the slimness of my waist. The jacket fit perfectly, sitting just below the hip, the waist fastening with a single button, the lapels flaring out upwards over my bust.

“Very Bianca Jagger!” Maria said, approvingly.

I sat down on the edge of the bed whilst she fastened the ankle straps on a pair of three inch heeled strappy black sandals. Taking the studs out of my ears she clipped in a pair of large silver hooped earrings and then fastened a simple silver pendant around my neck.

“There. Finished. Go and take a look!”

There was a full length mirror attached to one of the closet doors and I stood in front of it for a moment in silence. Maria joined me, standing behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist playfully. “Hey, why so serious? Tell me you don’t look gorgeous!”

I smiled back and gave her a dig in the ribs. “You scrub up pretty well yourself!” but I didn’t tell her what I had been thinking, I would have struggled to articulate it. Dressing up at Carnaval had been like being in a play, pretending to be someone else. This felt different. For the first time I was looking at myself as a woman. I remembered an article I’d read somewhere about a sculptor working in stone who’d said that he didn’t create the work, he just chipped away at the stone until he found and revealed the sculpture inside. It was Sue that was standing in front of me in the mirror. David was no more than a few stone chippings on the floor.

The doorbell rang.

“Come on. Let’s go!”

A poor joke to try to lighten the mood – “If our client thinks our design is as stylish as we are, we’re onto a winner today”

Maria laughed anyway. We grabbed our things and headed out of the door to the waiting car.

The flight out to Sao Paolo was uneventful, at least considering it was my first time in a helicopter. We were both quiet; I ran through the presentation in my head over and over again practising everything I was planning to say. I presumed Maria did the same. For some reason I’d assumed we’d be landing at the airport, but as we descended over the central business district I could see that several of the tall buildings had helipads. We landed on one of them, the co-pilot helping us out and reminding us (not that we needed it!) to duck to avoid the still revolving rotor blades.

A well dressed middle aged lady met us on the roof and introduced herself as Antonio’s PA before taking us down into the building. We found ourselves in a well appointed reception area, the PA explaining that a board meeting was in progress and we would be called in at the relevant point in the agenda. We were offered coffee and a seat but I declined both; too nervous for coffee and too energised to sit down.

“Could you show me where the ladies is please?” Maria asked.

She was pointed to a door on the opposite corner of the room.

“Sue?” she raised her eyebrows in enquiry.

I looked at her for a moment. “Oh, yes. Coming!”

“Helicopters and hair-dos don’t mix!” she smiled. “Come here. I need to do a few running repairs.” I looked in the mirror. She was right. A couple of strands had come loose from their clips and tumbled down untidily, and she soon had them back in place.

“You might want to touch up your lipstick too.”

I did as instructed and studied myself critically for a moment in the mirror, carefully picking off with my long nails a tiny speck of dirt that had attached itself to my face below one eye. I tugged on the hem of my jacket and smoothed out an imaginary crease in a sleeve.

A deep breath.

Maria looked over at me. “Moment of truth. Come on. Let’s go.”

The boardroom was traditionally decorated, like the reception area. Its walls were timber panelled and a large mahogany table seated a dozen or so board members. All male. All, with the exception of Tony Jr., at least 50 or so years old. Antonio stood up to welcome us. He was as large lifed as I remembered, giving Maria a huge hug and a kiss on both cheeks before turning his attention to myself. “Sue.” He paused. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Sao Paolo. Truly you made a stunning Spanish senorita, but that is nothing compared to your natural English beauty.” It was corny b-movie dialogue, but somehow Antonio had the charm and charisma to get away with it.

“Thank you. It’s very nice of you to invite us along today.” I replied, rather lamely.

He laughed and turned back to the rest of the board “See how charming she is.” Taking my proffered hand he pulled me towards him and kissed me, latin style, on both cheeks.

We made small talk for a few more minutes whilst we unpacked the presentation boards and set up. Tony Jr. came over to help. “Welcome to Sao Paolo from me as well. Are you staying long?”

“Just today I’m afraid. We fly back later this afternoon.”

“A shame. It would have been nice to show you some of the sights this evening.”

