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Viewing Note: This story should be viewed with the Edwardian Script ITC font installed on your Windows platform in the c:/Windows/Fonts directory. Microsoft Word installs this font automatically.

Editor's Note: Jenny Walker has graciously allowed me to represent her original story No Half Measures on BigCloset. Originally published on BigCloset Classic, this story segment was migrated over to BigCloset TopShelf on 2005-03-17. Due to the original story presentation format being unsuitable and unwieldy for most portable devices (each part being over 1 meg in length), the story is now being broken up into single chapters for easier reading. The original Movements will be indicated on their respective chapters. The first chapter of each Movement will retain the original comments and read hits so as to preserve them for the author.

Sephrena Lynn Miller

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Chapter 18
 
 
I had rang Jon over the weekend to let him know I was back and to arrange for him to come round again the following week. He arrived mid morning on Monday.

"Hey Cara, how was the holiday?"

"Good, thanks."

He nodded, "Get up to anything exciting?"

If only he knew. "Nah, sort of quiet, relaxing, you know. You been up to anything?"

He shrugged, "Did the last two gigs with the guys last week. To be honest, I'm glad to see the back of them. They were starting to get to me."

I grinned, "I can imagine."

Jon knelt down and got his guitar out, "Let's play?"

That was the end of the small talk it seemed. We played through the five songs a few times to ensure that we still knew where we were going with them. We did, and it was tight. It was good to play again. Although I found I had to be more controlled with my guitar. If I forgot myself, it could knock against my breasts and cause a shooting painful reminder to me to be more careful. I did it again and winced.

"What's wrong?" Jon asked. He had noticed my expression.

"Uhh nothing really," I thought quickly, "I think I may have strained something."

"All that exercise you are now doing. Always said exercise was over rated," he replied.

I took the offered way out, "Yeah I guess it could be that." Although part of me sort of wanted to tell Jon what I had done, I felt it wouldn't exactly help. Things were stilted enough without me making him feel even more uncomfortable. I reckoned that he would work it out in time. Or not, but it probably didn't matter. Over lunch I tried to engage in the sort of normal conversation we once enjoyed.

"So Jon, seeing anyone at the moment?"

"Huh?" he said looking up with an almost startled expression on his face. I repeated the question.

"Err," he seemed flustered, "well, no not really. Not for the last month or two actually."

I grinned and teased, "What the mighty Jon Peters without a girlfriend. What has gone wrong with the world?"

He was rising to the bait, "There's nothing wrong. Been busy you know, and what are you trying to imply? That I'm some sort of womaniser?"

I shrugged and feigned innocence, "Oh nothing. Just strange, you don't normally seem to have any problem finding a girl." I looked up, "Hmm, maybe it's age. Is your hair thinning a little on top?"

He self consciously ran a hand through his sandy fair hair, "Hey, no way. Might be receding a little bit but that's all." He realised I was teasing and he laughed, "Nice try. I'm not going to rise to it." He paused and then raised an eyebrow, "Why? You seeing anyone at the moment then Miss Cupid?"

I smiled beatifically, "No, but then I was always the one who had the trouble getting the dates, unlike you."

He snorted, "I don't see it being much of a problem for you from now on."

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow, "Why not?"

The casual easy atmosphere that had developed with the familiar banter evaporated almost instantly. "Umm, well...you know. With the way you look and all now." He resumed eating.

After lunch we began to work on a new song. Jon had put together a few chords into a catchy riff on the guitar. It had a good beat and we played around with it and tweaked it about. He didn't have any lyrics or any ideas, but we soon had the music for a verse and chorus. I was humming along trying to find a melody and tried a few things. He made suggestions here and there and eventually, with me playing it out on keyboards, we had a soulful melody line. Still no lyrics though.

"No ideas at all?" I asked.

He shrugged, "Nope. You know me, not much on the lyrical front. You got anything in mind?"

I sat and thought, "I might have. You keep playing it over and over and I'll see if anything comes to me." He didn't have to be asked twice. I sat down with a pen and blank piece of paper. A vague concept had been floating around in my head. It had sort of been there over the last few weeks but never materialised. I closed my eyes and tried to focus my mind. The idea had been sparked off by going home to my family over Christmas.

