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Fitness class

Author: 

  • Lynda Shermer

Caution: 

  • CAUTION: Sex / Sexual Scenes

Audience Rating: 

  • Restricted Audience (r)

Publication: 

  • 7,500 < Novelette < 17,500 words

Genre: 

  • Crossdressing

Character Age: 

  • Mature / Thirty+

TG Themes: 

  • Romantic
  • Sweet / Sentimental
  • Voluntary

TG Elements: 

  • Appliances Attached
  • High heels / Shoes / Boots / Feet
  • Long Fingernails / Manicures

Permission: 

  • Posted by author(s)

The doctor looked at the chart, "Well, you'll be glad to know, there's nothing wrong with your heart. You've just spent too long not eating right and sitting behind a desk. I'd say you should start with walking, stretching, warm up exercises, calisthenics, and only then try something more strenuous."

So I started. It was spring, so walking was coming back into season. A couple of months, and I felt much better. And then, a co-worker, Julie, suggested we both sign up for an exercise course together, so we'd be able to motivate each other. She called the local fitness center, and, after some difficulty, found us a course. "It was the last one they had this term with two openings. At first, I had doubts, but hey, they say it's great for your heart, co-ordination, and ankles and calves."

"Okay, sounds ideal."

"The first class is tonight, that's why everything was all booked up."

I would have asked more, but our meeting was about to start. It was a long, contentious one, and left me feeling drained. With the deadline so close, we all tended to eat at our desks, contributing to our bad health.

At the end of the day, Julie came by my desk, and we left for the center together.

it was only then I found out she'd signed us up for "Stiletto fitness".
 


"What were you thinking of?"

"It was the only class we could do together! Besides, I asked, they said they had guys in this course all the time."

"I don't see any of them Today!"

"I see one. I'm looking right at him."

The instructor came into the mirror-lined studio, and stood at the front of the room.
"Good evening; welcome to introductory stiletto fitness. I'm your instructor, Sarah Wilson. I see we have a man here this session. I want all you girls to treat him nicely; it's a good thing when someone is willing to step outside their comfort zone and find out what we all go through."

She told me to sit by the mirrors, in front of the room, and watch while she evaluated the others. As she went through the class, one by one, most of the women she sent to the back wall, but a few others were sent up front with me.
 


"Ok, next session is on Saturday, 3 in the afternoon for you girls in the back. Wear shorts, and bring a pair of shoes you can walk in and are comfortable with, heels 2 inches or higher."

" Now you girls in the front, you are going to have to work at this. Clearly, you aren't used to fluid movements, and I suspect most of you aren't used to walking in heels. It's a skill, girls, it can be mastered with practice. Especially, you, ..."

"Tim."

"This is going to take particular effort on your part, Tim. You don't even move fluidly in those running shoes. I put you out there in heels, you'll probably break something and sue me." Her tone seemed to goad me.

She was trying to motivate me, but it was still getting to me.

"Try me."

"Ok. What shoe size are you?"

"6"

"That's probably a woman's size 8.". She rummaged in a huge duffel bag next to her, and came up clutching a pair of low boots with heels. "Try these, they have some ankle support. Just sit, put them on, and stand up, don't try to walk yet."

I did what she asked, throwing one leg over the other at the knee, holding the elevated leg parallel to the floor. The shoes fit well, and I zipped up the sides, and stood up, windmilling slightly to keep my balance with my center of mass thrown forward.

"Ok, sit back down."

"The rest of you, I'd like to ask you to show up for some remedial tutoring, starting tomorrow evening at 7, and an hour before class each session. I'm sure most of you, except Tim, will be caught up in no time. Everyone except Tim is dismissed."

Everyone except the instructor, Julie, and myself left.

"Miss, you did fine; we're done for today. Come back Saturday at 3."

"I'm with Tim."

"Oh. Good, I'm glad he has someone can help him practice. Pull up a chair next to him."

She pulled up a chair facing us.

"I'll be frank; if you weren't here with a partner, I would kick you out of the class. While this is an exercise class, the movements all have to do with sexuality. When I've taught men before, they were either drag performers, or transitioning individuals, and somehow, I don't think that applies to you. You are going to face a challenge; when you move, I see no sensuousness at all, no awareness of your body, of yourself as a sexual being, let alone a desirable one. And yet, that is what this is about. Now, take the shoes off and hand them to your friend, Julie. Julie, wait until Tim here is paying attention, and put them on."

I watched. She crouched forward on her seat, slid her foot in, tugging at the back of the boot, and zipped the side up, smoothing the shaft afterward.

"We teach movement as fitness, but it is still movement. It's supposed to be fluid. For you, it's all going to be a performance, not habit. To fit into the choreography, you are going to have to move smoothly, supplely. Julie, give him back the shoes, and let's see how he does this time."

I took the shoes, and repeated what Julie had done. "Too fast. You are acting like you are pulling up a pair of rain boots. These are heels, you are becoming more sensuous as you don them. Feel it. Again!"

I put them on again, this time more like I was caressing them. I noticed my breath caught in my throat at one point.

"Much better, I could tell you were starting to feel it there. You can do the moves mechanically, but it's better if your emotions, not your logic, drives you. Feel it, get into it. This is all about power, desirability! That's it until tomorrow night, same time, except you start twenty minutes early. Loose shorts. You can keep the shoes for now, to practice with, but I want you to have your own on Saturday, so you can start breaking them in. Here, here's the card of a store I recommend."

I stowed the heels in my backpack, and thanked her. Julie walked out with me, "Want to come over and practice?" She lived a couple of blocks from me, so we had the same el stop.
 


Entering her apartment, I looked around. While it was a plain concrete box like mine, it had a better view, and contained fewer pieces of nicer furniture.

I sat on the couch.

"During class, those jeans are getting in your way. You have to have exercise shorts for tomorrow; I have a pair I can let you use." She left, and came back with them; They were loose, short, black with silver trim at the leg holes, some sort of shiny, slippery stuff. I took my running shoes off, skinned out of my socks, and then, surprising her, dropped my jeans, and pulled on the shorts. Julie was staring at me, a bit shocked.

I gave a rueful smile, "What? I've worn swimsuits more revealing than those briefs in front of dozens of people."

"It's just surprising."

"When you have issues with your body, you get self conscious. When you have Serious issues with your body and no social life, you stop caring."

"Wow. I can't imagine that. I've never not had body issues and never not been self-conscious."

She went back into her room again, and this time, came out dragging a tall mirror. "I've been intending to fasten this to the closet door, but it's just as well I haven't gotten around to it." She leaned it up against the tv, and pulled a folding chair out from next to the entertainment center, sitting down. "So, now, put the shoes on."

I set the shoes down on the floor, and drew them on as I had been shown. As I slid my hands over the uppers, I gave in to temptation, and continued them up my leg a little, feeling the snarl of the hair against my palms. I stopped.

"Where did that come from?," Julie asked.

"It seemed natural to continue the movement. But then it felt wrong because of all the leg hair."

"Interesting."

"Dancers wear tights; Maybe I should get some, or something."

"That might be a good idea; when you move, your legs are going to rub together differently."

I stood up.

She laughed. "Very uncoordinated. But first, lets take how you are standing."

"What's wrong with how I'm standing?"

"Apart from the fact you are slouching, and seem to have your legs braced to block the opposing player? You need to be loose, but standing straight. Let me help." And with that she pushed at my joints until I did what she wanted.

After working on my posture, we started walking the length of the living room

"Don't look down so much. Keep your weight a bit forward, and your head up.", she chastised me.

"But then how will I see what I'm doing?"

"Here, I'll put my laptop on the end table and set it to capture video. We can review it every time we reach that end of the room."

Suiting action to words, we worked on my keeping my head up and the weight on the balls of my feet.

"Slow down and take shorter steps, you aren't trying to catch a train. Also, you're looking really awkward when you turn around; try this: always stop with one foot advanced in front of the other. And then, when you turn, raise your heel and turn on the ball of the forward foot, stepping with the one in back."

"What's that called?"

"It might be a pageant turn, I don't really know. It's just just something I picked up somewhere. Done right, it makes you look more graceful, but it takes practice to remember to do it right. And take longer steps than that, that looks so awkward."

"I'm beginning to feel like the centipede."

"What?"

"The centipede who thought so hard about how he walked, he stopped being able to move without tripping himself all the time."

"Just ten minutes more and then we'll stop, I promise. You're actually making good progress."

After that, I was glad to sit down. "Man, that is hard on the ankles,"

"Well, that's part of what makes this exercise."
 


