By Katherine Day

Chapter Seven: First Days at College
Even though it was a stifling hot and humid day in late August, Kenny shivered as they left the family’s air-conditioned car in front of one of the several two-story, stone buildings that rimmed the lakeshore at the State University campus. Cars were lined up in the front of all of the ancient buildings, all built as college dormitories nearly 90 years ago, just after World War I.

The buildings had housed thousands of students that gathered from all over the country, indeed the world, to attend this State University, which regularly ranked among the top colleges in the nation in academics. At least a dozen cabinet ministers, two vice presidents, many corporate CEOs, prominent writers and artists and Hollywood directors, producers and actors spent their early college years in these dormitories. Now they housed mainly freshmen students, many from the farms and rural communities of the state, others from the urban centers, plus a smattering of young people from other states, with a particular number from the New York City area.

Seeing him shiver, his mother hugged him, hoping to settle him down. She knew how apprehensive he was about leaving home, being placed into a teeming milieu of more than 40,000 students who populated this campus. And, what was his roommate going be like? Would the boy accept him? He knew how effeminate he had become, in spite of his best efforts to overcome those tendencies. He had tried so hard to provide evidence of being more masculine, but know he probably hadn’t. Was he to face a school year of bullying and teasing and humiliation?

His mother was lucky, having found a parking spot almost in front of the main door to their unit, just as another family was pulling away after depositing their son or daughter. Cars were lined up all along the tree-lined asphalt drive that ran between the dorm units and a running track and then the lakeshore. Girls in shorts and tank tops or tees mixed with boys in long knee-length shorts and tops mingled with parents, all struggling with luggage, racks of clothes, TVs, computers and the other accouterments of youth that had been accumulated through their teen years. Even some teddy bears and dolls were visible among some of the debris being unloaded from SUVs, mini-vans, pickups and even a few sedans.

“You coulda brought your Teddy,” Kenny heard his brother, Sonny, say teasingly.

“Shut up, wise guy,” Kenny responded, but recalling how he had actually considered bringing Teddy who had usually accompanied him to his bed at night.

Actually, Kenny’s load of stuff was quite modest compared to most of the others, and between them, Kenny, his mother and Sonny, were able to manage most of it on the first trip.

The door to Room 111 — his assigned room — was open as they arrived, seeing that his roommate and what apparently were his parents already in the room. Kenny was surprised to see that the three were dark-skinned persons, apparently from India.

“Oh hello,” Cecelia Hansson said, as she entered the door. “This must be your roommate, Kenny, and his parents.”

She hurriedly introduced the family as the room suddenly became crowded with six people. Introductions were made and the other parents excused themselves to permit Kenny to bring his stuff into the room.

Rajesh Verma was a bit shorter than Kenny and quite slight of build. Kenny was quite surprised at how dainty the boy’s hand felt as the two shook hands, and Kenny felt immediately comfortable with Rajesh. The boy’s voice was rather lilting and musical in its inflection, but there was not a hint of Indian in his language. He was born in a suburb of Milwaukee where his father worked as an engineer for a major medical instrument manufacturer.

“You can call me Ray,” Rajesh told him once both families had left to return home. “That’s what everyone called me at school.”

“OK, Ray, and what are you studying?”

The boys sat on their two beds, opposite each other in the narrow room; their bare knees almost touched as the spoke. Kenny was so conscious about his effeminate mannerisms that he attempted to stifle the instinct to wave his hands about or to repeatedly brush his long hair out of his face as he spoke.

“My dad wants me to go into electrical engineering, but I’m so interested in designing that I’ve enrolled in an arts program,” the boy said, finishing with a nervous giggle.

“Designing? Like dresses and stuff?” Kenny asked, his interest immediately piqued.

“No,” the boy, his dark eyes sparkling with amusement. “Like designing products and houses and stuff like that.”

“Oh,” Kenny said, hoping his disappointment at the answer didn’t show on his face

“Why are you interested in dress designing?” Rajesh said.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Kenny quickly answered. “I’m going into either library science or political science, or both.”

“Wow, a double major? You must be smart!”

Kenny blushed. “I guess so,” he said, letting out a girlish giggle.

