Silhouette by Melanie E.

Click.

I squinted my eyes against the brilliant burst of light as the studio lamp turned on, then quickly turned away. It was an old lamp, one I’d gotten for a good price at a swap meet, and still used old incandescent bulbs, so the heat was enough to almost immediately start making me uncomfortable and, I knew, would have my makeup streaming down my face in moments if I stayed close.

With that done, I clacked my way across the floor to the switch for the overhead lights and turned them off, then clacked some more on my heels as I walked over to the area I had staged for myself.

I smiled.

The silhouette on the practically glowing white backdrop was perfect. The trim waist, the flaring skirt, the mixture of definition and soft impressions cast by my curls piled high on my head. The sleek legs, even the ruffles at the shoulders. It all screamed femininity.

I turned sideways, but kept my face toward the backdrop, admiring as the shadow figure mimicked my movements. Seeing the curve of her breasts, the tilt of her heels, even the outline of the bow tied at her lower back, above a nicely rounded rear helping to make the skirt stand out that much more.

It was perfect.

I struck a few poses, this way and that, and my shadow mirrored me. A curtsey. A giggle. A feminine pirouette. All well-practiced, all graceful and perfect.

I practiced like this for about five minutes before the heat grew too much to bear, and I could feel the beads of moisture wicking my makeup down despite being turned away from the lamp. I blew one last kiss to myself before turning the overhead lights back on, then turning the lamp off, marvelling as I always did at the strange quiet that surrounded me as the electric hum of the light, something I hadn’t been aware of moments before, faded down, leaving the glass and metal components of the lamp to crackle slightly from the residual heat.

Back in my room after, the heels came off. I lifted my skirt and began the process of removing my padded panty. Once that was off I untied the belt of my dress, then unzipped the back, letting the whole thing fall off my now far less ample hips rather than trying to pull it over my head and across my likely ruined makeup.

Dress, padded panty, and heels all went into their box on the bed, along with my breast forms. My bra went to the side to be laundered, and I kept my regular panties on, the only part of my wardrobe I allowed to stay feminine most of the time. With that done, it was into the bathroom for the last steps.

I left the lights off as I stepped in, using the residual light from the bedroom to locate my wig stand and settle my hair on top of it, before finally turning on the cold, fluorescent bathroom light and staring myself in the mirror.

It wasn’t sweat that caused the black streak to form on my cheek as I looked at myself, and longed for the girl in my silhouette once more.

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