FRIDAY

Jena and Gretchen awoke to her iPhone’s alarm.  She wanted to spoon with a woman so we slept in our female aspects.  We took turns in the bathroom and she showed me how to brush out my hair, just as a good life skill.  I could have done a quick female to male back to female change and had my hair basically ready to go, but we had time and it was good to learn.

Jena and I were both borderline size fours so she lent me a skirt and a top so I didn’t have to do the walk of shame in last night’s dress.  I probably could have borrowed shoes too but I would have had to just carry the burgundy heels back up to the suite so better to wear them.

We got to the suite at 7:30 and Alastair and Ali were already eating breakfast at the couch.  We all hugged and Ali and Alastair said congratulations.  They made me show them I could transition, but Jena said I better not dare bust through the zipper on the skirt I was in so I slipped it off and showed them how I could fill the black panties with the bulge of my manhood.  Placated they let me sit down and have my coffee.  Today wasn’t James’ day anyway, they needed Gretchen.

This was the last day in the suite so I figured I should pack so I didn’t have to do it later in the rush of the day but then remembered all my things were still in my bag from when Alastair had me moved from my room.  I never even opened the bag, save for my toiletries.

The day was crazy busy and I got a great taste of what it would be like working for a top tier fashion house.  Jena and Alastair had me get into the four outfits I would be showing.  The first was a ready to wear blouse and sequin pant combo, but the next two were long evening gowns and the last was their final look, a bridal gown with full skirt and train.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I said looking at the two of them.  “You want me to modal a wedding gown?” I stepped close to them and in a hushed voice said, “I’ve been a girl for like two seconds, I can’t wear this!”

“Oh you’ll be fine,” said Jena before Alastair could speak.  “Besides, logistically you’re the only one who can do it.  The gowns you show are quick changes and all at the start of the show so you’ll have enough time to put the bridal look on.”

“Can’t one of the other girls do it?  What about that Emma chick, she thinks highly of herself,” I said nodding to the girl across the room.

“Ha!  No, it has to be you,” Alastair said with a smile.  “You’re my girl today.  I believe in you.”

Well shit, I thought.  I can’t be the one to not help out the team.  He’d done so much for me and may career this week, I was going to have to do it.

“Fine! Since you asked nicely,” I said in mock exasperation.  “But one of you is fucking me tonight, after we get drunk.”

“Deal,” they both said in unison.  They each looked at each other slightly shocked then broke into giggles.

The models I was replacing were fairly flat chested so Gretchen only needed A-cups for these looks.  We started with the first look a feminine satin green bow blouse with a sort of rock star-come-fashionista tight green sequined pant.  Both pieces fit well but they wanted to bring up the hem on the pant a touch.  I took off everything and stood in my panties waiting for the next look while Ali took the pants to the seamstresses.

The next look was a long sleeveless shimmering royal blue gown in silk and chiffon.  It had and interesting design, dropping down from the oval neck line in overlapping cascading fabric.  A slim blue belt with metallic buckle with the houses logo defined the waist and the lightweight flowing skirt dropped fully to the floor.  One of Jena’s assistants pulled in various spots but determined that the gown held my figure perfectly. 

I could see now why Alastair needed either Jena or me; we could cheat and morph our bodies in certain ways to make sure the garment fit perfectly.  Cleaver.

The third look was a black, Bardot neckline silk taffeta dress with ruched detail through the bodice and a flared full skirt starting below a black leather obi style belt, but fully open in the front exposing my bare legs.  The fabric managed to keep the skirt full without needing any layers underneath to push out the hem and give it a wide sweep.  Jena paired it with a thick shiny gold choke collar reminiscent of something ancient Greeks might wear, but almost futuristic.  She handed me black open toed sandals with a four-inch heel that blessedly strapped around my ankle.

Jena’s assistant moved in once my shoes were on.

“This is incredible,” said she said.  “Gretchen fits perfectly in this dress as well.”  She looked up to me as if I needed to explain myself.

“Good genes I guess?  I always ate my vegitables?” I sheepishly offered by way of explanation. 

Jena covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh.

“Sandra, why don’t you see about Haily’s look over there, I’m a bit worried the hemline is too long,” she said pointing to another model.  “Alastair and I can take care of Gretch.”

Just then Emma came over, arms crossed over her topless chest holding a Starbucks cup full of tea.  She stopped and looked me up and down.

“I thought you said you weren’t a model?  Now your taking work from my friends?” she hissed with a bit of sneer.

