I am having my ears pierced.
“I suppose with the hair style no one at work will notice,” I rationalize aloud.
Indeed, the girl must push back my fine blond locks in order to position the wicked looking device. In the corner of my eye I see her hand squeeze and with the sound of a sharp snap there is an instant of pain as my left earlobe is penetrated.
Not too bad, I note.
But she then repositions the device higher and before I can protest makes another opening well up into the cartilage of the main body of the ear.
“You may need to show off some special jewelry, Renee. Somewhat elaborate,” Miss Lalique’s reference left deliberately vague as the device twice attacks my right ear.
Studs are slipped in place, with instructions about occasionally twisting and the maintenance of sanitary conditions while the openings heal.
“You will look so pretty, Renee.”
I will. And oddly the thought entices... except when I think about the work day... commuting... in general interacting with the world outside of the doctor, Nurse Sueann, my counselor and now this Miss Lalique.
How will I function?
“And now for some cosmetics,” Miss Lalique announces with noted enthusiasm.
***
Finally the day ends. Expecting to part company and rush home to accept the delivery of abundant clothing, instead Miss Lalique takes my hand and escorts.
With my ears pierced with plain but somewhat noticeable shards of stainless steel, carrying what could be interpreted as a pocket book, golden blond page boy styled hair, the passersby gape with curiosity even more intensely. Some stop and stare. Young males offer a look of lust... and my reaction can neither be described nor understood.
I am in full make up, an alluring young woman prepped for an evening of glamour at the theater... at the opera. But I am wearing slacks, a somewhat masculine shirt. Loafers. My attire is incongruous with the efforts of the cosmetician... hours spent on rouge, eye shadow, mascara, prominent false eye lashes.
Bizarre, but with my unattractive attire, I feel I am disappointing my admirers...
Miss Lalique just nods and smiles. I stare straight ahead, counting the many blocks, hoping the traffic lights change timely.
Told to remain silent unless spoken to, I find I must inquire.
“Miss Lalique, what’s this all about? So much time... so much money.”
She smiles, shushing me, but adds... “In time, my precious little one. In time.
“But tonight, would you not like to get out of those dreary male clothes?”
I would. For some reason... I want to feel pretty... to look pretty... for her.
***
I was not expecting Miss Lalique to accompany me home and even more surprised when she enters my apartment and stays. With her simple hand signal I know to disrobe and am soon standing before her in my new pink panties, my softening cheeks so prominently displayed to her.
I should have suspected her next course of action, for after exiting the elevator she took particular note of the garbage chute. I watch somewhat amused... somewhat aghast... as she gathers up my slacks, shirt and shoes.
“You’ll no longer need these.”
Yes, she makes her way back to the garbage chute and my attire tumbles the eight floors to the disposal bin.
Symbolic? No. For the next hour, awaiting the special delivery from the clothing shop, she rummages through every drawer and every closet. Nothing male escapes her attention. Even sports stuff, nothing to do with apparel, fall the eight floors.
At the end, I have nothing but the pink panties I arrived in and become even more eager for the delivery from the clothing store.
“Now... it’s time you learned a few things.”