Working for a Boutique - Part 10

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Forward By Julia - This part is also by Urban from the original story. I edited it to make the storyline fit into the present story and added a few things here and there. If you were wondering, the biggest difference between my storyline and Urban’s was in her story, Danny never transitioned into a girl, he still thinks like a boy, and doing all the fashion shows as Danielle is driving him loopy. There is also a constant tension between him and Ms. LaRue as he doesn’t want to do these shows anymore.  All the modeling agencies keep calling and asking for Danielle. I left a bit of this in there, for fun.  The girls in the store constantly tease and make jokes about his sexuality and it really bothers him.  In my storyline, Danielle is well on her way to transitioning into a young woman, and really likes doing the fashion shows for the most part. She is one of the girls now and they accept her.

The next several weeks went by without a hitch. The show had been moved up to March, and that meant if there was going to be a window preview, I would be asked to do it the week before the big show.

Prom was also coming up at school, and Shawn had already asked me to go with him.  I had my prom dress from Homecoming and decided to wear it again since I had only used it once, and I didn’t see any point in buying another prom dress.

On prom night, once again, Shawn picked me up, and we both went in his car to Prom.  The school had rented a really nice Dance Hall, and it had a lounge to the side where we could have dinner.  Once again, we had a buffet dinner, and the football team and the cheerleaders were all in a big group.  I found for a second time that I had been nominated for Prom Queen, and I was hoping I wouldn’t win, as I felt the honor should go to a real girl and not me.  This time Torri won!  We all cheered and congratulated her success.  Prom was a real success.  Once again, almost every guy there had to have a dance with me, and my feet were killing me by the time Prom was over.  Even so, I was happy that I was so popular with the guys.  I remembered Danny asking girls out for homecoming and prom when I was a junior, and I was a total failure.  I attended both as a single and stood with the other wallflowers on the sidelines.

On Sunday, I reported for work as usual and found Ms. LaRue's note on my time card. As I walked down the main aisle, some of the salesgirls giggled and said hi to me as I walked by them. I went up the stairs to Ms. LaRue's office and knocked.

"Come in."

I opened the door and walked in. Everything on her desk was in neat, orderly stacks.

Sitting on top of one of the stacks was a booklet about the upcoming show. "Sit down, Danielle."

I sat in the chair in front of her.

"The formal wear season is upon us once again. I appreciate the way you helped us out last year. This year our window display is taken care of. Two of the lines we used to handle have been dropped, and the two new lines our buyers have picked up to replace them will be shown at the center. The reps from these lines asked about you when we agreed to buy from them. They got Danielle's name from the rep that saw you in the window last year. Can I count on you again for the show this year?"

I really wasn’t sure if I wanted to do the show again. I told her that I was undecided. Couldn’t you find some other girl to do it instead of me?

"I understand. I don't blame you, but many people here are counting on you and judging by last year's sales in both formal and women's apparel. We could stand to lose a good share of the market we've worked hard to get. Take a look here."

She pulled out a large notebook from her bottom desk drawer. She flipped it open to reveal the eight by ten photos of me in all the gowns and clothes I had modeled, followed by the sales figures from the previous year compared to last year. I saw about a twenty percent increase. I found it hard to believe that one model could make the difference, but there was no arguing with the results.

“Ok, I really didn’t want to do this again, but since you have done so much for me lately, I do feel that I should return the favor and help out the store.”

"Good. I shall inform the reps as well as Jean and Madge. By the way, Lisa sends her regards and says she will contact you soon for another shoot. That's all for now."

I got up and left. As I walked back to the loading area, I saw Madge standing outside the beauty salon giving a "thumbs up" signal. I'm sure Ms. LaRue was standing in the balcony window doing the same thing.

I finished my work that evening and went home. I completed my maid’s tasks and set up dinner cooking in the oven.  After dinner with Ms. LaRue, I finished up cleaning the kitchen and went down to my suite.  I read the paper and turned on the TV. I watched for a while and then turned it off to think about my present situation.

