Remember Me?
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

She looked at me in a special way, as if to say that she knew me, or she wanted to. She had already been pointed out to me as being the boss’s wife. I guess she was what I might have expected from a guy who asks so much of his sales force – nothing less than the best.

She was tall and carried herself like a duchess, in a gown which showed off a rack to die for and the slash in her long dress showed that she had legs to match – full and shapely. Her dark hair was piled in the back in some sophisticated hairdo, but it left you guessing that it could lie across a pillow in a cascade of sweet smelling curls if you were lucky enough to take her to bed.

She wore nothing around her smooth neck and just simple earrings. The only jewel was the gigantic diamond on the ring next to her wedding band. Something they could afford and few else.

But that look seemed to will me to approach her, so I did. All I needed to do first was to urge myself to be cautious. I could not afford to make any mistakes with the wife of the boss.

“I am guessing that you don’t remember me?” she said, before I had a chance to say anything.

“It seems hard to believe it, but you are right,” I said. I am in sales and charm and compliments come quicker than drool at a barbeque.

“We went to school together, but I looked different in those days,” she said. “You still look the same. I saw your name on the list. I am not surprised that you are selling for my husband. You are a natural I would think. I tried the same thing when I started working for him, but I was destined for other things.”

“It seems that you have closed the deal of a lifetime,” I said, nodding at the ring on her finger as she raised a glass of champagne to her lips. “But you will have to remind me of your name so I can think back to school days.”

“My name is Elaine, but at school I was Alan,” she said. There was not a hint of shame or embarrassment on her strikingly beautiful face, which might explain my momentary confusion. It took more time than it should have for me to come to the realization that I was talking to a woman who had not always been a woman, and in fact had been a young man I knew quite well, or thought I had.

“That’s incredible,” I almost stammered. “You look … fantastic!”

The boss was married to a transwoman?! I had heard he had been married before and had a family, so he would not need a woman to bear children, but it seemed as if he could have his choice of any woman. I had to add something. I said – “The boss is a lucky man.”

“I’m a lucky woman,” she said. “But I think you know that. I think you have a whole lot of questions but you are too afraid to ask, so let me give you some answers before I send you off to get me some more champagne. Yes, I am a total woman. Yes, I have always wanted to be one. Yes, I was still living as a man when I met him, but he saw through the disguise. Yes, he encouraged me. No, there were no strings attached – we simply fell in love. We are still in love. No, money is not a factor.”

“Well actually you have answered every question except the one I intended to ask,” I said.

“Go on then,” she said, her look of exasperation turning to a smile.

“I just wanted to ask how you managed to hide away the beautiful woman that you are, during all those years we were at school together.”

“I will be sure to tell my husband that you are a keeper,” she said. “I have no doubt that you could sell anything with charm like that.”

The End

© Maryanne Peters 2023