The first remedial session, I at least knew how to wear the shoes, and walk a short distance. Most of what we did related to that, so I was even ahead of a couple of the girls. The instructor had me show them what I was doing as an example. We worked on not falling off our heels, and started in on how the leg itself should move, along with rhythm. Surprisingly, it seem some modern career women had almost as much trouble with heels as I did.

 


After the session, she called us to the front. "Much improved, Tim. I'm impressed, clearly you are taking this seriously. I assume you, Julie, had a lot to do with this?"

"Yes, I've been tutoring him."

"Good, keep it up. If you want time in the classroom here, tell me, you have the number in the course handout. Tim, any qualms before you join the class again on Saturday?"

"We were thinking that I should probably get some tights, to help avoid chaffing and make things a little smoother."

"Probably wise, unless you are going to shave, or get waxed. The store on the card should has some."
 


Saturday, before class, we went to the store together. When I told the woman behind the counter why we were there, she called an assistant to take over the register, and escorted us to an area at the front of the stockroom, with a chair, and a curtain.

"Private fitting area, to save you embarrassment if other customers come in. Ok, show me what you've been wearing."

I pulled them out.

"Ah, Miss Wilson's training heels, I should have known. I've seen these shoes over and over again, since I sold them. Perennials. You like how these fit?"

"Yeah, they're good."

"Ok, I assume you have little experience in heels?"

"Almost none."

"Ok, I'd suggest we keep the heel height the same, add a bit of a platform. You like the toe shape? Plenty of room? Does the heel cup chafe?"

"No, that's all fine, the front may be a little more pointy than I like."

"That's a start. These are going to be your shoes; they are going to say something about you. They should make you happy. They set how people will see you."

"People are not going to be seeing me in them, outside of class."

"They still should reflect your personality, or at least tastes."

"Well, these have those studs along there..."

"The vamp, that's called."

"Right, well, I'd like it a bit plainer."

"First time a customer has asked for that," she turned and hunted briefly amongst the shelves lining the room, coming up with a pair of short boots with tall heels. "Ok, let's try these. They have a scrunched upper after the ankle support, and a more rounded toe"

She handed them to me, I put them on as I'd been trained, over the little nylon socks she'd brought with them. She watched as I smoothed them the shaft up my leg.

"Hmm, did you like those? Try standing and walking."

I did as instructed. The platform changed things a little, my movements felt smoother.

"I think these are good."

"Yes; they seem to work for you. Anything else?"

"We were thinking tights."

"Oh, you ARE getting into it.". She asked about my sizes, and brought out a couple of packages. "Ok, these are all opaque, which should cover your leg hair. We have shiny, matte, black, nude, white, pink, and suntan. Once opened, they are not exchangeable."

"I should probably get two pair at least to cut down on washing."

"Ok, as you got the matte black boots, I'd suggest you get the matte black, and for a thrill the shiny nude. Under these, your regular underwear is going to bunch up, so I'd suggest a dance belt, a sort of athletic supporter male dancers wear. This one is designed so you can 'dress up', or 'dress back'."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, it has to do with how you position, to be indelicate, your 'junk'; like when a tailor will ask you if you "dress left" or "dress right". To 'dress up', you smooth the shaft along your front under the dance belt. Some guys, under some costumes, that's a little too distinct, so they wear a codpiece, or they 'dress back', with the shaft pulled back between the legs."

"Well, I've never been to a tailor, but at least I've heard of that. Sounds useful. I'll take two of those, too, in the same colors. My class starts shortly, do you have someplace I can change, so I can try the boots on over the tights?"

"Sure. If they get too loose, we can change the size a little or you can add socks, although that last might be a little warm for exercising."

She pulled a curtain around the area we were in. Once I had the dance belt on and everything seated, I picked up the tights. They felt weird on my arm hairs And it was there I stopped. I had to ask Julie for help, as I was afraid I'd stick my feet right through the tights. She called in instructions through the curtain, about gathering the legs up into fabric donuts, first, and starting with the feet, and I was glad I'd trimmed my toenails recently. After the tights, I put on the shorts, and sat down. Then I drew on the boots, with my hands running up my tights encased legs above them, and back down to push the scrunched top of the boot down around my ankle.

THAT was more like the sensation I had been looking for! I could feel myself start to get aroused.

I pulled my hand away quickly, startled. I must have made some startled sound, as Julie said with concern, from outside the curtain, "What is it, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," I temporized, "let me try walking."

I stood up, and walked with a little rhythm, as we'd been practicing. The boots felt perfect, like extensions of my legs.

"So those are good, then?"

"Yes, all this should do fine." I decided to leave everything under my jeans, putting the boots in my backpack, and wearing my running shoes and socks over the tights. Then, I drew back the curtain, going to the register in the front of the store to pay.
 


We went to class. The teacher hadn't arrived yet, as we were a little early. I stripped out of my jeans and sat down. Julie came back from changing into her shorts. And then Sarah came through the door.

"Tim, it's nice to see you're continuing to take this seriously.", She greeted me.

"Yes; I have your shoes to give back."

"Ok, let's see yours, then."

I pulled off my socks, and drew the boots out of my backpack. I went through the routine of donning them again, and sat back, legs together, ankles crossed.

"You are beginning to understand what this is about, I see. Very good. You will still need a lot of extra work, but there is hope."

She went to the front of the studio, and led Julie and I through what we'd practiced.

"And again," She directed.

As we finished, the rest of the remedial class arrived.

"Ok, everybody show me the exercise we did last week."

She moved from person to person, pushing their limbs into position as they slowly repeated the movements.

"Ok, now, you've all felt the moves, and seen me do them. Now, watch Tim."

I went through the movements.

"Remember what Tim moved like Wednesday? By practice since then, he has progressed to almost having it right. Very good, Tim, we're proud of you."

Finally, the rest of the full class came in, and started doing warm ups and stretches.

The class centered on emphasizing the rhythm of our walks, and some additional leg moves, bending the leg at the knees and kicking the foot back.
 


 
After class, I returned the boots I'd borrowed to the teacher.

"In a couple of weeks, we're going to be doing a piece that would be better with pumps than boots.", she informed me, "You should probably get a pair and practice in them a little ahead of time."

"Thanks for the warning. Any other costuming hints?"

"Yes, for that, suntan shiny tights might be better, and as you're getting the shoes for it, maybe black patent."
 


Later, before I pulled off my tights, I looked at my legs. The leg hair poked through the tights. After some consideration, I decided I was going to shave.
 

Several weeks later, we'd progressed in class. There were some moves I was having trouble with involving the pelvis.

"I don't know, " Julie said, "It's like you're trying to stay closed in front."

Thinking back, looking at the situation, I said, "Let me try something."

I went into the bathroom. Running back over what the sales girl had said, I pulled down my waistbands. I cupped my hand under, and pushed my shaft back. As I situated the dance belt, everything felt compressed. It started to hurt a little, and then I felt something shift into a different place. I pulled everything back up, and walked out. This time, I was more open. What I'd been unconsciously protecting was out of the way, I could open my pelvis.

"Wow, much better. What did you do?", Julie exclaimed.

"I 'dressed back', I guess. It just seemed I needed to get some stuff out of the way."

"Let me see!"

I stood loose, one hip cocked, one foot slightly advanced.

"Pull down the shorts."

"What?" I said, suddenly shy, curling in again.

"C'mon, just the shorts. What was that stuff about not being self conscious despite body issues?"

"That was comical exaggeration, before you revived my social life."

I dropped my shorts.

"Wow."

"It seems to help."

Looking down, I noticed my tights were bagging a little bit, I hadn't pulled them up well enough when I got dressed again. I put one foot up on the seat of the chair. And ran my hands up pulling at the fabric. Julie came up behind me while I was leaning over and started running her hands over me.

"Oohhh. You feel nice."

"Um, thanks. That feels nice, too."

I stood up, and turned. Her body molded to mine. Her lips, against mine.
 


The next week, we started getting head movement into things.

"Ok, Tim, you're going to have trouble here. Everyone else in the class at least has the memory of having had long hair, but I doubt yours has ever been below the top of your shoulders. Watch the others carefully."

Afterwards, Sarah said, "I'd stop the tutoring for you now, except there are a couple of things coming up that are going to be totally foreign to you. The head move today is the first involving long hair, and there are some chest moves that sort of come from having something 'up there'. Girls have watched other girls with these attributes with envy and hopes, even if they don't themselves possess them, and you haven't. You need to start some intense girl watching, I think. By the way, your pelvic moves are very good! I should have had this talk with you before this, but last week, you were showing signs of becoming proficient. What did you do?"