The two boys spent a while organizing the room together, and at the suggestion of Rajesh agreed on some simple ground rules in which Rajesh seemed pleased to defer to Kenny on many key points.

“Got a girl friend?” Rajesh asked later in the day as they dawdled in the room before leaving for dinner in the dorm’s cafeteria.

“No? You?”

“Me either,” he said. “There weren’t any Indian girls in my school and I just didn’t feel like the other girls wanted to date me. Besides, they all seemed to want those big strong football players.”

Kenny giggled. He had the same feeling. Except for Angela, he’d had no close relationship with any girl.

“I didn’t play football,” he said, stating what Rajesh could tell was obvious.

“I think we’ll get along good,” Rajesh said.

Later at dinner, as they were returning their trays after completing the meal, Rajesh said: “Look at the girls here. They all dress so sloppy now. Why don’t they wear dresses and skirts more?”

“Oh I think they like the comfort of those outfits, Ray.”

“I guess, but it just seems they’d want to look nice. I actually did do some dress designing when I was in high school, but I never told anyone.”

“You did?” Kenny asked. “Who did you do the designing for?”

“Just for me,” he said. “I drew up all sorts of dresses on my easel. Mostly I did gowns. I even thought about fashion school, but I know my dad would be appalled. You know how Indian fathers want their sons to be macho.”

“You never made the dresses then, you just drew them up?”

“Oh God no,” he said. Kenny looked at his new friend, considered his soft features and slight body, wondering if the boy, too, harbored feminine feelings. He mused that Rajesh would look just lovely in a dress or even better yet, a sari. The boy’s legs were slender and as girlish as his own.

Later in the room, as the boys prepared to go to sleep, Kenny’s curiosity got the best of him.

“Ever wonder how you’d look in a dress, Ray?” Kenny blurted out.

“Gosh no,” the boy said, somewhat surprised by the question. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know, but since he liked to draw them, I thought maybe . . .”

“Well, I did wonder, actually, but never did it,” Rajesh said. “After all I’m a man.”

“I guess. I just wondered, that’s all.”

Kenny attempted to look at some of the orientation materials the university had provided and the two didn’t speak for a while. Finally Rajesh said:

“How about you? Did you ever think about it?”

Kenny blushed.

“I guess I thought about it,” he began, pausing for a moment. Then, he said, “Can you keep a secret?”

“You did,” Rajesh said immediately, without awaiting confirmation from Kenny. “You did think about it and I bet you did it, too.”

Kenny nodded. “But don’t tell anybody, Ray, please.”

“I won’t. I promise,” he said. “I bet you were pretty, too.”

Kenny giggled. “Let me show you something. You’re on your computer now. Put ‘Shakespeare camp St. Albert’s’ in your search engine. And then I’ll show you something. But this is just between us now.”

“Agreed.”

Rajesh keyed in the words and when the page came up, Kenny directed him to scroll down until he saw a photo of Ophelia. The boy took a few seconds, finally stopping at a picture showing Ophelia and Hamlet together at the point in the play where Hamlet declares: “Get thee to a nunnery.”

“There,” Kenny said. “That’s me.”

“As Hamlet?”

“No, as Ophelia. I played Ophelia in the play.”

Rajesh squinted at the picture, and then noticed the caption that said. “Hamlet (played by Mark Hamilton) rejects the love of the lovely teenage girl, Ophelia (played by Kenneth Hansson) at the Summer Camp’s performance. The student production following the custom of Shakespeare’s days when men played female parts.”

“That’s you,” the boy said. “I can’t believe it. My God, you’re beautiful. You look so much like a girl there.”

“Well, yes, Ray, that was the point,” he said, suddenly embarrassed that he had told his new friend about his role in a woman’s part. “I guess that’s part of the reason they picked me for the part.”

Kenny noticed Rajesh was examining him closely as the two spoke. Suddenly, Kenny was embarrassed that he had revealed his summer camp experience to the boy, feeling that as an Indian he might disapprove of Kenny’s gender-changing activities.

