The next morning, I got up early and made coffee and pancakes.

“What did I do to deserve this?” Alice asked.

“I wanted to make up for my behavior last night.”

“Your behavior? I was the one that crossed the line. I think I wanted to bring my sister back.”

“No, you were just having fun. The problem is, I was too embarrassed to let you know how I really felt, and why I cried.”

“I’m confused.”

“I was too. Maybe that’s why I cried. Maybe it was because while people have always taken me for a girl, you were the first to make me feel like it was a good thing. … Anyway, what I was too embarrassed to say was … I liked how I looked in the bra and top. But, it was a shock. It broke a lot of self-delusions.”

“Self-delusions?”

“Yes. I told you I was picked on a lot. Bullies called me all kinds of names, but I kept telling myself that they were wrong – that I was a boy who just had the misfortune of looking girlish. … Well, last night, seeing myself with breasts, with knockers, … well I liked how I looked.”

“You looked pretty damned good, Morgan.”

“Yeah … and I liked it … So, I realized that I really am a sissy.”

“’Sissy’ is a pretty harsh word, dear. How about we say you’re ‘feminine’ until we come up with something better?”

“Okay.”

Friday, Faye gave me an advance on my pay. The next morning I opened a bank account and got a debit card. These were milestones for me. I was making my own way in the world.

With a bit of money in hand, I decided to buy some clothes. At first, I thought I’d get jeans and a button shirt, but when it was 10:00 and already in the 90s, I decided to buy shorts instead. I didn’t know that by late July stores are already stocking fall and winter clothes. Bermudas were being closed out, with none in my size. I recalled seeing shorts in women’s wear, and was looking at them when an associate came over.

“These won’t fit you, miss. You’re not full-figured enough. Look in Misses,” she said, indicating an overhead sign.

“Thank you.”

I found a jumble of shorts being closed-out at 3 for $10. They were slimmer than the ones I’d been looking at. I guessed I was an M, and found mauve, navy and white pairs. Since all sales were final, I went to try them. I suppose the dressing rooms were women’s, but no one questioned me. My penis ruined the shorts’ look, but they fit well enough after I tucked myself back. My heart raced at the thought of buying myself women’s clothing. I looked at matching tops, but couldn’t go that far. Instead, I bought some pastel polo shirts.

For the next few weeks, I dressed on the feminine side of androgynous. At home I wore my new shorts and polo shirts. One evening, I tried the bra Alice gave me. She said I looked more natural, and I realized I felt more myself. I never wore a bra to work, and everyone knew I was male. Still, they treated me like one of the girls, and I liked the sense of belonging. I was loosing my balance on the gender tight rope.

I filled in as receptionist when Bobbie took a break or had a sick day. That’s how I met Mary Astoria, a single accountant in her first trimester. Faye had been called out and Mattie had not yet returned. Being the only two in the office, Mary and I started chatting. We shared an interested in art, but she was much more knowledgeable. After her check up, she came over to schedule her next appointment.

“Morgan, there’s a new exhibit at the Bower. It would be a lot more fun to go with a friend. Would you like to join me?”

“Sure, when?”

“Saturday. I could pick you up for breakfast, and then drive into the city?”

“That sounds lovely.”

That Saturday the forecast high was 104, so I wore my white shorts with a lavender polo. When I went down to wait for Mary, Alice stopped me.

“Morgan, dear, you can’t go dressed like that!”

“Why not? It’s going to be too hot for jeans.”

“Two reasons. First, you need to shave you legs. Second, I can see the rose print on your panties.”

“What?”

“Go look in the mirror. You can only wear white, pale pink, or beige under white, dear. Anything darker shows through.”

I ran and looked. You could see the print on my panties clear as day – and my fuzzy legs just looked wrong. “Oh dear! … I haven’t got time to shave my legs. She’ll be here any minute.”

“Run along and do it. I’ll give your friend a cup of coffee and talk to her.”

Ten minutes later, I was back with smooth legs and navy shorts. Mary and Alice were chatting – about me. I wasn’t sure what had been said, but I knew I had to be honest with Mary about who – or what – I was.

As we were walking to her car, I said, “Before we go, I want you to know that I’m really a boy.”

“You mean you have a penis?”

“Well, yes.”

“I didn’t know that, but I think you told me something untrue?”

“What?”

“That you’re really a boy. I’ve met thousands of people and I’d quite clear to me that you’re really a girl, even if you happen to have a penis. … so I hope that is the end of it!”

“Of it?”

“Of you expecting me to think you’re a boy. … Do you have a bra?”

I blushed.

“Well, go in and put it on. Then we can be proper girlfriends.”

I did. It was the first time I left the house in a bra. At first, I was very self conscious, but as the day wore on, I realized that I drew less, not more, attention. No one was trying to figure out if I was male or female. We had a lovely time, and kissed each other on the cheek as we parted.

Soon we were meeting weekly for a movie or an outing to a museum or gallery.