It looked like I was going to do another fashion show; after that, Lisa was sure to call. After that, who knew what was going to happen to me. I had become too good for my own good. The more I worked, the more people saw who I, Danielle, was, the more work I got. It seemed that I was beginning a career as a fashion model.  I was making more money in the two-day show than I would make working part-time at the store in a month. Lisa paid good money too.  Now the question was, should I be pursuing this line of work and dive into it?  Sure, working in the store was ok, but the money wasn’t that great.

I was now glad that Ms. LaRue had started me on the path to becoming a woman since I don’t think I would have been able to handle the constant changing back and forth from Danny to Danielle, as I am sure that would have eventually killed me. It was better that I stayed as Danielle and let everyone forget about Danny.  Although the choice was made for me by Ms. LaRue, it seemed now that the proper path to success was to stay as Danielle and become her totally.

I thought about not doing the show. But really, I couldn’t think of a good reason now why I shouldn’t do it.  I finally stopped thinking, closed my eyes, and went to sleep.

My schooling continued, and though the swim team was not as good as expected, we were holding on to third place in the conference. As a swimmer, I was winning or placing in the top 3 in every race and was having a blast doing it.   At work, nothing more was said about the show, and I continued working my weekends and five-to-nines on Mondays and Fridays. I had maintained my weight and noticed that my dresses were fitting a bit looser around my waist as it was now slimmer. My breasts, hips, and butt were continuing to grow, and the dresses were getting tighter there.  My boobs were now a full B cup. My complexion had improved, and my skin was much softer.

The week before the convention show, I cleaned out the window display area and set up four chairs. Saturday morning, as I was moving some stock to the shoe department, Jackie, Shirley, Betty, and the new girl, Laura, walked past me on their way to the window. They were all smiles. Jackie blew me a kiss as she walked by, and Betty said, "I wish you were helping us, Danielle," in a soft voice that only I could hear. I looked away and continued unpacking the merchandise.

I kept busy throughout the day and stayed out of the loading area where I knew the girls would be changing. I even took a different lunch break. Just before five, I returned from putting trash in the dumpster when Laura held up a dress she was putting on the rack. She held it across her body and, with a big smile, said, "Don't you just love this gown? Pink is such a lovely color, and I understand it's your favorite too!" I smiled at her and said, that is a lovely dress.

I punched out and went home. I was getting anxious about this weekend's show; that was for sure.

The routine was the same as last year. I reported to the beauty shop early and did my makeup, and applied new nails. This time I wore a pink shirt dress with matching three-inch heels and a black wig. The backstage of the convention center was a beehive of activity again. Madge and Jean were there to assist.

My first time out, I was wearing a pale blue satin sheath and matching four-inch dyeable heels. About halfway down the runway, I decided to add a little something to the walk and began swaying my hips a little more. A slight bump here and a little bump there.  I guess I had been watching too much fashion television and wanted to make a statement like a lot of the supermodels do on the runway.

After I was photographed at center stage, I walked back and changed into a frilly pink chiffon dress with a hemline just above the knee, flared out with a single petticoat. Once again, about halfway down the runway, I decided to mix it up a little. I grabbed the skirt with both hands and sort of swished it back and forth as I approached the stage. After the pictures were taken, I twirled around and stepped off the stage and, in addition to moving the skirts, added a little more wiggle to my walk.

When I got backstage, Ms. LaRue had a rather stern look on her face. "OK, knock it off, Danielle," she barked. "Just be a mannequin.  And none of that girly wiggle and playing with the dress. Got it?"

I smiled innocently and said, "OK."

The next dress, I did nothing, but with the third dress, I got cocky and did the same things again. With the fourth and last prom dress, I nearly stumbled walking off the stage, but I continued a more exaggerated girly walk until I was backstage once again.

Ms. LaRue was furious. "All right, that's enough!

Stop sashaying around like a Prima donna. Knock it off this minute.  Bridesmaid gowns are next, and I want you to give the audience a demure, sophisticated look. The same with bridal gowns. Understood?"

I got serious and lost my smile. I just replied, "Yes, Ma'am.”

