Masquerades 2by Jennifer Brock Since everyone is wearing masks these days, here’s a look to see how the current situation impacts an office worker that we’ve previously met.

Phoebe stepped out of the shower and blotted herself dry with her big, fluffy bath towel. She slipped on a tight thong panty to keep things in place. It was red with black lace accents and made her feel a little naughty. She squirted body lotion into her hands and rubbed it into her legs. Luckily, Phoebe had gone in for a laser touch-up just before the lockdown, so her legs were still totally smooth. She applied it to her arms next, then her tummy and her back. She next switched to her facial moisturizer and rubbed that in, delighted to discover no unwanted whiskers. She’d ordered an at-home laser hair removal device off the internet, but so far hadn’t needed to try it; she really didn’t want to accidentally burn herself.

She finished her after-shower routine by opening her jar of breast enhancement cream and scooping up a fingerful on each hand. The cream, along with the herbal supplements she’d been taking, had produced only a small effect so far. Her areolas were definitely larger and more circular than they had been, but there was barely enough breast tissue beneath them to squeeze. She massaged her chest for a count of fifty, and then wiped off the remaining cream on her hips and buttocks, just in case the magic was real. For a moment she wondered what would happen if, when the quarantine was over, she went to her primary care doctor and told him she needed a prescription for estrogen – would she still be able to swap back and forth between work and home, or would she have to tell everyone? It probably wouldn’t give her such an amazing figure that she couldn’t hide it under drab clothes, but what if it did?

The fantasy of growing her own real breasts dissolved as she placed her forms into the pockets of her nude lace bra and put it on. She gave her silicone cheaters a squeeze and sighed. Maybe some day. Her next undergarment was her beige waist cincher. She’d been taking advantage of this time at home to do waist training. In the six weeks, she’d gotten down a couple inches, but the main advantage was how the restricted stomach kept her from overeating. She’d heard so many people talking about how much wait they’d gained on quarantine; Phoebe was determined to stay thin, maybe even lose a few pounds. Finally, she stepped into her bubble briefs, adjusted the silicone padding in their pockets, and pulled them up to yield the round derriere of her dreams. With all her underwear on, she pulled on her blue silk robe and tied it in place. She admired her improved figure in the bathroom mirror before heading off to the bedroom.

Phoebe opened her closet (the good one, not the one that hadn’t been opened since this horrible plague had made her have to stay home where she could be herself 24/7) and decided on her outfit for the day. Since it was a work day, she wanted a professional look. Even though the women in her office usually dressed a little more casually, she chose a blouse and skirt and laid them on the bed. The blouse was short-sleeved, in a soft yellow color, and had an old-fashioned pussy bow on the front. It was a little on the sheer side, so she took a white lace camisole out of her lingerie chest to layer under it. The skirt was a knee-length moss green pencil skirt in a stretchy knit fabric that would cling to her curves. She thought for a moment about whether bare legs would be appropriate for the “fashionable office girl” look she was going for. Sadly, a professional look generally means nylons. To have smoother lines, she pulled a pair of nude daytime sheer pantyhose from her drawer.

This also made her realize that her fire-engine red nails were probably too much for the office. Perfect for a sexy weekend, but wouldn’t really work on a Monday morning. Phoebe sat down at her vanity table and went to work taking the polish off of her fingers and toes. Another bonus of the quarantine was that she’d had time to grow out and shape her natural nails and didn’t need to wear fakes unless she was trying to make an extreme statement. When all the color was gone, she proceeded to apply a basecoat, three coats of color, and a glossy topcoat, resulting in twenty shiny nails all painted a pastel green. When everything was dry, she went back to the bathroom and applied fresh moisturizer to her hands and feet.

