Power Dressing

She wanted to tell Sylvia, to talk to someone about the day. She thought if she did this without asking Stephanie first she would be being disloyal. But there was this very strong temptation. Instead she tested the water in another way.

"Reggie's popular isn't he?" she asked over lunch on Monday.

"With the clients? Yes. He's a rage. He's got a very finely honed sense of humour. He does some outrageous things, camping around imitating them but they love it. He's very good at his job which helps. he's very much in demand."

"You've seen him in a dress?"

"A dress? Oh yes. Although it's drag really not a dress in the conventional sense."
"He doesn't dress as a girl?"

"Not exactly. With that outrageous makeup?"

"But he'd be pretty wouldn't he? I mean if he didn't overdo it?"

Reggie was a slightly built Eurasian with crinkly, loose Afro- style hair.

"Absolutely. A couple if the girls did a makeover on him one evening after work and he looked scrumptious."

"I wonder how many boys like to dress as girls."

"Oh honey there's lots. Reggie had this bi lover once who was married. He used to dress up and he belonged to this club or something. Reggie brought in some photos once taken at a club function and there was about sixty of them of all ages and sizes and some looked a bit silly but most of them were authentic enough. You know housewives and stuff. Suburban drag, Reggie called it."

"I wonder why?"

"I think men have a hard time of it, frankly. I mean they have all this nonsense responsibility and the pressure of being a man." She emphasized "man". She adopted a deep voice. "Be a man. You know all that. I think there's lots of them who like to escape all that."

That's pretty much what Steven says. Tell me something. If Reggie wanted to come to work in girl's things would you object?"

"No. I think it would be fun. But he wouldn't do that. He's gay, Chris. He wants to appeal to other gays. They don't like girls remember."

Christine ate her salad in silence.

"This is the second time you've raised the issue of gender and the dress code in a week," Sylvia asked. "Is there something going on I don't know about?"

Christine's negative answer was way too emphatic.

"Bullshit," Sylvia grinned. "I don't believe you.

"Weeellll," Christine began. "I sure I'm breaking some sort of ethical code and you must give me your word not to say anything."

Sylvia leaned forward conspiratorially. "I promise."

Christine told her the whole story, leaving nothing out. Sylvia listened intently but showed no obvious shock or even surprise.

"I'll bet she looks terrific," she said.

"Oh she does," Christine said and then laughed. "Listen to me. I'm saying she'."

"That's okay. But you don't mind?"

"No not at all. In fact I like it. She's so sweet and, well, like a sister. I never realized. She's quite feminine in the way she thinks. We've had some amazing girl to girl conversations this past week. Like you and I have."

"I'd love to meet her."

"Give me some time. She's coming out but she's still a bit reticent."

"Where do you think it's heading?"

"I have no idea. Not the foggiest notion. I'm just riding it out."

Christine took home a supply of makeup, nail polish, a manicure kit and some perfume for Stephanie.

His hair, which he had slicked down to hide the fringe when he left that morning, had dried during the day and the fringe was down across his forehead, the rest brushed back behind his ears. She thought, for the first time, that even in his boy's clothes and without makeup, he still looked rather girlish. His high cheekbones, wide set blue eyes, pert nose and fullish lips were features some girls would kill for. He made no comment about his hair. She gave him the makeup and he looked at it and said a subdued thank you and set it aside.

"Would you like to use it?"

"Now?"

"Sure."

He shook his head. "No. I don't really think I should."

Christine got angry. She actually stamped her foot.

"Stevie you can't keep up this on again, off again thing. Tell me, honestly, that you don't want to dress as a girl."

He stared at her, eyes wide. "I...I can't do that."

"So you do want to?"

He lowered his eyes. "Yes."

"Then go to your room. Take off your clothes and go to my room and select any outfit of clothes you want. Put on your pretty boots. Try out your new makeup. Rejoice in it. Just be...you."

"You think that's me?"

