Description
The tights salesgirl 2/2
When we arrived at the shop, my mother clapped her hands and called out, “Come on, girls! I have an announcement!”
The girls gathered around us, exchanging curious glances. My mother spoke up loudly, “I’m delighted to introduce our new salesgirl… Alicia!” A murmur rose as the girls looked at each other in surprise. She continued, “Yes, yes, I know she looks like my son, but you remember how he struggled selling the DIM products. So, Alicia is here to ‘replace’ him for this task. From now on, you’ll call her Alicia, and you’re to treat her just like one of you!”
The girls moved closer, some giving me kisses on the cheeks, others hugging me warmly. “Welcome, sister!” they chimed. A few of them playfully touched my dress, my hair, even my tights, checking to see if everything was real. They laughed and exclaimed, “It’s really your hair—dyed and permed! Wow, this isn’t just a game!” and “Your makeup is amazing; you look beautiful!” Another added, “You know, you’re infinitely prettier like this!” One girl, with a mischievous glint in her eye, whispered, “Alicia, you’re so cute—I’m jealous!” Finally, another girl teased, “Be careful; we’re not angels, and you’re too pretty not to make a few enemies here. Welcome to our little hell.”
Two of them took me by the arms, saying, “Come on, let’s show you our space and have some tea. We have so much to talk about.”
I felt truly welcomed, walking into the one room I’d never been allowed into as a boy. It was a cozy spot with trendy posters covering the walls, a large sofa draped with a knitted blanket, and a coffee table surrounded by chairs and stools. One of the girls came in with cups and a teapot. “I know you haven’t been in here since you were a kid, but now you’re our little sister. Your makeover is amazing! Honestly, we used to wonder what you’d look like as a girl, since you were already so cute as a boy. But now, you’re even more beautiful than we imagined. You’re fitting in so well, it’s like you’ve been a girl your whole life. And even better, you’re already a fantastic salesgirl, just like us! So tell us, how does this feel?”
I took a deep breath and replied, “It’s all so new, but I love it. I love seeing my face in the mirror, feeling the tights on my skin, the softness of my dress, and even the touch of my red hair brushing against my cheeks.”
Suddenly, one of the girls playfully caressed my thigh over my orange tights. A warm sensation overwhelmed me, and I felt my gaze drift upwards, slightly dizzy. The girl smirked, “Wow, you really do love it, don’t you?”
Immediately, another girl playfully slapped her hand away and laughed, “What’s wrong with you? You’ll make her think we’re all naughty girls!” The first girl replied with a mischievous grin, “But we are ‘naughty girls,’” and they all burst into laughter. The ice was officially broken.
In the beginning, they helped me with sales, sharing tips and advice after each transaction. Before long, I became quite good at it, and the stock of DIM products began to shrink noticeably. My new look felt familiar, comfortable even. I found myself naturally copying the girls’ gestures, their tones, expressions, and vocabulary. I had fully integrated, and none of them saw me as a boy in disguise anymore. During breaks, they talked to me openly about their love lives, heartaches, and even more personal details.
I’d fully adapted to my new lifestyle. I learned how to do my own makeup, enjoyed touching it up throughout the day, and even mastered creating new looks. I became so skilled at eyeliner that the other girls started asking me to do theirs. I got to choose clothes from the stock and didn’t hold back—choosing outfits that felt like ‘me.’ My new life felt so complete that I could no longer imagine any other.
Several weeks after my transformation, the girls invited me to go clubbing with them. They recommended a special outfit for the occasion, explaining that dressing for a night out was different from dressing for everyday work—or to attract boys. They picked out a stunning silver mini dress for me, incredibly short, with sheer black stockings and matching high heels. One of them told me not to skimp on padding for my bra.