The first thing I decided upon was the title. Normally it came halfway through writing lyrics or even at the very end. However this song was called 'Coming home' from the very first words. Now to try and find the rest of the words. Jon played, I thought, I scribbled and scored out. I listened, I hummed, I mused. I screwed up pages and threw them on the floor. I screwed up my eyes but decided not to add them to the paper pile. The words began to come and I slowly but painstakingly started to make progress. At last I felt I had it and nodded to Jon.

He stopped playing, "About flaming time. My hand is about to drop off."

I smiled, "Hey now, writing a song is a creative process, it's almost like creating a child."

He retorted, "Yeah it felt like it took nine months too."

I stuck my tongue out at him. He laughed, "You look like such a spoilt little girl when you do that."

I inclined my head, "So you don't want to hear it then?"

He grinned, "Less with the huffing, more with the singing." I obliged.
 
 

"A small world, outside the great unknown,  A life lived in close confines,  Until you leave, set out on your own,  Follow your soul's designs      Been so long, yet the time runs by,  Don't even realise it's gone,  Weeks pass, the years they fly,  I'm always moving on:      Same old faces,  Familiar places,  As I drive down the main street,  Corners where I  Laughed and cried  Shades of memories bitter sweet  No matter how long I've been gone  No matter how far I may roam  Wherever my sun may set and dawn  In my heart, I'm coming home.      Though you're away, a tie still binds,  To the world you once had  In quiet moments, the stillness finds,  More of the good than the bad,      Try and resist, the ever present pull,  A compass needle pointing north,  In the battle, know your heart will rule,  Emotions from the depths call forth:      Same old faces,  Familiar places,  As I drive down the main street,  Corners where I  Laughed and cried  Shades of memories bitter sweet  No matter how long I've been gone  No matter how far I may roam  Wherever my sun may set and dawn  In my heart, I'm coming home."

 
 
After a brief musical solo, I repeated the chorus to finish. I looked over at Jon expectantly, wanting to see what he thought of it. He was doing his poker-faced thing that he often did. He was going to make me ask. "Well?" I asked, "What do you think of it?"

He nodded slowly and pursed his lips together. "Maybe it's a good thing," he said enigmatically.

"Maybe what's a good thing?" I wasn't sure if he was talking about the lyrics or something else.

He grinned, "Maybe it's a good thing you are so messed up if it makes you write lyrics like that."

I gasped and threw my pen at him, "Hey! That's not fair." I paused, "So you really like it then?"

He nodded and laughed, "Yeah, it's great. Seriously you have no idea how good it feels to be doing music that involves more than 3 chords and words of one syllable."

I smiled, "Did you appreciate the way that I alternate it from the general second person of the verse to personalising it in the specific first person in the chorus?"

He laughed, "Oh yes, sure. I really spotted that. Heck, what do I know? It sounds good to me and I think we have ourselves another song." I agreed.
 

*          *          *
 
"What are you looking at?" Jools asked as she looked over my shoulder. I was sitting at the kitchen table reading.

"Hmm? Oh nothing really."

"C'mon, what is it?"

"Hey don't be so nosy!" I pulled the paper towards me. "If you must know, I'm looking at the local jobs section."

She gave me one of her looks, "Huh? What the hell for?"

I shrugged, "A few reasons. One of which being money."

"Money? Are you losing it? Sure you got forty grand as an advance."

I nodded, "Yes fifteen of which was spent on my car and twenty of which was spent on these." I cupped my breasts.

Her eyes widened and she gave a low whistle, "Twenty grand? Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so. It doesn't come cheap and to get it done privately and discreetly in Geneva carries a premium price tag."

"Twenty grand," she mused, "are you sure it was wise?"

I shrugged, "Yes, I guess so. I know it's a lot of money, but I think it's worth it. I mean you have no idea..." I stopped as I wasn't sure if I should go on.

Jools sat down beside me and prompted gently, "What? I have no idea what?"

I hesitated and looked away for a few moments before turning back to her. "You have no idea how much more normal they make me feel."

She screwed her face up, "Normal?"

I sighed, "I didn't think you would understand."

"Try me," she encouraged.