“I can see that you could be made into a pretty girl,” Rajesh said, quickly adding, “I hope you didn’t mind me telling you that, Kenny. It’s just that . . . ah . . . you really do have . . . what should I say? . . . Very pretty features.”

“Not at all, Ray,” Kenny said quickly, hoping to put the boy at ease. “I get mistaken for a girl lots so I’m used to it.”

“Oh, doesn’t that bother you?” he asked.

“Not much. Besides I guess it’s true and I kinda like being called pretty. After all, I don’t think I’d be much good at football.”

“Me either,” said Rajesh, and the two boys laughed, realizing they both had dainty, slender bodies that could hardly be consider masculine.

The two boys then turned back to their computers, putting on earphones to listen to their own music while they clicked away.

“Kenny,” Rajesh said later after they had readied themselves for bed for the night, “I’m so happy I have you as a roomie.”

“I feel the same about you, Ray.”

“I’m happy. I was so worried I’d be teamed up with some big rough kid.”

Kenny let out a short giggle. “I was, too, but you’re nice.”

Soon, Kenny heard Ray’s light breathing as the boy had fallen asleep, and Kenny’s thoughts turned to his life as Karen and the warm, loving embrace of Mark Hamilton. He knew the boy had left for football pre-season practice at Ames, Iowa, two weeks earlier, and wondered if at that moment he was kissing a blonde farm girl co-ed in some secluded spot on the Iowa State campus. His mind began to rush over what he — as Karen — could do to win back the love of this handsome young man. He even considered transferring to Iowa State.

Soon he was asleep and he would wake the next morning, realizing how ridiculous the idea was. He was still Kenny — not Karen — and hadn’t Mark already rejected her?

Why, he wondered, was he so fixated on the few weeks he spent as Karen? And, then he remembered what Rajesh had said when he saw the photo of Ophelia: “You’re beautiful.” What girl wouldn’t want to hear those words?

*****
Kenny got a text message from Angela the next morning, suggesting that he meet her at the Cardinal Café about 7:30 p.m. “Karen, I so want to see you, Love, Angela.”

He smiled, remembering how Angela like to treat him as another girl and to make love with him as if they were lesbians, with Angela being the butch and the Kenny the femme. He remembered how sweet it felt to be in the arms of Angela, his own soft, fragile body encased by the muscular arms and legs of Angela. When they were alone, she always called him “Karen.”

He texted back: “OK, Maybe you can show me around campus. Karen.”

“Maybe I’ll show you something more, too,” she said.

“7:30 at Cardinal. See you there. Love, Karen,” he texted back.

A late August heat wave had descended upon the campus, and lingered in the early evening, becoming even muggier as dusk fell. Knowing that Angela would want him looking as feminine as possible, he put on dark blue athletic shorts with white trim, a light girl’s tee-shirt with cup sleeves, a pair of sandals without socks and tied his long hair in a ponytail.

While the shorts were unisex, Kenny knew that normally they were worn by girls; the bottoms ended just below his butt, exposing much of his thighs. Kenny knew his roomie would be gone, since he had planned to visit some Indian friends who were upper classmen and promised to acquaint him with the campus.

Only a few boys were hanging around the first floor of the dorm (which was the boys’ floor) and they paid Kenny little attention, since girls (who were on the second floor of the building) often wandered onto the boys’ floor to visit their male friends. He did get a “Hey what’s your name, honey?” from a large, overweight boy standing in the lobby. He just walked by as if he didn’t hear.

He walked in quick, short steps, his feet planted directly forward, causing his hips to sway with each step. He let his arms move freely as he walked, bending at the wrists daintily. Anyone looking at him would only see a young college girl, he knew. The thought excited him, since he knew he was anonymous and no one would even suspect he was a boy.

The walk to the student union took him through a short stretch of woods, and as he entered the area he grew frightened, realizing that as a “fragile young college girl” he was vulnerable. Already in student orientation, they had warned young ladies to not walk alone in the darkness, due to a spate of attacks on girls that had occurred in the previous school year.

He sensed footsteps behind him as he entered the 200 yards of forested walk where the dark had already developed. He hurried his steps, but heard the steps speed up behind him, fear filling his mind. He reached into the fanny pack he used to find the pepper spray that Aunt Harriet had bestowed upon him as something “every pretty girl should have handy.”

