Sandra woke me up with the wireless handset in her hand. The production company had called, she explained, and instead of letting me answer the call still half asleep, she had preferred to act as my secretary and made an appointment. I still had two hours time. I was instantly awake.

Abigail Henson, the producer, had been on the phone Sandra explained, and I was to meet with her, the lady director and the manageress. They were obviously an all female production team, not really a novelty for me, as the Sommertheater in Hamburg, too, had a fully female team organising it. I jumped out of bed, showered and came to sit with Sandra in the kitchen for breakfast.

“You really need that job, don’t you?” she asked while she served eggs, bacon, fried tomatoes and mushrooms and filled a mug with tea.

“You cannot even imagine how badly, Sandra.” I replied.

“Well, I hope it all works out.”

“Me too.”

With that I attacked the breakfast while studying the A to Z to guess at the time it would need for me to get to their offices in Soho. The fact that I could go there directly on the northern line made things easy. I would be able to take a bus to Archway if one would just pass or walk there, neither would take very long. So I had my breakfast quietly and leisurely got on the way. Five minutes before the arranged time I was at their door.

“Yes?” asked the voluptuous slightly too blond blonde at reception.

“I am Magna.” I said.

She seemed surprised and then announced me over her intercom:

“Mister Magna is there, Abigail.”

What was so special about the mister? I wondered. I should get the answer directly as Abigail Henson took me to a small conference room introduced me and said then:

“Unfortunately the name Dhyan Magna has led us to believe you to be a woman. We want an all female production and for that we need a capable lady as technical director. Your name was the only one that came up as a suitable person. You have a reputation as not only a very good lighting designer, but also for being cost conscious and creative as a technical director. Too bad you are not a woman.”

I was certain that my disappointment was to be easily read in my face. Then our conversation of yesterday came into my head and I decided to try a scrupulously honest approach I was sure Sandra would approve. What did I have to lose?

“I’ll be honest, Abigail, I may call you that I hope?”

She nodded.

“I need this job. I invested my last cash into this trip and have no other prospects. I’d be prepared to wear a dress and make-up for the length of the contract.”

They looked at each other in surprise.

“Well,” the director Valerie Hancocq said “that could be the closest what we can achieve in respect of our goal, Abigail. We’ve already been looking for too long.”

“Don’t think it would be that easy.” responded Florence Wentworth, the manageress “You would not only have to dress and look, but also behave like a woman. What do you think, Abigail, shall we let the technical team decide with us?”

“Great idea.” Abigail looked straight into my eyes “If you turn up at Saturday’s meeting of the technical staff as a woman and can win them over you’re hired.” She grinned hesitated and then continued “Diana.”

Did I want to go by Diana? No rather Marion, or better still, Monique!

“I’d prefer to be introduced as Monique … Monique Madelaine.” I heard myself say.

“OK, Monique, it is up to you.”

“Can I please have a video projector for the meeting?”

“We’ll organise one.”

“The meeting is on Saturday at two pm at the theatre.” explained Valerie “everyone is actually female in this production.” She added thoughtfully and as an afterthought “So far.”

“If I get the job” I asked “How long would I have to appear as a woman?”

“Well, we are planning a tour after the year in the west end, so including rehearsals and all, three years.”

That finally made all blood drain from my face. Three years! Would I be able to live without sex for three years? Would I get so used to appear as a woman that I’d have problems changing back? THREE YEARS!

“You see, Monique,” Florence put special importance on the female name “it might turn out quite difficult what you are offering. On the other hand of course, you could really become a woman with HRT and an operation.”

She looked at me with a rather serious expression.

“Oh la la!” I stopped her “That goes a bit too far, Florence.”

“We’ll see, Monique, once you are accepted by the team. I wish you luck. What I have seen of your work so far seems very good. I’d love to work with such a woman.”

“OK, Saturday at two it is.” Abigail confirmed “Florence, can you please give Monique two thousand pounds to cover for her travelling expenses?”

She turned to me with a wink.