I thought for a moment, "I know I look good, but I've always felt like a pretender. Like it's a total charade and I could get caught out any moment. I don't like that feeling. I like the new me, I like the way I look - I'm not ashamed to admit that. But with wearing the breast forms, I felt like it wasn't quite real." I paused and smiled, half to myself, "But now, it's different." I looked at her, "You have no idea how much more feminine I feel by having my own breasts. I feel more secure, it's like it's less of a pretence, it's the real me. I don't know if that makes any sense."

Jools nodded thoughtfully, "It does. I mean if you view breasts as a fairly major characteristic of femininity. I don't think I really thought about it from your point of view though." She paused, "Are you OK Cara? I mean, this is all so strange and new, are you alright inside? You would tell me?"

I smiled at her and reached for her hand, "Jools, if I could tell anyone it would be you. But yes, I'm alright. It's still difficult. There are parts that are grand, I mean the whole appearance, clothes and makeup stuff. It's fine and I hate to have to admit it, but I love it. I sometimes think I should find it harder adjusting to how I look, but I don't. It is inside though that is more difficult." I sighed, "I can look the part, talk the part, act the part. That's just it; I guess it still is an act. Deep down inside, I'm not really sure about some things." I let my voice trail off.

"Like?" she prompted. I shrugged, not wanting to continue. She went on herself, "Like how you feel about others? Men? Women?"

I looked over at her and gave a wan smile, "Yeah, something like that."

Jools squeezed my hand back, "I don't know what I can say. But I'm sure given time, things will become clearer."

"I hope so," I murmured.

Jools smiled brightly, "Anyways, back to the question at hand, you don't really need to get a job for the money do you?"

I shrugged, "I've got a few thousand left yes, but it could be some time until there is any income from the recording deal, if any at all. It will still be a few months until a single is released if we get to that stage."

"But sure, there aren't many expenses what with you living here and all?"

I smiled. Jools was hard to divert. Like a dog with a bone when she got hold of something. I tried to explain it to her, "It's not just money. In fact, that's a minor part of it to tell you the truth. I'm looking for some experiences. You know, like as a woman. I've lived my whole life up to now as a man. I know about that, I've been there and done that. Now I'm trying to live as a woman, and it's all new. It's unfamiliar. I'm not used to it. I don't have much to draw on. I need some real life experience. I figure a job will give me that."

"What sort of job had you in mind?"

I sighed, "Well there won't be many opportunities for me. I mean, I'm not qualified for much. The thing I thought I would be most likely to get a job in was something like waitressing or the like."

"Wouldn't that be sort of scary?"

I laughed, "Yes it is. Don't make it worse. But I need to face these things. I can't go on living in this cocoon, all protected and sheltered. As much as I would like to. Pretty soon, if things work out, I'm going to be out there in the public eye. I'll have to interact and react to a lot of things. I just think it would be good if I could get used to meeting new people and interacting with them as Cara."

Jools nodded her head from side to side, "I think I can see what you are getting at. I'm not convinced, but if you want to go for it, fine."

I had circled a few potential adverts and I had planned to go and check them out the next day. I was a bit concerned about how they would view my lack of experience, but I didn't have much option. I could apply for sales positions in various shops, but to be honest the waitress option fitted in better with my plans. I could continue to work on the songs and music during the day and then work a few evenings a week.
 

*          *          *
 
And so it was that I set out into the city centre the next afternoon on my quest. I had spent late morning and early afternoon with Jon as we played, sang and experimented. I made my excuses and told him I was heading out looking for a job. He seemed bemused and puzzled as to why I would want to do this. I didn't want to get into it. The way we were communicating, or rather not communicating, I had little hope that he would understand my motivations. So I told him I needed the cash and yes I had blown most of my share of the advance. He wanted to know how on earth I could have spent so much money. I told him that the car and all the clothes, cosmetics and jewellery I was compulsively buying didn't come cheap. He seemed surprised, but that brought the conversation to a halt.

I had agonised over what to wear and had settled on smart and conservative. Well sort of conservative, but not dowdy. I wore a black suit with a knee-length skirt and white satin blouse. I styled my hair and added a little more than my usual daytime makeup. Attractive, but not over the top. I grabbed my list that I had drawn up and rode the Tube into the centre of London. It was all pretty much a waste of time. First I tried an upscale French restaurant. The manager was polite, but when I heard I had no experience, he lost interest. It was the same story with all the places I visited. No experience, no job. I felt disheartened as I stood in the rush hour crush on the Tube. Perhaps I had aimed too high. I had only selected really nice restaurants. The sort of places that were probably too nice for me to even want to eat in. I went back to the drawing board when I got home and lowered my sights a little.