"I practiced in front of a mirror, in front of Julie, and on video. Oh, and I learned how to use my dance belt to 'tuck'."

"I know what that is", Sarah admitted. "The men I've had in the class talk about it, a little embarrassed. But I studied anatomy as part of my degree."

"When we've had drag queens in the class before, they just know, and do that from day one. I really should have mentioned it. The final routine of the class, the one we perform in recital, the costume is a little tight. Could I see your, tuck, please? Feel free to say no, we can always stick you in the back row."

"No, Sarah, you are our instructor and costume mistress. You have to judge.". I dropped my shorts, leaving my tights up.

"Yes, excellent. You won't have any trouble with the costume there, at least."
 


Practicing with Julie, I mentioned the warnings Sarah had given me. As anticipated, I was having trouble with the head moves, .

"Well, I can think of one possibility, but you aren't going to like it."

She disappeared into her bedroom, and came back with...something.

"This is a hairpiece; I haven't worn it since college. This clip goes into your hair and attaches it."

We slicked back my hair and tried to gather it up. There was barely enough to get a rubber band around, at the back of my head. She stuck the clip into where it was gathered, and added a couple of bobby pins. Starting the routine over, I could feel the hair moving, swinging. And then I felt it fly off.

"Darn!"

"I've been looking into the problems, and I think I have answers. We're going back to the shoe store tomorrow night. They're open late."

"Good, I need to get that other pair of shoes Sarah mentioned."
 


Thursday, we left work and drove to the store. We gathered in the salesperson we'd had last time, and went back to the stockroom. "So, let me guess, you're having trouble with some of the moves. Hair?", she asked.

"Yeah. So we'd like something that goes with his complexion, can be secured, and probably comes down to the middle of the back.", Julie replied, before I had a chance to explain.

"Gotcha."

She brought out an assortment of wigs. First we tried them on for fit, then for looks. Trying one in particular, Julie suddenly stared harder, "Oh my."

"Yes, the red notes go well against his basic skin color."

"Set that one aside."

In the end, that's the one we took. She trimmed the lace at the hairline, and showed us how the combs secured it, and how I could add bobby pins. It could also be taped or glued if I wanted to be extra secure. I moved my head. Much better than the hairpiece had been. I left it on and we asked about regular pumps.

I'd come in wearing my tights under my jeans, but not my shorts (they bunched up.). The sales girl offered me a wrap skirt from the dance wear, which I accepted, and skinned out of my jeans under it. As I went to sit, Julie said, "Wait, pass your arm under your seat as you sit.". I did, and the skirt went flat on the chair under me. I liked the fifth pair of pumps I tried on. I changed back, and went to the front of the store. Julie said she'd be with me in a second, and went with the salesgirl deeper into the storeroom. She came out awhile later with a carrier bag. "Tonight is on me, " she said. We drove back to her apartment.
 


We started practicing again. Walking in the heels, the long hair bounced a bit. It shifted. When I turned my head it got in my face. It kept trying to get into my mouth when I turned.

"You're lucky you aren't wearing lipstick. Long hair loves to stick to your lipstick."

I went home. Checking my legs, I noticed they needed shaving again, already. I decided to make an appointment for waxing, although I seriously doubted they could get it done before class on Saturday.
 


But Friday, the one place nearby that advertised unisex waxing said they'd had a cancellation, and they could fit me in early that evening, and even threw in a discount as it was my first time, and they were penalizing the client for the late cancellation.

When I got there, they had me strip, put on a thong, turned on some music, and gave me a glass of white wine, and started applying an anesthetic cream. I really am not used to wine, and it knocked me out.

I came to as they pulled the first wax strip, off my chest. My chest?

When I questioned, it turned out the customer with the original reservation had asked for legs, arms, chest, back, and shoulders cleared. They'd already taken clippers to the hair to shorten it, so I let them go ahead, only vetoing the Brazilian, although they had already trimmed down there, too. In the end, I did let them neaten up that area.

And left there sorer than I'd been from road rash when my bike had gone out from under me, while wearing shorts.
 


The next morning, the soreness started to fade, leaving behind weird feelings of my clothes against my body. My jeans felt extremely rough against my skin and far more mobile against my legs when I got dressed to do my morning shopping. Then, when I got back, I changed to meet Julie for class. As pulled up my tights, I felt the smoothness of the fabric against my legs, which were smoother than I'd ever managed with my old razor. The sensation gave me thrills, momentarily distracting me.

I put my stuff in my gym bag, The wig in a box to preserve the styling as much as possible.
 


Arriving at the center, I skinned out of my jeans and into my new shorts, fastened my wig in place, and bent over to zip up the boots, feeling its hair moving, against my face back and shoulders.

"Ah, what's this?", Sarah's voice came from the door, I straightened up and whirled, losing control of my hair.

"Tim was having trouble with the head and arm moves, so we decided he needed to practice with hair."

"I see. Well, carry on. I'm going to go get set up."

So Julie and I stood loosely, a linked arm length apart, and started doing the routine together. Compensating for the hair movement was distracting at first, but I gradually got used to it, and the arm movements gathering it up, and the head shakes actually meant something, now.

Before the class filled up, I took the wig off and put it back in the box. In class, I still had the memory of it to guide my movements. It was a little rougher, in the timing, but I watched those that had long hair, and that helped.

"Ok, everyone. Today, two videos. One is a taste of what is coming up, but first, something I filmed before class. I'm sure you've all noticed how tremendously Tim, here, has loosened up and progressed. I'd like to show you the lengths he's gone to to achieve this."

And with that, she hit play.

She'd turned on the video camera during our practice session, the sneak! There, on the screen was Julie and I, practicing, me in the wig.

"Tim, I want you to know I appreciate that you are willing to take such measures to get it right, to really feel the moves. And anytime you feel a need of props to help, feel free to use them in class. That wig suits you, by the way. Ok, on to a video of next weeks routine."

The second video showed the dancer, our instructor, bending over, running her hands over her legs, over her torso, up her chest, arching her back, along with the music, then, wiggling her shoulders, and stalking forward.

"That is close to what the final routine will be. We'll be doing it a piece at a time, and we won't add the music until week after next, but I thought I'd warn you first. Get comfortable with your body now, if you haven't already, because this is coming."
 


 
After class, Sarah walked up to Julie and me, "Tim, this is going to be tough for you, but based on what you've achieved so far, I have hopes you will try. There might be way to compromise the choreography if it doesn't work, I've had to do it before, but it really works better this way. You can do this, I've seen guys do it."

"I'll try."

"Good. Julie, I know you'll help him out. Remember, I can get you the use of this room when it isn't in use for others things. See you both Wednesday."
 


We went back to Julie's place. Sarah had slipped Julie the DVD of the routine, and we watched it. Julie tried copying the moves, but was unhappy with the results. And as for me, my attempts didn't even work as broad farce.

"You know, I worried about this. My problem is that I'm too self conscious. Your problems are that you're too self conscious, and you're a guy."

"So what do we do?"

"Well, we both have to get more comfortable. And you need to learn some things. Take off your shirt."

I did that.

"What happened to your hair?"

"I got tired of shaving my legs, got an appointment for leg waxing, and it turned out the guy that cancelled to give me the vacancy had wanted more. When I woke up, they had started the chest."

"So you let them finish it."

"They'd already clipped everything."

"I see. Ok, let's try this. Get into your dance belt and wig. Leave everything else off for now."

After I did, she came out with a complicated piece of Lycra. "This is an exercise bra. The cups go in the front, the pink side goes on the outside, the white on the inside. Pull it on over your head."

I did that, having a little trouble with the wig getting trapped under it.

"It feels weird."

"It'll feel weirder in a minute." And she pulled out a blob of something soft and flesh colored. "Say hello to your right breast."

"Breast? Whoa, maybe we should talk about this."

"Too late, I already showed you your present." and she pushed that blob into the bra cup and repeated the procedure on the other side with another one. To finish it off, she took out a loose gauzy shirt ("blouse," she corrects as I type this), I pull it on, but before I can button it, she grabs the tails, and ties it under my bra.

"Here, I also got you this." It was the wrap skirt from the store. I put it on. The smooth fabric sweeping against my waxed legs felt far different than my tights.

Julie handed me my right heel. "Here, watch me.". She took her heel, bent her leg at the knee, held the heel up behind her, pushed her toe down into it, and pulled the heel on. "Now you."

I repeated what she'd done, a little slower, and with my hand lingering on my skin, a smile spreading across my face.

