Warning: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between women. If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.
Author's Note:
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Copyright 2010 Sept, All Rights Reserved.
A NEW CAREER
Chapter one
Biancheria InCarla was a family business and had been first established by Alessandro Biancheria on his arrival in England during the 1950's. He had arrived as a penniless immigrant and spent the next twenty years building his business, into one of London's leading fashion lingerie houses. He had a few years after he first set foot here, married an east London girl, Susan, and in time she provided him with a child, Kim. They had lavished all their love on what was to be their only offspring and he been sent to the finest schools money could buy. After her graduation from Oxford, Kim had taken up the reigns of what was by now a multi million pound company, and had worked the long hours needed to make it grow into the industry leader it was today.
I on the other hand was a product of a Manchester family, I went to the finest schools the council could provide, and I even made it to the local collage. My parents had never had it easy and I was determined not to spend my life scrimping and saving for a daily subsistence. I had managed to secure an office job on leaving collage with Biancheria InCarla's Manchester office, but my first years were spent as the office boy, tea maker and goffa.
I had stayed the course and worked my way up through the company. By my twenty-fifth birthday I was engaged and had risen to be head of public relations, based in our London head office. It was my department's job to take the products of our design team and to launch them on the world. We were the window of the company and each year all eyes were on us with the dawning of London Fashion week.
This year was no different, our designers had produced an exciting new range of lingerie, and my goal was to stun our rivals with it during that one week when the fashion industries eyes turned towards London. It was to be my first year overseeing the launch, and the three months before had been sheer bedlam. The cat walk was booked, the prototypes of our range ready, the press releases drafted and advertising spaces in all the leading glossy pages booked. I had spent weeks seeking a model that would reflect the image, the face that Kim wanted for the launch. Every model I found, she had dismissed, until after weeks of frustration I stumbled upon Julie Swift. (Don't worry you don't need to remember that name).
Julie had the longest and finest legs I had seen in my quest, and her figure was not one of those twig like stick insect girls, but nicely shaped, not fat and not skinny. She was simply perfect, just the image Kim had in her minds eye.
I'd booked her exclusive to Biancheria InCarla. She was to be the face of London's leading Lingerie Company. Her blonde haired face was to bedeck bill board's country wide, and to look up from those glossy pages. Note the "was"? Thought you might! Two days ago the silly cow was admitted to A&E of her local hospital having OD'd. The world was to be laid at her feet, and what does she do? She had to go and get herself high and in hospital.
Ok so I was sorry for the poor girl, I am not that heartless. But the flip side of the coin is less than a week before our long planned launch, we were modeless. Have you any notion of how hard it is to secure the exclusive services of a decent model at this time of year? Anyone vaguely suitable was booked elsewhere. The models Kim had rejected were no longer free, and we were simply modeless. Unless we were prepared to lower our standards, risk the company image by scraping the barrel, we were screwed.
Kim has thrown a fit when she heard of Julie's hospital dash, and bear in mind I am the sensitive one here, her fit was a storm to behold. It seemed it was my fault; did I sell the silly cow the crack? But Kim had to blame someone and she could hardly scream at Julie from her hospital bedside. It would not look good and I think that's the only thing that stopped her storming off to the hospital there and then. Sheer image! So instead I got it in the neck. She screamed at me, she hit my desk and told me to sort the "fuck up out or fuck off". Kim is quiet a girl, and knows the industry inside out, but she has the temper of her father and the mouth of a dock worker when her angst was up.
The day of the shoot, and in two hours the photographer would be here. I was desperate and had even wandered the corridors of Biancheria InCarla, looking for that undiscovered face, that god send. That forlorn hope. But I had ended up back at my desk, my jacket off, my tie loose, and my head in my hands. I was defeated. All my calls, all my favours owed had amounted to zilch. I was finished, done dusted. Within the next few hours my desk would be cleared and I would be one of the world's great unemployed. It wasn't fair, it just wasn't, and I could feel tears seeping from my eyes. They ran down my cheeks and made small puddles on the polished wood of my soon to be abandoned desk.
Mary my P.A stood leaning against the door frame to my office. She looked across at her boss, who sat defeated and silently shedding tears at his desk. The large windows to the office showed a panoramic view of London, and I could almost here the mocking laughter of our rivals. The once mighty had fallen, and there was never anything more fun than seeing a rival brought down. Hell I had laughed at my share and here I was, my turn. All because some stupid cow had to go and shove white dust up her nostrils. Hardly my fault!
Mary smiled at the broken man slumped before her. "There's always Angels in Glasgow, they owe us" she suggested, trying to offer a solution. I stopped my silent tears and looked up at her. "They went tits up a year ago and anyway Glasgow to London in an hour? Get real Mary" I retorted. Why was I being sarcastic with her? Hardly Mary's fault!