The next day, I tried again. This time, I had gone for a less conservative approach. I went with a fitted white bodysuit, my black and white checked miniskirt and black suede boots. As I looked at my reflection in the mirror before leaving I again marvelled at how sexy I could look. I was feeling more and more comfortable about my looks and attractiveness. Sufficiently confident in my appearance, I tried to drum up optimism and I set out with a positive attitude. It didn't last too long as yet again I faced rejection after rejection. Steak house restaurants, casual diners, Italian restaurants - they all still wanted someone with experience.

After my latest kick in the teeth, a Thai restaurant in the Mayfair area, I meandered aimlessly. It was a bitterly cold February afternoon and I pulled my coat more tightly around me. I was going to give it up as a bad idea when I walked past another restaurant and saw the sign. 'Waitresses required - sense of humour more important than experience.' I perked up at that and took a closer look at the restaurant. It was called 'Trin's Dins'. I had heard of it. It was a restaurant-bar-club based on the St. Trinian's school movies theme. The waiters were supposed to be hunky men in school shorts and the waitresses dressed in the sexy school girl outfits made famous by the movies. I sort of recoiled as I thought it wasn't exactly what I was aiming for. Then I thought, 'what the heck, they would probably reject me anyway, why not give it a try?' So I went in and asked for the manager.

I sat and waited and watched the staff preparing for opening time. I noticed some of the waitresses in their white blouses. Varying degrees of open buttons, some tied over a bare lower abdomen. The skirts, if they could be called that, were quite short - again some shorter than others. Stockings and suspenders were often in full view. The waiters didn't even wear shirts! Just a tie hanging loosely around their necks. Their trousers were tight and some even wore shorts. Although it was February, it was very warm inside the restaurant. I imagined it had to be given the scanty uniforms. I had actually decided that I wouldn't stay and was just getting up to leave when my name was called, "Miss Evans?" I had decided to give my real name as I would need a valid National Insurance number if I got a job. I turned slowly and found myself face to face with a smartly dressed man in a business suit. He was of medium height, slightly balding and must have been in his forties. "Miss Evans?" he repeated.

I nodded and smiled, "Yes that's me."

His smile broadened as he took in my appearance. He held out his hand, "I'm Jerry Kingston, the manager here. I hear you are looking for a job?"

I didn't know what to do or say. I didn't feel I could just turn and walk away now. "Err yes, that's right. I saw the sign outside."

He nodded, "Yes we need waitresses. Why don't you come into my office and we'll talk."

I followed him into his office. It wasn't ostentatious, just business-like. He sat down behind the desk and indicated for me to sit opposite him. I was careful to smooth my skirt down as I sat and was aware of his eyes on my legs. He looked up and met my eyes unashamedly. He smiled, "Now what experience do you have?"

I shrugged and smiled apologetically, "I'm afraid I have none. So I'm probably wasting your time."

He shook his head, "Experience isn't necessary. As an established restaurant, we also feel it is our place to offer training and give people a foothold on the experience ladder. What's more important is if we think you would fit into our staff family."

I raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

He smiled, "Well, we are fairly relaxed; the staff get to work and enjoy themselves at the same time. The clientele come here for good traditional food, a bit of a laugh and opportunity to relax and wind down. Hence the sign outside, a good sense of humour is more important." He paused, "You've seen the uniform?"

I shifted a little uncomfortably in my seat, "Umm yes. It's quite revealing."

He inclined his head, "Do you have a problem with that?" I don't know what it was. It was something in the way that he said it that made it sound like a challenge. I rose to it.

I looked him straight in the eye and smiled, "Not at all."

He grinned, "Look I'm not one for interviews and references and all that. I pride myself on being a good judge of character. What say we give you a try? Two weeks probation and see how you get on?"

I didn't know what to say. I'd just been offered a job that I wasn't sure I wanted. However given my lack of choices at that moment I made a snap decision. "OK, that sounds grand, when do I start?"