"Wow, just wow.", Julie said. "Your hair is tucked into your collar, fix it."

I put both hands back along my neck, thumbs thrust back, gathering the hair, and moving them straight back along the hair until it pulled out of the collar. Then, when I had it free, I shook my head, and tossed it a bit. "Ok?"

"You've been getting tutored, haven't you. Admit it."

"I don't know what you mean.", and sat down on the couch.

"Ok, I take it back. If you'd been taking lessons, the first thing she would have corrected you on is how you are sitting."

"Ok, miss tutor, show me."

"I am. Look." She pointed out the differences in how we positioned our legs, knees, and feet, and I moved to match.

"Okay, let's try the routine again."

She started. Interestingly, this time she did a little better. "Now you."

I went into the bend, my hands moved up over my naked, waxed legs, my lack of hips, my stomach, and my breast forms, cupping them. I cocked my hip, swung my hair, and stalked forward, lifting my legs high in my heels.

"Wow, 400% improvement."

"I understand it, now. The timing! The head moves, you have to wait until the hair is in the right place. And the chest thrust, that pause I couldn't figure out, it's to let the breasts settle. I get it! Yes!", and thrust a fist up in the air, posing with my legs apart. "Yahoo!"

"Wow. Your voice goes up in pitch when you get excited, did you know that?"

"Is that good?"

"Well, it goes with the package. Can you do it normally?"

"Like this?"

"Not quite..."

"So, more like this?", I said, trying hard to repeat what I'd done originally.

"Ok, let's finish you off."

"How?"

"Makeup. C'mon, don't be like that! It's designed to wash off."

So I let her put makeup on me. And a pair of panties over my dance belt, which seemed superfluous to me but she's gone to all the trouble of buying me a pair, and the black lace did look nice.

And then, from a seated start, putting on my heels, I did the routine.

Afterwards, we cleaned that stuff off my face, I changed, and we watched a movie with a lot of car chases, so I could start feeling masculine again.
 


On Wednesday, we went to class again. We all started working on a stalking walk movement. Seeing my progress, Sarah had me work with a couple of other students who were having trouble.

After class, she called me and Julie over to where she had her stuff. She replaced the example routine video with another one, and hit play.

Julie, the sneak, had left the laptop recording setup in place for our practices, and recorded the fully dressed practice run I'd done, and slipped it to the teacher. Including my victory yell.

"You're holding out on us. You are much better in the recording than you were in class tonight. Tomorrow, 7 pm, fully dressed, here."
 


We cut work early, I went to Julie's, and shaved my face, she pulled out a bodysuit to wear under the skirt, a pair of pantyhose, and some flats. I put the jog bra back on, she placed the breast forms, and applied a little blush to my chest.

"I've been reading up on the Internet. We need to disguise your beard area.". And she put some orange lipstick all over where that hair grows. The heavy foundation went on over that.

I put everything else on, she handed me a purse, which I slung over my shoulder, and we left for the center.
 


Sarah was waiting. "Ok, we can't call you Tim like this. How about Tina?"

"No offense, but it seems a little lightweight."

"Ok, what do you want to call yourself?"

I thought for a moment. "How about Karen?"

"Karen it shall be. Now, Karen, from the top. Julie, sit out for now."

I sat in the chair, with it backwards. Legs spread. Unstraddled it, did the routine, and ended up in my victory pose, held it for a beat, and stood relaxed. There were applause from the doorway, where a small crowd had gathered. I clasped my hands before me, bowed, and came back up, swinging my hair out of my face, smiling.

"Ok, very good," Sarah said, "Of course, it gets a lot harder with the distractions of the other students, and the music. Now, you and Julie together without the grace notes, although they were good additions, for solo."

When Julie and I tried doing it in sync, it did get a lot tougher.

"Ok, keep practicing. Karen, will you be joining the class this week, or will Tim be there?"

Feeling like I was on the edge of a precipice, I said, "I think I should work on getting Tim up to speed for class."

"Ok, we'll talk about it again after class on Saturday."
 


Thursday, I went to Julie's, to practice. At first, I tried replicating what I'd done so well Wednesday, but dressed as I had been in earlier classes. The head moves were good, giving me some hope that I just needed practice, but somehow, the feeling just wasn't there yet. And when I tried to "spot" for Julie, she shied away from me.

Finally, I said, enough. "Tell you what, let's go get something to eat. Help me change."

"Help you change? Did you sprain something?"

"No, Tim can't seem to help you with your moves, so let's see if Karen can do better. Help me get ready, and we'll go out and get you comfortable, and come back and practice."
 


We went to a hamburger joint. She had relatively few notes on my performance there, except that I was a very messy eater, and should have been having the salad. I pointed out that we were athletes, and needed protein.
 

We went back to her place, and changed into our tights for dance practice. I went through the routine in front of her, and then stood beside her as she slowly went through it. I moved in, and pushed and prodded her into proper position. The second run through, she was much better. One last time, and she was starting to get into it.

We collapsed side by side on the couch. "It's late, I have to go.", I said.

"I know this sounds weird, but why doesn't Karen stay over."

"Well, I guess I could try that."

"Good; here", and threw me a nightshirt.

I slept better than I had in a long time, and when I woke up, there was a smooth skinned arm pinned under me. And once I'd rescued my now bloodless right arm, I noticed Julie's arm draped over me.

I disentangled myself, went into the bathroom, and moisturized everything. Then, I brushed out my wig (it was trying to tangle itself.) And stopped to consider myself in the mirror.

I preened, a bit. My panties showed nothing but a discrete cleft between my legs. My bra bulged a bit from my breast forms. The smooth skin of my body shone from my recent waxing, now that the irritation had passed. My eyebrows, well, there was not much I could do there. My fingernails, again, not much, and I pouted. My toenails? I could do something there, couldn't I? I should go back where I got waxed and get a pedicure.

"Ka-aren, what'cha doin?"

I jumped, startled, holding my hand to my chest. "Don't DO that!"

"Sorry, I couldn't resist; want to borrow a dress to hold up against you, grab a pillow to see what you'll look like, pregnant?"

"What?"

"You were standing there, thinking like a chick, weren't you? Weren't you?"

"I don't know what a chick thinks like. I was considering getting a pedicure."

"Not a manicure?"

"Despite what you might be thinking, I do have to come back at the start of the work day as Tim. Speaking of which, I'm going to grab my dance bag and get changed."

"You keep a change of clothes in your bag? You are Such. a. Girl..."

At the office, I called the salon. They could fit me in for a pedicure Friday evening.

"So, how is the waxing working out?"

"It was further than I wanted to go, but it is working out fine in dance class. I can go without tights if it's too hot."

"Dance, huh? At the center? Which course?"

"Stiletto movement."

"You needed the waxing, wait'll you see the final routine outfits. Is Sarah teaching?"

"Yeah."

"You should have said, that'll get you a discount on the touch up, she can be very picky. Tell her Amanda says Hey!"

"Ah, I will."

"So, what are you looking for?"

"I don't know. What's involved?"

"Exfoliation; as it's your first time, we'll really have to grind. Shaping, buffing, polish. Got a color?"

"Any suggestions."

"Well, you still wear tights?"

"Mostly."

"So something dark and intense, to show a little, under the tights."

"Sure."

"And we can neaten up those finger nails a bit. No one will notice. Well, no one who isn't really watching you. So they're already into you."

"Ok."

"And for the finale, we double punch your ‘lobes."

"What? No way! No guy has that many piercings, at least no office worker."

"Ok, how about one each side, and when they heal, you come back, and we punch two more. You wear the studs for those at work, until they heal, then you have total flexibility."

"You ever boiled a toad?"

"Shush. Foot up, please!"

After the pedicure, earlobes stinging, I began to wonder if the salon offered any services that didn't hurt afterwards... At least Amanda had given me a bottle of touch up polish. And when I looked in the bag, a matching lipstick.

"Oh, don't mind that, it's a set. It comes that way.", she explained.

Saturday, I went over to Julie's. She and Karen were going to practice and then she and Tim were going to class. She noticed the earrings, right off.

"I'm on the hole of the month club, and the sign up bonus is an extra one this month.", I said.

And when I went to put on my tights, she noticed the toenails. "Ah, that's how they got you to sit still long enough. Captive in the chair. I'm surprised you got out of there still recognizable."

I finished getting dressed, Julie was loaning me a leotard today, she did my makeup, and as we got to the end, I handed her the lipstick.

"Ah, what's this?"

"It came with the pedicure."

She finished my lips, I shook out the wig and secured it, fastening the combs, adding a few bobby pins.

