A light knock on the door woke me up.
“Jasmine, sweetie. I made coffee. You want one.”
“Morning Monica. Yes please, you really shouldn’t have.”
Monica entered with a cup in one hand, and clothes draped over the other arm.
“We need to get going soon so we can get a park at the mall.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Well you can’t keep wearing my shoes – they don’t fit. And you might as well get some clothes of your own.”
“I don’t know, Monica, I can’t really afford to buy a whole wardrobe of women’s clothes. Particularly as I’m, ya know, a guy!”
“Well you can’t keep wearing my clothes. And surely you’re not telling me you’re going to stop being Jasmine. You have so much fun as her – and I have so much fun with her.”
“Alright, I guess I could afford a pair of shoes and one dress.”
“And underwear.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“And a skirt.”
“Maybe.”
“And tights.”
“Suppose so.”
“And your own make-up.”
“Now you’re just getting carried away!”
“Come on, get ready,” Monica said, laying the clothes at the end of the bed.
“You might want to have a shower first – you’re a mess, sweetie!”
I finished my coffee, noting the red stain along the rim. I hadn’t cleaned myself off from the night before, merely untying my hair and stripping to my panties before climbing into bed.
In the shower I washed my hair with Monica’s shampoo and conditioning, and lathered my body in her body wash. The water felt odd washing down my hairless body. I looked like a child. My chest was really tender – probably a result of wearing a bra, I guessed.
I dried off and put on the clothes Monica had left me. A white bra and panties matched a white blouse. A dark denim A-line mini skirt completed the ensemble. I tied my hair back and looked in the mirror. I opened the cabinet and found Monica’s make up. I’d seen her do it a few times now – how hard can it be? My complexion is fortunately very good so I can get away without needing to cover up any blemishes. I applied xslot a thin line around my eyelids and gave my lashes a stroke or two or mascara. I added pale pink gloss to my lips. I was quite chuffed with my efforts.
“You finished in there?” Monica called.
“I think so.”
I entered the living room where Monica was lounging on the couch.
“You look gorgeous, Jazz” she said. “Wait, are you wearing make-up?”
“Um, yeah, I thought I’d give it a crack.”
“Well you nailed it. Are you sure you’re not a girl?”
“Well at the moment, I’m not sure at all!”
“Well, Jasmine, you definitely look like a girl. Come on let’s going shopping. I don’t think the heels you wore last night will work with what you’re wearing – you could wear your Vans – I’ll give you pair of knee-high white socks and you’ll look dead sexy!”
I was glad not to have to wear the heels – although I loved how they looked they killed my feet. It would be good to get a pair of my own. We hopped in my car, although Monica said she’d like to drive and so I obliged. We headed off to the next suburb over, the stereo blaring a pop hit, the pair of us girls singing along.
But all the while my mind was racing – what had happened last night? The air between us had been electric – but I can see why it was awkward for her. Shit, it was awkward for me! But I wanted her so bad. I couldn’t help but think – would we be together if I were a woman? And was that what I really wanted? And, come to think of it – was that what she wanted?
Monica found a park near the entrance and we entered the mall. We passed the men’s clothing story and sports apparel outlet I’d usually enter, and stepped into a fashionable women’s clothing store. I stopped at the door, nervously.
“What if they can tell? How will I try on the clothes?”
“Don’t worry sweetie, they’ll never know. I’ll stay with you all the time.”
We approached a rack of dresses. Monica reached in a held up a familiar black dress.
“OMG, we could be like sisters!”
“I xslot Giriş need that dress,” I said, failing to suppress a smile.
“I love your enthusiasm!”
We put aside the black dress, knowing the size as it was the same as hers. More dresses were added to the pile: A knee-length tartan smock dress, a white floral summer dress and a dark red skater dress. Skirts joined the dresses: A tight black pencil skirt, a white A-line mini, a grey check pleated mini. Monica even insisted I get some active wear (“we could go on runs and do pilates together!”), so gym gear joined the pile.
“Hey, this is all well and good, but I can’t afford all this,” I told Monica.
“I don’t mind paying half,” she said. “You can pay me back, I know you’re good for it.”
“No, I can’t …”
“I insist,” she interrupted.
Next door we found shoes: a black pair of ankle boots and two pairs of strappy heels (red and black), all in my size, one size larger than Monica’s. We continued in the mall, Monica insisted I get hair accessories: hair ties, an Alice band and scrunchies. We even bought me my own make-up, with the girl at the chemist only to happy to give me advice and apply it.
We then entered a lingerie store and my nerves returned. The shop assistant walked over and I felt exposed.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“My friend here has a hot date – and she wants to feel sexy for the big day,” Monica told her.
I turned bright red.
“Well how about these?” the shop assistant said, holding up a black set of lace underwear.
“Perfect,” Monica said.
Monica was like a child in a candy store, grabbing things off shelves and having them put aside.
“Do I need so many bras and knickers?” I asked her.
“Well there are seven days a week – so you need at least that.”
After half an hour Monica eventually exhausted the racks of underwear, and went to the counter to purchase the items.
“I’ve got this one – my gift to you.”
“Really?”
“I insist.”
“Thanks!”
We xslot Güncel Giriş left the lingerie store and made our way out of the mall. Monica stopped and grabbed my arm.
“We should treat ourselves!”
“You’ve treated my enough, honestly.”
“Let’s get our nails done!”
I couldn’t come up with a reason not to, so before long the smell of acetone filled the air as a young girl filed and polished my nails.
“We should get your ears pierced!” she said as we left.
“Um, I don’t think I can get away with that at work.”
“Rubbish. Plenty of guys have their lobes pierced.”
Once again, I found myself unable to argue with Monica’s logic. With two fresh studs lodged in my lobes Monica said I’ll have to get some jewellery to make the most of it. Fortunately the mall’s jewellers had a sale and I found some hoops and dangly ones I liked reasonably inexpensive.
“Hey Monica,” I said once we were back in the car.
“What’s up, Jazz?”
“Thanks for today. It’s been a blast.”
“You’re welcome. It’s so nice to have a girl to hang out with.”
As the weeks passed, I became Jasmine more often. Monica and I got along well when I was a guy, but we were just so much better friends when I was Jasmine. And as Monica was my best friend I wanted to be Jasmine as much as possible. I’d come home from work and get changed immediately. On Friday nights we’d go clubbing and on the weekends we’d go shopping. All my expendable income would go on Jasmine. Before long I had dozens of dresses, my drawers were full of bras and panties and I had more half a dozen heels (and even a naughty pair of knee-high boots!). Make-up was everywhere. You’d never believe my room belonged to a guy.
But I was still a guy, wasn’t I? For forty hours a week I was a guy, packing shelves, but outside of that, I was Jasmine. It became harder to tell what or who I was. I didn’t know anymore. I kept my nails and hair long and my body hair short. I was surprised no one at work noticed. I kept to myself, Monica was really my only friend. We were inseparable, just us two girls, Monica and Jasmine. The more time I spent with Monica, the more I had to be Jasmine. There was no going back.
And then I noticed my body had really changed.