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🕑 Added 2024-12-13 12:00:11 +0000 UTCChapter 26: Excuses, Excuses
Wednesday of the following week, after a hectic morning spent re-organising Mr Hopkins’s schedule to free up his afternoon for a round of golf, Tommy entered the office breakroom in desperate need of coffee and a well-earned breather. He had barely stepped inside when a familiar, shrill voice pierced the air.
“Tammy, babe! How are you? Feels like it’s been forever!” Jill’s voice rang out, her tone bright and loaded with energy.
Turning, Tommy forced a smile onto his pouty lips. “Busy. Super busy.”
“Hey! Don’t you work yourself to death now!” Jill scolded with a dramatic glare. “Didn't I tell you to work smart, not hard? With a smile and a flutter of those sexy lashes of yours, you’ll have Hopkins eating out of the palm of your hand.”
Still holding his strained smile, Tommy nodded, eager to deflect the conversation. “So, how have you been? I heard you've been feeling a bit under the weather recently?” he asked, his voice light and polite, though he couldn’t help but notice Jill standing squarely in front of the coffee machine, blocking his path to the caffeine he desperately needed.
“Just a little tummy bug,” Jill replied, her face lighting up as though pleased he had asked. “I’m feeling much better now, thanks. But enough about me. Look at you! Love the new hairstyle - very sophisticated.”
“Thanks,” Tommy replied bashfully as he thought back to the weekend.
After the miserable and humiliating events of Saturday evening, Tommy had made a vow to take back control of his life. That same night, he and Maddison had taken a taxi back to his place, where, with her help, he packed a bag with outfits for work and a few essentials. They then hopped into another taxi and headed straight to Maddison’s. He felt a pang of guilt about leaving without telling Monica, but the thought of staying under the same roof as Sarah any longer was unbearable. Their relationship had become toxic, and he knew it wasn’t healthy for either of them.
When Tommy woke up Sunday morning, he felt disoriented at first. The unfamiliar room threw him off, but as his eyes adjusted to the morning light, they landed on Maddison, still sound asleep beside him. She snored softly, her face peaceful, and Tommy couldn’t help but smile. It struck him as ironic - he’d spent years fantasizing about sharing Maddison’s bed, but now that it had finally happened, it couldn’t have been further from his teenage dreams. Instead of passionate lovemaking, they had talked late into the night and fallen asleep in each other’s arms. Strangely, Tommy didn’t feel disappointed.
During a light breakfast, Maddison asked him what he wanted to do that day. Without hesitation, Tommy said he wanted to get rid of the ridiculously girly pink hair tied up in a messy bun atop his head. Maddison nodded, and after making a quick phone call, a plan was set.
By that afternoon, Tommy found himself sitting in yet another stylist’s chair, facing the question that had him second-guessing himself: “What style do you want?”
This time, no one was forcing him into anything. He could have chosen a short, masculine cut, or at least gone for something resembling his old look. Yet, when he walked out of the salon, it was with a wavy mass of cascading brunette curls - anything but manly. He had picked the style himself, flipping through the salon’s lookbook until landing on one he thought was “cute.”
He told himself it was progress - after all, he had ditched the pastel pink for a shade close to his original hair colour. In his mind, it was a small step toward reclaiming a piece of his old identity. But deep down, Tommy was running out of excuses. The truth he wasn’t ready to face, not even with himself, lingered just below the surface: he wanted to look good. The forty minutes he’d spent curling his hair that morning were proof enough of that.
“Oh, where are my manners?” Jill exclaimed, snapping Tommy back to the present. “I was just about to make myself a coffee. Can I get you one, hun?”
“Err… yeah. Sure,” Tommy replied, a little caught off guard. “Just a splash of milk, no sugar. Thanks.”
“Coming right up,” Jill chirped, flashing him a warm smile that he hesitantly returned. “Go grab a seat, and I’ll bring it over. Then we can have a little catch-up. I’m dying to hear how your first few days as a full-time employee have been.”
(See image 26)
As Jill turned to the coffee machine, Tommy took her cue and strutted over to the purple-lined sofa along the far wall. Stopping just in front, he smoothed his tight skirt beneath him before easing himself down onto the cushioned seat. The velvety fabric brushed against the back of his sheer black tights, sending an unexpected shiver up his spine.
With Jill bustling about in the makeshift kitchen to his right, Tommy placed his hands on his knees - pressed tightly together to avoid flashing his panties - and waited patiently. Jill’s earlier comment lingered in his mind: how had his first few days gone? Days spent as a seductively dressed secretary.
Until now, he had convinced himself he was doing this because his sisters were forcing him. But was that really true? If he hated it as much as he claimed, wouldn’t he have fought harder to stop it? Wouldn’t he have found a way out?
No one had forced him that morning to wear a low-cut white blouse and a thigh-revealing skirt. Sure, women’s clothing and a polished appearance were part of the job, but he could have chosen something more conservative, paired with lower heels. Yet here he was, dressed to impress, his feet aching after a morning teetering atop six-inch platform pumps. The clothes, the heels, and the added height made him feel… powerful. Important. A feeling he’d never known as plain old Tommy.
“So, is this your natural colour?” Jill asked with a chuckle, interrupting his thoughts as she passed a cup of coffee into his freshly manicured hands and took a seat to his right.
“Not quite,” Tommy replied, curling his fingers around the mug. His painted black nails - shorter than they had been before his salon visit, but still longer than most women’s - gleamed under the fluorescent lights.
“Well, it looks great,” Jill said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Though I bet you could shave your head and still have boys falling over themselves for you.”
“Yeah,” Tommy chuckled awkwardly, raising the mug to his plump lips to avoid her gaze.
“Speaking of boys,” Jill continued, clearly unwilling to drop the topic, “anyone on your radar?”
“Erm… no,” Tommy answered bluntly.
“What? Really?” Jill exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “Well, that won’t do. That settles it - this weekend, you’re coming on another girl’s night out with us. I know last time wasn’t ideal, but there are plenty of good guys out there. We’ll find you your prince charming, you’ll see.”
Tommy glanced at his bare wrist as if checking a watch. “Oh! Is that the time?” he said, feigning urgency. “I really should be getting back to work. Mr Hopkins is probably looking for me.”
He rose carefully to his high-heeled feet, wobbling slightly before composing himself. “Let me think about it and get back to you tomorrow, okay?” he added, already heading toward the exit, his heels rhythmically clomping in time with each tottering stride.
Back home that evening, curled up on the sofa in a set of cosy pyjamas, Tommy recounted his run-in with Jill to Maddison.
“Do you want to go?” Maddison asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied his face for any telltale signs.
“No!” Tommy immediately blurted out. “I mean, I guess I feel more comfortable now, knowing what to expect. But Jill’s not exactly the type of person I want to be getting close to.”
“So just tell her you don’t want to go,” Maddison replied, her tone pragmatic. “She sounds like a nightmare.”
“It’s not that easy, Maddy,” Tommy groaned, slumping deeper into the cushions. “You haven’t met her. She’s like a dog with a bone once she gets an idea. She won’t give up unless I come up with a good excuse.”
“Well,” Maddison began with a sly smile, “the offer to come to my cousin’s wedding this weekend as my plus-one still stands. I get that you didn’t want to go because you don’t know anyone, but honestly, neither do I. I haven’t seen anyone from that side of the family in years. So what do you say? Wanna come and keep me company?”
