Chapter 24 - Paris’ chores, Grace’s attraction

On the outside the next few days go by uneventfully. I’m falling into a rhythm at work with Mal being reasonable if a bit standoffish and Trixie coming up to visit at least once a day. If this is what people meant by gossiping with the girls, then I’m all for it. I can tell the guys in the office are still attracted to me, but it’s become clear that I’m off limits. And as Mal isn’t providing any type of reason that he’s standoffish of me, the rumors are all over the place, from me being sick to Mal being sick to me and Mal having a deeper relationship than he’s had with his office girls before to even more ridiculous scenarios. I just do my best to bat them down when people ask directly about it and not engage when people just look curious. I’m just happy the guys’ hands aren’t finding ways to press against my body anymore.

On the inside though, I’m getting more than a little stressed out. I’m trying to get used to living full time as Paris, to staying in that feminine mindset from when I wake up to when I go to sleep, afraid that Suzy is just going to barge in at any time. I was even worried about what the weekend was going to be with my new pink and feminine room. But before we could even get to the weekend, I had another appointment with Suzy that changed things further.

When I got home, I saw Grace setting the table for dinner. She’d evidently got out early and I could smell some spaghetti sauce warming up on the stove. Instead of heading into my room to change into some comfy clothes I march right into the dining room and confront Grace. “Hey. This weekend when you were talking to Suzy, did you tell her I was doing all the cleaning around here? That I picked it up to help me feel more feminine?”

Grace looked up at me questioningly, obviously hearing the anger in my voice but not knowing what it was about. “Yeah? You were freaked out about the garbage truck, and she was asking who did the chores and stuff. You’d told me you were spinning everything in your life to be more feminine when you talked to her, so I thought that would help. Why?”

I let out a huff of breath and count to ten before I begin again more calmly, “Because she asked me about it today. She asked me about how I went about my cleaning chores, how I did the laundry, and how I balanced cooking and shopping and dinners out.”

Grace moves over to the stove, the look on her face saying that she still doesn’t get it. “Yeah? So what did you tell her?”

I drop my purse onto the table and spread my arms out wide, my voice rising, “I tried to lie. I tried to just roll with it, but she started asking more and more specific questions that I obviously couldn’t answer. Like what products I use and why I chose them. About how I care for the floors. Do I do our laundry together, or do them separately? Do I hand wash all our lingerie or do I use the gentle cycle? About how I manage each of our diets while keeping our meals interesting. Where I shop? Where I get my coupons? She knew I was lying about all of it and just pressed it home again and again and again!”

Grace shrugged as she poured the pasta into the colander, “Okay? This obviously bothers you, but what’s the big deal.”

I pull the list out of my purse and put it on the table next to Grace’s place setting while I stomp into my room and furiously change into my sweats. When I come back Grace has the table set and ready for dinner but is reading my list and giggling to herself, “Oh Paris, this is just too funny. I mean, I’m sorry if I set you up for this. I was just trying to help. I honestly didn’t mean to assign you all the chores around the apartment. Is she seriously going to quiz you about all of this? Like actually read your diary?”

I snatch the list back as I take my seat and glance over it again, hearing Suzy's voice as she chastised me for lying to her and promising that she’d help build me up into the woman that I thought I should be. And evidently, she thought that I thought that I should be a Holly-Homemaker type. “Yes, she’s actually going to quiz me on this at the beginning of every one of our sessions. I’m to write out everything I do in my diary and when I don’t include enough detail, she’s going to tell me what other information to include. We talked about my mom and my aunts and how all the women in my family took care of the family and how I subconsciously associated that with femininity even though I was forging my own modern path into this newer feminine world. So, I’m not to let you do any of the chores anymore. I’m not to let you do the laundry anymore. I’m not to let you do the shopping or the cooking. I’m to take that feminine role for this family of you and me.”

While my room changing on Friday was a big feminizing event in my life, being taught every day from Grace how to care for the apartment, how to cook, and how to do the laundry was even more feminizing. At first, I was nothing but a big complaint machine as I had no idea how difficult all of this was. I would have never guessed it took that much effort just to keep the apartment tidy, let alone what went into a deep cleaning that Grace said she did once a month.

I’d always been happy to kick in for groceries and since Grace had more specific dietary wants and needs, I just passed her the cash and was happy when there was beer and chips for snacks in the kitchen. Beyond that she had frozen meals, ready to cook meals, and some fresh food occasionally. We joked often that we both shopped and cooked and ate like bachelors. But even after Grace showed me what she went through for shopping, Suzy wasn’t happy with it, reminding me of the home cooked meals my mom made and how I differentiated her cooking from my dad’s working.

Now, at least once a week I was to make a full home cooked meal from scratch. At least three nights a week I was to make something for dinner that could start in the morning and be cooked in a crock pot throughout the day. And the other three days I could mix it up with ready to cook meals, ordering in, or going out.

Between becoming a cook, laundress, and maid to my roommate, changing my most private room to a pink shrine to femininity, prancing around at work wearing a skirt, and talking to my gender counselor about ways both big and small to help me feel and be more feminine all the time, the only great thing that occurred were the dates with Trixie.

I found out quickly that Friday and Saturdays were date nights for her boyfriend, but we’d hook up at least once a week for a girl’s night out. Yes, Trixie was there to ‘help’ me be as girly and feminine as I could be too, but at least I got to kiss and make out with a beautiful woman in return. And while I never got the opportunity to have normal sex with her, entering or penetrating her in any way, she did make me orgasm in the most amazingly powerful ways each time we were together. The trade off of chatting with her about men, about sexual techniques and desires with men, was totally worth it.

