Definitely should have stayed in bed

 © Nick B May 2007 from an idea by Kristina L S

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This is the follow-on from Kristina L S's story that no-one wanted to finish where it was. I just hope I've done it justice. Oh and sorry for the typo KRISTINA!

For those of you who didn't read the first part, I suggest you do that before copping a load of this one. Anyway, Bill has now to attend the dinner at the posh restaurant...

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Thanks to Kris for okaying this and giving me the chance, oh, and the proofreading/embellishments!

Disclaimer:
This is another of those fictional stories and no chance was this real.

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Gillian called Bill and Dianne into the office.

“Am I the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on here?” she asked quietly. “Would one of you like to bring me up to speed?” Her tone was reasonable, a bit like a Rottwieller is reasonable when you try and take its bone away. It was a definite BOSS look and tone.

“Sorry Gillian, but it was an accident,” said Bill, looking at the shoes he was wearing and wondering why the office floor hadn’t opened up to swallow him and just how did he get here?

“Dead funny though!” said Dianne. Bill shot a look of daggers at Dianne. “Well it was… sort of.”

Gillian had perfected the Roger Moore acting technique, as her eyebrows once again shot up.

“I still don’t know what this is about,” she said dangerously.

“Billy-boy here got swamped as a bus went through a puddle. He was absolutely soaked to the skin. There was an up-side though. He managed to save his coffee.”

“We, er, I was hoping that my clothes would be cleaned and dried in time for the meeting, but they couldn’t do it, especially after the meeting was brought forward. Some of the girls stepped up to help and this is the result.”

Gillian put her hands on the desk and started to stand, but stopped half way, her expression changing from Pit-Bull “I’m going to tear your arm off and hit you with the soggy end” to something much more placid. He had after all, come up with the winning slogan, gained the respect of Roger Donaldson and in the end, who lost out?

“Alright you two, but you had better make sure that Roger doesn’t suspect anything tonight.”

“Ah, yes. About that...” said Bill a little nervously. “I think I should bow out.”

“Oh no, Bill. You are NOT going to let us down now. Roger Donaldson will be expecting you most of all. I’ve had to do much worse things for the business…” she said retrieving her chair and sitting back down, smoothing her clothes and looking slightly abashed.

“Er, would you care to elaborate?” asked Dianne, politely.

“Um…” there was a pause and Gillian smiled, beguilingly. They waited for the few seconds while it looked as though she was about to regale them with a witty anecdote.

“No.” she said, the smile evaporating from her face as it returned to stony seriousness.

“Well that’s torn it.” said Bill outside Gillian’s office.

“What? Don’t worry, Billy boy. We can do this. Trust me,” said Dianne. “Cath?”

---

Bill felt his heart sink. “Nuts!” he muttered, making sure he put effort and feeling into it — plenty of feeling. It didn’t make any difference really; didn’t make him feel anything other than slightly better, which was negated by the knowledge that he still had to attend the dinner as Belinda.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be fine. We’ll look after you.” said Dianne as they walked across the office.

“That’s easy for you to say. “Best glad rags kids?” That’s bound to mean a frock isn’t it?”

“Well yes, but it’ll be cool. You can do it and besides, it’ll be over before you know it. Then you can go back to being plain old Billy boy again. You might even enjoy yourself”

Bill thought about that and wasn’t so sure. The fact was that he was already in it up to his eyeballs and that was further than he would have thought possible not a few short hours ago. Now Dianne was telling him that it was just this and just that, but how many times has something been described as “just do this,” or “just do that” and how often is it that simple? Bill was shaking his head as he followed Dianne over to talk to Cath.

“How did it go?” asked Cath.

“It could have been worse. Billy boy here tried to wheedle his way out of going to the restaurant, but Gillian wouldn’t hear of it.”

“I can understand how he feels,” said Cath, looking Bill up and down and making him feel about a hundred times more nervous than Gillian had.

“Now. Down to business!” said Dianne. “Bill, do you have anything that would be of any use?”

“Um…” said Bill, caught off guard by Dianne’s question.

“I was joking. I think we should buy a dress, well, outfit for the evening. It won’t be that expensive and the choices would be much better. I do have some things that would do, but this is special.”

“I agree,” said Cath. “There’s the ‘nearly new’ shop on Broad Street that would be just fine. I know Brandy in there. If anyone can help Bill out, she can.”

Bill’s head started to spin as the two women started making plans that could happily have been for any other woman in the office, but that was just it — a woman in the office, not him.

“There’s just one problem,” said Cath, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.