Phoebe returned to her vanity to do her makeup. She mussed her hair up and figured that it had probably grown out enough that it wouldn’t take much work to trim it into a pixie cut. She tried imagining how that would look and tried making a few sexy faces in her mirror, which ended in a frown. It just didn’t seem like her face didn’t have the right bone structure to be able to wear a short hairstyle and still look like a girl. She wondered how much facial feminization surgery would cost, and if it would leave her in pain for a long recovery. It was also probably another one of those things that would force her to commit to being herself full time, in front of everyone. Would it be worth it? For now, she wasn’t sure. Phoebe shrugged and pulled her hair back and tucked it into a wig cap.

She checked her eyebrows for any stray hairs. On a whim, she’d decided to shape them during lockout. The best plan she’d come up with so far for what to do when she had to go back to work was that she’d shave them off completely and claim that experimenting with something in the kitchen had caused them to catch fire. But in the mean time she got to have pretty eyes – she combed her brows and set to work on her face. The aim for her makeup was for a daytime, natural look, so she started with a light foundation and did only a little contouring to minimize her nose and accentuate her cheekbones, with just a hint of blush for color. She used a plum, long-wearing lipstick that was only a couple shades from her lips’ natural color. She used black mascara and eyeliner on her eyes, but tried not to overdo it. Her eyeshadow was mostly earth tones, but with a light green highlight that only showed when she blinked.

Phoebe hung up her robe and sat on her bed. She put on her hose, smoothing out her legs and making sure the toe seams were straight. She pulled the camisole over her head, and then slipped her arms into the blouse and buttoned it up. She slid her feet into a pair of pointy-toed yellow pumps with moderate heels before stepping into her skirt. She pulled it up into place at her female waist and zipped it up and fastened the hook.

All the green in her outfit would look good on a redhead, so she selected her long red wig. It had a little bit of wave but was mostly straight. After pinning it in place, she parted it in the middle and took the front third or so from each side and brought them to the back of her head, fastening them with a butterfly-shaped gold hair clip from her jewelry box. She hung a pair of rose gold triangular earrings from the holes in her earlobes, and placed her pink Fitbit on her left wrist. Then she slid her diamond onto her ring finger. Would she ever find a real someone to give her one, instead of her imaginary fiancé? She had no idea how she’d even go about meeting someone, but that was a thought for another day, once everyone had stopped social isolation.

Checking herself out in her bedroom full-length mirror, Phoebe thought she looked pretty good! She fetched her face mask and put it on, then took a selfie. She posted it on her Instagram with the caption, “Office fashions Spring 2020.” Before the face masks were everywhere, she’d only posted headless photos, but the aura of anonymity they brought gave her the courage to share. She was pretty sure none of her followers were people she knew from real life, anyway.

Phoebe got a cup of coffee and a granola bar from the kitchen for her breakfast, and went to her desk to start her workday. She was a little early, but connected to the company server and started editing documents anyway. She quickly got into The Zone, and it hardly seemed like any time had passed before she got an alert reminding her that her 11:00 Zoom meeting was in fifteen minutes. She also realized that she needed to pee, and considering the number of layers she’d have to pull down, there was just about enough time. She hurried and got back with enough time to spare that she was the third member of the team to sign onto the meeting. She cleared her throat a couple times to make sure she’d be talking in the right register before putting on her headset and turning on the microphone.

Josh noticed the new arrival. “Hey, Harold. I see you still don’t have a camera that works.”

Phoebe looked over at the piece of black cardboard taped over the camera lens. “Nope. With everything else going on it doesn’t seem like a priority.” She briefly wondered what would happen if she turned on her camera and showed up for the meeting as she currently appeared. Maybe she’d be accepted, but maybe not. Better not risk it.

Eventually the rest of the group showed up, and Dave started the meeting. Everyone took a turn giving a status update and then it was Phoebe’s turn. “I updated the TPS reports for this quarter with the new cover page - those PDFs are all in the network share. I emailed Becky in accounting about the revised budget for Project Aardvark, and I did a first draft outline for Project Bandicoot. “

Dave was impressed by that amount of work, and Josh said, “Wow! It’s amazing how productive you can get when you don’t need to wear pants!’

Phoebe smiled and crossed her legs, enjoying the swish of nylon on nylon. She laughed. “You may have a point.”