“You have friends?” I asked sweetly, then wishing I had taken the high road.

She came close to me, leaning into my face

“I’ll be watching you bitch.”

“I’d like to watch you,” I said in a sultry voice stepping in to whisper into her ear.  “Want to step into the bathroom?  I’ll be your friend,” I said, then pulled back to look into her eyes.

A look of shock and disgust broke out on her face.

“Slut,” she muttered then wheeled around on her heels and went back over to where she had been standing in the corner.

“I really, really like you,” Jena said, from behind me, tears in her eyes from trying to hold back laughing.

“Well that makes one.  Apparently Emma is still warming up to me.  There aren’t any like blades or weapons around her are there?  Hate to get shanked when I’m not looking.”

Jena burst into giggles.

“All good here?” Alastair asked coming into the conversation.

I looked over and Emma was giving me the stink eyes.  I reached up and gave Alastair a kiss on the check and a big affectionate hug making a big show of it for Emma

“Yes, everything is wonderful,” I said, just loud enough for Emma to hear.  “I think I’m ready to try on the showstopper, darling.”

Jena knew what I was doing and her shoulders started to quiver, the tears now streaming down her face as she tried to keep her professionalism.  Alastair had missed the opening act and so had a confused smile on his face.

“Ok…” he said, looking between the two of us, hoping we’d let him in on the joke.

“I’ll get the final look,” said Jena.  She retreated to one of the other racks at the far wall.

“Help me out of this will you?” I asked Alastair.

“So, what was that all about?” he asked as he unzipped me.

“Just making that Emma girl over there mad.  She’s going to give me a shiv in the ribs in the showers.”

“Ah, now I understand.  I’ll go set her straight,” he said starting to turn.

“No need.  She’s threatened by me, but she needn’t be.  Or she can be, and that can be her problem.”

“That is incredibly mature of you, Gretchen,” he said in mock praise.

“Thank you, I do try.  It’s not her fault she’s not as pretty as me.” 

I winked at him and gave him a knowing smile.

Alastair chuckled.

“Let’s get you into that last dress,” nodding toward Jena and her assistant pulling the garment bag down from around a monstrous white gown.

If the black number was light and airy, this was a beast of a dress. 

It was constructed of rich heavy off-white duchess satin with a strapless corseted top and full sweeping skirt and train.  Even more interesting, it had a full matching duchess satin cape that came around the neck and over the shoulder, clipping to the top of the corset busk just under the arms.  It folded back and around, almost like the cape had a hood (it didn’t), that left most of my chest showing, from collarbone down to décolletage. 

The design would be amazing by itself, but Alastair’s team had spent thousands of hours embroidering rich designs of flowers and fauna in gold threads and tiny crystals.  It was designed with the Russian Czars as inspiration and looked like something only a Queen would wear.  As if to make the point, there was no veil but instead an intricate crown like head piece of crystals and pearls that started with the highly decorated metal band at the top of the head and ended at mid forehead with a dazzling lattice of crisscrossing pearl and crystal strands, held together at their ends by larger pearls.  Giancarlo and an assistant had to clip it into my hair.

The dress needed serious petticoating to achieve its full volume, thanks to the thick satin material and it took some time to step into the underskirts and have the dress lowered down over my head and onto them.  In all, the dress was incredibly heavy, well over twenty pounds, but was worth the weight to say I had worn it.  

I can’t describe the feeling of having this dress on, except I felt like royalty.  It was opulent and regal and frankly completely impractical as most pieces of couture were. I half expected everyone around me to bow before it and me.  Just as I thought this, as if on cue, Emma flipped me the bird from across the room as I looked at her. 

So much for bowing to the queen.  I gave her an exaggerated air kiss.  Suck it Emma.

“Let’s see you move around, please,” said Alastair, as the team laid the train out behind me. 

I wanted to be delicate as this was easily the most expensive item in the suite by a factor of four or five, but my first attempt to step forward just didn’t work.  I had to lean into my steps just to pull the fabric behind me.  I took six full steps and ran out of space in the suite.  By now, everyone had stopped what they were doing and looked at me.  The team picked up my train and brought it around behind me and steered me toward to far door.  I took about eight more steps before again running out of room.

“How do you feel, can you move in it?” Alastair asked coming up beside me with Jena.

“Yea, it feels harder because of the carpet.  The runway is hard surfaced though right?  It will be easier to pull this monstrosity behind me.  Remind me, do I have to turn around?  The catwalk loops around, yes?”

“Yes,” said Jena, “it takes a right turn and heads back through the curtains off stage.”