I behaved myself with the bridesmaid dresses. Jean helped me out of my first bridal gown, a sparkling, beaded sheath dress, and while her back was turned, I slipped on a garter without her noticing. My second gown was a long-sleeved dress that had a long wide skirt flared out with several petticoats.

I walked a little slower this time, and as I stood in the center for the pictures, I suddenly reached down and hiked up the skirts and adjusted the garter, much to the delight of the audience and the photographers. When I returned to the backroom, Ms. LaRue was livid.

"Just stick to the plan. Danielle, you're making me very angry."

I just smiled and nodded as Jean helped me out of the dress and into another one. The last two dresses completed my portion of the show. I put on my pink shirtdress and heels, and Madge drove me back to the store where I changed clothes. Madge warned me as I left.

"Tomorrow, you best behave yourself out there. You never know what Ms. LaRue will do if you should screw up again."

I smiled at Madge. "Yes, I know. I just wanted to have a little fun out there.”

Ms. LaRue stayed out late. Back home, I ate supper alone and read the paper. I got to thinking about what I had done. What had made Ms. LaRue so mad? I was just acting a little more girly. Like I had seen professional models do in clips from the fashion shows on TV, I thought if I had a little fun with the audience, they might like it. What was she afraid of? Maybe more people would buy from us? No, of course not. Would more people inquire about my services?

Hmmm, now there was a thought. Maybe someone who would offer more money?

Aah! Was she afraid she was going to lose me to a competitor? I began to think there was more to this than I initially imagined. With possession of photos and negatives, they had control over me to some degree, but I was in control when I stepped out on the runway, and they were powerless.  By becoming more in demand as Danielle, they would have to surrender more control in order to keep me employed, selling their line with my image.

Sunday's show went smoothly. I behaved myself except for a barely perceptible wiggle here and there. I did pull the garter trick again, just for spite. Judging by the flashes from the cameras, at least twice as many this time, I knew I had drawn more attention to myself than the dress I was wearing. I was quite happy with myself as I walked off the stage for the last time.

Ms. LaRue was not in the back when I got there. Neither Madge nor Jean said anything as they helped me change. I rode back to the store in silence. I went through the pink gift bag and found half a dozen business cards from photographers. The free beauty supplies I gave to Jean and went home.

I felt good. I had shown Ms. LaRue that I wasn’t going to be taken advantage of. If they were going to make money off Danielle's image, then I was going to get a piece of the pie!

I ate a light supper and then went through the business cards. One was from Rochester, MN; Three were from California, one from L A, the other two from San Francisco, and the last two were from Chicago. I was curious about each one, of course. This sudden interest in me was flattering, and I wanted to talk to each of them.

I was certain the two from San Francisco had some affiliation with the store since the chain was based there. But the others had the word "independent" on their cards, indicating they could freelance. I mulled over whom to contact and when. It would be easier to start with the Rochester photographer since it was closer. I decided to wait a while and see how things went when I got back to the store. If there was going to be any trouble, I figured it would surface the first day I was back.

On Monday morning, Ms. LaRue wasn’t around when I woke up and made breakfast. When I reported for work, I learned that she was out of town on business. I did some stock work. One of the sales girls in formal apparel told me orders had just started to come in, and they would know by the end of the week just what kind of a season they might have. I finished my cleaning that evening and went home.

My school work was going great, but the swim team wasn't doing so well. I had done well in all my races, but our team had dropped in the standings, and overall, we had slipped to fifth place, and it looked as if we wouldn't be going to state finals again this year. I was now at a trim 130 pounds, and I was eating healthier and feeling much better than I had ever felt before in my life.

At least that part of my life was good!

There were about two months of school left, and I hadn't made a choice about what I was going to do in life yet. I liked my computer course, and the business course and there was good money in computer programming, maybe not as good in business. But I wasn't too thrilled about the prospect of spending the rest of my life sitting behind a desk. I was making more in a weekend wearing dresses than I was making in a month, working at the store.

Those business cards were still on my desk at home, and I thought maybe I should give them a call and see what they were interested in having me do. I decided to wait a little while longer. I would be eighteen in May. I would make the contacts then and see what was out there for me as Danielle.