By the time March rolled into April I was starting to feel that my life was as normal as I could expect it to be, at least until I was eventually let go at K Edison Global. I’d get up early, get cleaned up, and give myself my daily shots. I’d prep something for dinner and either set it in the fridge for that night or get it going in the crock pot. Next, I’d hop into my vanity and put on my face and do my hair. The girls at the salon were great and didn’t mind me stopping by to learn new techniques. They even giggled and joked that I was becoming their little sister and that they loved helping me. After I quickly made up my bed, I’d grab the diet pills left out by Grace and rush to the train station to just make it in time to not be late to the office. Work was fine and probably the easiest part of my day. Mal was thankfully still busy with the McGregor corporation and paid no special attention to me other than leaving out my nicotine patches. I still managed his phones, his email, and his schedule. I still had to deal with his wife and the M&A team in the office, but it wasn’t difficult. Getting home meant digging into my other work, so I rarely got to get out of my faja and instead just settled for changing out of my skirt and blouse and into some comfy sweats. While preparing dinner I’d either focus on getting some cleaning in, the floors, the windows, the dusting, or I’d do some laundry as that seemed to take effort at least every other day to keep up. After serving Grace and me dinner and cleaning up, I had to write out my diary and plan any shopping for the next day which also meant planning out the dinners for the next couple days. Just before bed I was finally able to get out of the faja, clean off my face, brush my hair, slip into a shelf bra camisole that helped support my breasts while I slept, and finally turn down my bed and slip under the top sheet and blanket and close my eyes for a few hours.

I fully expected Grace to either be compassionate and help me out as much as she could, seeing as I was stuck in this situation simply by trying to help her, or at least to be a friend and joke and kid me like we always did to each other. Either would be nice and normal. But slowly Grace grew more… soft? At first, she tried to help around the apartment, but when I finally made it clear that I had to do these chores on my own or Suzy would know, she grew relaxed and let me be the maid. She became what I thought of as thoughtfully thankful. When she’d come home, she’d always comment on what I was making for dinner and offer a compliment. She always thanked me after dinner even as she slipped into the living room to read while I cleaned up. And I was catching her more and more watching me when she thought I wasn’t looking. Not just watching but checking me out.

Even our conversations changed. Grace almost became insistent on making me talk about my day. About even the little minutia like shopping and cleaning and cooking. She loved to hear about how I was learning to hand wash our unmentionables and not rip them with my nails. And I swear she asked about me going to the salon more than I thought about going there myself. We were always a little touchy with each other, giving hugs and gripping each other around the waist or shoulders. Pats on the back or butt weren’t uncommon for either of us. But those touches from Grace became softer. They lingered and almost became more of a caress than a touch.

One night while I was trying to vacuum under the coffee table without moving it out of the way again, I caught Grace staring at me. Two things became clear very quickly. One, with how I was bending over in my shorts, I was giving her a clear view of my ass wiggling in the air as I shifted side to side. And two, I swear I saw her hand fly out of her lap as the blush came over her cheeks.

Was… was my room mate touching herself while ogling over my ass?

Internally I must have slapped myself silly as it all suddenly added up. Everything was lined up as if she’d written out her fantasy and I’d been inadvertently playing right into it with every action I took. The girlier and girlier I got, the more I talked about submitting to Trixie’s sexual advances and submitting to Suzy’s feminizing exercises, the more enticing I must have become.

I was transforming into Grace’s ideal girlfriend right in front of her, right down to serving her whims in her own home.

Tilting my head to the side I feel a truly odd mix of apprehension and humor wash over me. “Grace? Are you, like, getting turned on by me? I mean, I saw what you were just doing while I was cleaning but I mean, with me having to be feminine all the time and doing all this around the house and even telling you about how Trixie is being dominate with me on our dates… dominate like you’re dominate on your dates… are you, like, imagining me as YOUR girl?”

Grace’s rushed “Nooo, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Paris!” is so fake that it might as well have been a complete admission of guilt. I knew it and she knew it. I just continued to stare at her until her blush deepened and she turned her eyes to the floor.

In a quiet voice that I rarely heard from my strong powerful roommate Grace whispered, “yes okay, i can’t help it, you’re like my dream girl come true, paris. i’ve been fighting it for weeks now but yes, you’re totally turning me on.”

I sit down on the couch and curl my legs up under me. “Okay Grace, we obviously have to talk about this. I won’t lie and say that I’ve never thought about you in a sexual way, but it’s always been as a guy and not as a gal. Though, with what Trixie and I have been doing, I’d be lying if I said that sharing that with you wasn’t an interesting, arousing idea.”

Grace looked up at me and I could see the same problem in her eyes that I felt in my heart. I didn’t want her to have to say it, so I went ahead, “But we’re not that, are we? We’re roomies. We’re friends. You’re a lesbian and underneath all of this, I’m still a straight guy. You know that under these shorts and panties there’s a cock and balls. And even if you wanted to give that a try, we’d never be able to come back from something like that. We’re locked into living with one another until K Edison goes public. So if we try this and it doesn’t go well, we’d be screwed and living together with a bad relationship. So… friends?”

Grace’s smile lets me know that we’re on the same page, even if she adds “Friends. Sexy friends that like looking at each other!”