Power Dressing




Power Dressing

Chapter 7

By Peta Wilson

Catch up on the story by reading
Parts 1-3| Part 4|Part 5|Part 6|Part 7|Part 8|Part 9|Part 10|Part 11

She could feel his heart pounding. Pounding and pounding. She held him for some time.

"Are you feeling any calmer?" she asked, almost into his ear.

"A little."

She released him and he immediately turned back to the mirror.

"I don't believe it," he said.

"Believe it."

He sighed,

"Okay I believe it. Oh Chris, I had a flash a few moments ago. I've envied you such a long time."

"Something inside you was telling you you could look like this?"

"I think so." He snorted a wry laugh. "God, I can't look like much of a male."

"You're a pretty male but you look like a male. At other times, I mean. Don't be silly."

"Oh it doesn't matter," he said. "I've lived with me a long time. It's okay."

"Well,' she said, with finality. "I guess you can't wear that dress all day."

"No," he said, wistfully. "I guess not."

"But something else. Turn around."

She unzipped him and he removed the dress and the petticoat.

"Leave the rest," she said.

She hung the clothes back in the wardrobe and took out a black, wool, straight skirt.

"Put this on."

He did so and then the black, long sleeved wool sweater she handed to him.

"Take it easy with the sweater," she said, "just ease it across your face so you don't get makeup on it."

She removed the rhinestones and replaced then with gold hoops and a simple gold chain.

"You don't need three inch heels either. Try these."

He replaced the patent courts with black kid pumps with a medium, fashionable heel.

"I feel like a frump," she said and sat to put on some makeup.

"You never wear makeup on Sundays," he said.

"I know. Special occasion. Let's go out for lunch."

She was watching his reaction in the mirror. He paled visibly even under the makeup.

"Oh no," he said.

"Okay. Just kidding."

She continued with her makeup nevertheless.

"Could I though? Really?"

"Absolutely?"

"But my voice. I don't know how to behave."

"You knew how to behave yesterday. You don't behave you just be. And your voice is light. Lot's of girls have slightly deeper than average voices. You forget. People will see what they see."

She watched him turn away and walk back and forth.

"These heels are easier."

"Are they still tight? The shoes?"

"A little. They're all right."

"We can drive. We don't have to walk far."

"No Chris," he said, adamantly.

She ignored him, completing her makeup.

She stood up and went to the mirror. She was wearing a cream blouse and beige skirt. She kicked off her flats and slipped her feet into tan high heeled pumps. Satisfied, she went to the wardrobe and took out a cropped jacket which matched the skirt.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm going out for lunch. It's sunny. Nat's On The Park will be divine today. Al fresco."
She busied herself placing items into a tan handbag. He was behind her and she knew he was watching her.

"Oh Chris," he said in an anguished voice.

"What, darling?"

"Can I do it?"

She took a bright red hip jacket from the wardrobe.

"Put this on."

She did not watch but she knew he was doing so. She took out a black handbag and placed it on the dressing table. She turned to him.

"Your hair is a little formal for Sunday lunch. Come here."

Meekly he moved to her and she placed a tortoise shell comb above each ear so that his hair was caught back off his face.

"God you're so lovely," she said, and her voice was soft, encouraging, loving. She took his hands and squeezed them. "Come on."

She picked up her handbag and he did likewise and followed her out of the house to the car.

It was a fifteen minutes drive to Nat's near the river. They drove in silence and she could feel Steven's - Stephanie's - tension. He kept taking deep breaths as though to calm himself.

Christine knew she was observing something, actually a part of it. The creature sitting beside her was her brother, Boy. Male. Masculine. No. The others maybe but not masculine. Not really. Not the way she perceived masculine. Right now, though, he was as an attractive and appealing a young woman she had ever known. Yesterday had been a game. Today would be, was already, different. Yesterday he was essentially unnoticed. Today he would feel all those things women feel. He would certainly be noticed, observed, even ogled. He would be self-conscious. He would not be able to move, sit, walk, stand, cross his legs in the casual way men do. She was nervous for him but she couldn't let that show. She was also thrilled to be doing this and she was uncertain as to why that might be. The sister thing? It was more than that. She had felt the anguish of his decision making and she had honestly expected he would not go despite her pressure. It simply had to be important to him to be here now, alongside her, feminine legs displayed, dressed the way he was, looking the way he looked. Not a game. No, not a game.

She pulled into the parking area and switched off the engine. She looked across at Steven - Stephanie. She had to remember that.

"I'm so nervous I feel like I'm going to puke."

"Do you want to go home? Forget it?"

"No," he said quietly. He took a deep breath, opened the door and got out of the car.

She joined him and they walked to wards the restaurant.

"Try to be calm, darling. Just let me lead."

They were greeted by the maître d' and Christine asked for a table for two outside. They followed him through the restaurant to an outside table.

"May I take your jackets, ladies?"

They removed their jackets and he pulled the chairs for them and they sat. Stephanie followed Christine's lead and placed his handbag by his feet. She noticed he was shaking. She offered up an encouraging smile.

"People are looking at me," he said in a strangled voice.

"Us. People look at attractive women. Men specially."

"They can't tell can they?"

"Of course not."

A waiter brought menus and asked for a drink order. Christine asked for a bottle of the house white wine.

"Do you want a cigarette?" Christine asked him.

"Yes please."

She took out the pack and he took one and held it in his hand until she clicked her lighter for him. He drew in the smoke and exhaled slowly.

"God why am I doing this?"

"Because you want to."

"I feel so vulnerable. I wish I'd worn a longer skirt."

She smiled. "Now you know." She glanced around. "God, this is lovely place in such a day. The river is sparkling."

He followed her eyes.

"Yes it is."

The waiter brought the wine bottle and filled their glasses. Christine pickled up her glass.
"I want to drink to my sister."

He tried a smile and they sipped. She picked up the menu.

"What would you like to eat?"

"I don't think I can."

"Yes you can. Have a Caesar Salad."

"Okay."

She ordered. She observed him. She made small talk. They sipped the wine. Gradually he began to lose the look of a frightened rabbit. Maybe it was the wine. He ate the salad.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Okay. Better."

"Just okay?"

"The earrings are pinching. And the shoes, a bit."

She laughed. "Is that all? Maybe you should have your ears pierced."

"Can I do that?"

"Of course."

"Both of them?"

"Why not? And we can always buy you some shoes."

He looked at her as if he was going to melt.

"Black ankle boots?"

She nodded. "Black ankle boots."

They finished the wine. He decided he wanted dessert and she ordered crepes for them and a half bottle of dessert wine. His eyes were shining and his cheeks were pinker than the blusher.

"I need to go to the toilet," he said.

"And to fix your lipstick. Go and do it."

"Without you? I thought girls always went to the toilet in pairs."

"Not always. Go and do it."

"Where is it?"

"Behind you, Inside. I can see the sign. Don't forget to take your handbag,"

He took a deep breath, picked up the handbag and stood and walked away from the table. She watched him. The high heels gave a sway to his hips specially as he bent around the tables.

Another milestone, she mused, and black ankle boots you shall have this very day. We can't stop now.

When he returned he said:

"I can't believe how blatant men are. They stare."

"They love you, darling. You're beautiful, you're sexy and you're woman. It should make you feel good."

"Actually...it does."

Christine paid with a credit card and they collected their jackets on the way out. Stephanie allowed the maître d' to help "her" with the jacket.

Christine drove away from the restaurant in a different direction.

"Where are we going?"

"To the Mall. You wanted some boots."

Her "sister's" eye sparkled.

"Oh yes," he breathed.

To be continued...


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