30.
inevitable comparison. From the street far below the faint sound of Christmas traffic filtered upward through the gray snow. "Allright", he said softly. "If it's that important, Nancy". His cheeks were flaming now. He could not look at her.
She came around the desk quickly and stood behind him gripping his shoulders to impart some of her strength, to help him as he sought to control an errant emotion. "Jack, you're good. This department is a dream to run with people like you in it. You're quick and you have a decided flair for fashion, especially lingerie. I need you badly, Jack".
"It's allright," he said again. "If you think we can make the transformation".
"We can", she sighed. "I've watched you. You'r You re alim, almost exactly my size, your voice is soft, kind. Most im- portantly, Jack, I know that you know enough to do it and do it well".
"I don't even know where to begin".
"I do", she said. "I think I have it all arranged".
They had less than a week to prepare for the Santa Claus masquerade, but Jack was more than naturally adept at feminin- ity--much more. It was frequently late, long after the store had closed, when they wearily drank coffee in Nancy's apart- ment in hurried respite from their long hours. Then, while Nancy Morgan laid out his clothing, he would shower and dust himself with a scented powder, making a cloud from which he stepped shaven and smoothly white, trembling in the pristine pink panties with which Nancy began the lesson. She padded him adequately and corseted him tightly and made him walk about the apartment to get the feel and balance of heels, to acc- ustom himself to the delicious sway and tug of elastic. She scrupulously corrected his every motion until each turn of the wrist and each delicately arched step was exactly and exquis- itely feminine. She made up his face in a variety of ways, ox- perimenting with dramatic lipsticks and eyeshadows. She de- olded at last on a brunette scheme and secured to that effect shoulder length hairpiece which swirled darkly about Jack's