“Wait, miss, please,” Kenny heard the labored voice of the young man following behind.

He sought to move faster, breaking into a trot, but the voice behind persisted. “Miss, miss, please, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Kenny looked back, almost stumbling over a root in the semi-darkness, forcing him to slow down and soon the man was next to him.

“Miss,” the young man said, panting heavily. “I wasn’t going to hurt you. But you dropped this.”

In the remaining light, Kenny could see the man held a light sweater that Kenny had been carrying. He had brought it along since warm late summer evenings in Wisconsin often turned chilly.

“Oh my God, I did,” he said.

Both of them stood there in the failing light, both panting, and then Kenny said, “Thank you.”

“Let me escort you out of this,” the boy said. “A girl shouldn’t be walking through here in the dark.”

“I know I didn’t think it would be this dark,” Kenny said, giving the boy a flirtatious look.

“I’m Gabriel,” he said, taking Kenny’s arm and leading him along the path.

“Karen. Nice to meet you.”

In the five-minutes it took them to reach the student union, Kenny learned that Gabe, as he wanted to be called, was a second-year student in pre-med. He was from a small town in Minnesota and played football there, but kidded that there was no way he’d be considered as a member of the university’s team, always a top team in the nation. He was a tall, large young man, with short brown hair and cheerful eyes.

Just before they got to the student union, Gabe said, “I’d like to see you again, Karen.”

Kenny was wary of the invitation; after all, this boy didn’t know that he was not a girl.

“Oh, I don’t know you, Gabe,” he said. “Let’s just leave it like this, OK? I really thank you for escorting me. I was kinda scared in the woods.”

“Oh, sure, I understand,” the boy said. “I’m sorry for being so forward.”

“You’re sweet. Maybe we’ll meet again, Gabe,” Kenny said, standing on his tiptoes and giving Gabe a light kiss on his cheek.

Angela was waiting outside the Cardinal Café as the two arrived. “Karen, how nice to see you,” the girl said. “And who is this?”

“This is Gabe, who escorted me through the dark woods,” Kenny said. “I was so scared.”

“Shame on you, Karen,” Angela said. “You shouldn’t dress so sexy. She’s such a pretty thing, isn’t she, Gabe.”

The boy blushed, and Kenny realized the young man was a bit embarrassed with the conversation.

“She’s very pretty, yes,” he said.

The boy then said he was meeting friends and left.

“You little flirt,” Angela said as she led Kenny out on to the Café’s patio that overlooked the huge lake that adjoined the campus.

“I thought you’d want me dressed as Karen,” he said.

“I did, and you look good enough to eat, dear.”

Kenny smiled as they sat at a small round table on the patio overlooking the lake, already shimmering in an early evening glow as the sun settled down behind the horizon. It was a lovely evening and even though the campus was still largely empty (since only the new students were on campus), the patio was nearly full. Angela pulled two chairs together, and then went off to get drinks, leaving Kenny sitting alone at the table.

He looked out at the lake, viewing the blinking lights on a few moored sailboats in the nearby harbor and hearing the honking of gulls flying along the shoreline with a lone speedboat purring and frogs croaking. As he awaiting Angela’s return, Kenny wondered what had so quickly broken his resolve to only dress and act as a boy in his first year on campus. In just one day, he found himself again in the role of Karen and loving it.

Angela returned with the drinks, a power drink for herself and a diet cola for Kenny, setting them on the table and saying, “Here you are darling.”

She leaned over and kissed Kenny on lips, a long, lingering moist kiss; it caused Kenny to squirm, wondering what others would think seeing what appeared to be two girls kissing.

Sensing Kenny’s squeamishness, Angela released her lips and sat down, pulling her chair tightly up against Kenny. She sat down and Kenny soon felt her muscular legs intertwining his underneath the table. Then, he felt her hand caressing his slender forearm, growing excited with the girl’s touches.

“Don’t worry about what others think here, Karen,” Angela said. “This campus is used to seeing two girls — or two guys for that matter — hugging and kissing. It’s so liberal here.”