He laughed, "That's what I like. Enthusiasm and drive will get you far in this place. Call by tomorrow afternoon and ask for Jenna. She'll sort out the admin stuff and arrange a schedule for you. I'll make sure an...appropriate...uniform is ready for you." He winked and stood.

I felt a little uneasy but stood and shook the hand he offered again. "Don't disappoint me now Nicola."

I smiled nervously, "Umm I won't Mr. Kingston."

He held onto my hand longer than was necessary, "Call me Jerry please."

"Err OK - Jerry."
 

*          *          *
 
It was a cold and frosty morning but I had decided I needed to get back out to some exercise. I had missed it. I had barely a twinge from my new breasts now and the bruising was in the fading away stages. So I set off with my new 'friends' firmly held in check by my sports bra. When I entered Wormholt Park I saw Kate at the far side. As soon as she saw me she ran straight over to me.

"Hi," she said breathlessly with a smile on her face. "Where've you been stranger? Thought you'd given up on our morning sessions."

I had already thought out an answer, "Sorry Kate, I've had a terrible bout of the 'flu and am only really feeling up to getting out for a run now."

She grimaced, "Yeah, there's a lot of it going about at the moment I hear."

I felt bad lying to her, but what was I going to do - tell her the truth? Well Kate, I'm really a man, or was and so I needed to nip off to Geneva to get me a pair of real breasts. Yes, I could see that one being understood and well received.

"Let's run," I said, "but go easy on me, I'm out of practice."

And so we ran. At a reasonable pace though. I felt my lungs burning and my legs complaining. Fitness sure is a fair weather friend. Ignore her for any length of time and she will drop you just like that. I was happy to let Kate do the talking as I had no breath to spare for such non-essential bodily functions. Before long I had caught up on the gossip from her office and who was doing what with who and the like.

"And the jerk had the nerve to ask me out for dinner on Friday night. I mean, we've both been working there for a few years. I know he's married and he knows I know that but yet he thinks he is such hot stuff that it's like I'd be privileged to go out with him. Men? I mean, do they have any perception of reality?"

I figured the question was rhetorical and just laughed sympathetically. We were sitting on a bench having limbered down after several circuits of the park. Kate looked at me, "So Cara, what about you? Seeing anyone at the moment?"

I felt like the proverbial rabbit in the headlights, "Umm no. Not at the moment."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "Really? I'm surprised. I'd have thought you'd be fighting the men off."

I laughed and waved a hand at her. "'Fraid not. To be honest, I'm too busy I guess. What with the song writing and practising, not much time left for a social life. And it's not likely to get better; I'm starting a new part time job."

"Oh? What are you doing?"

"Well, nothing dramatic. A bit of waitressing a few evenings a week to keep some cash coming in."

"Where are you working?"

"Trin's Dins. Doubt you'd have heard of it."

She laughed. "Oh I've heard of it. Been there once or twice too. So are you going to be wearing the regulation uniform?"

I grinned and felt myself flush a little, "Well yeah."

She nudged me, "Now that is something I think I might have to see." I wasn't sure if I imagined it or not, but I thought I saw her give me a wink.
 

*          *          *
 
As luck would have it, I got one of the more revealing uniforms at Trin's Dins. I wasn't sure if it was just random or if someone decided it specifically. However Jenna left me in no doubt that what I received was my uniform and personal modifications were not to be tolerated. She was a stern looking lady in her late forties. She might have been pretty once, but it was hard to tell as I had yet to see her smile. She was business-like, direct and expected to have her orders carried out to the letter of the law. I was given the run down on what I was to do, what I was not to do. What I was to tolerate from the diners and what was not tolerated. For example, I was to accept the odd lewd comment or gesture as being part of the job. I was not to offer 'any services not on the menu' as she put it. She sent me into the women's staff changing room to put on my uniform.

It wasn't a matter of being told how many buttons to leave undone on my blouse, there simply were no buttons where the top three should have been! A few weeks ago, there just would have been no way I could have worn it, but now it provided anyone who glanced casually at me with a more than adequate view of my cleavage. The blouse had ties at the bottom and when I tied them together my navel and lower abdomen were also put on view. Black fishnet stockings and black suspenders of course and an almost indecently short black skirt. I tried in vain to tug the skirt down lower, but it still barely covered my stocking tops. To finish off I had black four-inch pumps. I looked at myself in the mirror of the changing room and was shocked at how much of my body was on view. I looked sexy without a doubt. Far too sexy though. It was like a teenage boy's fantasy and I reckoned that was the image the restaurant was probably playing on.

