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Grace and Stephanie had been staring at the young man for some minutes. It didn’t look like their services were going to be needed with this one. They watched, enraptured. There was something about him: such poise, such grace. Totally calm. None of the resistance so often shown by reluctant boys brought to Fem-Me. Too many were being brought by a relative who’d always wanted a daughter, niece or granddaughter. Somewhat more willing were those brought by older ladies, quite obviously their Mistresses, who wanted a compliant girlfriend. A few were brought by men who thought it might be easier having a girlfriend than a boyfriend. They were the worst: always moaning, but the easiest to fit with a Hummingbird. They were clearly used to moaning in other ways.
They looked up his name on the booking list. Morgan. A nice and ambiguous name: either there’d been a name change or someone had done some forward planning.
They should have guessed he’d be different when he arrived wearing a knee-length blue gingham dress coupled with a rather cute brown suede bolero jacket. Despite being quite obviously a boy with his pixie page-boy hair style, he didn’t seem at all concerned about wearing a dress or Mary-Jane flats in public. And he had a smile on his face that said it all when he walked into Fem-Me earlier holding hands with an older lady that they took to be his grandmother. “A birthday treat,” she’d said before going off to explore the main B&K store and its coffee shop. “Give me a call when you’re ready for the photos. I’d like one with me in it.”
Dressing him up as a bride seemed a strange birthday treat. A bridesmaid perhaps. That happened quite a lot at Fem-Me. But those tended to be early morning assignments to get a boy ready for a wedding later in the day. So many girls were following the current trend of wanting their brothers to be their bridesmaids. After they’d received the Fem-Me treatment, their chief bridesmaid was often a real hit with the Best Man. But this one was in full bridal regalia: hair, make-up, bride’s dress, veil, garter, satin slippers. The complete works. And all for a few photos. The studio had been booked with the photographer for mid-day. There was no doubt that he looked wonderful. So delicate. So beautiful. They’d ask Andy if he could make a few prints just for them.
And then their minds started whirring. Stephanie and Grace found that they were thinking in harmony. Morgan was so photogenic. At a minimum they needed to see if they could get posters made. His image would look so good in the store window. Andy could do that but they’d need permission. But there were even better possibilities, especially now after B&K had lost Rhys Jenner to Fem-Factory. “Damn it!” muttered Stephanie out of earshot. “He walks in here wearing no make-up except a hint of lip-gloss, a stupid hairdo, and he still looks better than most boys after we’ve given them a full makeover.”
“Better than most girls,” added Grace. “I know he's only here for a photo session, but he is fucking gorgeous, look at him. I'm sorry, we need to get someone over here to sign him.”
Stephanie agreed but was concerned, “We don't have the authority, but what if someone from Talent just happened to be here when he is collected. You know how persuasive they can be.”
“Look, you get on the phone to Talent,” replied Grace with real urgency. “I know it’s a Saturday but we should be able to get someone to come in. I’m going to speak to Andy Latex and see if we can find a way of delaying them.”
As Morgan emerged from the studio with a beaming Grandmother, Grace held out a Bergman and Knightley carrier bag. “Before you get changed, we wanted to present you with this. We heard that it was your birthday so we thought, since you’ve been such a wonderful customer, that you’d like these complimentary gifts from us. Some things to help you remember your special day with Fem-Me and Bergman and Knightley. We had to guess your sizes so you may want to try them on before you go.”
Morgan turned to the old lady. “May I Gran?”
“Of course darling. Well ,this is a real surprise I must say. Go on, open it dear. See what the nice lady has given you.”
Morgan opened the bag and started taking out items and unfolding layers of tissue paper. “OMG! There’s a pair of pants here…… and a top. And Gran, they’re both made of latex. Black latex. And there’s a pair of boots!” Morgan screeched with delight. “Black boots with heels. I’ve always wanted boots.”
“Why not try them on?” said Stephanie ushering Morgan towards the changing room.
“May I?” asked Morgan, not knowing whether he was asking Stephanie, Grace or his grandmother. The poor thing was feeling rather overwhelmed.
Nearly an hour later, after Stephanie and Grace had made various trips to the stockroom, Morgan and his grandmother were ready to leave. With the ladies encouragement, Morgan had decided to venture out in his new outfit. It was his birthday after all. “We do hope you enjoyed your visit and you’ll come back soon,” chorused Steph and Grace. “Love your new look.”
“Phew!” said Grace. “I think we made it. Now it’s all up to Talent.”
Outside on the street, Morgan sought his grandmother’s hand. He might have worn a dress in public before but he’d never worn heels or latex. She was just pleased that he was having a happy day. Her perfect grandson. Her lovely grand-daughter.