One Saturday we took in an art film after visiting the museum. By the time we finished dinner, we were both too tired to drive back. So, we decided to stay overnight. Mary knew I didn’t have much money, so she invited me to share her room. We hadn’t expected to stay over, so neither of us packed anything. We both stripped down to our underwear for bed. Mary was tired of wearing her bra, and so took it off without hesitation. Hers were the first breasts I’d seen – and they were beautiful.

“You remember I’m a male?”

“I remember we’re both girls, but one of us has some extra bits.”

We shared a bed and cuddled, but nothing more happened.

By mid August, I was coding the last of the old files. Faye, Dr. Matthews, told me that, other than a little filing, she had no more work for me. She’d pay me for the rest of the week, but I needn’t come in after I finished the filing. I’d saved over $1500, and felt quite wealthy. Still, I’d miss Mattie and Bobbie. Maybe we’d have lunch sometime.

School was going to start in two weeks, so I couldn’t commit to another fulltime job. I was thinking of signing up with a temp agency when Mary invited me to go up north with her to visit her parents. We’d take the scenic route and see the coast, which she said was spectacular. I hadn’t gone anywhere since my mom died, so I agreed.

She wanted to leave Saturday at dawn, so she picked me up Friday after she finished work. When she picked up my suitcase to put it in her trunk, she said, “This feels pretty light. What have you packed?”

I told her.

“Nothing to wear out? No nitie?”

“Out? Nitie?”

“Yes, my parents will take us to dinner and you’ll need something nice to wear, and you can’t sleep in your bra and panties – you’ll need nightwear.”

“Maybe I should just stay home?”

“Nonsense! I already told my parents that I was bringing my girlfriend.”

“So they think I’m a girl?”

“Well, you are! I mean we go everywhere with you as a girl and you’re wearing a bra as we speak.”

“Yeah, but I was going to take it off before we arrived. I was thinking of being a boy while we were there.”

“See, the thing is, they’re worried about me, because since I got pregnant and John left, they think I’m alone and won’t be able to take care of myself and the baby. I told them not to worry because I have a girlfriend to rely on.”

“Me?”

“Yes, Morgan, you.”

“No one has ever relied on me before. It makes me feel special.” I teared up a bit.

“Look, I’m not putting anything on you. … Well, I guess I am, but not about me and the baby. … I mean, it would just take a load off my parents’ minds if they thought I had someone down here to rely on. … If you could pretend to be that person.”

“Well, you can rely on me. I'm your friend, and I’ll be here for you when the baby comes.”

Now Mary teared up and hugged me. “Thank you,” she whispered, and kissed my cheek.

We drove quietly for a while before she said, “Then, we’re back to what you’ll wear. Let me take you to TJ Maxx and get you a couple of things.”

“I have money.”

“We both know I have more – and besides you wouldn’t need anything if I hadn’t put you in this situation.”

“Ok.”

We started with a skirt and blouse to wear out in daytime. I wanted one that came below my knees. Mary said I was too young to be so conservative, and insisted I get a mini. We compromised on a fuchsia poplin skort that buttoned down the front. A white sleeveless blouse with a lace bodice completed the outfit. I never felt so girlish before.

“Now you need a dress for dinner. My parents will take us someplace fancy.”

Again, I looked at long dresses, and, again, Mary insisted on something mid-thigh. I found a tie-neck dress the right length, but Mary vetoed it because the color was too close to my fuchsia skort. Instead, she got me an ivory smocked babydoll dress with a sepia floral print. A white pettislip went under it.

The one long thing I got was a pink flannel nightgown with violets.

Finally, we looked at shoes. My white canvas sneakers didn’t go with my dress. Since I’d never wore heels, Mary decided on 2” block heels, and then looked for a black pair, as they’d be the most versatile. I wound up with a choice between pumps and sandals and couldn’t make up my mind. Mary bought me the pumps and I bought myself tan wedge sandals.

I’d need a purse, so I found a tan shoulder bag and a black clutch.

Once we were back in her car, Mary said, “Put your wedges on. You need to learn how to navigate in heels – besides they make your legs sexy.”

I thought we were done, but Mary stopped at Walmart to get me lipstick, nail polish and a manicure set. I liked walking in heels. They made me feel taller, and, like my bra, more feminine. A twenty-something guy even checked out my legs as we walked by – not just a quick glance, like I’d gotten before, but a lingering look.

“Did you see that guy ogling you?”

“Yes,” I blushed.

“How did it make you feel?”

“Honestly? Kind of nice, but weird. … I mean, I like being attractive, but I’m not sure how I feel about a guy wanting me.”

“Well, you’re a real cutie, so you need to figure it out.”

“I suppose so.”

Back at Mary’s apartment, we changed into our nities. She was in a talkative mood – mostly about her baby. Mary was a little afraid of giving birth, but mainly she talked about how different her life would be once the baby was born – how complicated being a single working mom would be. It would be best if the baby were breastfed, but she wasn’t sure how she could do it and work at the same time.

I imagined myself in her place – having a baby, breastfeeding it, and working – or, in my case, going to school. It wouldn’t be easy.

