The Crossdresser’s Workplace Phrasebook — Part 1.

That morning I arrived at the office at 11 am. It was a little early for me, but I like to show willing. It should be said that while my time keeping has been the subject of some dissatisfaction among some of my colleagues, I comforted myself with the thought that the previous evening I had outdone myself. I had, after all spent much of the previous night out at the pub with two of the senior partners, and was nursing the mother of all hang overs.

Having dragged myself from my bed and spent a little longer than usual reconstructing my face and hair, I’d pulled on a pair of tight jeans, a pale blue sweater that showed off the pleasant shape of my chest, recently enhanced a little with both hormone replacement therapy and a push up bra, and pulled on my new knee high boots, with the three inch stiletto heels. Looking down on the world from this height things would eventually come into proper focus.

My head was clearing a little by the time I walked into the office foyer, to be greeted by Julie who brought me a large plate with cake on it and handed me a fork. This was as good a breakfast as any I though, and then thought of the corset I’d doubtless be wearing to an event that evening.

“Birthday?” I asked.

“Brenda. That human resources wonk,” replied Julie. She handed me a brush, code…