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Chapter 1: The Offer

"Well, Aaron, your resumé is impressive and you're clearly motivated for the work. I'm delighted to offer you the job," she said with a winning smile. "There's just one condition."

"Really? I'm hired?" I said excitedly. "Thank you, Miss Reed! When do I start?"

"Please, call me Marianne. You'll start on Monday," she said, waving her hand in the air between us and frowning. "Don't you want to hear what the condition is?"

"Oh, uh, of course," I said, smile faltering. "Right. What is it?"

"Well, due to the sensitive nature of our clientele, I'm afraid we can't have any men in this position," she explained, grimacing apologetically. "We're happy to hire you. But you'll have to dress like a woman while you're here."

My eyes were so wide they could have popped out of my head. I was sure my mouth fell open, but I was so stunned by what she said that I lost track of everything except the smile plastered to her face. My heart was thudding in my ears as I searched her expression for any sign she was joking.

"I'll have to — what?" I stammered.

"I realize it's an uncommon request," she said in the understatement of the year. "As such, the company will cover any and all expenses related to it for the duration of your employment."

"I won't have to pay?"

"Not for clothes, make up, or anything else you need. And since I'm sure you'll need the guidance, I will personally assist you in the process. Skirts, dresses, the whole thing."

Something about the way she said "personally" made me start to stiffen in my trousers. Her dark, glossy lips popped on the "P;" her tongue lingered suggestively on the "L," drawing it out to a long, purring noise.

At least, I assumed that was what was turning me on.

"I, uh, well. That's a very generous offer," I said, smiling politely and nodding my head. "Can I take some time to, uh, think about it?"

Marianne grinned and leaned back, the leather chair crunching beneath her. I noticed that her blouse was unbuttoned, exposing a strip of flesh down her chest to the button of her tight, short blazer. Without thinking, my eyes lingered there, probing beneath for a hint of lace or satin.

Like what you'll be wearing in the future, I thought, the idea making my heart leap into my throat.

"Absolutely, Aaron. But to be fully honest with you, we have several other qualified candidates," she said. "We'll need your decision by the end of the day, or we'll move on to someone else."

My stomach flipped upside down. I couldn't just say no. I needed a job. I needed this job. Even if it meant I had to dress up in panties and skirts. The idea gave me a dark thrill that I decided not to think about too hard.

You can just walk away, I reminded myself. You'll find another job somewhere else.

"I understand," I said as we stood to shake hands. "I'll... get back to you soon."

She opened her office door for me.

"For what it's worth, Aaron," she said as she pointed towards the lobby. "I think you're naturally suited for this position under me. You've got just the right... attributes for it."

I glanced back at her with wide eyes and she was biting her lower lip, peering down at me with narrowed eyes. A jolt of arousal ran out across my chest, reaching down to my toes. I stumbled out of her office and caught one last glimpse before she shut the door in my face.

There's no way you're seriously considering this, right? I thought as I caught my train back to my apartment downtown. You're really going to dress up as a girl every day?

But this was the only offer I'd received after weeks of job hunting. I was desperate at this point — even enough to entertain something like this. Anyway, how bad could it really be? A pantsuit was basically just a man's suit with a skirt. I'd worn make up for plays in school. Was it really that strange? In a weird way — it was kind of exciting!

I got off at my stop and found myself looking at a store I'd never really noticed before. Mannequins in the window were wearing professional and smart-looking casual wear that reminded me of Marianne's outfit. It looked elegant with an edge of sexiness — hemlines just the right length, blouses unbuttoned just enough. Were those things I could really pull off?

Might as well see what I'd be getting into if I say yes, I convinced myself, pushing open the door and stepping inside.

The jangle of the bell sent a shock down my back, my heart suddenly fluttering. Racks and shelves piled high with clothes ran down the length of the store, and I thought I could see lingerie near the back. I glanced around self-consciously, trying not to appear as if I were here to do exactly what I was doing.

I went to a rack tucked in the corner and started browsing nonchalantly. It was filled with silky blouses in a variety of styles and cuts, and I tried to imagine slipping them on in the morning. The slippery fabric would brush against my skin like nothing else I had ever worn, the neckline low enough to be tantalizing without being lascivious. Everyone would look at me and wonder what my bra looked like, whether it matched my panties.

My stomach was tying itself into knots.

Probably just nervous, I thought.

But that didn't explain why my underwear was suddenly so tight.

"Aaron? Is that you?"

I froze, my fantasy of a wardrobe full of silk blouses replaced with pure, white panic. I recognized the voice. This was someone who knew me, and they found me here! I couldn't even turn around to look. My mind was racing, trying to place it, desperately scrambling for an excuse. I turned slowly around, dread coursing through my body.

I found myself face-to-face with Marianne, a broad smile across her face.

"Does this mean you're taking the job?"