Kenny looked about, seeing several mixed couples caressing each other before finally spotting two young men kissing briefly and then walking off hand-in-hand as obvious lovers. Encouraged, he looked up into Angela’s eyes, leaned into her, and kissed her again.

The two finished the evening off at her apartment; she was still alone since her three roommates had not yet arrived for the fall semester, and Kenny and Angela quickly went to bed.

“Karen, Karen, Karen,” Angela said breathlessly, as she completed her third orgasm of the evening, the last one with Kenny’s lips buried on her pussy. Kenny relished the musky scent of her vagina and loved putting his tongue into the opening, tasting her.

*****
It was after midnight when Angela dropped Kenny off at his dormitory; she had use of one of her roommates’ cars for several days before the other girl returned to campus.

“It’s good this is a coed dorm,” Angela said. “That way you look just like one of the girls.”

Kenny smiled, adding, “Oh yes, girls are running in and out of boys’ rooms all the time.”

“You be careful, dear. The way you look some of those thugs might just wanna take advantage.”

“I’ve been reading up on how girls can protect themselves, so I hope I’m ready for ‘em.”

“Think of me tonight, darling,” Angela said, as they kissed just before Kenny left the car and bounded into the dorm and through the lobby, where a solitary boy sat on the lounge chair talking on his cell phone. The boy looked up, and Kenny heard him say into the phone: “Wow, look at this hottie. Looks like somebody in this place is getting lucky tonight.”

Kenny realized he even ran like a girl.

*****
Rajesh was sound asleep, a slight wheezing sound emanating from his mouth, and Kenny was careful to be quiet. In the subdued light, Kenny groped for his pajamas and retreated to the bathroom to change, removing any sign of the girl Karen.

Looking in the mirror, he thought back over the night’s events, proving that in this large university and its more than 40,000 students that he could be a complete stranger, and that he could be Karen and no one would question his gender. Off hand, he could think of only a handful of people who might know him on campus as Kenny: Angela, his roommate, several boys on his dorm floor and three others from his class in high school, who were also lost among the 5,000 in the freshman class.

He crawled into his bed, the room a bit stuffy and he found he couldn’t sleep. His mind was turning over and over, first about sexual activity with Angela, where she used her superior strength to move him into intimate positions, where he found how much he loved the girl’s nasty scented, moist vagina and how she treated him as if he were her feminine lesbian lover.

Then he reflected on the shame he felt: he was still a virgin. An 18-year-old boy, and still virgin! How pathetic!

Yet, he reflected, he was not ready to actually fuck a girl. He had a vague idea of what he would do, but worried that his penis — undersized but not tiny — would be up to the task. Angela had made it easy for Kenny; she didn’t want his penis in her, nor any man’s penis for that matter. What Angela liked about Kenny was that he was tender and soft and girlish. Angela, the butch, and Kenny (or should it be Karen?), the femme.

Was he doomed to be a lifetime virgin? Or, was he really a girl?

His mind shifted to Gabe, who obviously had been wooed by Kenny’s impersonation of a girl when he provided the escort through the woods. He remembered the quick kiss he gave Gabe upon parting. It had come so natural and he had done it without thinking. Only a girl would do that, right?

He found himself comparing Gabe to Mark. They were both the same height, but Gabe’s body appeared to be thicker and softer. He appeared strong enough, just not in the same trim athletic way that Mark was. He remembered the nights that he and Mark lay together, their legs intertwined, and arms about each other. Kenny remembered burying his head in Mark’s armpit, growing excited at the man scent and the hard muscles of his arm.

The memories of Mark soon brought tears to his eyes. Kenny tried to shut out those last few minutes with Mark when the boy walked away from him, rejecting his love. He had loved Karen, that was certain; but he loved Karen as a complete girl, not as an imposter. Kenny’s sobs grew louder. He loved Mark so much. In the other bed, Ray began stirring and Kenny buried his head in the pillow, stifling his sobs.

*****
The next morning, while he was awaiting Ray to finish showering, Kenny thought back over the night, wondering how he could get Mark out of his mind. He had to realize that Mark — already established as a future top-rated football player — could never be interested in him, even as Karen, since Kenny could never provide him with a family. Besides, he must have dozens of female admirers on the Iowa State campus in Ames. He had to get Mark out of his mind.