And then we were ready. Maria gave an introduction, saying a little about the practice, the background to this job and our experience in this sector, before handing over to me. I started nervously at first, but gradually my confidence increased. I knew the scheme worked well, and that our presentation drawings were good, but there was something else that I’d never experienced before. As Dave, when I presented schemes at university I’d always felt that people were trying to find fault and to question. Here I felt encouragement and approval. I warmed to the task, gliding from drawing to drawing as I explained my ideas about making the building sustainable. I could sense the enthusiasm in the room. When I reached the end and sat back down to allow Maria to summarise, Antonio broke into spontaneous applause.

“Gentlemen” he addressed the rest of the board “We know Carrera Associates are an excellent practice with good experience in headquarters design. Even before today I would have been happy to appoint them to our project. But after seeing these wonderful designs I believe I can speak for all of us when I say to you, Maria and Sue: When can we start? Congratulations – you have the commission!” He beamed at us both and, this time the whole board applauded.

I was overwhelmed. Maria replied for us very graciously saying how much we were looking forward to working with SERPO.

“Tell me” said Antonio “Where are you staying this evening? We must go out and celebrate.”

“Oh, actually…” I started “We weren’t planning on staying. Your pilot is booked to take us back to Rio this afternoon.”

“Nonsense. We must celebrate.”

“But we have no hotel, no clothes to wear…”

“No problem. I will arrange the best hotel. My driver will take you to the Daslu department store where I have an account. You can get everything you need there. Look on it as a fee bonus. Please. I insist.”

“But…” I began to answer, but Maria interrupted me

“We’d be delighted to.” She smiled.

“Excellent!” He stood up “My PA will arrange the details”

Tony Jr. joined in, looking directly at me. “I look forward to seeing you this evening, Sue, and to working with you both on the project.”

“Jesus! Fucking Hell Maria! How could you have agreed to that?”

We were in Antonio’s car on the way to the store. Maria’s eyes narrowed and she gesticulated towards the uniformed driver in the front. “Watch your voice!” she hissed.

I raised it back up to Sue’s pitch. The driver was behind glass and didn’t give the impression that he’d heard anything.

“I thought this was just going to be a few hours. And now he thinks that Sue’s going to be around for the rest of the project…Bloody Hell!”

“Hey. Hey. It’s ok…”

“It might be for you” I interrupted.

“Listen.” Maria raised her voice assertively “It’s only a night more than we’d planned. We’ll have dinner, make our excuses – I’m sure they’ll understand you’re tired after all that work – and head home tomorrow. We can’t accept the best commission we’ve ever had and then turn around and say no to the client to the first thing he asks us to do.”

“And the rest of the project?”

“I’ll think of something”

“Humph!” I folded my arms and turned away from Maria to the view outside the window. I should have been elated. The project win, based on my designs, was a major coup for me personally, but I was tired now and irritable. I’d worked like a dog putting everything together for today and the stress of all that, together with my masquerade, was getting to me. I just wanted to get home and go to bed.

We pulled up outside the main entrance to the store – it resembled some kind of fantastical Italian Renaissance palazzo from the outside – and the driver helped us out, explaining he would wait for us. Inside, the store was even more decadent – a mixture of baroque and Louis XIV – all marble, gilt and velvet. A young woman dressed in a tiny little black dress came to us, offering us champagne. Maria took one but I declined.

“My God, this is amazing” she turned around, taking in a full three sixty panorama of the entrance atrium. “I’d heard of this but never been here before. This place is ridiculously expensive; all top designer brands apparently. Let’s hope this little baby works.” She waved Antonio’s credit card in front of her.

“Now, let’s think.” She was talking almost absentmindedly, rather than addressing me specifically. “We’ll need something dressy for tonight, underwear, shoes of course. Make up – I only brought enough for running repairs. Oh, and something to travel home in tomorrow…”

“Can’t I just wear what I’ve got on now?” I asked.

She lifted her eyebrows “Girl” she paused “You’ve got a lot to learn.”

She led me over to the make up section first.