After she talked herself out, she gave me a mani-pedi. I’d be in female mode for a while, so I let her. I wound up with burgundy nails, with a shine like a new car. I was uneasy with my nails, but, by morning, I wondered why I hadn’t done them before. Happily, my new lipstick matched.

We left as the sun was kissing the mountain peaks – headed to Santa Barbara. We stopped at a coffee shop for breakfast, then on to Morro Bay for an early lunch overlooking the bay and the famous morro. It was fun watching the seals play and the pelicans swooping for fish.

Our next stop was San Simeon, the former home of William Randolph Hearst, a newspaper magnate in the 1930s. Given our common interest in art, we had to take the tour and shop. Our group was mostly retired people except for Ron and Don, two brothers from L. A. Ron was in his early twenties. Don looked about my age.

At every stop, they stood near us. Ron was very charming and obviously interested in Mary. Soon the two of them were chatting, ignoring Don and me. I felt sorry for Don. After a couple of stops I said. “It looks like we’re in the same boat.”

“Yeah, I think he’s smitten with your sis. He’s not usually like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like ignoring me. What about your sis?”

“Oh, Mary’s not my sis. She’s just a friend. We’re going up to the Bay area to visit her folks for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh. … I have to be honest … Ron said I should talk to you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Cuz, you’re out of my league.”

“What!?”

“Yeah, you’re so perfect and probably in college.”

“Why, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m going to be a senior next month.”

“I’ll be starting college, but that shouldn’t make a difference.” I was trying to give him confidence, like a maiden aunt would.

“Really?”

“Of course, you’re handsome and intelligent enough.”

By the time we finished the tour and shopping, it was too late to start the torturous section of California 1 ahead, so we retreated to Cambria for a bit of tourism, dinner and bed. We agreed to eat together after checking in.

As we walked to the restaurant, Don and Mary lead the way. He put his arm around her and she leaned into him a bit. Ron had gotten more relaxed with me and held my hand. It was innocent enough, so I let him. He didn’t say much, but I noticed him sneaking looks at my diminutive breasts and, occasionally, my legs. When he saw that I’d caught him looking, he apologized.

“I’m sorry,” he said, embarrassed.

“Why should you be? It’s kind of a complement, you know – I mean to have someone think you’re attractive.”

“Oh … I’m glad you’re not mad.”

“I’m not – as long as you behave like a gentleman.”

“I want to, but I’m not sure what that actually means?”

I thought for a while about the complaints I’d heard in foster care and during my time in Fay’s office. “I suppose it means asking before touching, or at least taking ‘no’ seriously.”

“That seems simple enough.”

Don and Mary sat on one side of the booth, and Ron and I on the other. It was the first time I’d been so close to a boy (dressed as a girl I mean), and I wasn’t sure how I felt. I mean I liked him so far, and I was glad he thought I was pretty, but, beyond that, I wasn’t attracted to him.

I could see that Don was doing something under the table, and Mary seemed to be enjoying it. I wondered if they would be spending the night together … and if they did, did that mean that she expected Ron and me to share the other room? I could see that Ron was getting anxious as well. After that, it seemed that they rushed through their meal.

“Here, Ron,” Don said as he passed his credit card across. “Why don’t you treat Morgan to dessert. Then you two can spend some time together. I’ll give you a call after Mary and I have had some adult time. Ron and I both blushed, but there was nothing we could do but nod.

“Well, Morgan, what do you want for dessert?”

“I’m stuffed, but you go ahead.”

Ron was a growing boy, so he ordered apple pie a la mode. He finished, paid the bill and we went for a walk on the now quiet street. It was warm, so we sat on a bench and looked at the stars. For some reason, I shivered. Ron pulled me close and put an arm around me. It felt good, not arousing. I smiled up at him. He bent down and kissed me. I liked it. Soon we were kissing passionately. He was fondling my breast through my blouse, and I was aroused. I was about to come in my panties when his phone rang.

“OK. Thanks, I’ll walk her back.”

I didn’t know what I expected to happen, but I was disappointed that it didn’t. When we got to my room, Ron gave me a passionate kiss with a lot of tongue, and I did mess my panties – my first orgasm with another person – and it was with a boy. I was so embarrassed I wanted to hide. I thanked him breathlessly and rushed inside.

“Well, did you have a good time?” Mary asked, before seeing my damp shorts. “Oh, I see you did!

“I am sorry to have pulled that on you, but I hadn’t had a man since I got pregnant. … No chance of that now,” she laughed. “So, have decided you like boys?”

“No, I decided I like being kissed and … well, having my breasts, such as they are, fondled. I didn’t really think about Ron’s … you know.”

“His cock, sweetie?”

“Yes, I didn’t think about it at all.”

“Well, that’s all I thought about with Don. … So, would you have had as good a time with a girl?”

“Well, I’ve thought about sex with a girl.”

“Sweetie, as one who’s shared a bed with you, that’s all you’ve done. I don’t think you want sex with a woman – not like most guys.”

“I guess not.”

“Take your after-sex shower and let’s go to bed.”

“Ok.”