Bit of a long one, so text below! But first, if anyone would like to help out: I have a plan for a series in the next few months and I'm in need of GIFs or videos of celebrities in red dresses. I have Sydney Sweeney, McKenna Grace, Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Lucy Hale, and Xochitl Gomez. Preferably more social media or public appearance-oriented. But I might be able to make movie scenes work. If you know of any others, please post a link in the comments or e-mail them to SydMixUp@gmail.com
I exited the building, it had been embarrassing enough asking my Stepmother to help me get an outfit ready for a social function, doubly so when I told her it was because it was as someone's date, a male someone. When my future hopes were dashed after it was discovered I was passing around voyeuristic images of my college classmates, I was forced to take any offer that came along. Trying to explain that I wasn't the one who took the photos, merely distributed them under pressure from some of my more persuasive peers because of my tech knowhow didn't help, because all of the tech knowhow in the world wouldn't stop one of the dumb jocks who started this little venture from deciding that blaming you was the best way to take suspicion off of he and his buddies. That being on my permanent record was enough to get the door slammed in my face multiple times, until my estranged Stepmother offered me a job. She never cared for me, but said if I was willing to do what it takes to sink into the role I could be her assistant. Unfortunately I didn't know that a more appropriate word for what she needed was "secretary," at least until after I signed the contract and they told me I had to be fitted for the skirt and heels that would be part of my uniform.
It wasn't too bad, she gave me a nice place in the city, I had a lot of free time at home. The hormones and strict diet seemed like a step too far for an employer to ask of their employee, but there's that old saying about beggars and choosers. I got to do what I had done before, talk to my friends while gaming or just for fun. Which leads us to my decision to go on a date, one of my friends, Derek, has been struggling in the girl department for a while, he seems like the whole package, he's a pretty tall guy, he takes care of himself, he works out all the time. I'm not attracted to men, but I fail to see what's not to like about a guy like him. So when he said he had a work function in my city, I offered to give him a hand, tag along as his date to help raise his profile. I didn't make my new job or the changes to myself a secret, I thought it would help to face it head-on and play it off. But when guys started to DM me or go on long obviously-previously-fantasized rants about bending me over and "breeding me" whenever I beat them in a game, I backed off, just passively participated in hopes of avoiding that kind of talk. Derek never did that though. He was, as he constantly told me, a nice guy. So I could do a nice thing for him, it shames me a bit to say it, but I know I look good. I was already short and had soft features, but I was fully convinced I could model if I wanted to, not that I would. Maybe seeing him pull a baddie like me would give his reputation a little boost and get some real girls' attention.
Derek is big into business stuff I'm not too equipped or bothered to understand, something about analytics or compound something-or-others, and this was a work even for him, so I asked my Stepmother to help me dress for it. She adored the idea of dolling me up and always seemed less cold or annoyed by my presence when I asked her for help in some feminine venture. While her on-call stylists were working on me she discussed a bunch of events she would love to take me to now that I was willing to show off my real self and was open to the idea of men being attracted to me. I might go to some as a show of appreciation, a better relationship with her wouldn't hurt since she practically runs my life now. After I was placed into what she called a professional-chic outfit with heels higher than the ones I have to wear in the office I was out the door and onto the street to find Derek in his car, I had thought he'd be waiting to open the door for me like gentlemen do in movies, but he merely honked from his driver's seat. I guess technically it wasn't a real date and I wasn't a real girl, so I had no reason to expect such a thing. No big deal.
I tried to talk to him, tell him how cool it was that we were actually hanging out in person again. But he had his radio cranked up to some podcast show that just talked about alpha males and women being subservient. After a few seconds, I mostly tuned it out and texted my Stepmother updates, last minute questions about making your man look good, usually when I had a question for her it would take hours for her to respond, but now that I'm asking her about girly stuff, she'd reply near-instantly. She and my Father didn't have a great relationship, he was constantly cheating and I was constantly defending him, but he abandoned me too when I was expelled and it was clear I wasn't going to be the heir he often spoke of when I was younger. A part of me began to wonder if maybe I should just keep attending functions and asking her for help in being a better woman if it meant I'd actually have a parent again. I was already in the deep end, why keep sitting at home and pretending I'm not? My stream of consciousness was interrupted by the sound of Derek's doors slamming. I snuck my phone back into my bag, brushed my hair out of my face and sat up straight, watching his peers, a lot of guys that looked like him. He would open the door, I would step out, take their breath away, and Derek would be the envy of every man in that place. Then I watched as the valet opened my door and Derek walked past them staring at his phone, then looked back at me, still in the car, and threw his hands up like I was some kind of idiot for not following him.
I got out, taking the Valet's hand, he was very nice. I turned everyone's head but Derek's. I looked up at the valet, thanked him with a smile before marching up to meet Derek at the door. I held his hand, his arms were huge. In the elevator we were alone and I asked him if there was anything he could teach me about what he does so I could sound like I know something when I talk to his coworkers. He assured me that I wasn't there to talk to anybody. That was a little rude, but its a professional event, I guess the arm candy babbling isn't exactly the point. As we approached the ballroom where the event was taking place, I was greeted by Derek's boss who kissed my hand and directed me to the table with the other girlfriends, the wives had their own table. After a short conversation I had found out that most of the other girls at the table were escorts, I said proudly that I was on my first date with Derek. The girls looked like they pitied me and pointed to Derek flirting with a very uncomfortable member of the staff. I tried not to think about it, we weren't on ACTUAL date, but it makes me look pretty silly. I wave it off but can't think of anything else to speak about to the girls.
The night continued much like that, him pretending I wasn't there, me pretending not to care. Eventually in need of some air, I went back downstairs and found the valet at his booth outside. I asked him how the night was going, told him my date was practically ignoring me and I wanted to thank the guy who actually opened the car door for me. I sat at his station and we had a decent conversation, I found out he was going to school for IT and this was his weekend gig. I thought that was really cool and I didn't even notice the sun was going down until I got chilly and he put a jacket over my shoulders. I thanked him for proving some men could still be gentlemen. That was when I heard Derek approaching, shouting about me leaving him, his coworkers telling him I was out here blowing the Valet. He grabbed me by the arm but the valet stood between us. He tried to shout that I was born a guy, but even in the heat of the moment, he said "does she look like a guy to you? Who cares how she was born?" Before Derek took a swing at him, and the Valet easily side-stepped it and hit him in the side of the jaw, laying him out. All of those muscles, none of the skill to use them.
I asked my Stepmother to send a car for me as it didn't seem like Derek was going to give me a ride back. Before I left, the Valet finally told me his name, Marco. He then asked for my number and in the moment I couldn't think of a single reason not to give it to him. He texted me on my ride back to my Stepmother's place to make sure I was OK, tell me how the conversation was the highlight of his time there, and that that wouldn't be changing anytime soon as they fired him at Derek's urging. My Stepmother had coffee waiting for us to have a little "girl talk," her name for it, not mine. I told her everything, she asked me if I got Marco's number, I said yes. She smirked, said "good girl," then asked to speak to him. She took my phone and rung him up, he answered excitedly and I heard his voice drop in disappointment. Then excitement as she offered him the job of her new personal driver. Then she made eye contact with me as she said "Fantastic, Marco. Happy to have you, I'll arrange for my secretary to join you for a few weeks to show you the ins-and-outs and what will be expected of you. I heard you two hit it off quite well." She winked at me.