“OK. Evening make up for you. Something a bit bolder. Maybe chocolate browns or dark greys and silvers to give you a nice smoky eye effect? What do you think?”

I shrugged and she sighed. “Fine. I’ll choose something.”

I followed her around various counters as she assembled what looked to me to be way more make up than anyone could possibly wear. She handed me some of the items.

“Lipsticks. Which do you prefer of these two shades?” she held them up for me.

“I don’t mind.”

“Hmm. You’re not being very helpful. Here, hold out your hand.”

She dabbed each lipstick in turn on the back of my hand.

“It helps seeing it against your natural skin tone.” She explained “Oh, I don’t know. We’ll take them both and decide later.”

We went to the till burdened down by boxes, packets and cartons.

“We can take those for you and put them away for you to collect later.” The lady said.

“Thank you” said Maria “I’ll have my driver pick them up before we leave.” She leaned over conspiratorially and whispered in my ear “I could get used to this!”

The next floor was womenswear and we wandered around the various racks, pausing every so often whilst Maria lifted out a garment, holding it up against either herself or me. After a few minutes she had several items draped over one arm.

“OK. Let’s go and try these on.”

I sighed again. “Do I have to? You did a pretty good job of sizing everything for me so far…”

“Of course you do. Now come on.”

The first outfit was a Chanel suit. I recoiled when I saw the price tag – it was more than I earned in a month – and made sure I put it on very carefully. It was a dusky pink colour and the material was a kind of textured wool. The skirt was knee length and the jacket buttoned right up to a high collar at the neck with a row of gold buttons. Under instructions from Maria I came out of the changing room to let her have a look.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. It feels a bit old, you know. I might wear it if I was forty, but I’m only twenty one…”

“Hmm. I know what you mean. OK. Next!”

The next item was a blue and white polka dot halter necked maxi dress in silk. I stepped into it – the skirt was tight and I wriggled to pull it over my bum. The bodice split into two above the bust to form a ‘v’ neckline and two ties which made a bow at the back of my neck. The dress zipped at the back and I couldn’t fasten it. I called to Maria to help. The cubicle was small, and we only just both fitted in, me facing the mirror and Maria standing behind me looking over my shoulder. I could feel her breath on the nape of my neck. She hadn’t room to get into a position where she could see the zip, and her hands felt their way across my bum, seeking it by touch. Involuntarily I let out a gasp.

She smiled at my reflection and gently ran her hands back over my bum again “Like that, do we?”

I looked back at her. Try as I might, I could never stay mad at her for long, and the twinkle in my eye gave me away.

“Oh, I meant the dress is nice. I like it.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you were thinking…” She dug me in the ribs and I giggled helplessly.

“Humph!” she said, feigning seriousness. “You can bloody well start enjoying yourself, young lady! Now, let me have a look.”

We both stepped out of the cubicle and I walked the length of the changing room corridor whilst Maria looked on. “Hmm. Wait here a minute!”

I waited, admiring myself in the mirror whilst doing so. I pirouetted, looking back at myself from over my shoulder, flirting with my reflection. After a minute or two when Maria had not reappeared I meandered back into the main store, thumbing through racks of clothing whilst I waited. I picked out a shift dress and held it in front of me, studying myself in yet another mirror, then a delicious satin blouse with rows of ruffles down the front and on the sleeves. I imagined myself wearing it, with a tight black skirt just covering my stocking tops, perched provocatively on the edge of Maria’s desk in the office…

A sharp poke in the ribs brought me back to reality. “Ha! Caught you red-handed! So, you like the secretarial look, do you? I’m sure I could do with a PA…”

I looked at her sheepishly.

“Here. Take these. They’ll go better with the dress.” She handed me some shoes and underwear.

I stripped off again and then put on a blue satin halterneck bra and a matching g-string. It felt quite strange with the material between the cheeks of my bottom. Maria helped me back into the dress, and then strapped me into a pair of navy blue sandals with a cork wedge heel.

“There. That looks better, you could see your panties last time.”

I stepped out again and walked up and down the corridor. The dress was mid calf length, tapering down from the hips in a pencil fit with a small slit at the back. As I walked the fine silk slid deliciously over the tops of my legs and my bare, g-stringed bottom. I eased my fingers down over where the fabric clung to my body.