"I bet it came with a bottle of polish, too."

"I know, I know, I wish I could do something with the fingernails, but I have to go to work. Anyway, speaking of work..."

So we started running the routine, in sync. She was doing much better. Me, the wig hair did seem oddly attracted to my lipstick.

Then we ran out of time. I cleaned off my makeup, took off my outfits, put on a freshly washed pair of tights, and we went off to class.

This was the last week without the distraction of music. Everyone knew the moves, but the timing kept being off.

After class, Sarah stayed at the front. I went up to see her. "Oh, Amanda says, Hey!, by the way."

"Oh? I see the studs, what else you get done? I already noticed the waxing..."

"Pedicure."

"Kick off those heels, Karen, let me see. Dark shadows, and Boy, are those tights thick; girlfriend, what is that, denier infinity?"

"Well, when I bought them, I was trying to hide something."

"Well, soon, it's going to be your time to shine! I'm considering giving you a solo on the program."

"No, I can't do that."

"It's a fitness class final, not the Met. You Can do it. Now, about Julie, the two of you are working on things, she's improving, but I get the feeling she can do better. What can you suggest?"

"You're the teacher."

"Not for Julie, it seems."

"So you're saying you want Karen in class, setting a pace for her?"

"If that's what it takes."

"Ok. Wednesday, we can try that."

Before I left, I phoned the salon. "Amanda, Sarah and I need a favor. An emergency makeover, Wednesday evening."

"Well, we close at normal time Wednesday, so I guess I could stay late, as long as you don't make a habit of it."

Wednesday, I skeeved out early from work, without Julie spotting it. Grabbing my bag, I got to the salon before all the offices let out for the day. At five, I called her cell to tell her I'd meet her at her place before class.

We started with a touch up waxing, including my bikini region.

Amanda looked at my breast forms, "Ah, pretty good, I can work with these.", and brushed something on my chest. She then pressed the breast form into in, saying,"Hold this."

"What?"

"Shush, we don't have much time. Hold the other one, too."

While I held the breast forms, she started working on my face, making sure I'd shaved close enough when we'd started, flensing, exfoliating, toning, applying beard cover, concealer, foundation, I lost track.

She'd painted some sort of sealant over my eyebrows, after slicking them down; now, she painted on thin arches. My wig got fastened down as normal, except there was a piece of tape at the back. She started styling the hair, "Nice one, you get that at the shoe place?"

"Um, yeah."

"I forgive you, they're nice people. They specialize in people who need to accessorize their gender. Just promise me it was before we met."

"Well, natch!", I said.

"Don't do that, just never do that. You are much classier than that sort of slang. Wait'll you see."

With my face done, she had me let go of my boobs. My chest took up the weight as they hung there. She went to work on the seams. She said, "But do keep talking."

"What should I say?"

"Well, how about about why you're doing this, and how it feels. You need to keep to emotional content, and can you jack the pitch a little?"

"I can try. As for why, Julie got us into the class, it was the last one with openings? And at first, I was awkward, and stiff, but as I started to get better, Julie started to need help. And she won't let Tim help her, but she doesn't have that problem with Karen."

"Karen? It's about time we were properly introduced."

"Oh, where are my manners; it's nice to meet you, Amanda. I'm Karen, I'm new around here, but you are definitely my aesthetician."

"Better. Keep trying."

As a finishing touch, she stuck some rubber nipples on the forms.

"Who's going to notice?", I asked.

"Just shush. You can thank me later."

And with that, her attention shifted to my hands. She glued plastic extensions over my nails, and when that set, gave them a once over with the emery board, and then started putting on polish matching my toenails.

"Those do come off, right?"

"Yes. You'll get a remover jar in your bag. Ok, time to take away the cocoon. I've taken the liberty of selecting some items for you."

And with that, she handed me a complete change of clothes. Non opaque hosiery, underwear, blouse, pencil skirt, and, "Peep toe heels. You've been waxed and pedicured, show off for once. And, voila" and she uncovered the mirror.

"This is the final look. Now, let me show you how you start out."

She showed me how to put my hair up, and secure it. "And do up two more buttons. Put these on.", handing me a pair of black framed glasses.

"Ah, I like where you're going with this."

"I knew you'd be into stereotypes. I hope Julie is too. So there you go, one librarian, complete with upgrade options."

"Thank you, and I've got to run."

"I'll add it to your last bill."
 


I drove to Julie's. When she answered the door, she started to shut it in my face.

"Julie!"
"Karen? I didn't recognize you. Come in."

"Thanks; I got here as fast as I could. So let's get to it."

And with that, I grabbed my hair ornament, and loosed my hair in a dramatic head swing, taking off my glasses at the end.

So of course, strands of my hair stuck to my lipstick. "Darn it!"

Getting ready to dance involved taking off the skirt, and converting the blouse into one tied below my improved bust. Amanda had given me a really short miniskirt to go over my tights, and I put on my new peep toe heels. Then, I curled around my center, suddenly twirling, and popping open, flinging my hands in the air, palms out, facing Julie. "Pow!"

"Wow, what did I do? You were my friend, now you're practically a threat. And is that cleavage?"

"No, I'm your dance partner. And how would I know, I've never seen it before in my life. Now, let's see you shine. This is about making you work harder. I already had an offer to be in the back, doing alternate choreography. I chose to push for better. Now, let's see you push, too."

We ran through it. I adjusted her, and she got better. Finally we left for class. I'd restored my glasses and updo, smoothed out the blouse, and put the wrap skirt back on.
 


I walked into class. For a change, we were only on time. We parked our bags, and Sarah came over. I did the hair thing, and this time nothing stuck. The glasses got tucked into the bag, I put the miniskirt on, unwrapped the outer wrap skirt, and changed shoes. Giving one last gulp, I smiled, turned and stalked into position.

Julie stopped in front of the class, and made an announcement. "Everyone, Tim couldn't be here this week, so Karen here is filling in for him."

There was a chorus of "Hi, Karen!"s.

"Hi, everyone!"

We ran through it. It went good.

"Karen, would you work with Beth? I'm going to work with Julie for a bit."

I went over to Beth.

We went through the routine. I tightened her timing, fixed her posture. I repeated it with her, in slow motion.

"Thank you, Karen. One more time people!", Sharon instructed."

We ran through it. I kept one eye on Julie. She was perfect. What had Sarah done?

"Ok, everyone stop and get the cd of our music on the way out, people! Next time, music!"

"So, Karen, will you be joining us at the recital next week?"

"I will be making time in my schedule, yes."

"Good. Here's your cd."
 


As we walked back to Julie's place, I asked:

"So, Julie, how did Sarah get through to you?"

"She just pointed out how ludicrous it was that Tim, with only a few hours of practice was sexier than I was, with my years of practice, and how I was letting down the whole gender."

"Well, you did teach me everything I know…"

We'd gotten to the door of her apartment by then; she unlocked it, and then turned to me and said, "Then show me what you know."
 


Amanda was right; I did want to thank her for the nipples…
 

The recital went off without a hitch, and without Sarahs threatened Karen solo; she'd only said that to get me focussed.

And at the reception afterward, over hors d'oeuvres, Julie remarked, "Well, there is another course that looks interesting. Pole dancing..."

Confidence Trick - (a Fitness Class short)

Author: 

  • Lynda Shermer

Audience Rating: 

  • Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication: 

  • Fiction
  • 7,500 < Novelette < 17,500 words
  • Complete

Genre: 

  • Crossdressing

Character Age: 

  • Mature / Thirty+

TG Themes: 

  • Sweet / Sentimental
  • Voluntary

TG Elements: 

  • Appliances Attached

Other Keywords: 

  • Fitness Class

Permission: 

  • Posted by author(s)

Confidence Trick

(A Fitness Class short)

by Lynda Shermer

Sarah's Stiletto fitness class at the center ended. I was awarded certificates, one for Tim, and one for Karen. Somewhere on YouTube is a recording of our final recital. Of course, in it, I'm almost unrecognizable. It garnered some nice comments and likes at the time, and then pretty much dropped from sight.

There have been some changes since then; I moved in with Julie (she had the better furniture and view of the two of us).

I put my foot down over the concept of the pole dance class, though. Things were getting too busy.

Other than the change in living arrangements, the biggest changes were at work. We'd started as a small materials handling firm, specializing in inventory control systems, all the way from handheld barcode scanners to big automated warehouses. Then we'd been acquired by a bigger corporation. They had their corporate headquarters in Pennsylvania. They'd continued the office in Chicago, albeit at a smaller scale, but rather than making everyone move to Philadelphia, they introduced "Work From Home".