A hundred yards further, Morgan spotted a lady in a sober pale green trouser suit walking towards them. More than that, she appeared to be making a beeline for him. He clutched his grandma’s hand tighter: he hated being asked to participate in surveys or asked to donate to some cause or other.
It had been Gran’s suggestion. It also was. He’d do anything to please her. And she indulged him accordingly. As her only grandchild, she had every right too. It was just a shame that her daughter had given her a grandson. They’d both hoped for a girl to keep up the female line but it wasn’t to be. He was surprised by her first words. They were addressed to his grandmother: “Excuse me but please may I speak to your daughter? My name’s Fenella. I’m with the BerKnit Agency.”
Eloise chuckled before replying, “ That’s very kind of you Fenella, but I’m his grandmother not his mother.”
“Really? I find that hard to believe,” said a surprised looking Fenella.
“What do you find hard to believe?” asked Eloise.
“Two things. For one, that you're a grandmother; you’re far too young looking to be a grandmother.”
“You’re very kind, or you know how to flatter an old lady. I’m most definitely his grandmother. And the second?”
“That you said ‘his’ not ‘her’. Surely this vision of beauty is a girl not a boy.”
“I’m definitely a boy not a girl,” chipped in Morgan.
“Well, how wonderful. That makes things so much better.”
“How so?” asked Eloise.
“Because beauty like your grandson’s is so rare.” Fenella turned to Morgan and looked him in the eye: “Forgive me but I could not help but notice you, you have a really amazing look.” Morgan gulped. She pulled a card from her shoulder bag. “I'd like you to accept my card, we'd love to have you on our books.”
“Books?” queried Eloise.
“Yes, books. I’m a talent scout for BerKnit. BerKnit is a model agency. We work with most of the major fashion houses although a lot of our work is with Bergman and Knightley. We’re quite small but we’re one of their prestige Divisions. I’d love to sign you.”
“But Morgan’s only just finishing College,” said Eloise
“Perfect timing then,” replied Fenella. “Have you got a job yet?” she asked Morgan.
“Not yet. I can’t really decide what I want to do.”
“How about being a model while you make up your mind? I don’t think you’ll need another career.”
“How can you be so sure?” asked Eloise. “You’ve only just seen Morgan on the street.”
“Believe me, I’ve an eye for talent. That’s my job. It’s not unusual to spot future stars in this way. Think Kate Moss. Think Gisele Bündchen. Think Anya Taylor-Joy.”
“But they’re supermodels.”
“Yes, but they weren’t when they were spotted. They were just girls going about their business doing everyday things.
“But Morgan’s a boy.”
“That doesn't matter in the slightest. Think Andreja Pejic. Think Alex Consani. Think Hunter Schafer.”
“Who….” Eloise started to ask while Morgan exclaimed:
“Oooh! Hunter Schafer! She’s in ‘Euphoria’, Gran. I’ve got her poster on my bedroom wall. You must have seen her with Zendaya.”
“Who’s Zendaya?” asked a still puzzled Eloise.
Fenella continued regardless. It looked like Morgan was hooked. Now it was time to reel him in. “I think, given the right opportunities, we can make you into the next Keira Knightley. Your amazing look will attract both men and women...and all those in between...if I may express myself this way!
“Oh gosh, granny, did you hear that? Keira!”
“And think of all the lovely outfits you’ll get to wear.” Fenella was on a roll: “Young boys and girls will love your style. Think how people like Rhys Jenner.”
“I just adore Rhys Jenner. You must remember Rhys Jenner, Gran.”
“Is he the pretty boy you talk about so much?”
“Yes, Gran. You saw him on The One Show.”
“Well, I think I’m speaking to the next Rhys Jenner,” pronounced Fenella dogmatically. “You just need to sign up.” Then she turned to Eloise. It was important to keep her on-side: “And we’re always looking for attractive older models. There’s great demand for catalogue models. We just need you to sign up. Both of you.”
Eloise couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. Morgan was getting excited: fame was within his grasp. “Please may I, Gran? Please Gran? Please…..”
“Yes, darling. If that’s what you want.”
“I do. And you too, Gran,” said Morgan
“If you’re sure.” Eloise looked first at Morgan then Fenella. “If you’re sure.”
Fenella smiled. “Certainly. Never more sure.” If signing Eloise was the price of netting Morgan, it was worth it. “I just need you to come along to the office. It’s very close by. All you to do is to take the first step in those lovely heels of yours,” she said, admiring Morgan’s boots.
XXXXX
Andy
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