“It feels fantastic.”

Maria smiled. “It’s nice being a girl, eh?”

A couple of hours later we flopped, exhausted, onto a sofa in one of Daslu’s many coffee shops. I’d lost track of what we’d bought – as well as the daywear we’d both bought something to go out in that evening. Maria had got a gorgeous off the shoulder jumpsuit and I’d got a really cute little sequin number – boat necked, with long sleeves, it finished just above the knee. We’d also got bags of shoes, a couple of handbags, lingerie and even some jewellery.

“That was so much fun!” Maria grinned.

“Yeah. Listen – I’m sorry for being so grumpy at the beginning.”

“Oh, that’s ok – you certainly made up for it – I think you’ve broken the record for the number of items tried on by one person in one visit….” She laughed.

I proffered mock indignation. “Well I can’t help it if I don’t know what suits me, can I? Most girls my age have had their whole life to work out what clothes suit them best; I’ve only had one day…”

Maria smiled and I went on.

“And there’s so much choice…I mean, for a guy you’re basically talking about a suit – grey or black, or maybe blue. Double breasted or single breasted. That’s it. Girls have got dresses, skirts, trousers, tops, short, long, A-line, pencil fit, long sleeve, short sleeve, no sleeve, different necklines…and that’s before you even talk about fabrics. Silks, satins, lace, leather, fur – I can’t believe people in Brazil buy fur coats, by the way – where on earth do you wear them?”

“You’ve got pretty good taste actually.” Maria replied “I thought I’d be picking more stuff out for you but once you got going…” she smiled. “You’ve enjoyed yourself then?”

“Yes. That is, I mean…” my face straightened. “It was fine. It will be good to get home and back to normal, though.”

Maria took my hand in hers. “Listen. I haven’t said thank you to you properly and I really really mean it. I know you’ve worked incredibly hard over the last few weeks to pull everything together and then…” she paused. “Asking you to come here like this was out of order. It was too much. I could see how stressed you were and I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“It’s ok. It’s done now, almost. At least we got the right result.”

“You were amazing in there, honestly.” She went on, her voice quickening again. “They were eating out of your hand this morning. I swear if some of them had opened their mouths their tongues would have fallen out…”

“Oh, stop it! That’s a horrible thought!”

She laughed again. “That Tony Jr. He’s definitely got a soft spot for you. In that sequin dress, you’re going to be beating him off tonight.”

“Oh, stop it! Don’t say that! If you’d said that before I’d have bought a burka to go out in tonight!”

She laughed again. “Seriously. Thanks for everything you’ve done. There’ll be a little extra in your pay packet this month. Oh, and there’s a little something here for you from me personally.” She handed me a bag.

I mumbled a thanks.

“Come on. Let’s go. I think we’re only planning to meet up later this evening so we can have a siesta for a couple of hours at the hotel.”

The bellboy accompanied us up to our rooms. It was still only six o’clock and we weren’t due to meet Antonio and Tony until ten. Maria took her leave saying she was going to have a nap. After he carried all of my shopping into my room I tipped the bellboy and as soon as the door clicked shut behind him I flopped onto the bed, exhausted. It was bliss to peel off my shoes and in a few moments the rest of what I’d been wearing joined them on the floor and I luxuriated in the freedom of my nakedness. I paused for a few moments, delightedly allowing my tummy to rise and fall unfettered by the constraints of the panty girdle for the first time in twelve long hours.

After several deep breaths I rose and headed for the shower. I stood under the hot water motionless for some time and then realised my now soaking hair was still pinned up. I worked my way around the various clips one by one until my hair hung loose down my back and then stood quietly again, absorbing the gentle massage of the water. Eventually I felt sufficiently invigorated to step out. After initially wrapping a towel loosely around my waist I saw my reflection in the mirror. Even in the solitude of my bedroom, it seemed there was no escaping my femininity. I replaced the towel around the top of my chest and wrapped the smaller hand towel turban style around my wet hair. Lying down on the bed again, I opened the bath towel to enjoy the breeze from the ceiling mounted fan but even as my body cooled, my brain was still feverishly running over the events of the last few weeks, and I was too restless to sleep.