The intercom buzzed and she scurried back to her desk. "Carl Anderson's office" she answered the buzz. Kim's voice came through, it seemed I was summoned to the twentieth floor. Mary looked up to impart the order, but I had heard and slowly stood, donning my jacket, no instructions necessary I knew my fate. I mentally wished my desk adieu, and walked towards the lift. All the way thinking of the silly cow and how unfair life was.
Kim's office suite covered the entire floor, and the panoramic windows looked down on the Thames, the morning sun sparkling on the water. I could see boats plying their way down the river, and the busy streets of the capital that teamed with life. The world was going about its own business, totally unaware of the misery twenty floors up. Kim sat behind her enormous desk, which boasted a surface you, could have all but held a football match on. It was a huge span of polished wood and dominated the suite. Kim was wearing her usual business suits, and as ever her hair and make up was perfect. But then if one had the money....
Kim smiled at me, and beckoned me to be sat. I lowered myself into one of the two chairs that faced across her desk at her. Kim stood to look out of the window and as she rose from her chair I could hear the sound of stocking sliding against stocking. I admired the impeccable cut of her pencil skirt and her retro crisp while blouse. I doubted there was a single crease anywhere on here hand made clothing.
Her back to me, her naturally blonde hair down to her shoulders, she seemed to be speaking to the metropolis as her feet. "What to do Carl?" Words formed in my mind but she spoke on before I could voice them. "We have to start the shoot this morning and you have failed us". I mumbled something unintelligent, but she turned and smiled. "Its ok Carl I don't blame you, it's hardly your fault now is it?" she spoke those unimagined words. Where had her wrath gone? How or why was she seeing sense now?
As she sat down in her chair I heard that rustle again of nylon on nylon. I could imagine her long legs crossing under the silk lining of that skirt. My mind did not have the time to wander and I pulled it back to reality. "Thank you Kim" I smiled a weak humbled smile "I am glad you understand and I wont let you down again" I mumbled. She smiled at me and played with her perfect black nails. Another smile and she resumed." Its ok Carl, but we need to at least get the hosiery shots taken today; there is a chance that I can secure us a model for the basque and lingerie session tomorrow". My world was saved; I wasn't going to be one of the great unwashed. She wasn't going to fire me. I would keep my desk, my office, my job, my life style!
The next sentence dashed that fleeting hope. "But" and she smiled that smile again "we need a model for today, just for the leg shots." I held my breath, it was a life buoy but it still left me with the task of finding a great set of legs. The face or body didn't matter as they would not be in the shot, but the legs had to be perfect. "Yes Kim I agree," I tried to sound managerial, something a tear stained face made hard. "If there's anything I can do... "God, how those words would come to haunt me.
"Strange you should mention that" I have a plan.
Chapter two
If there's anything I can do? What a dumb arsed thing to say. I stood beside Kim as we descended from her suite in the lift. She had explained her plan, and with every word she spoke it seemed crazy, ludicrous. Impossible and insane, but if there was anything I could do.....
Kim made a proposal, a simple one that would allow me to retain my job, my salary and my life. Two choices, one saved me the other led to the unemployed. Her plan was hardly complex. I was not well built and for a five foot eight inches I had long legs. You're ahead of me here aren't you? Last year I had been awarded a bonus and that was a week's cruise on Kim's yacht in the med. She had joked at the time that I had great legs, and now that joke had another angle to it. I was fair haired and had smooth legs to make any razor wielding or wax applying girl jealous. Not a hair or a blemish. It had been my bane at school, and every girl I dated had envied me the smooth pink soft skinned legs. I hated them, but they were the only legs I had. Now they took a new twist, a new angle to my misery. Kim wanted my legs to be the photographer's model today. She had pointed out that as the photos were from thigh down, well no one would even suspect that the subject matter were fella's legs. If there was anything I could do....
Kim led me the way into the company's studio. It was all set for the shoot, the photographer, the lights, and the set. The photos were to be taken with the model reclined on a large sofa, the sheer nylon legs set against the sofas material as a backdrop. The photographer was busy setting up her equipment, obviously having been fore warned of Kim's solution. "All ready?" Kim asked. The photographer nodded her confirmation, and resumed to switching on a series of bright lamps to illuminate the sofa. Kim turned to smile at me and pointing towards a curtained area advising me that I was to change there. If there was anything.... I had never foreseen it was Kim's solution to this entire mess.
Without a word, enough had been said by me, I walked towards the curtain, it seemed to take for ever to walk that short distance, yet it passed to quickly. My hands shook as I drew back the curtain and I was glad all Kim could see was my back and not my reddened face. The cubical comprised a small arm chair and draped over the back were a paid of our new vaguely black ten denier soft sheer, lace toped sandal toed hold ups. They were part of a 'retro' look and had a black seem running their length. I stood in the entrance to the cubical, my eyes fixed on those long Lycra and nylon leg coverings. The chair, the cubical and everything else shrunk into the back ground, I could only see the hold ups. If there was anything I could do?
