Coming Out

700 Days

You couldn't believe it'd been a 100 days since you'd last showed up to the office. You were nervous. More nervous than you'd ever been in your life. You stopped by the women's restroom outside the office, looking in the mirror. A long, dark wig. Vivid red lipstick. Red nail polish on your fingertips and toes. Three inch heels -- you were still working on walking in them without going ass up. A conservative black dress, with a matching thong and bra.

"You've got this, girl," you told yourself without much conviction.

You opened the door to the law office, walking in. There were stares. You took a deep breath, walking to Jackson's office. He was on the phone, and his jaw dropped open.

"Oh wow. Look Jeff, I'll give you a call back in ten," he said. He walked over to you, taking you into his strong arms. You breathed in his cologne and musk, melting into him, his beard tickling you as it always did. He kissed you, and all felt right with the world.