A month earlier, I’d gone with Claudia to get her ears pierced with a trendy new gun that made it quick and painless. I watched her get her new studs with barely a flinch, and she’d insisted I get mine done as well. It was truly painless, and I left the salon with a small gold stud in each lobe. Now, it was time to replace my “beginner” studs with a pair of big hoop earrings—a gift from all the girls for this special night. Our most experienced hairdresser, who had trained before becoming a salesgirl, gave me a fabulous updo, making my red mane look stunning and my new earrings swing elegantly with each movement.
Before we left, all the girls gathered around, admiring the final look and declaring unanimously, “You look absolutely magnificent.” We piled into two taxis for a night out celebrating Saint Catherine’s Day, which meant free entry for girls. I couldn’t help but notice the driver’s frequent glances in the rearview mirror, more interested in my appearance than the road.
At the nightclub, we happily lined up, and the bouncer greeted us with a hearty, “Good evening, ladies!” Inside, the party was in full swing, and we turned more than a few heads. As we danced, several young men approached, eager to compliment us, despite the loud music.
When the music slowed, a smiling young man invited me to dance, saying it was “part of my role as a girl.” I accepted, thinking it would be a sweet, gentle dance. However, his hands quickly wandered down to my thighs, even venturing under my short dress. While I loved the feeling of being caressed over my stockings, being touched by a man filled me with discomfort. Then he pulled me closer, and I felt an unmistakable part of his anatomy pressing against me. He leaned in to kiss me, and at first, I thought it might be an interesting experience. Feeling his lips on mine was mildly exciting, but his gentle kiss quickly turned into an invasive force.
A wave of nausea washed over me as I realized that a man—smelling of tobacco and sweat, with the rough hairs of a mustache under my nose—had forced his way into my mouth. With a surge of revulsion, I pushed him away so hard he nearly lost his balance. I rushed to the restroom, barely making it to the sink to quell my nausea.
Moments later, Alina, who I now consider my best friend, found me there and quickly came to my rescue.
Alina said to me, "What a cad. It's unbelievable how they think they can get away with anything. But the way you turned him down was impressive! After you left, he sat on the floor looking completely stunned."
I replied, "I can't, Alina... it's beyond my strength. I tried, but I couldn't help it. What am I going to do? I'm supposed to be a girl... it should come naturally!"
Alina took me in her arms, holding me close to comfort me. After a moment, she gently wiped my face and touched up my makeup. "It doesn't work like that," she said softly. "Sometimes girls don’t like boys, and some don’t even like girls. Whether you’re a boy or a girl is one thing, but you're more of a girl than a lot of people I know. What's certain, though, is that you don't like boys."
She paused thoughtfully before adding, "I saw how that guy acted—he’s pushy, sure, but I’ve seen worse. A lot of the girls in the store would have jumped at the chance. The last girl I saw react like you did to a man’s advances... was my ex. And yes, it’s an open secret among the girls—I’m into girls, not boys."
She took my hand and said with a smile, "Now come on, let’s toast to your first bit of heartbreak." She led me to the bar and ordered two cocktails. We sat down, away from the noise of the dance floor. "Drink up," she encouraged, "It’ll help take the edge off." The cocktail was sweet, refreshing, and my first taste of something like this—it was delightful. A few moments later, the tension from before faded, and I began to feel more at ease.
As the slow dance music started again, Alina took my hand and led me back onto the dance floor, saying, "Come on, I’ll give you a proper dance!" We swayed together, her warmth and gentle presence a comfort like no other. I felt like I was on cloud nine as she softly stroked my cheeks and hair, then brushed her lips against mine with the delicacy of a butterfly. Her kiss was gentle, soothing—like a balm for my heart.
We continued dancing, cheek to cheek, and a wave of realization washed over me. In that moment, I knew: I loved girls. This revelation brought a deep sense of peace.
When the rhythmic music picked up again, all of my friends joined us on the dance floor, laughing and pulling me into their circle. I found myself truly enjoying dancing, feeling free and joyful in a way I never had when I was living as a boy. Dancing as a girl, with my friends around me, felt like the most natural thing in the world !
Aline Idéale 2024