“And?”

“Well, if Bill’s going to wear a dress, what about his legs?”

“What about them?”

“They’re probably all hairy.”

“You’re right. I suspect his under arms are just as bad — probably his chest too.”

“Alright, enough’s enough. I can appreciate you want to do a good job and all, but this is going way too far. I’m not shaving my legs or under my arms. I don't have chest hair and the rest is fine and blond. Can't I——" His voice trailed off as both women just stood there shaking their heads.

"You can’t be serious,” said Bill blanching at the thought.

“No. Bill’s right. We can’t expect you to ‘shave’. There’s too much chance of you cutting yourself to ribbons.”

Bill was just starting to calm down after that comment.

“You’ll have to use a cream.”

Never mind calm down, Bill nearly fell down and hit the chair with a thud, shaking his head and covering his face in his hands. “Where’s Rod Serling?” he thought.

Dianne disappeared. She was like a bloodhound on the trail of a scent and was taking this very seriously indeed, as was Cath. Bill conversely, just wished he’d stayed in bed.

---

In Gillian’s office, Dianne was giving her boss the run-down on where they were with regards to Bill.

“We can swallow the cost of the dress; we can get one second hand in that ‘nearly new’ shop in Broad Street — Cath knows the woman there, but I think we ought to do something with Bill’s hair.”

“I know what you mean. It’s just…there isn’t it?”

“Yeah; fine for work, but for a night like tonight, I feel it ought to be just a bit special.”

“I agree. It wasn’t Bill’s fault after all. I think it’s only fair we help him as much as possible,” and with that said, Gillian authorised some petty cash/ the use of the company Visa, told Dianne to take Bill to the salon on Station Road and tell Andrea that Gillian sent them. This not surprisingly didn’t go down too well with Bill however…

“Oh, you go too far. It’s bad enough that I’m going to have to use that stupid cream and wear, whatever. I don’t think I can stand a hair-do as well,” said Bill indignantly.

“Bill, Bill, Billy boy. I know how this must feel, but it’s just the once and then it’s back to plain old Bill again.”

“You said that earlier.”

“I know and I meant it. Look it’s no-one’s fault that you landed up in this position, but you’d best just make the best of it. Tomorrow it’ll all be over…”

“I know. I can go back to plain old Bill again.”

“You got it kiddo.”

Andrea was a really nice lady. One of those who can take a one inch by one inch photo picked out of an old newspaper and not only fit you into the hairstyle, but make it better. Bill however was as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking-chairs.

“It’s alright Bill. She’s not going to cut it, just style it.”

“Then what are the scissors for?” he asked.

“The ends could do with a trim.” said Andrea and spent a couple of minutes talking to Bill, after which, Bill was like putty in her hands.

Dianne sat back and watched her friend in the chair. He had not been comfortable with any of this, yet he went through with it. Would she have gone through with it if she was in his shoes? Probably not. She had the deepest admiration for him and whilst she had been bolstering his confidence with the “It’ll be fine” speeches, she just hoped that it wouldn’t all fall apart. She didn't want him, or the business, to be hurt.

It has to be said, Bill did look absolutely fantastic by the time Andrea was finished and he left the salon looking like a million dollars. The next stop was Broad Street where they met up with Cath, who had already been through much of the stock in the second-hand clothes shop to find some suitable gowns.

“You’re kidding!” said Bill.

“Looking like that honey? You could wear a sack and still look edible,” said Brandy eyeing Bill dangerously. Bill wasn’t sure how to take that and had already tried on six gowns, not feeling comfortable in any of them.

“Are you really trying Bill?” asked Dianne.

“Of course I am! It’s just not easy seeing me this way. It’s a little unnerving — to say the least.”

“I understand. I can’t say I know how you feel, but I can imagine. It’s a long way out of your comfort zone. Am I right?”

“Jupiter would be closer,” he said with one of those under the hair looks that not only made her laugh, but let Dianne know that he was calming even though it wasn’t something he was comfortable with.

They settled on a red dress with spaghetti straps that even Bill was surprised at. He was completely overcome when he saw how he looked with the hair and the dress together. Brandy even threw in what she termed ‘chicken fillets’, which were actually some silicone inserts for his bra.

By the time they left, Bill had shoes and a gown and now just required some underwear and stockings to complete the outfit. They made one more stop and while Dianne helped Bill with the underwear, Cath disappeared to get some hair removal cream.

“How are you feeling now then Bill?” asked Dianne.