"Work From Home" was actually an ideal situation in tech circles before it became necessitated by the Coronavirus disaster. Audio conference calls were the rule before Zoom (unless you had the bucks to set up Cisco gear, and a VERY high bandwidth connection.) Our company had adopted Work From Home to save office costs and retain critical personnel, given the geographically diverse nature of our workforce.

It meant no more commute. Hurrah! More time at home with my girlfriend. But it also meant we both had to carve out workspaces for ourselves in our one bedroom apartment. Boo!

Still, that seemed ideal, what with a boss now in Philadelphia, and team members in Detroit, Tupelo, Jersey City, San Francisco, Salt Lake City, and Los Angeles. But then I discovered a problem: somehow, I had lost the ability to stand before a group of people and give a presentation.

It wasn't shyness. I'd had body issues most of my life, but I'd overcome them in Sarah's stiletto fitness class; so much so that I was now sharing a one bedroom apartment with my serious girlfriend, Julie, after all. But in giving presentations, people tended not to take me seriously; my voice was too high, and with the starts and stops, and ers and ums, people didn't seem to feel it was authoritative, and argued with me critiquing my style instead of the technical details. Actually, I'd previously seldom had to stand up and formally present to an audience, as I deal mostly with technical concerns. So much so, in fact, that my problem came as a surprise to me.

And it was worse when I couldn't gauge the reactions of my audience while I was talking to them, as in an audio conference.

Exacerbating things just now was a big presentation I'd been assigned which pitched an automated parts warehouse project like we'd done before, but for a Japanese corporation. I'd done the report on the project, and that report now turned into the formal presentation to the potential client. A lot was on the line, and supposedly, this presentation was crucial to the deal. The pressure, of course, didn't help my performance any.

I first tried my presentation over an audio link to my workgroup. But (under orders) they attacked it so much that it threw me off base and things got worse in the question and answer period. They'd been instructed to see if I got rattled. And did I ever.

I then tried giving my presentation with Julie as an audience, when she sat behind the camera. Two problems there: in that case, I was too informal and gave a continual stream of comments, observations, asides, and in-jokes aimed at her, and, while we worked at the same company, and even on the same floor of the same office originally, we were not in the same department. (Indeed, that was the entire basis of our original relationship. She eventually admitted to me that she'd thought I looked "interesting" when walking past my cubicle to the copy room, so, hearing I'd been told to get more exercise, she'd schemed the fitness class enrollment as a way to be the only woman I knew in a room for an hour each week.) She would not always available when I had to make a presentation; she had her own work to do.

I thought my asides and observations were funny, but let's face it; Will Rogers, I was not. Still, I liked that we could talk that way, and didn't want to change my behavior if I could help it.

Maybe I should give the presentation to a cardboard audience?

No good; I tried it, it flopped, according to those that listened to the recording.

With music as a background to distract me, or recorded crowd noises?

Nope and Nope; I tried both, and both were no better. And then I tried music again, but different types; Ambient, classical, pop, folk, instrumental, and techno; no genre of music helped appreciably.


 

I was lying in bed, worrying about it, when Julie asked, "Well, when was the last time you remember feeling confident and bold?"

"I can't remember a time. Well, except... No, that doesn't apply..."

"What?"

"Well, back in class."

"When you were at university?"

"Umm, no; When we were in Sarah's class," I mumbled.

"In Stiletto Fitness?"

"Yes, Ok? I eventually came to feel confident in class. In fact, apart from the fact that the shoes sometimes hurt my feet, I felt comfortable, confident, and somehow, powerful. Silly, isn't it?"

"No; Not really. Why do you think Dominatrix's wear those boots. Hmmm, that gives me an idea for your halloween costume this year..."

"Don't you dare!"

"More immediately, why don't you check the box in your closet and see if anything in it helps."

"What box?"

"The box on the shelf, where the wardrobe that made up Karen is..."

"oh; that box. I suppose it's worth a try."

I hadn't looked in that box since we put it away after the wrap party. Frankly, in some ways, it scared me. Occasionally, briefly, I'd felt like a different person. And I'd pretty much been OK with it. In fact, mostly, I'd enjoyed it.

In the morning, after getting ready for work (or at least as ready as "Work From Home" required of me), I dragged "that box" down from the shelf. It had gathered a little dust, but the lid fit well, and the interior was dust free and dry.

In the bottom, under various things that weren't germane (such as the disks of our practices and the final perfomance) were Karen's pumps and her low boots.

I looked at them, remembering times in class.

"Memories, huh?" Julie had suddenly appeared behind me, unobserved.

"Whatever gets this presentation done."

"So you're going to just wear the shoes?" She sounded a little sorry at the observation.

"That should be all that's needed," I replied.

But of course in reality it wasn't that simple. The first problem is that wearing my regular socks, the shoes didn't fit. Had my feet spread? Was I using thicker socks? No clue.

So either I was going to have to get those abbreviated things women wear under pants, go barefoot in the shoes, or put on my tights again.

Julie said she didn't wear those things (Trouser Socks or knee highs, she told me they were called) nor have any, when I asked. And barefoot, my feet sweated and stuck to the shoes (I was later to find that there were even more abbreviated nylon things called footies, but we didn't have any of those, either).

So I donned my tights again. Of course, those only really fit properly with the right underwear. And looking back in the box for the tights, I had run across my wrap skirt...

Really, all that went together.

When I had all that on, Julie looked me over, and said "Karen! Where have you been?"

"No, only Karen from the waist down."

"Pity..."

I grabbed my printed notes for the presentation, pushed my chair under my desk, and proceeded to give the presentation while pacing back and forth. Meantime, Julie was on her machine in her workspace, listening to and recording my performance.

When I finished, she came in and played it back to me.

Better, although I still showed a lot of the meta-linguistical um, er, and ahs that I was trying to eliminate.

Additional, there was a fairly regular clicking on the recording.

"What's that noise, there?" I asked.

"That's your heels on our hardwood floors..."

"Oh. I'll have to remember to put down a rug."

"Yes, although I kind of like it...", she said, wistfully.

So, better. Not perfect, but maybe practice would improve it.

So, my heart in my mouth, I gave the presentation live at that week's audio conference meeting (with rug in place.)

Afterwards, my boss said that it was good, but I still seemed a little tentative. For the final meeting, we had to be decisive and certain.

Once I hung up, Julie, from her perch at our the dining table where she had observed all this, said, "You know what this means; drastic measures are called for."

I begged off; the next day, I gave my presentation again (with the boots, instead of the pumps, this time), and had Julie record it again; but we agreed it was no better than the last time, so practice (and the change of shoes) wasn't cutting it.

"You know what this means," she told me.

"I have to give the presentation. There will be questions afterwards which I will have to answer."

"You can give the presentation; just, not, you know, you. It's time to let Karen have a go. It's an audio link, no one will see. I'll even not peek if you insist."

If I was going to do this, it seemed I'd have to commit seriously to it. I called my aesthetician, Amanda, and made an appointment.


 

Waxing, eyebrow threading, nails, and a pedicure. Karen's hair was a wig. I had it checked and shampooed, but it wasn't going to need a trim, at least.

While she worked, Amanda kept up a stream of conversation; After our class had ended, Julie had started coming to her salon, and Amanda wanted to know how she was doing, and more significantly, how we were doing. But after assurances that things were well, she probed a bit further.

"I know Julie and Karen practiced together, and had class together. You two ever do anything else as a couple?

"Sure, we live together," I replied, puzzled.

"No, Julie and Karen, not Julie and Tim."

"Well, we went out to dinner a couple of times, and did some shopping..."

"So, nothing special? Well, never mind."

"Well, there was that one night I slept over on her couch." I wasn't going to discuss the other time that Julie and Karen slept together, even though it seemed to be the sort of thing Amanda was looking for; some things are private, even in the salon.

"That's sounds promising."

"It doesn't have to be promising; she and I live together; we sleep in the same bed."

"I know. Look, if you say anything about this, I'll deny it; I'm breaking the unwritten code of the salon here, but occasionally, talking, Julie will look a little wistful. I get the distinct impression she misses Karen. And you're Karen."

"Well, I'm all that's real about Karen, I suppose."

"I'm certain Julie's still really into you, from how she talks about the two of you and the little things she mentions forgiving you."

What did that mean? I decided I'd prefer not to go there.