The summer stock had been moving pretty well, and orders were up for our new formal apparel lines. I was glad to be back home in familiar surroundings and sleeping in my own bed.

A week after getting back to normal, I was eating my lunch when I noticed a retail trade magazine had been left on the table. The page was open to an article entitled “Live Mannequins, The New Rage.” I began reading it; on the second page, our store was not only mentioned, but there was a picture of me with three other models in the store window from when we had our prom preview window display. Our names weren’t given, but both Ms. Verdot and Ms. LaRue were quoted about the increase in sales figures. I was engrossed in the article and didn’t see Ms. LaRue walk into the lunchroom.

“I see you are reading about our success,” she said.

“Yes, I am. It seems the stores are doing very well. How is the grand opening in Rochester, MN?” I asked.

“Splendid. Sales are over and above our expectations. I need you to work in the shoe department this weekend. There won’t be enough stock work to keep you busy, and one of the girls has called in sick. You know the stock and size system as well as anyone, so just be helpful and try to make a sale.”

She turned and left before I could say anything. I had gotten better at selling shoes, though I was no expert, but after familiarizing myself with the various styles and types, I was confident about finding what the customer was looking for. I was relieved that was all she had on her mind.

Maybe my mannequin days were over, but I wasn’t certain of anything at this point.

I sold shoes Saturday and Sunday. I found most women were easy to deal with, though a few would try anybody’s patience. I left the shoe department at four each day to do my regular cleanup chores. The weekend had been good for sales. Our store had earned a good reputation by offering women style and quality at competitive prices.

I was working Monday evening on the week I turned eighteen, a notice on the bulletin board announced the completion of the new Rochester store. It was located not far from the original but was almost twice the size. There was to be a grand opening soon.

On Tuesday, I finished school and went home.

Ms. LaRue was waiting for me and said, “Happy birthday; let’s celebrate and go out for the evening.”

I thought it was a great idea. I went downstairs, took a shower, and changed into a really great-looking red party dress with matching red heels and a handbag.

Ms. LaRue took me out to that fancy French restaurant, and we were given our seats.  Once again, I was looking through the beautiful menu and picked out an entree that I thought I would like.  We had a delicious meal together and talked about all kinds of things.  I told her school was almost done, and if I did well in the exams, I would probably be graduating with honors this year.  She asked me if I had decided on what I was going to do next with my life.  I told her I was thinking of getting the SRS procedure so I would be more comfortable as a girl. At the same time, I was thinking of getting implants since my boobs seemed to have stopped growing at a B cup.  As far as a career went, I was still going over my options.

Ms. LaRue smiled and told me she would make arrangements for me to go for the surgeries once school was finished. As we were finishing our meals, the waiting staff came over to our table with a little cake and candles and sang Happy Birthday to me.  I blushed profusely.  Ms. LaRue and I shared the cake with coffee, and we ended the evening by seeing a movie.

The rest of the week went by uneventfully.  I worked my regular shifts on the weekend.  On the next week, I came to work Monday night to find a note on my time card to report to Ms. LaRue right away.  Something told me this wasn’t about shoes. I walked through the store to the front stairwell and went up to her office. She met me at the door.

“Come in, Danielle, and sit down.” I took my seat and waited as she placed a file in the cabinet behind her and then sat down.

“What you were reading in the paper last week about the live mannequins is now going to be a new feature, that will now be a permanent part of all our stores.  Our Rochester store is continuing its monthly grand opening sale with a live mannequin display this weekend. All the other stores will be doing the same thing with our summer sale items.

“I want you here at eight am Saturday to model summer dresses. You will spend part of the time in the window and part of the time walking amid the customers. The first hour from nine to ten and the last hour, four to five, will be your window time. The balance of your time, you will be seated in the clothing department, and you will periodically walk among the customers, showing off your dress and accessories. Jackie and Shirley will be here as well. Both girls said they are delighted to be working with you again.

“You have Friday night off so you can get your beauty sleep. Report to Jean Saturday and this time follow Jean’s instructions to the letter.”