Opening his laptop, he went into his email. He always looked first for an email from Mark. It was never there. This morning was no exception.

“So much for that,” he said outloud.

Kenny went into his drawer and found the fanny pack he wore the previous night and opened it, pulling out a small scrap of paper. Looking at it, be punched the keys of the laptop, writing for several minutes. He stopped, not sure whether to send it. He looked at what he wrote:

To: Gabe
From: Karen

Subject: Thank you.

Gabe: Thank you for your kindness last night. You were very sweet to rescue my sweater. I needed it later that night, so I am grateful. And Thanks for the nice escort you provided. You made this girl feel so safe.

Maybe, if you’d like, we could have coffee or something and get to know each other. No obligations either way.

But, only if you want to. This is such a big place and I don’t know many people.

Email me back if you are interested. If not, that’s fine. I will understand.

Thank you again, Karen

Kenny looked at the message for several minutes, wondering whether to punch the “send” button. Was he being too forward? And should he continue the fiction that he was a girl? That would be so wrong, wouldn’t it?

Oh damn, why not? He had to get thoughts of Mark out of his head. Maybe this big strong boy from Minnesota would be just the remedy. If they clicked, he knew he’d have to tell him the truth. Oh, dear lord, what to do?

He punched “Send.”

*****
The moment he punched “Send” Kenny felt pangs of guilt. Not only was he betraying Angela and her love for Karen, but he was violating the continuing feelings of affection he had for Mark. And, he was lying to a sweet boy by the name of Gabe. The one thing he knew about the Internet was that once you hit “Send” it was gone; there was no retrieving it, no running down to the mailbox and intercepting the postal worker who was gathering up mail. It was out there forever.

“Come on, we’ll be late,” Ray admonished Kenny who was fussing with his hair, wondering if there was any way to make it look more masculine, short of cutting it back.

“Coming.”

As they assembled their papers for the morning’s orientation session, Ray looked at Kenny, his face taking on a quizzical expression.

“Are those girl jeans you’re wearing?” he asked.

“I guess they are, but they seem to fit better than boy jeans. Besides it’s hard to tell the difference.”

“They do look nice on you, Kenny,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Kenny also wore a simple light blue dress shirt, open at the collar, hoping that would make him look more masculine. It apparently didn’t work, since he was called “miss” and “young lady” and “girl” in every encounter the two had. He remembered the double-takes by the university staff with whom he was meeting to register for classes. Invaribly, he be told, “You’re next miss,” or asked, “What’s your name, dear?” His answer of “Kenneth” brought surprised looks and quick expressions of “sorry,” before moving on to the business at hand.

Kenny looked about at the thousands of students already on campus and saw all sorts of outfits being worn. Being on a college campus was revealing; no longer did all the students dress the same as in high school. Students were allowed to be “different” in college, and he felt not too out-of-place; yet the repeated references to him being female were beginning to be troubling.

During a break period, Ray ran into one of his Indian friends, a tall, dark, gangly young man named Hamid, who upon seeing Kenny said, “Oh, have you got a girl friend already, Rajesh?”

Ray was nonplussed, and Kenny answered quickly. “Sorry, but my name is Kenneth and we’re roommates.”

The boy expressed extreme regret for his remark, bowing before Kenny to ask forgiveness.

“There’s no need for that, since I’m mistaken for a girl lots,” Kenny said. “Guess it’s the hair.”

The three exchanged pleasantries for a while before moving onto the next session. Ray looked at Kenny before saying, “You really should do something about that, Kenny. It seems you’re taken for a girl all the time.”

Kenny merely nodded.

There were long waits in some of the lines in which he stood to register for classes, giving him time to think about the email he sent to Gabe, as well as to ponder the words of Ray that he should “do something” about his appearance. Pangs of conscience bothered him as he considered the email to Gabe. Here he was, posing as a pretty girl, a pose he could easily effect? And he was tempting a boy in the throes of raging testosterone with his apparent, but phony female attributes!