"Yes. I think that lovely girl I went to lunch with and shopping with yesterday is you. I'll tell you something, Stevie. You're going to resist and resist and then in a week or two you're going to break out again and then feel guilty and resist again then break out again. That's crap. Just do it. Let's find out where this is heading. Wherever it is there's only you and I to worry about and you have my full support and encouragement. Don't even think about the future. Just do what you want to do and stop being so morbid."

Her outburst took him by surprise. He stood staring for some moments. Then he picked up the parcel of makeup and turned and left the room. Christine set about preparing food.

He returned as she was setting the food out on the table. He was wearing a red skirt, black sweater, the boots. His face was made up. He had done a good job, she noticed. He had not changed his hair but the tortoise shell clips were fitted. He pulled the chair and sat down.

"Much better," she said brightly.

"I like Stevie," he said.

"Pardon me?"

"You called me Stevie earlier. I like it better than Stephanie. Like Stevie Nicks."

"Oh! Okay, Stevie then. You did a good job with your makeup."

"I copied from a Vogue ad."

"Good,. It works."

"It's nice makeup. Thank you."

"It's the best. How are the boots?"

"Great."

"You can't wear black boots all the time. We'll have to get you some other shoes."

"I'll save up."

"You don't need to do that, honey. We're not broke." She got up from the table and went to the kitchen and took a bottle of domestic champagne from the fridge and popped the cork and collected two glasses and returned to the table and poured the wine. She held up a glass.

"I want to drink to my sister."

He picked up his glass.

"May I drink to her too."

"Oh yes, please."

They sipped the wine. They began to eat. Plump lamb chops, peas, broccoli and potatoes.

"I, er, have an admission to make," Christine said.

"What?"

"I told Sylvia today."

He looked up from his plate. "Oh shit."

"No it's okay. Truly. I wanted to talk to someone."

"What...what did she say."

"She said, I bet she looked terrific and I said, she does, and she said, do you mind and I said, no I like her and she said where's it heading and I said I don't have any idea."

"And that's it?"

"Almost. She also said she'd love to meet you."

"Do you think she'll tell anyone?"

"No I'm sure she won't."

Stevie took a deep breath.

"Okay."

"Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll meet her."

Christine let out a little squeal. "Oh wonderful."

"But here. At home. Okay?"

"Sure. I'll ask her for dinner."

She met Sylvia for lunch again the next day. It was Sylvia, though, who dived right into the conversation.

"You've started something, you know?"

"In what way?"

"Well I think I may have been wrong about Reggie."

"Oh?"

They ordered their food at the counter and took it to the window stools.

"I'd been thinking about what we talked about yesterday and I said to him in a quiet moment today, would you like to wear one of the girl's uniforms to work?' and he went very quiet, very unusual for Reggie, and he said, 'What do you mean?', and I said, one of our uniform dresses?' and he said, do you want me too?', and I said "no it's not that. I just wondered if you'd prefer to.' and he said, with other things?', and I said, with whatever a girl normally wears to work here.', and he said, quietly, I'd love to. Would it be okay? With everyone else, I mean?' and I said, of course it would. I'll tell them.' So Reggie is taking home one of our primrose uniforms tonight and tomorrow, hey presto, Reggie, the girl."

"So I bet that came as a surprise."

"It did. Very much. I thought it was just drag. Apparently not."

"Well I have something to tell you too."

Christine told of her conversation with Stevie.

"So if you'd like to come for dinner, I thought, maybe tomorrow night would be fun," she concluded.

"Oh I'd love to," Sylvia said. "I can't wait to meet her. And I can tell you what happened with Reggie."

When Christine arrived home Steven was nowhere to be seen. He didn't always arrive home before her but most commonly he did. She called, in case he was in his room and heard a voice respond from her bedroom. She put down her handbag and walked down the hall.

"Oh my Gawd," she exclaimed from the bedroom door.

Stevie turned from the dressing table mirror to greet her.

"I hope you don't mind..." he began.

"Mind. Darling I'm thrilled. Holy cow, you look wonderful."