“Better. I’m still nervous as hell, but I actually think we can pull this off,” he said, looking if not exactly cheerful, stoically resigned.

---

The makeover was at Dianne’s, since Bill had nothing of any use at his place and once there, Bill went for a shower and to use the cream gunk he’d been given. He couldn’t help laughing as he applied the very pale pink crá¨me that although didn’t smell as bad as the stuff his mother used to use, still smelt gross and he’d plastered hands full under each arm and from hips to ankle on each leg.

He wasn’t laughing for long though because after ten minutes, he was still standing around like he was waiting for a bus and no nearer getting the stuff off and it was starting to tingle.

“How are you doing in there?” called Dianne from outside the bathroom door.

“I hope this isn't going to take too much longer. I’m starting to seize up in here.”

“Just remember to use the scraper thingy to get it off and don’t get your hair wet.”

“Don’t worry. Just as soon as I can, I will.”

Some time later, Bill emerged wrapped in a towel and a frown.

“About time!” said Dianne and almost dragged him over to he vanity. “Okay, you can drop the towel.”

“Not likely,” he said.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.”

“You haven’t seen me,” he said defensively. “And anyway, I’m hardly dressed at all.”

“You’re going to have to sooner or later. Come on. You were doing so well,” she said in her best cajoling voice.

The towel slipped down while the reddening went up and Bill was revealed in panties, lace-topped hold-ups and a strapless torsolette bra complete with the ‘chicken fillets’.

“I say!” she said with a cheeky whistle.

“I knew you’d laugh.”

“I’m not laughing. It’s just that you look better than I expected even without the dress or makeup. You wait Billy boy, sorry Belinda. By the time I’ve finished with you, even you won’t know you weren’t or rather aren't a girl.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he said morosely.

Dianne flew round Bill like a woman possessed, zipping him first into the dress then plonking him down in front of the vanity, draped a towel over his shoulders and like a whirlwind, she applied blush, foundation, eyeliner, eye shadow and mascara — though not necessarily in that order and at the end, Belinda was revealed with a flourish of the towel and a gentle tug to 'her' feet. .

Standing there, staring at the reflection It was all he could do to remain conscious. The vision in the mirror was not what he was expecting. His reflection wasn’t his, but whoever it was, was, well, almost hot!

Bill started to get a little light-headed. His hair had been styled up, with just a few strands here and there that had been curled and left down to frame his face. His pale skin that was now completely smooth almost glowed and his dark-framed eyes twinkled (from) behind long lashes. The effect was nothing short of stunning.

He had to wait while Dianne got ready, taking quick peeks at himself in the mirror over the mantle in Dianne’s lounge and not believing who looked back. It was enough to make him have second thoughts. Couldn’t he just go home, change into something more… him? Couldn’t he just explain that it was all an accident that brought Belinda out in the first place? Surely Roger would understand — wouldn’t he?

He sat down, his legs automatically crossing genteelly at the ankles and with his hands in his lap, Dianne entered to be greeted by a vision that looked like a high-born young lady. He was nervous, but it didn’t show. Dianne saw only what the outside showed and that was all girl. A slightly nervous, but very pretty one.

“You ready?” she asked.

“I don’t know.” said Bill truthfully. The time to go to the restaurant drew nearer and from the comfort of a few hours distance Bill was sure they could pull it off — he could pull it off, but it was only moments away and that changed the perspective considerably. Now Bill wasn’t sure that he could even walk, let alone carry off the Belinda persona that everyone seemed so intent on squeezing him into.

Dianne sat beside the trembling man, put her arm about his shoulders and pulled him to her.

“It’s going to be fine. It’ll all be over in a couple of hours or so. You’re going to knock ‘em dead Billy boy, absolutely knock ‘em dead.”

Somehow, that didn’t make him feel that much better. That two hour time-frame felt like it might as well have been a couple of millennia, not hours. The only light at the end of the tunnel was there because there was a train coming and its brakes had failed.

---

The Limo pulled up outside Dianne’s last and for Bill, this was the real test. If he could get past the other two women, Gillian especially, the rest of the evening was likely to be plain sailing - he hoped.

“Holy…” said Cath as he climbed into the back of the immense car.

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” said Gillian, her eyebrows nearly leaving the top of her head. “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you — I think,” said Bill, quietly and took his place. Gillian looked at Dianne as she climbed in.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m just not normally surprised. This time, I think ‘surprised’ is too reserved a word.”

Bill trusted that this was a good thing and looked at Dianne, who beamed back.