Amanda continued, "But in any relationship, sometimes you'll wonder about a 'what-if', and I get the feeling her 'what-if' is Karen. In a way, you're kind of unique; her other is the same person, physically, as her everyday. The two of you can get that romance without straying from home. You're doing all the prep work right now, you should take advantage of it, is all I'm saying."

"Amanda! That's really shocking! Umm, how do you suppose that would work?"

"Up to you; I never said anything."

We finished putting Karen together, as I'd brought a change of clothes. As this was not a dance recital, I'd prepared with normal to formal office clothes for Karen, including a suit borrowed from Julie, as we were roughly the same size.


 

Back at home, all ready, I started in on the presentation again. This time, Julie pronounced me perfect. She'd fed me questions from the cards I'd prepared, and I neatly fielded every one.

In the post mortem, she gave me 11 out of 10, and fortunately we'd recorded the audio. I sent the audio to my boss attached to an email. (And made sure it was only the audio.)

Then I set the table, and started dishing up the Chinese food I'd been keeping warm in the oven.

When I sat down, Julie, looking puzzled, asked, "Aren't you going to change?"

In response, I opened the top two buttons of my blouse. "Oh, I think this suit isn't too formal to eat in. What do you think?", and crossed my legs under my skirt, at the knees, taking care to keep my calves together.

Julie looked a bit nonplussed, but sat down to eat.

Afterwards, we both stood, and I cleared the plates. Having done that, I crossed to her, set my glasses on the table, and, removing my hair ornament, let my hair down, as I swung my head.

It was such a stereotyped move. I'd practiced it. (We'd covered the whipping of hair in class, and as I said, I'd passed. I'd been marked down as exceptional, in fact.); I even managed to keep my hair from getting stuck to my lipstick, for once.

"Tim...", she started.

"Oh, let's leave him out of it, tonight, shall we?", and proceeded to grasp her by the elbows and kiss her soundly.

I knew she was tasting my lipgloss (raspberry, applied over my lipstick); as I held her close, she must be smelling the herbal shampoo my wig had been washed with, my deodorant, and my perfume, all scents selected to blend together. The final note should be my scented face powder and the baby powder scent from under my perfume.

"It's not fair," she moaned.

"What's not fair?", I said, nuzzling her neck with my lips.

"You shouldn't be this good at seduction...", she said, melting in my arms.

"I've had the very best teacher," I informed her, as I nibbled on her earlobe, which I knew she particularly enjoyed, toying with the back of her earring with my tongue.


 

Tim and Julie slept together regularly, but this was somehow different. I'd slept over at Julie's apartment as Karen twice, before we'd moved in together, as I've said, and even shared her bed that way, once. Tonight was a more intimate experience for both of us. I learned some things that Karen responded differently to than Tim, which was going to be food for thought for a long time, especially as, with the presentation recorded, Karen only had one more scheduled appearance, to take questions, and after that, she probably would just end up in the box in my closet again.

Pity, that.

Of course, it didn't go that way.


 

The next day, after the presentation audio and the question session, my boss called me back on my cellphone. I took the call with my legs demurely crossed, in my desk chair, distracted by the feeling of my pantyhose covered legs rubbing against each other.

"Tim, everyone loved the presentation, and your answers were spot on. You were perfect, timing and everything. No glitches there."

"But?"

"Well, there's a lot of local team spirit at the client's office. They are strongly pushing to hire locally and do the work there. Personally, I think your presentation adequately covers the follies of that, but we have to put that argument to them in the strongest terms."

"My research shows that, clearly. So I guess we can't just send the presentation? When have you scheduled the audio conference for? I'm ready."

"You certainly seem to be, but that's the hitch. The board decided they want you to go over there and give the details in person, and deal with any questions. They still remember that time you barged in there with that Lego thing you built to prove we'd laid the automated vehicle guideways out all wrong. It impressed them. The company is willing to give you a vacation, afterwards, there or anywhere else, we think it's that crucial."

"Over there?"

"Osaka. I think they have the remnants of a world's fair there, if you want to see that."


 

So the idea was I'd fly to japan, have a couple of days to get over jet lag, and then brief their company executives (who fortunately all spoke perfect English as my Japanese was limited to a few words I'd picked up in thrillers and anime), and convince them.

I was off the hook; I was to give the presentation before living, breathing people!

So we held a yet another run through, this time live (with me dressed for the office as Tim, of course) with people who still worked at corporate headquarters.


 

It was a disaster; worst yet. It seemed that in giving the presentation over and over again, I'd burned out on the material. I'd rushed through parts, mumbled others. In working from home, I even seemed to have lost some of my people skills, never that good at the best of times.

At home, I recounted the latest to Julie, who was suitably horrified, and hugged me to comfort me.

And then she said, "Why don't you show me, right now."

So I grabbed my note cards and stood in front of the whiteboard. As I started to talk, Julie stopped me.

"No, not like that. As Karen."

I was perplexed. Surely a disastrous presentation was a disastrous presentation, no matter how I was dressed.

But I agreed; I got out all the fixings, and put everything on. Julie did my makeup, making me look particularly nice.

And then I walked back in front of the whiteboard and started again. I worked through the whole thing, and when I was done, Julie stood up and applauded.

She said I'd done it perfectly, timing and everything. None of the asides I normally did when presenting to her.

And then she surprised me; she'd recorded the whole thing and queued it up for playback

It was perfect.

But no one but me and Julie (and Amanda; I'd told her why I was doing this, of course, while she worked on me) knew that Karen, not me, was giving the presentation when it worked. And now it was going to have to be live. And the very least of the problems with that was that Karen didn't have a passport!


 

In bed, I reiterated all this to Julie.

"But that doesn't do us any good; Karen can't present before this audience. Heck, I'd bet she can't leave the continent. She has no ID to even get into the airport.", I pointed out, as I was dropping off to sleep.

"It's impossible," I finished.

"Well, it seems unlikely, I'll admit," Julie admitted.

Later, in the middle of the night:
"Tim! Wake up."

"Wha...", I drowsily replied.

"This could work, if everything breaks just right..."

"You're dreaming; go back to sleep."

"No, really. We just need to be sure that your presentation only reaches home in audio form, and that no one refers to your gender in a way that can't be put down to translation error! Listen! We pitch it as, for reasons of protection against industrial espionage, we can only allow heavily encrypted feeds. We specify encryption that would be challenging at video bandwidth, and I'm there in part for data security (which gives me an excuse to sabotage any video links.) Further, we say that our "key man" insurance insists no photos or name badges, lest your contract be sniped by a competitor."

"They'll never go for that, and how can we impose those conditions and not seem weird to our company?"

"We claim these are standard corporate practices, these days."

"We can't back that up, and Jack talked about the negotiations he's done for this, and a big deal he closed last year there. He's going to smell a rat. Besides, I have serious doubts we can get Karen there in the first place. She has no passport, no ID, and I think those breast forms look weird on an X-ray scanner, even in checked luggage..."

"What makes you think that?"

"Something I read."

"Well, the beauty industry is worldwide; I'm pretty sure we can get nails, hair and boobs in Japan with some shopping."

"There are some translation difficulties I wouldn't look forward to."


 

Over the course of the next week, I expressed my doubts about doing the presentation in Osaka no less than three times, at varying ever increasing levels of the corporate structure. Finally, the company president, Jack, called me in; he still had an office in our old building; "Is it that you are afraid of long plane trips?"

I said no, I just didn't see why it had to be me. It seemed to me that it was out of scale with my importance here.

"The Japanese put a heavy emphasis on face to face meetings, and on competence. You're the guy that did the work, you can answer all their questions quickly. It really has to be you," he assured me.

"If they put so much emphasis on personal interaction, is the fact that I won't drink going to be a problem for them, or that I won't visit those kind of raunchy clubs that were in 'Lost in Translation'? Could my basic stodgy nature cost us the deal?"

"No, I actually have the same issues, myself, and went there for the preliminary talks with no problems, and did a deal with these guys last year, almost as big. One odd thing came up with the company president when he invited me to an odd social club, but I begged off and it was like it never happened, made no difference."

What had the company president suggested? But I didn't learn, then.

"Tim, we're desperate, here. If there's any way you can do this..."

"Well, I'm really uncomfortable with this much riding on my non-technical skills."

"Tell you what; I hear you and Julie Simons are together. Talk it over with her and I'll see if we can send her, too, to back you up."


 

At home that evening, I discussed it with Julie.

"Now they're talking about sending you with me."

"Well, that would make it easier to keep you away from those Geishas."

"Actually, that's a misconception, you have to build up a relationship for quite awhile before anything happens. They're mostly decorative."

"Now whose been researching?"