He was sitting, facing the mirror, wearing a pale beige nylon and lace teddy. Lot's of lace. With dark tan stockings, a garter belt, a bra, all matching. His feet at this point were shoeless. His golden hair was parted in the middle, back from the fringe and curled outwards into a flip above his bare shoulders. He had almost completed his makeup save for lipstick. His eyes were dark, evening style, his cheeks glowing.

"You look brilliant. Um, tell me about the underwear."

It was not hers, she knew that. She moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Today is my early day..."

"Oh yes, I forgot."

"...and my pay day. I was coming home along River Drive past Junesque. You know it?"

"Absolutely. Best lingerie in town."

"And I saw this set in the window. I loitered around trying to make up my mind for half an hour and then I just went in a bought it." He blushed to his roots. "I said it was for you."

"That's okay. Then what?"
"Well I came on home and I couldn't resist trying it on and I had plenty of time before you came home so I've been experimenting with my hair and makeup."

"Wonderful. But you don't know how to do your own hair do you?"

He leaned into the mirror and, apparently unselfconsciously, filled in his lips with brown-red lipstick.

"Well I've watched you a few times and the other day, when you set my hair with the wave inwards, you rolled the rollers inwards. So I figured if I rolled them outwards I'd get a flip."

"Very clever. The makeup's very dramatic."

"I know. Its' the third time I've done it. I copied again." He indicated a copy of Marie Claire on the dressing table.

"Looks great for a special occasion."

"Oh I know it's not for normal wear. But I was just experimenting."

"Good for you. Er, how much were the undies?"

"Not cheap. I spent most of my pay."

"Well it's not every day a girl gets to buy her first glam lingerie I suppose. Honey you look wonderful and I'm so glad you've taken the initiative."

"I've been thinking about what you said. I do like it, Chris. But I feel a bit like a kid with a new toy. If you know what I mean. I was afraid I'd overdo it."

"How could you do that?"
"I mean like every day or something?"

"So what?"
"Yes. That's what I said to myself. But I mean it's all so new. I mean I can't stop thinking about it and I'm I want to try...everything."

Christine laughed. "I can imagine. It's not so different for girls. The passage between flats and heels, no-bras to bras, sox to stockings. sexless to sexy, it's not so different. I wanted to do everything at once. As soon as I had boobs, I wanted heels and really high heels. I bought padded bras to accelerate the process. I wore too much makeup. I wanted to be a vamp."

"I remember. A thirteen year old vamp."

"You remember?"

"Sure. You and Mum had arguments. I was watching you."

Christine thought that was significant. Maybe. While she was talking he had blotted the lipstick and added another coat of mascara. Now he was spraying a mist of her Dioressence on his pressure points.

She puzzled over proficiency.

"You been learning from the magazines or from me?"

"Learning?"

"I'm watching you. You're making up like professional."

"You mostly. I guess I've been watching you for a while."

He stood up and she marveled. He was too narrow in the hips proportionally to his waistline but, hell, who notices? He was two inches or so taller than her which made him 5'7". He probably weighed not much more. His legs were model's legs. Specially when, as he did now, he put on the boots.

"We have to get you some shoes," she said.

"Yes please," he enthused.

"Okay, tomorrow. Can you meet me for lunch?"
"Yes but..."

"It doesn't matter that you wont be dressed. We know what size you are. I just want you to decide."

"Oh! okay. Oh shit! I still can't believe I'm doing this. It seems so wonderfully strange. I've been looking at all these things, thinking how great they all are and now, suddenly, I'm wearing them." "I'm glad Stevie. I'm glad and I don't quite know why. It's as well to buy some new shoes tomorrow though. You'll need a pair for tomorrow night."

"Why?"

"Sylvia's coming."

He took a simple wrap dress from the wardrobe.

"Can I wear this?"

"Of course. If I'm not wearing it you don't have to ask. Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes. Okay. I'm looking forward to it now."

To be continued...