” I did, and her hands were running around my now smooth chest and belly. Her hands then slipped down to my ankles and began travelling up my legs. ...��Very nicely, done, Andrea, but what is this?” I looked down to see where I had tented my skirt during her inspection. “I am sorry, ma’am.” I said sheepishly. She smiled at me in a way that I can only describe as benevolently evil. “That,” she said, pointing and my throbbing crotch, “We'll have to wait. You now work for me, Andrea, and I have had. Despite having been liberally doused with some fine perfume, one thing remained the same as our typical Saturdays: I left the house without a scrap of makeup. I felt at once sexy and clownish. When I asked Melinda what was different about today, she winked and said that the time had come for a more significant step into femininity. Her twisted grin indicated that no more information would be forthcoming and I was left to wonder what was to come. Of course, it would become apparent soon enough. More

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