I couldn’t make Maria out at all. This afternoon, shopping, we’d had a fantastic time. Maybe I was reading too much into things, but when she’d helped me into the halterneck dress in the cubicle she’d seemed more than sisterly. After Carnaval, I’d had the feeling that she was trying to avoid me at the office, which made me think she’d regretted what had happened. We still hadn’t talked about it properly. I could understand that she might not want a relationship – I was her employee after all – but having just about reconciled myself to that thought I was now, after the way she’d been this afternoon, more confused than ever. As I lay there thinking it also occurred to me that the times we’d been closest had been when I’d been dressed as Sue…

It wasn’t just Maria’s reactions to Sue that were exercising my thoughts, though. I’d had an incredible time at Carnaval. OK – I’d thought it a little weird at first that Maria had wanted me to wear a dress, but I was prepared to admit that was what people did at festival time. I’d also been a bit freaked out when I’d seen what a convincing woman I made but then I reminded myself what Maria had said about getting out of yourself and being someone else for a night and I’d certainly achieved that. On the way home from the office on the evening after Maria had asked me to be Sue again for the Sao Paolo trip I’d been surprised to realise that my thoughts were preoccupied, not by the criticality of the impending design presentation, but rather by what I would wear and how I would look. I’d found myself looking at other women, not because they were attractive, but because I wondered how I’d look if I was dressed like them, or had my hair done like theirs.

Many of the feelings I’d had at Carnaval, that I’d internally reconciled as being in the spirit of the event and understandable in that context, I’d felt again today. Dressed as Sue, I felt graceful and elegant. I’d been surprised at how confident I’d felt, but that came from how well people treated me as Sue. At parties back in the UK, I’d always been a bit of a wallflower. At Carnaval I’d felt the centre of attention and I’d enjoyed it – even if most of that attention had come from guys. At university design presentations, I’d rarely got more than a few minutes into my spiel before being interrupted. Today, everyone at the board meeting had been rapt as I’d spoken; hanging on to my every word. It made me feel somehow more powerful than I’d ever felt as Dave.

But of all aspects of being Sue, it was the sensuality of it all that had got to me the most. I could never have imagined just how good the clothes felt against my skin. The scent of my perfume, the taste of rouge on my lips, the sensation of walking in heels, even the gentle pull of earrings on my earlobes made me incredibly aware of my body. When Maria had made love to me after Carnaval, the touch of her hands on my satin-encased body had held me spellbound. This afternoon, in the changing room at Daslu, as her hands softly zipped up my dress I had felt…well, it was almost indescribable.

I sat up and looked over at the bags of shopping strewn over the floor at the end of the bed. The first bag held the sequin dress I was going to wear that night. I slipped it out and held it in front of me as I stood before the mirror. I eased it over my head and carefully slid my arms into the sleeves and pulled it down over my body. The satin lining was cool against my skin, still hot from the shower. Again I examined myself in the mirror. Even with my hair wrapped in a towel and no make up on, I felt delicious. Greedily grabbing the next bag, I tipped the contents out onto the bed – the polka dot dress I’d bought to wear to go home in tomorrow. Sliding out of the sequin dress I zipped myself as best as I could into the new one and again took up a variety of poses in the mirror. Remembering the shoes, I slipped on the wedge heels and posed again. The next bag contained underwear and, removing my dress yet again, I held up the various bras and panties in front of me, allowing the satin and lace to gently caress my hot skin.

The last bag was the one that Maria had given me. “That’s from me personally,” she’d said, “just a little thank you for everything you’ve done over the last few weeks.”