“That should suffice for a first shopping. If you get the job I’ll let you have a substantial advance for nice underwear, dresses, shoes and cosmetics as well as a flat. OK?”

“Agreed, Abigail. Thanks a lot for the chance.”

“See you Saturday, Monique.”

With that my interview had ended. Shortly after I left the building thoughtfully with 2000 Pounds. What had I done? Did I really want to spend three years of my life as a woman? On the other hand 65.000 pounds per year and a convertible as a company car were not to be ignored lightly. That was what the contract said, that I carried with me. Would I sign that with Monique? I asked myself. Would I need to have Monique Madelaine registered in my passport as my artists name and get a new one with a picture of me as Monique? Most probably. Those thoughts going through my head I had reached the tube without even noticing. Well, now would be the time to accept May’s generous offer. I called Sandra from a phone booth to ask for May’s number. The booth was plastered with ads and cards of all kinds of ‘services’, at least ten dommes and about an equal number of wardrobe mistresses. What a start!

Sandra of course wanted to know every detail and proposed to ring May to arrange for the two of us to see her, so that I would not have to tell everything twice.

“But come home first, Honey.” she said.

Home …??? Honey??? She normally called her girl friends Honey and home? Was she already assuming I got the job and became her girl friend and flat mate? Did she already see me as a woman? All the way back to Muswell Hill my thoughts revolved around the fact of the contract I carried and that I had managed to ask to get the job as Monique Madelaine. What would it be like to work exclusively with women for three years? Would I eventually become one of them? A she, Monique? Without realising I was already at Archway and had even walked half way to Fortis Green Road. Back in reality I walked the last quarter of a mile and knocked on Sandra’s door. She opened.

“Hi, Honey,” she said giving me a hug “May is still busy until later this afternoon, but we can come around four pm.” she greeted me and then I nevertheless had to tell everything that had happened in all detail. When I had finished she said:

“What a pity that you don’t have that wonderful long hair any more, like at the time, when you came to mum first time. My first thought then was what a sweet girl you could have been.”

My hair had been almost down to my waist, but I had to have it cut off for the general conscription. My hair never had got that long and luscious again afterwards. That was the reason it now only reached my shoulders.

“Well,” Sandra interrupted my reminiscing “At least it is still enough for a feminine hair style.”

A feminine hair style! Yes, that and what else would I have to do, changes that would not be so easily reversed, to look like a woman?

“Sandra,” I started hesitantly “is it not simply completely crazy what I am doing?”

“Nonsense, Honey! I like it that you have the courage to take such a risk! Come, lets prepare a little, so that May has it easier later.”

And so we started. Sandra ran me a bath, so that my skin would become nice and soft and afterwards she epilated most of my body hair, chest, armpits, stomach, arms legs and finally even my pubic hair. When she had finished all that was left was a little heart shaped bush above my sex. Everywhere else I was smooth like a baby. Sandra was happy and I confused. Secretly my ‘nakedness’ excited me. I had no opportunity to think about that as she said:

“Now lets varnish your toe nails.”

She gave me a pink bathrobe of hers and I had to sit in the lounge, where she put cotton pads between my toes and gave me a pedicure, then painted my nails bright red. OK, I thought all that is invisible, of course, if I wear socks and jeans and a hoodie, in case I have to go home again without a job. Sandra had finished now and we made some sandwiches for lunch. When we were done it was time to go to see May.

We did not have it far, May had a house in Highgate, on the other side of the A1, a little more towards the outskirts, not quite in the best part of it, but still in a respectable area. Not the address of a prostitute, I thought and was surprised, that I did not think it odd that May also had sex with a selected few of her clients.

I put on jeans, trainers and a sweatshirt and we took Sandra’s mini to get there. May had evidently already been waiting for us, because she was in the door even before Sandra had fully parked.

“Darling!” She greeted Sandra and gave her a deep kiss on the lips. And with a mischievous grin she addressed me with:

“Hi, miss Magna.”

Sandra laughed.

“Oh May,” I whispered “I have offered to call myself Monique and work for three years as a woman.”

“Come on in, Honey and tell me all about it.”