“I can see why you didn’t want this job now, Jena, you stinker.  I’m going to pull something getting this thing down the stage!”

“Couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl,” she said with a tilt of her head and a fake smile.

“Indeed,” I said.

“Ok, let’s get you out of this,” said Alastair.

About five people descended on me helping me out of the headpiece, dress and petticoats.  Soon, I was back down to just my panties and Ali thankfully handed me back the clothes Jena had leant me this morning.

I overheard Sandra talking to another woman. 

“I just don’t understand it, everything we put on her fits perfectly.  How is that possible? These are couture items.”

I smiled and Jena and I got back to work with the other outfits.

At noon food came in and it was an interesting happening.  Some of the models devoured their lunches, while others barely ate a thing, sipping instead at water or tea.  In this body I found I didn’t have much of an appetite compared to James and that I got full pretty fast.  I nibbled at several things knowing I would need the energy.

Soon, after lunch, we packed everything up and headed down to the large ballroom where the show would take place.  The day’s shows were staggered between two large spaces to allow for set up, etc…  We had three hours of “back stage” time since Alastair was the last show and had the largest collection.  Most of the models were already done with hair and makeup so it was really about arranging outfits and the logistics of the show run. 

Giancarlo grabbed me and brought me over to make up and hair station, complete with big mirror and lights around it.  He made me take off the top and gave me a silk robe to wear so I wouldn’t mess up the hair he was about to coif.  Actually, it didn’t take long as all he was going to do was straighten the hair and put hold in.  He brushed the hair out and then worked in heat protection products into it.  Next he brought out the straightening iron and did several passes on each section, parting it down the middle, until he was happy.  He combed through some finishing products that held my hair straight and added shine.  He then trimmed the ends to give it a clean look.

Next was makeup and he wanted a clean dewy look.  He had me clean my face with some light wipes and used and exfoliating cream which he let sit for a couple minutes after rubbing it on.  He then added his special moisturizer followed by eye cream and primer.  Once he had the skin prepped he evened out the skin tones with some tinted moisturizer before adding a cream blush to my cheeks and setting it with finishing spray.  He arched my brows and added cream shadows in light pink and a light mascara. 

Satisfied with my look, he added moisturizer and more light blush to my chest, setting it with a light shimmering powder.  He then gave me a light pink gloss lip and sent me off to find Jena.

I was able to help Jena get the models ready for a while but then I started to get nervous.  Once she saw I wasn’t going to be much more help she got me into my first look and told me to relax.

The ballroom we were in had been transformed for the shows so that you couldn’t tell you were in a ballroom.  There was a large curtain constructed about a quarter the way out from the back wall of the room delineating the front of house from the back staging area.  The runway ran out the front of the curtain then took a right turn to another current and temporary wall allowing the models to walk back to the staging area without having to turn around on stage.  This left most of the ball room for seating and with 30 minutes before the start the room was packed.

There was not only a lot of anticipation for Alastair’s show, but I learned that this was the only show he was doing for NY Fashion week.  This is why the collection was larger, but also why there were so many people.  Press was also on hand in full, unlike at the other shows here at Style New York.

Super, I thought, my modeling debut was going to be at the hottest show at NYFW and I had the final look.  No pressure.

Soon the lights dropped, the music started and it was show time.  I was the second model down the runway.  My hands were shaking but I was meant to carry a matching green clutch so only one hand could shake enough to see.  Jena had told me to “own it” which helped, but it was Emma, who went out first in front of me who helped me focus.

“Try not to trip, bitch,” she said, just before the curtain went up and I went out.  I looked down at my high heels.

She was starting to piss me off.  I used the anger and my natural competitiveness and channeled it into my strut, flawlessly gliding down the runway, busting my pose and then heading to the far curtain.  I hustled back to the staging area and the black gown.

Sandra was ready to help me out of the garments.  Jena came up as I pulled the pants off. 

“How’d it go?”

“I got this,” I said and gave her a fist pump.

“I knew you would,” she said and went off to help others.

The royal blue dress was next.  Sandra helped me step into it and zipped me up.  I morphed a bit here and there and soon had the perfect fit again.  She helped me step into the matching blue heels while I fastened the belt.  She stood back up and gave me a once over asking me to spin.  She poked and pulled a bit and said I was good and walked me over to the short line of models that was forming.  Alastair was there looking at every model, his concentration intense.

I said nothing, as he looked me over.  I’m not sure he knew it was me, all that mattered was the look.  Once he gave me the pass he was on to the next look.

