What Is Your Favourite Dress Style?
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By Abigail Genevieve · Posted
The two o'clock Onshoring meeting was going well. Taylor was leading, inviting other people up to speak on their specialties. Aerial photogrammetry and surveying, including the exact boundary, were out for contract signature Gibson had handled that - Manufacturing was supposed to, but somehow hadn't happened. Legal issues from Legal. Accounting reported on current costs, including all upkeep, guard salaries, etc. Manufacturing was supposed to give those numbers, but they hadn't. The downside was the VP of Manufacturing. He had arrived at the meeting red-faced, his tie askew, clutching a bottle. It smelled strongly of vodka. He had never done anything in his twenty years of being VP of Manufacturing, and he did not like being asked now. "Mr. ----, do you have the inventory we asked for?" Taylor asked politely. VP Gibson had asked him to have his people go through the plant and not only inventory but assess the operational status of every piece of equipment. They needed to know what they had. "I'm not going to take any f---- orders from a g-d- tra---," he snarled. "God knows what kind of perverts it has dragged into our fair city and bangs every night." "That is completely out of line." That was Gibson. Taylor controlled herself. That was a shot at Bob, not just at Taylor. She was glad Bob was not there to do something stupid. Had Mrs. McCarthy been talking? What had she said? Was she given to embellishment? Taylor took a deep breath. "I'm not sorry. You f--- can take this stupid onshoring --- and shove it up your -" "That is quite enough." This was the head of HR. "You can take your sissy ways and sashay -" "You are fired." "You can't fire me." "Oh, yes I can," said the office manager. The VP took another swig from his bottle. "Try it." He looked uncertain. "I will have you removed. Are you going to leave on your own? I am calling the police to help you leave." And he dialed the number. He stomped out cursing. They heard him noisily go down the hall. This was the front conference room. He actually went through security and out the door, throwing his badge on the ground on his way. The guard picked it up. They could see this through the glass wall. "Can you fire a VP?" "The Board told me that if anyone gives me problems they should be shown the door. Even a VP. I can fire everyone here. I won't, of course. Those were problems." "Are you alright, Taylor?" She nodded. "I've heard worse. Shall we continue?" And they did. The last item was that certain business people in China had been arrested, and the corporation that had been supporting them all these years had been dissolved. They were on their own, and the Board was dead serious on straightening things out. After this meeting, Taylor believed it. She did not attend the meeting to discuss how to distribute the few duties the VP of Manufacturing had done. That was ultimately up to the Board. -
By Abigail Genevieve · Posted
Lunch was at Cabaret, still free. The place was quiet: it was the sort of place you took a business client to impress them, and the few other people were in business suits. Most of the legal profession was there. She told him of the morning's frustrations, breaking her own rule about confidentiality. She asked Karen how the branding was going, and Karen had snapped back that she had not started on it yet - they had all these proposals. Taylor had explained that it was important, for the two o'clock meeting, and Karen told her to do it herself. Karen pointed out that Taylor could not touch her - her uncle was on the Board and her brother was VP of Manufacturing. Nor would the two computer guys go out to the plant - they were playing some kind of MMORPG and simply not available. If she wanted the pictures, she should go. Mary prayed an Ave Maria, but both she and Brenda were racing to get the proposal out. The client wanted it Friday for review. She didn't bring up what Mrs. McCarthy had told her. She wasn't sure how to approach it. She thought of telling her of a 'something more comfortable' she had bought in case he ever DID show up at her door. It was in the bottom drawer of her dresser, ready to go. Instead she talked about moving to a place with a garage. Several of the abandoned houses had one, and they had been maintained well with China cash. Bob had finally realized that when he was introduced as Bob, Taylor's boyfriend, that was just how things were done here. Other people had introduced each other in terms of family relationships, which were strong. Long before you found out anything else about someone, you knew how they were related. Family kept people from leaving Millville. "What is the real name of this town, anyway?" She laughed. "I am trying to find that out. It's 'Welcome to Millvale' when you come into town from the north, and 'Welcome to Millville' on the south. I have counted two other variants." "What a town. Roosevelt is like that, with the families, but there is only one spelling." -
By Ashley0616 · Posted
Nothing wrong with that. I'm glad that you found what makes you happy! Just curious what does your wife think? If it's too personal I understand. -
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By Ashley0616 · Posted
– According to a recent survey, the most popular name for a dog is Max. Other popular names include Molly, Sam, Zach, and Maggie. -
By Ashley0616 · Posted
Music, movies and then gaming -
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By Abigail Genevieve · Posted