I went out and met the rest of the staff. I felt very self-conscious. Most of the girls were nice except for one who seemed quite aloof. Mandy was her name. The guys were a little too enthusiastic in their greetings and I had to suppress a shiver as I became aware of them looking me up and down. In a sense, I could understand. A few months back if I had been in their position and saw someone looking like I did now and wearing what I wore now I would probably have been unable to stop myself paying more attention than courtesy permitted.

Jenna assigned us all our tables for the evening and gave us what I imagined she felt was a pep talk, but was more like a gruff sergeant major barking out orders before a parade. Her finishing line to us all summed it all up. "Go out there, work hard, look good and for god's sake don't screw up."

I had been told to shadow Linda for the evening to learn the ropes. Linda was a young woman about my age and of medium height with chestnut brown hair. Quite pretty but not a traffic stopper if you know what I mean. She was friendly though and for this I was glad.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"Totally," I replied.

"Don't sweat it. We all were at the start."

"How long have you been waitressing?" I asked.

"A year or two. And I've been here for about 8 months now. It's not too bad. Pays better than most. But you have to watch out for the tipsy ones. Just because they've paid for their food, some of them think they are paying for extra attentions. It's a hard balance to strike. You don't want them all over you, but you want to be nice enough to them to get a good tip."

I was grateful for this advice but as Linda was talking to me I noticed Mandy glaring at me from the other end of the bar. I whispered to Linda, "What's up with Mandy? She's looking at me as if I was her worst enemy."

Linda gave a little chuckle. "Oh heavens, you probably don't realise. Have you noticed the slight differences between all our uniforms?"

I shrugged, "Well yes, some have longer skirts - well more like less short skirts. Some have higher heels than others, less revealing blouses. Why?"

She smiled and squeezed my arm, "Honey, you've got the sexiest uniform here if you hadn't noticed and yesterday it was Mandy's."

She was right. I hadn't really noticed, but mine was the most revealing with the shortest skirt and the highest heels. I didn't get the significance of this though and asked her.

"Well Nicola, we reckon it comes from Jerry. He dictates who gets to wear what uniform. It's almost like to encourage us to be sexier. Bottom line, most of the diners are male. Give them good food from sexy waitresses and they'll be back. We think Jerry has a 'ladder of sexiness' and moves us up and down as he sees fit. Mandy has just been knocked off top spot by you and she doesn't like it."

"But why me? I mean I've only started."

Linda looked at me as if I had two heads, "Have you looked in the mirror recently Nicola honey? Jerry may be a lot of things but he isn't blind." I tried to pass off her comment but she ignored me and continued, "A word to the wise also. I don't know for sure, but it's rumoured that being Jerry's favourite isn't necessarily the best thing. Just watch him that's all I'm saying."

I tried to get more information out of her but she wasn't forthcoming. It was opening time and Jenna was frowning at us. Or maybe I should say, frowning more than normal. Things started slow but soon picked up. I followed Linda around and paid close attention to how she took the orders, delivered them and then handled the customers. It was a Friday night and it was busy. She introduced me to each table she was covering as Nicola the new girl. I would generally wave shyly and smile.

Most of our tables were male diners and I began to get used to being eyed up and down. Used to it in the sense of it being a familiar occurrence rather than used to it in the not minding it sense. Even though I wasn't specifically working the tables, some of the customers gave me a tip also. Before I knew it, things were winding down and it was closing time. Eventually the last few customers were persuaded to move on and we got things cleared up. I was exhausted and my feet were killing me.

I thanked Linda for her patience and instruction but she told me to think nothing of it. We headed back into the staff changing room. I yawned, "I don't know how you can be bothered changing again at the end of your shift."

One of the other girls gave a hollow laugh. Irene I think her name was. "Oh yes, you really think it would be a good idea to head home at 1 a.m. on a weekend dressed as you are now?" I grinned sheepishly and acknowledged that she had a point, a very good point. And so I changed and headed out to grab a cab home before falling into bed.

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