I replied with a yes, Ma’am, and walked back to the loading area to begin my work.

The week dragged by without much to do. Friday night, I had my usual soak and shave. Saturday morning, I reported to Jean. She stepped out of the salon as I undressed and put on a pink bra and panties. I applied pink blusher and lipstick, then applied pink nail polish to my finger and toenails.  After I put on a pink shirtdress and stepped into pink four-inch heel open-toed sandals, Jean came back in and zipped me up. She chose a dark brown wig, and after I put it on, she handed me a matching purse and a large floppy sun hat.

Jackie and Shirley were waiting for me in the women’s department as I walked to the front of the store. Both girls were smiling as I walked towards them.

“Hi Danielle!” said Jackie. “You look terrific. Betty is right. Pink is definitely your color!”

Both girls laughed as we headed towards the side door that led to the window display.

I said nothing as I walked up the short steps and into the display area. I turned and smoothed my skirt as I sat down and crossed my legs. Jackie and Shirley did the same. Jean popped in and handed us big sunglasses to put on.

After an hour, we got up and walked back to the clothing department, where I walked among the few customers, showing off my dress. At the same time, the other two girls changed outfits and went back to the window.

Every hour, except for a brief lunch, we changed places and outfits. I answered a few customer questions about my clothes and their matching accessories. Five o’clock came, the day was over, and I could leave. I changed back into my dress and drove home.

The next day I wore a sleeveless pale blue sheath dress with black pumps and purse to start with and continued the round-robin changes with the girls, ending up with a mint green shirtdress and matching pumps and purse. Soon, I was done for the day, and I could clean up and go home.

"Good job again, Dannielle, thanks," said Jean as I left.

Monday afternoon, I came to work and wanted to see Ms. LaRue, but she had left for the day.

Anne, the receptionist, had a big smile for me too as I left.

I went into the back and started to work. I took some shoes out to the shoe department, then carried several bundles of dresses up the stairs to the formal apparel department. As I hung them on their racks, I could hear the two sales girls giggling behind the counter. I walked over to them, and we chatted for a bit. They were both new, and I introduced myself.

I walked back to the loading area. I cleaned up the back room and decided to take my break and drink a soda.

Two of the sales girls, one from lingerie and one from shoes, were chatting and were laughing about something as I walked in. They got up to leave as I sat down.  I said don’t leave on my account, but they just smiled and told me their break was over, and they had to get back to work.

That night I found a catalog in the mail from a school in Rochester, MN. I tossed it in a pile with several others I had gotten over the last month. I wrote out checks for some bills and then read the paper.

After a shower, I decided to go over those catalogs. They were all pretty similar though I didn't recall sending for one from any school in Rochester. I felt business was boring, and the computer industry was so volatile that neither one offered the career I would like. So, I saved the Rochester catalog for last, and after opening it, I knew why I hadn't remembered sending for it.

This school offered programs in the beauty and fashion industry. The programs offered were beautician, nail technician, make-up artist, fashion photographer, fashion design, and fashion merchandising. I was sure that one of the girls at the store had put my name and address on their mailing list.

I read through the course descriptions just for something to do. I knew I could never stand to work in a salon. That smell would drive me nuts. Like somebody had died in there, and they couldn't find them.

I had a little knowledge of women's clothing, but not designing them. I owned a small camera, but I had no interest in taking pictures for a living, so only one program remained. The course in fashion merchandising included some of the things I had already done, and my experience could probably save me some course credits. Since I was becoming more feminine, working in a feminine environment wasn’t sounding so bad since, duh, the store was a totally feminine environment. I placed the catalog on a shelf and went to bed.

The next day as I was cleaning out the desk, I remembered those business cards I had. I looked them over again. The only reason they were given to me was because they knew me as Danielle. I wondered if this might be the right time to call them. I tossed the three from California and the two from Chicago in the wastebasket and looked at the remaining one from Rochester, MN.

The card read "JENCO STUDIOS, Jenny Conte, independent photographer." I called the number and got an answering machine. I decided not to leave my name and number. I would call back later.