Bob was on his way home from the dojo and he "just happened" to driver by her place. It was 10:30. Her light was still on. He knew exactly where she was sitting. He saw her in his mind. A fierce wave of desire that took his breath away suddenly showed up. All he had to do was stop, get out of the car, walk to the door and knock. She would answer, glad to see him. She would know why he was there and what he wanted. She would invite him in, maybe get him something to drink, disappear for a moment and return in "something more comfortable." She would lead him back. Oh, joy. And never, ever speak to him again afterwards. Or she would not let him in but be angry about it. In no way, emotionally, physically, mentally or spiritually, was she ready for this, and he knew it, if he was honest with himself, and she knew he knew it. She would look upon it as another assault and their relationship would be irretrievably broken. He would have to leave town. It would devastate her. It would devastate him. He fought himself. He was frozen to his seat as his reason and his body fought. He was twenty four years old, a full-blooded male with normal desires; he had just worked out and he was ready. All he had to do now was open the car door. No one would know. He held his hands, one in the other, to keep one from moving, against his reason and will, to open that door. He did not want to be a slave of his desires. He looked across the street. Mrs. McCarthy, sister of his landlord, was peeking though her window. She knew his car. Everyone in town would know by noon the next day if he got out of the car. Taylor did not need that, either, and she would know, if he came to the door now, what a selfish thing it would be: in his own eyes, in the eyes of Taylor, in the eyes of the town, and worst of all, in the eyes of God. He sat there a moment longer. He was, as he reflected, entering into her sufferings in a small way that she would be made whole, healthy and happy: what he wanted more than anything. But this hurt. Why had all this come on her? He asked God again, but there was only silence. He drove home in that silence. He chided himself for even going on her street and for driving on it other nights. He would stop that, he told himself. ------------------------------------------ The next morning Taylor went out to her car to go to work. Mrs. McCarthy met her before she got to it. "I thought you were going to get lucky last night, dearie," she said. Taylor was puzzled. "Why, what do you mean?" "That young fellow - you know, Bob - he's been driving around here, going up and down the street some nights, not stopping. Well, last night he parked and sat in his car for a while. I think he was staring at your window. I think he was trying to get up the courage to knock on the door. I was rooting for him. But then he drove away. Faint heart never won fair lady, as they say. What a shame. You two are a lovely couple. Well, have a good day!" "Thank you, Mrs. McCarthy." Taylor knew Bob extremely well and knew what had been going through his mind. She was more than grateful he had not gotten out of the car. Better for him, better for her, better for everybody. Surgery "down there" sooner than later. This was driving the poor boy crazy. It was driving her crazy, too. But she had a lot to work through. Surgery "up here" she said, pointing to her head. She woke up her therapist on the way to work. They were still talking when she pulled into her designated parking spot. That was a perk that had happened yesterday. She took a deep breath and headed into work. It would be another wild day. -
By Ashley0616 · Posted
bittersweet: especially : pleasure accompanied by suffering or regret -
By Abigail Genevieve · Posted
I'm thinking about some interactions yesterday I did, while presenting as male but acting as female, that were far better than I did when I was presenting as male and acting as male. #girlunderhood. I do a crappy job at acting as male and I am giving it up. I am not talking about feminine gestures or presentation but just relating as a woman. People don't realize I am doing it but it is a whole lot easier to do. You don't just put on a dress and BOOM you are a girl. You are a girl and you put on a dress. Or not. Whether I am in jeans or a skirt (I wish, wife would have lots to say) I am a girl. I don't need $250 in makeup and heels and hose and all that. I don't need surgery. Honey, I have arrived. Now I have to work out how that best works in my life, causing the minimal damage and creating the maximum good, but I have more working room. Oh, and I am still pissed off at everyone and everything. #Contradictory. -
By awkward-yet-sweet · Posted
@Willow it is certainly possible that my husband planned it. Placing me in the path of an opportunity....he certainly does things like that. GF has done some work for the company as an outside consultant, so I'm sure the company owner knows what potential resources are around. It could also have just happened randomly. He has taken me to work with him before, just because he likes to have me around. I remember one time that I fell asleep with my head in his lap, and he held a meeting with his subordinates without waking me and making me move. The company culture is family oriented and relaxed. -
By Abigail Genevieve · Posted
The photo is great. Software is phenomenal but it also is sort of a promise of things to come. Years ago this sort of thing took a photographer and Photoshop and all sorts of things and you would say, "I can look like THIS??" Me, I am a duck. That's from my driver's license. Just kidding. -
By MaeBe · Posted
I lucked into that picture. I took like 10 before that, which appropriately make me look like a donkey. ;) Thank you so much for the compliment! -
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By Mmindy · Posted
This is a great analogy. The statement is true as it relates to the tree. The analogy fits because we as a LGBTQIA community are stronger when we stand together. It also work here on Transgender Pulse Forums. The support I feel from so many others has made me comfortable with my stance, because I'm in a beautiful forest of friends. So when I'm out alone and confronted. I can respond and act like the single tree in the field, surviving whatever comes my way. My roots reach back and communicate with others like me. Standing Strong, Mindy🌈🐛🏳️⚧️🦋
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