Pre-Carnaval I might have guessed at what Maria might have bought for someone like me – a Walkman, perhaps, some cufflinks or a nice shirt and tie – but now I was no longer sure about anything. I sat down again on the edge of the bed. It was a large bag – too big for cufflinks, I thought to myself, smiling. Inside it was a simple cardboard box, a dark red in colour, glossy in finish, about A3 size, maybe 10cm or so deep. It wasn’t particularly heavy, so I ruled out the Walkman idea too, and it didn’t give any audible clues when I gave it a gentle shake. I removed the lid, slightly apprehensively. A sheet of tissue paper had been wrapped around the contents and folded over on itself. My fingers trembled as I unwrapped it and saw what was below. Black satin and lace. I gently took hold of two straps and lifted the garment out of the box. It was a basque. The boned bodice and garter belts dangled in front of me, suspended from the delicate shoulder straps I held in my fingers. Below it in the box were a matching set of panties and a crisp, cellophane packet of sheer black stockings. Below them another layer of satin, thick and almost liquid in texture – a nightgown trimmed in lace and a matching robe.

My mouth was dry and my hands shook as I held each item up in turn. A few months ago, when still in Liverpool, I’d bought my then girlfriend a set of similar lingerie. I remembered she hadn’t been that appreciative and had made some comment about me getting more pleasure out of her wearing them than she would. I didn’t admit it, but she’d been right. Is that why Maria had bought them for me?

I had no similar qualms. There was nothing I wanted to do more then to wear them for her. I looked at the clock on the bedside table. 6.50pm. Still plenty of time. I picked up the bag that contained the contents of our visit to the Daslu beauty department and emptied a huge pile of pots, boxes, tubes and brushes onto the vanity table.

I arranged them into some kind or order, starting with the tube of foundation and the jar of powder, based on my recollection of the two occasions Maria had done my make up. I’d remembered enough of what she’d done to try it myself. I squeezed a small pea sized amount of foundation onto my finger and spread it across my chin, repeating the process for the rest of my face, remembering what Maria had said about not applying it too thickly. The pot of powder had a circular pad concealed in the lid and I used it to press the powder carefully into place. I was absorbed in the process. There was a kind of zen quality about putting make up on, I thought to myself. My trembling hand had subsided and I was completely focused on what I was doing.

Eyeshadow was the most difficult. I’d worn subtle pinks and browns during the day but Maria had said I should be a bit bolder at night. We’d bought some darker browns but also some metallic greys and silvers. I thought the metallics would go well with the sequin dress and I carefully applied the darker grey to each socket and the lighter colour to the brow and lid. Blending it all together so it looked right took a couple of goes but eventually I was happy with how it looked. Eyeliner was difficult too. I still hadn’t got completely used to having long fingernails and they kept getting in the way. I wanted a more dramatic look to really emphasise my blue eyes so I layered it on a bit more thickly, using it under my eyes as well as on the lids. After that, everything else was straightforward – mascara, a touch of pencil to fill in my eyebrows a little and some blush on my cheeks. We’d bought a range of different lipsticks to try as well – from almost nude pinks to scarlets and dark burgundy. Given I’d gone heavy on the eyes I decided a lighter colour would look best. Putting on my own lipstick was delicious – I’d enjoyed refreshing it a couple of times during the day, it was like some exquisite distillation of femininity – and I luxuriated in the sensations and tastes of applying, blotting, reapplying and then finally painting a coat of clear gloss to seal. I stopped and looked at the overall result in the mirror. My ‘smoky eyes’ looked fantastic and I felt incredible.

Hair was next. I unwrapped the towel and located a dryer from the wardrobe. We’d bought a couple of hairbrushes (Maria seemed to have thought of everything) and I enjoyed the sensation of running one through my hair under the warm caress of the air from the dryer. My hair was still looking good – it had kept all of the body from the session with the rollers and once it was dry it took only a few minutes to get it looking how I wanted it. I wasn’t going to try to pin it up - that would have been beyond my skills – but I arranged it so that it all fell asymmetrically on one side down in front of my right shoulder in a series of soft waves and gentle curls. With the extensions it now reached below my breast and was much fuller than just my own hair had been – I loved the sensation of the soft curls stroking my skin as I moved my head from side to side.

I unfastened the towel , picked up the basque and wrapped it around my waist back to front, as Maria had shown me with the bra that morning. I fastened the clips and then pulled it the right way around, easing it up at the sides, arranging the straps on my shoulders and nestling my breasts comfortably into the lace cups. It was a perfect fit. I unwrapped the packet of stockings and slid them carefully up each leg, taking care not to slip a fingernail through the delicate material. The sensation of the fabric against my smooth legs was fantastic. I’d remembered that the panties needed to go on last, and I stepped into them, pulling them neatly into place over the garters.