I looked up.  In front of me was Emma again in a beautiful deep read satin and chiffon gown.  Her ass was tight and perfect in the back.  She turned around and saw me.

“Still here, huh?” she said, trying to get a rise out of me.

I took a step close to her.

“Seriously, you look so hot in that dress.  What are you doing later, maybe we can get a drink?” I said, deflecting and instead pushing her buttons.

“What are you some kind of dyke?”

“No, I just know beauty when I see it.  And damn, you look good!” I said, emphasizing the last word and looking her up and down.

She seemed to not know what to say and shot me an evil look.  I smiled back at her.

By the third outfit, I could enjoy the walk down my first runway.  I hadn’t really noticed before, being too worried I’d wipe out, but there were a lot of cameras all along the cat walk and especially at the end.  I did my pose and even a little spin move, making sure to look up into the camera’s before heading off again.

Now I really had to hustle because the bridal gown took some time to get into. 

Sandra intercepted me and ushered me over to almost where the opening to the runway was.  There were about seven people waiting there for me.  Soon the belt and metal choker were gone and I was being unzipped.  Shoes were traded and I put on lovely cream-colored satin heels and began stepping into the petticoats.  The dress came down next and I could feel them working to pull the lacing tight on the inner part of the dress before zipping up the duchess satin layer.  Again, I morphed to fill in the dress, especially my breasts so that my bosom was ample without being too big.

Giancarlo and team had the headpiece on and secured and soon I was lined up with the curtain, which had closed behind the last model.  Alastair was thrilled with the look and gave me a peck on the cheek before stepping away. 

“Slow like a bride, yeah?” he coached.

The curtain opened again on cue and I walked slowly out, the spotlight all to myself. 

Heeding Alastair’s words, I took measured steps as I pulled the train behind me.  I reminded myself, this was a ceremonial look, not one to be hustled down the catwalk.  The crowd started to murmur and I could tell there was a general delight with craftsmanship and design.  The cameras also seemed to go wild and for the first time ever in my life I felt truly beautiful. 

It was an odd but fulfilling feeling. 

Sure, it was mostly the dress, but a little of it was me.  No one bowed, but I could feel their deferential thoughts as I passed them.  I made sure to pause at the end of the runway and looked across the assembled press line so everyone could get a view from straight on.  Then I turned and headed through the curtains again.

I could hear the applause as the models all walked out again, lining the runway and waiting for Alastair to walk through.  The team met me at the far curtain, removed the cape and pinned up the train and hustled me to the front curtain again.  Alastair was waiting for me and I got there just in time to take his hand and walk back out with him.  I took several steps on the runway and then stopped, letting him continue on for his richly deserved ovation.  His show had been a hit and would be the talk of NYFW.

 

***

 

By 8PM that night we were at Alastair’s Park Avenue apartment.  It was possibly the most insane apartment I’d ever seen and must be worth north of $20 million.  Two floors and the living room looked out over central park. 

It was a small group, just Alastair, Ali, Jena, Giancarlo and me from the show.  Jean, Alastair’s longtime mentor was there, as well as two other women who were in the Society.  I recognized them from the front row of the fashion show earlier that day.  They were introduced as Sofia Katz and Noemi Curry, the former a lovely older Italian woman with a strong accent and the latter a middle aged African American surgeon.  They were the leaders of the New York chapter of the Society and so had come to welcome me into the fold and to celebrate Alastair’s amazing show.

They loved Gretchen but wanted to talk with James, so I took my bag full of unworn clothes and changed in one of the guest rooms, carefully folding the clothes Jena had given me.  James came back out and the eight of us sat down to dinner made by Alastair’s chef.

Sofia and Noemi asked me many questions and satisfied that I would be a good addition to the society, let the conversation flow to more interesting topics.  They told me they would be happy to answer any questions I had, but that we do it in private when the house staff wasn’t around.

By the end of dinner, after the last course had been cleared and we were just finishing our drinks, Alastair brought out the orange elixir and toasted to our health.  Seven of us drank while Ali watched.

“Ew, I don’t know how you can even smell that stuff much less drink it,” she exclaimed smiling.

“What do you mean?” I asked.  “It tastes amazing.  It smells like orange groves and flowers?  How can you not like that?

“It doesn’t smell anything like that to me.  More like vaguely orange turpentine!” she said.