"I wanted to find out the protocols of big deals in Japan; the western representations are practically drunken orgies of celebration, and I wouldn't enjoy that and didn't want to insult my hosts."

"Ah, you'd pass up a drunken orgy for me? That sweet! Anyway, it turns out there is more of a culture of this there then I knew from earlier reading. I've even started noting some addresses in Osaka that I found on Google; we can start by emailing them ahead of time."

"Now, you're starting to scare me. If this goes wrong, I could be the one thing that blows this deal."

"If this goes right, Karen could be the one thing that makes this deal."

"That's just too much pressure on a figment of anyone imagination."

"You want a repeat of the other night? Imagination in bundles, but that was no figment in bed with me. That was real. Confidentially, our instructor, Sarah, wondered about Karen; you were too real, she figured you must have done this before..."

"Hand to my heart, never. Let me point out to Jack the downside once more and see if he's serious."


 

In the end, Jack was so serious, not only did he throw in a all-expenses paid 2 week vacation in Japan for both of us, not counting against our vacation days, he threw in enough of a bonus for a down payment on a new car.

When I accepted, I gave the board a audio copy of the presentation I'd done at home as Karen, to put their minds at ease. This was going to be tough enough without anxious calls from home. Let them wonder how I'd improved so much in 6 hours...

And with that, against my better judgement, operation Victoria was on. (What, you thought I'd name it "Tootsie"?)


 

We flew in to Osaka from O'Hare on a non-stop flight. Clearing customs proved to be a breeze. The flight took 16 ¼ hours, and there was even an Uber waiting as we exited the terminal with our luggage.

My first surprise was that rather than a western style hotel, Julie had booked us into the local equivalent of a bed & breakfast.

"We're going to be here for weeks; this was much more affordable. Besides, do you want to visit Japan and not get a feel for the culture? I should hope not!"


 

The second surprise was the hair place Julie had found. She had dealt with them through email; they were very fluent in English, and said they dealt with customers like me all the time.

But they didn't bring out a wig for Karen; instead, they started in to washing what hair I had and coloring and highlighting it, before starting in on my extensions.

Extensions? I looked at Julie.

"What? It turns out these will be easier to care for and cheaper in the end. We won't have to just waste them, like we would a wig, before the return flight, because they'll be ready to come out before that." she explained, reasonably enough.

But at the next place, things went sideways on me, again. There, after the waxed me, they started spreading adhesive, but they spread it all over my newly smooth chest, not merely where I was used to. My startled noises (that stuff was cold) attracted Julie's attention.

She explained that they'd just started using a new breastplate design instead of the old style prosthetics, and were offering an introductory price that was very reasonable

Finally, they had me pull on layers of tights, sandwiched some foam padding between them, and then pantyhose.

Julie looked on, with a smirk. "See? Now you have fine, wide, child-bearing hips! Make good wife!"

Clearly, I'd left her alone too much during the planning phase of the trip.

The specialty work being out of the way, I then dressed in some clothing we'd carried in Julie's suitcase, and went to a nail salon, where I had a pedicure and manicure with acrylic nails to all four appendages. Which was an odd experience, I'd had no idea that they did that to toenails, too. "The rest, I can figure, but the toenails?" I asked Julie.

"You should be as consistent as possible to reinforce your self image. Besides, there are beaches here; you might want to show them off," was her reply.

And while we'd been discussing that, they'd started in on my fingers, revealing to me that I was to receive nails longer than I'd ever borne before, colored a subtle matte light blue. I surrendered to Julie's plan entirely at that point, and didn't even question the choice, which made her look smug.

Finally, we went to some clothing shops. We were looking for a business suit. The one's Julie set aside had a blouse with a lower neckline than I was used to, but I guess that's what the breastplate was for.

I tried it on; I'd had cleavage before, by shading my chest, but now I had noticeable cleavage. Really noticeable. And really dimensional, too.


 

At the end, walking back to the B&B so Julie could see if I'd forgotten how to move in heels, or if the hip pads were hard to move in, I asked, "Ok, what was all that about?"

"What, the hair? This will look better and be more secure."

"Yes, the hair, to start with. My hair will be this color for our full vacation!"

"And the extensions will last that long too, if you want them to," she informed me, happily, "You'll have a chance to experience life with longer hair," was her answer. I was beginning to see an agenda here.

"So will the nails, if you're wondering," she added, preempting any comment I might be about to make.


 

The next day was the last of the days we'd allowed for adjustment and getting over jetlag. We just did tourist things around the Osaka area. Of course, part of the idea is that I did them as Karen, in her newly completed form, in a sundress.

The night before the presentation, we did a dress rehearsal, which was perfection itself.

And then, Julie bade me good night, and spread some covers out on the tatami mats by the door to our room

"I don't want you to lose your edge. Tonight you get the bed, and sleep as Karen," she informed me, firmly.

I groused about it, but she held her ground.


 

The morning of the presentation dawned clear, warm, sunny, and not windy, fortunately enough for our skirts, which, following local fashion, were on the short side.

We again had an Uber, this time to corporate headquarters. There, they prepared photo badges for us, sans names, color coded red to inform anyone that saw them that we were vistors.

Upstairs, we were ushered into a conference room with a large table. The directors all stood, and we made our bows. Then the company president led me to the end away from the windows, with the white board and all the media gear around it.

Julie took up her position at the production switcher, checking things over, and I saw her nod and give me the ok to start

After the president introduced me, I gave a formal bow to the board of directors, and launched into the presentation, writing my name on the white board, and pacing in front of it, making diagrams as needed. Fortunately, the room was cold, so I didn't work up as much of a sweat as I normally do (which would have been a giveaway, with the breastplate).

There were many questions. I answered them as quickly and concisely as possible, mentioning that these were exactly the techniques the company I was with had pioneered and perfected over the last decade. In the end, my sense of the room was that they agreed with me that we should do the work.


 

After the presentation, Julie gave me an all clear sign when all the feeds were definitely cold. I breathed a sigh of relief. The CEO expressed his thanks, mentioning that is was in no small way due to someone from my company undetaking this trip. And for a woman to be confident enough to do it counted for a lot in the decision! I felt myself turn red; I'd also seen where his male gaze had been centered while he talked to me; I excused myself to get a bottle of water.

At the food table, the company president, Satashi-san, took me aside. At least his eyes stayed properly on my face.

"I dont't know that you'll have all the words; this note is for you. If it were not for your efforts, this deal would not have gone through. Thank you for all your extraordinary work on this proposal; the merger of our companies will be strong and resolve a number of issues, and you will not find us ungrateful."

The idea that our companies were to merge was news to me, and explained why people had kept reiterating that this had been all important.

I handed the note to Julie, as she was now in the role of my assistant.

"I'm happy merely pursuing technical solutions, sir."

"That is as your chairman told me. He sends his thanks, also."

The two of them had been discussing me? Uh oh...

"He said you were a most unique, and a most modest man, and I concur and told him so. Again, many thanks. Perhaps when you get to Tokyo, I can show both of you the sight," He bowed to me and then departed. As did we, this time choosing to take a train back to our lodgings.


 

As we walked to the station and discussed how the presentation had gone:

"Julie? Satashi-san called me a modest man. Is that some translation problem, do you think?", I asked her.

"No, my dear; you've been rumbled. Look at the note he gave you."

I took it back from Julie.

It was folded over; inside, it read, "From one Otokonoko to another, again, my eternal thanks. I hope to talk to you and your girlfriend at more length, some day. In the meantime, you must go to Akihabara on your travels, before going home. Next trip, perhaps I can show it to you both."

"That's in Tokyo, where we'll be next week. Also, Satashi-san recommended a Geisha transformation place for gaijin in Kyoto he says is a lot of fun. Won't we be in Kyoto end of this week?", she asked me.

"He knew all along..."

"Yes, but he seems to have kept all the secrets."

"I should have known; he was the only one not staring down my cleavage..."
I said, just as we passed through the entrance to the station, together.

"Tomorrow, let's go shopping and at least get you a good pair of walking shoes. Those office heels will ruin your feet," said the woman who was the only reason I knew how to walk in heels in the first place.

She continued, head down over her smartphone, "And I think I even found a good swimsuit for you."

It did take her several seconds to notice I'd stopped dead in my tracks as she continued on...


 

That night in the hotel, "Where did you put the solvent for this breast plate?" I asked her from the bathroom, cleaning off my makeup and getting ready for bed.

"I'm not sure which bottle it was, it didn't come with any at the store. How do you write "solvent" in katakana, again?"

Uh oh...


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