But this? I had never meant anything this insane, this demeaning. Screw this, I could feel anger welling up in me, my slumped shoulders straightened and I turned to face Kim. Rebellion formed on my lips and I parted them to speak my pierce, but before I could utter more than one syllable Kim bit the rebellion off. "Two choices Carl, the door to unemployment's over there, or you can be a darling and do your bit for Biancheria, your call" and she turned back to talking to the photographer, dismissing me as not worth her attention.
Humiliation welled up in me and my feet took a step, but sadly not towards the proffered door. I stepped into the cubical and those sheer lacy stockings came closer to me. My hands shock as I reached to pick the delicate feminine clothing up. I had handled them before, and always found they had a sensual feel, but never had I dreamt that I would hold them in this situation. "Carla, come on darling, hurry up" the photographer called.
With shaking hands I laid the stockings back on the chair, and sat down to remove my shoes and socks. I unfastened my belt and stood to slide my suit trousers off. I sat back on the chair picking the stockings up, and looked at them closer. I was sat their in my polyester Y fronts, bare legged and holding a pair of stockings. I looked at my legs, and cursed their hairlessness. They had made my life hell at school, and their curse seemed to have resumed its effect on my life.
A shadow passed in front or me and a hand proffered a pair of our new soft sexy black Lace Brazilian Briefs in silk, They were so soft and so feminine with their pretty lace trim and the gusset to absorb any stains or seepage. "You will need these to, we can't have a glimpse of Y front in the shots can we" Kim instructed me as she dropped the new twist into my shaking hands.
I could hear laughter on Kim's lips as she walked back to the photographer. I drew the curtain across so I could hide my embarrassment for a little longer. I helped the Brazilian Briefs open and looked in at the gusset.
They were softer than I remember and with shaking hands I slid my Y fronts down and dropped them onto the floor next to my discarded male clothing. I stood still for a few seconds, my small cock shrunken almost to invisibility, its humiliated length hidden deep in the bush of my pubic hair. Tears welled up again, and I started to cry again, silently, humiliated
Chapter three.
My first foot slipped into the proffered knickers. The second leg in and I slid them up my bare legs. They were so soft, and I felt an electric shock tingle through me as the satin slid up and covered my shrivelled manhood. They felt surprisingly good, and I could see the appeal of women's lingerie but they were hardly manly. The stockings were next, and my limited knowledge warned me of causing ladders. I crunched the first stocking up and pointed my left foot toes into its proffered mass. With shaking hands I drew the soft material up my leg and the tingle returned, as did the beginnings of an erection.
The snap of the elasticised top made my erection even more noticeable, and it was with a sense of excitement that the second stocking was drawn up my smooth leg. I stood upright and looked down at my stocking legs and satin covered groin. The erection was making the beginning of a small tent, and I had to admit, I look good. Kim's fingers gripped the edge of the curtain and she drew it aside. She looked me over, and smiled. I looked at what fresh torture her hand offered me this time. Was there to be no end to this humiliation?
It seems I was to complete my out fit with a Leg Avenue Criss Cross Front Faux Suspender Body stocking and a pair of opera length gloves. My erection pressed harder against its silk encasement as I examined the soft feminine underwear.
I could hear laughter in Kim's voice as she talked to the photographer. I drew back the curtain and stepped out into a new world. I stood in front of the two women, one my boss and the other all but a stranger, wearing feminine lingerie. I had long sheer 10 denier encased legs, a stunning set of Brazilian briefs and all topped by a body stocking as well as long black gloves. My lack of hair included my chest and I looked every inch the leggy model I had spent so long seeking. I was pure feminine and felt butterflies in my stomach. No longer ones of panic, but replaced by friendly excited ones. Kim smiled and the photographer gave a low wolf whistle. I reddened and my erection expanded. Kim walked over and proffered two more items to me. A pair of small scissors, as well as an battery powered razor. I looked on, puzzled at these two items. Kim laughed at me and smiled. "You need to remove your pubes and your arm pit hair darling" and placed these, the means to comply into my hands. I was to be a smooth lingerie modelling model to be photographed and seen on every pack of stockings we sold from this years range. I was to be envied and drooled over, that very thought making me more aroused. The silk tent grew from a small one man sized tent to a two man. Kim laughed and patted me on the cheek. "Come along Carla; go make your self all smooth for your public".
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Carla and Jenny are both real T girls and my dearest friends on TV CHIX. Feed back most welcome and I will always reply to civil messages, even if just to say thank you.
Sharon (sharonpinder78@yahoo.co.uk)