“I mentioned to you that most people don’t like the elixir,” Alastair said looking at me.  “That’s because it smells and tastes awful to anyone who doesn’t have our gift.  What Ali smells is what all but a small handful of people in the world would smell.  That’s why I was so happy last Monday when you could smell the elixir and not be repulsed.  It told me that you could join our ranks.”

“So, it was a test?”

“Of sorts, yes.  I had my suspicions all night, which is why I even poured you a glass.  Jena is the only other person I’ve found, so it was quite exciting.  It was all I could do to not just tell you right then and there about your possibilities.”

Alastair looked at the others and Jena gave him a nod.

“So, James, what do you think of this place?” he asked gesturing around the massive apartment.

“It’s ok,” I said, dead panned. “If you’re into the world’s most gorgeous apartments,”.

“Well it turns out I moved out of this place late last summer and Jena is looking for a roommate.  What do you think, interested in moving in?”

Everyone at the table was looking at me, smiling.

“Wait what?!?  Move in here?  You want me to think about moving into this place?” I said looking around.  “Alastair, I know we haven’t talked about salaries but I doubt seriously I could afford the rent.”

“Its rent free, dumbass,” chimed in Jena, a little tipsy from wine. 

Everyone started laughing as I caught on to the fact that Alastair and Jena were in fact offering me this place to stay. 

I picked my jaw up off the floor and then tried to nonchalantly accept.

“I mean I guess I can check the lease at my old place.  I’d have to pay a fee for breaking it but, maybe I can make it work,” I said again dryly.

“Well, you do that big boy,” said Alastair smiling.  “Here’s the keys if you want them,” sliding them across the table to me.

“HOLY SHIT!” I said with emphasis, picking up the key.  “Best. Week. Ever.”

Epilogue

The views from the Park Avenue apartment I now live in is about the best you can get in the city.  Since the apartment is two full floors of the building, we have 360-degree views of Manhattan, New Jersey and out to Brooklyn, Queens and Long Island.  I moved into the place by Sunday after SNY and left the small studio I had rented behind.  It didn’t take much to move, just a minivan, since I didn’t need any of the furniture.  The only catch with the place is that Alastair Giles Fashion House owns the apartment and uses it regularly for hosting and entertaining, so it is expected to be kept spotless.  Jena and I are both neat freaks anyway so between the full-time staff, and the two of us there isn’t a problem.

Jena had the first floor and I the second basically, but we shared all the open spaces.  The room I have is Alastair’s old room and the closet is crazy big, which is good, because between James and Gretchen, I have a lot of clothes now.  One of the amazing perks of working as a designer in the fashion world.

Jena and I became best friends, as close as siblings, and share everything, including the occasional tryst in bed if we want a threesome or we’re too busy to pick someone up in the Manhattan bars.  She makes me exercise and I make her watch movies and play video games.  Gretchen will snuggle with her if she asks, and Tom grabs a beer with me when I want some dude time.  It was really a godsend to have her there to help me come to understand my new body and gift.

The Weekend Style section of the NYT proclaimed there was a “New Face” of the house Alastair and Genevieve built.  Me.  Emma, who had been the de facto face of the house, was pissed and now hates Gretchen with every fiber of her being, but I can deal with that.  The funny thing is she likes James, or at least sucks up to him.  She will tell him anything, so I’ve heard all about how Gretchen is a slut, has various venereal diseases, is a drug addict and is generally a horrible person.

Gretchen got no less than a dozen modeling contracts from that one show.  Alastair, Jena and I discussed it and decided that it would be good to have Gretchen go out and be a star model so that we could have her closely associated with the house.  She doesn’t do very many modeling gigs, but by the end of the year, she was the most highly sought after model in the industry.  She makes a lot of money for what little work she does.  We joke that Gretchen doesn’t get out of bed for less than $30,000.  She also doesn’t travel anywhere without her personal stylist, Giancarlo, or his alter ego Arianna.  It is super fun, and I love being a model and all the fun things that come with it (Can you say Met Gala?) but I also love being James and working at Alastair Giles.

My first official line came out that fall to small but rave reviews and set the foundation for my career as a designer.  Showing off the final piece was Gretchen, which stunned the press.  There were wild and crazy rumors about how James Dowling could have gotten her for his first show, but it all only helped my brand.  It had been Jena and Alastair’s idea.  The hardest part was getting out of the dress and back into James’ clothes for the traditional bow at the end.  It all worked though, and my mom even got Gretchen’s autograph!

 

So, there it is.  One crazy week in February, a well-timed elevator ride and an orange elixir and my life was forever changed for the better.  Best week ever indeed.