The men had already arrived and stood as the women filed in; first Gillian followed by Cath, Belinda then Dianne. The faces on the assembled men were amazing as eyebrows shot up and chins dropped all at the same time.

“My goodness!” said Roger Donaldson. “It looks like it’s my lucky night. To be in the company of four of the prettiest girls in town, all sat at my table.” Paul nearly choked and the other three just smiled and contemplated all sorts of possibilities.

They were all seated and after an aperitif, the dinner got under way Multiple courses with matching wines, Bill’s nerves holding out admirably - though how, was a mystery to him. It wasn’t that difficult really as the boys were all on their best behaviour and apart from a few looks of twinkle eyed amusement from Paul, the evening went without a hitch.

At the end, Roger played the host again and declared that the night was still young, so he had a surprise in store. They clambered into the limo’s which took them to Sullivan’s, a top club in the district, where they were almost ordered to enjoy themselves.

“Oh crap!” said Bill to himself.

“What’s wrong?” asked Dianne.

“This wasn’t what I planned at all.”

“None of us did. But you're doing fine,” she assured him.

“No, I know, but none of you have to pretend like me do you?”

“Just relax Billy boy, it’ll be fine. So far so good. Nearly there, just relax and enjoy. ”

Relax? Enjoy?

That was easy for her to say. She wasn’t dressed like a girl, oh wait. Yes she was, but then she was used to it.

They found tables which they pulled together and Roger and one of the other guys went for drinks. When they returned, Roger wasted no time in asking Belinda to dance.

There was a kind of hush as the girls held their breath wondering what Bill would do. What could he do? He had to accept and Roger led Bill like a perfect gentleman to the floor where together they danced. The three other boys decided on turns and each took one of the girls hands and led the way to the floor.

After another song the band took a break, Roger led Belinda back to the table and sat back down, closely followed by the others.

“If I die tonight,” he announced. “I will die a happy man.” and everyone laughed, even Bill.

Dianne grabbed Belinda and said “Ladies!” dragging her, um, him with her. Inside, it was like teenage girls.

“What was it like?” she asked.

“It was a dance. A bit weird I’ll grant you — dancing with another bloke, but apart from that, it was just a dance.”

“Did he do anything or say anything?”

“Not really. Like I said, it was a bit weird, but not altogether unpleasant.”

“You’re no fun do you know that?” she said and left him in the ladies.

What she was expecting was a mystery to Bill. He suspected that she wanted hands on bum or dirty talking in the ear or something, but he could honestly say it wasn’t like that at all.

He danced a few more times, once with Paul, which raised the embarrassment level considerably for some reason — with the girls and once more with Roger, who was still the perfect gentleman,. Even having had much more to drink than he intended, all things considered, it was much better than he had expected. He wondered whether the work was worth it; all the getting ready, the depilatory crá¨me, the hair and the makeup, the dress, shoes and all that mucking about and honestly, he had to say yes.

Different and a little uncomfortable, but It most certainly was worth it.

When they climbed into the limo at the end, Bill was slightly sloshed. He felt that warmth that often accompanies slight drunkenness, plus that lack of inhibitions that tags along for good measure, but it didn’t seem out of place now, since even Gillian was showing the same signs and that boss/employee relationship wasn’t in evidence as it had been at the beginning of the evening.

Once again, Bill was the last one on the journey. The limo pulled up outside where he lived and the driver got out to open the door for her — um, him.

“Goodnight miss.” he said and the limo’s engine purred into life, speeding off down the road.

“Goodnight!” she called after it, suddenly wondering whether perhaps he should have stopped at Dianne's first.

The fresh air got to her and she felt somewhat unsteady on her feet, tottering across the lawn and giggling as she made her way to her front door.

"Damn heels", she muttered perhaps a little louder than intended.

Carl must have seen or heard her arriving and came out to greet her.

“Good evening. Can I help you?” he said peering smilingly through the half darkness at the swaying figure in the red dress.

“Can you help me? That’s good.” she said slurring slightly and giggling some more. She took another couple of steps whilst fumbling for a key in the small clutch purse and caught her heel in the gap between the pavement and the grass losing her balance.

Carl was there in an instant catching her in his strong arms.

“Oops!” said Bill, giggling again.

“Bill?” said Carl, with an expression somewhere between surprise and amusement - another one who seemed to practice the Roger Moore style of eyebrow acting.

“Oh crap!” said Bill, looking up into Carl’s face, blushing like crazy and perversely fluttering his eyelashes. Carl didn’t seem in any rush to relinquish his strong grip.

“Oh crap!” thought Bill again.