I turned around and looked at my reflection again in the full length mirror. I was still shocked at how attractive I was as a woman. The basque held my waist in neatly, my breasts peeped seductively out over the top of their lacy supports and my bottom protruded sexily from over the top of my stockings. I felt incredible – my heart was pounding, my stomach was turning somersaults, every inch of my skin was tingling. I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, pacing up and down a small square of marble floor. I stepped into the robe, tying it loosely around my waist, spritzed myself with perfume and clipped in some new dangly diamante earrings we’d bought at Daslu for that evening. I poked my head out of the door. No-one around. Stepping out into the corridor, I knocked gently on Maria’s door.

“Yes?”

“Maria, it’s me”

The door was on the latch, and I pushed it open and walked into the room.

“My God, Sue…” Maria sat up on her bed.

I started moving towards her, but she gestured me to stop, and she got up and made her way towards me. She stopped in front of me, her eyes focusing so intently on mine I had to look away for a moment. Again, I made towards her and again she stopped me. “No. Stay there. Let me look.”

She reached out and very carefully, without touching anything else, grasped the loose ends of the bow on my robe and slowly pulled, undoing the knot and allowing it to fall open. She raised her hands and very gently placed both forefingers onto my chest just below my throat. Sliding each finger outwards along the collarbone, she slid a nail under the lapels of my robe and slipped it off my shoulders. I gasped as the satin flowed over my body, past my waist and hips, down my stockinged legs to form a pool at my feet. Eyes still locked on mine, she smiled and whispered “Don’t move” as she walked around and stood behind me.

I felt a finger again, very gently, tracing the line of my neck, from my hairline down to the strap on my basque, where the way I had arranged my hair had left my shoulder bare. The I felt her lips trace the same line, whilst her fingers now moved on to the bare skin around the top of my stocking. I couldn’t take any more, and span around. Her lips met mine, her tongue probing into my mouth and, bodies intertwined, we crashed against the wall of the room. Hands roaming each other’s bodies, we crashed back across the room and onto the bed, Maria landing on top of me. Still locked together in a kiss, her hands gripped my wrists and pulled my arms over my head. Straddling me, she lowered herself on to me, and I slid into her. She ground her pelvis down into mine, panting heavily and then, her pubic muscles gripping my shaft tightly, slid herself back up along my length until we were almost separated before plunging back down again and again, moaning as her clitoris ground into my pubic bone.

“Jesus, Sue, I’m so turned on, I can’t…”

I couldn’t reply but thrust my hips up hard against her in response as she came down again and again. She cried out and I felt the muscles of her vagina spasm, which was enough, in turn, to send me into my own orgasm. I ripped my hands free from hers, grabbed her backside and pulled her tightly against me. For a few seconds we remained motionless, breathless, compressed into each other and then finally we both gasped, drew in huge lungfuls of air, and she collapsed next to me on the bed.

We lay there panting until our ability to speak returned. Maria propped herself up on one elbow and leaned over me. She was stroking the bare skin on my belly along the line of the lace trim on my basque.

“The devil came into me when I saw this and I had to buy it for you…but I didn’t think you would wear it…and then we came back to the hotel and I’ve been lying here ever since thinking what you would look like in it and praying to my saint please, please, please let me see her in it…My God, Sue, I don’t know what you’ve done to me. I’ve been wet all day thinking about you. I nearly jumped you in the changing room this afternoon…I can’t believe how much you turn me on when I see you all dressed up, knowing that, well, you know…”

“You don’t know what I’ve done to you? Shit! Look at me compared to what I was a month ago!..”

She giggled, stroked my cheek, and ran her fingers through my hair. “You make a beautiful woman. Now…” her finger traced the profile of my chin and neck, over my breasts, across the satin of my basque and then came to a rest at my groin. She smiled mischievously. “Have we got time to do that again before dinner tonight?”