© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved.
It was a dark and stormy night. What a trite beginning. But it was true.
My sister Joan and I were sitting in near darkness while the wind and snow swirled outside. The “Storm of the Century” had knocked out power a few hours before. But The Cabin was well stocked with candles and oil lanterns. It wasn’t the first time electricity had failed way out there.
We call it “The Cabin,” but actually it’s a very large, two-story log house built on land our family has owned for generations. There was once a cabin where we were now, but it had been torn down years ago and the house put in its place. But our family had tried to preserve some of the rustic feelings the old cabin had had. In the center of the living room was a huge fireplace that had a couple of iron hooks on each side that could swing over the fire holding pots for cooking. There was also a grate that could drop down over the fire for holding skillets. And the original oil lamps were carefully preserved and maintained for use during the power failures.
In back of the house was a large water tank that filled from a spring further up the mountain. It was placed high enough that we always had good water pressure. Even when the power did go off, we still had water. Unfortunately, the water heater was electric so, in event of an outage, we only had cold water unless we heated some over the fire.
But usually we were very comfortable. There was enough firewood in the huge stack on the large front porch to last a whole winter. So we weren’t worried when the lights went out.
We’d come up for our traditional Christmas stay at The Cabin. Since we knew a storm was on the way, we’d stopped to buy more than our usual amount of food. We had to make several trips to get it all into the kitchen. It took nearly an hour to get it all into the refrigerator, freezer and pantry.
Then Mom drove over to pick up our Aunt Karen and her daughter, our cousin Cindy. They lived about an hour and a half away, so we knew it would be over three hours before Mom would be back.
At least that was the plan.
My sister, Joan and I had passed the time playing games on our laptop and cell phones and texting other fifth grade friends. We were pretty far out in the New Hampshire mountains, but still had a couple of bars of cell phone service. Our laptop had a cell connection, which usually took up one bar, and the cell phone the other. But since there was no one else within miles, we didn’t worry took much about hogging the bandwidth.
Finally, we noticed the wind was starting to pick up. We stopped and started recharging the phone and laptop. Joan started making us dinner. About that time, the cell rang. It was Mom.
“The storm has moved faster than they thought,” she said. “The roads here are already impassable. I’m going to stay here with Aunt Karen until they are clear. You guys get a fire going and check around The Cabin to see that everything is closed up tight. It’s really blowing here. You might want to get out the down comforters just in case.”
“We’ll be fine, Mom,” I said. “Don’t worry, we’ll see you tomorrow.”
I closed the cell phone and Joan and I walked around the outside of The Cabin checking windows and doors. Everything was tight. As we came back inside, I grabbed an armload of firewood and carried it to the fireplace.
We’d just finished eating when the phone rang again. It was Mom again. “The power just went out here. It’s really coming down. We’re already getting drifts. Since the cell phone is your only link with the rest of the world, get it charged while you can and then turn it off. No games or texting. Check it every few hours for messages, but preserve the battery change. If you don’t have electricity, you won’t be able to recharge it if it runs down. Remember, just keeping it on will discharge it.”
“Good idea, Mom.”
“And oh, if the power does go off, don’t open the fridge much. You might even want to put a bowl of snow or ice in it to help keep the food cold.”
You’d guess that Mom had lived through power outages at The Cabin before, wouldn’t you?
“Stay warm. Keep an eye on the weather. They were saying the roads are closed just before the TV went off, and I don’t know how long this is going to last.”
We again assured Mom that everything would be fine and hung up. By that time, the snow had reached us. Mom wasn’t kidding. It was coming down fast and furious. I gathered some of the firewood and built a fire.
We turned on the TV and started to hear about the storm. Apparently a couple of air currents from different directions were converging right over us and combining with another current with a lot of moisture in it. Where they usually talked about how many inches we’d get, this time they were talking about how many feet. I went to the storage closet and made sure we had the snow shovel handy.
By the time I came back into the big living room with the shovel, the snow was really flying. It seemed to be blowing straight across, rather than falling down. The sidewalk in front of The Cabin was already covered.
“If this keeps up, we’ll have to break out the snowshoes,” I said.
“At least we got all the suitcases and food in,” Joan replied. “I wonder if the water heater has had time to get the water warm?”
“I’m guessing yes. We turned it on as soon as we got here.”
“Then I’m getting a bath while we’re sure we’ve got hot water.”
While Joan was in the tub, I went around and pulled all our heavy drapes shut for better insulation. I also threw another log on the fire to keep the room warm. I decided I’d grab a shower after Joan was finished with the bath.
By the time I got out of the shower, Joan had finished fixing hamburgers and beans. We finished up with a couple of cups of hot chocolate. As we ate, the howl of the wind increased. Just as we were finishing our cups, there was a large “Whoosh” and the lights went off.
“I’m glad it waited until after we’d cooked,” I said as I reached for the oil lamp we kept on the dining table. The fire gave us enough light to see by until I could lift the lamp chimney and light the wick. As I lowered the chimney back down, a soft glow appeared, lighting the table. Moving around the room, I quickly lit two more. The soft glow from the lamps lit the room. While not as bright as the electric lights, the lamps gave the room a cozy feeling.
We peeked out the drapes. Outside it was pitch black, except for the light from the window. There was a solid white square where the light hit the blowing snow.
“I’m guessing the power is going to be out for quite a while,” I said. “No telling where the line went down and how long it’s going to take for a crew to get out and fix it.”
“We’d better let Mom know,” Joan said.
“Okay, but let’s be quick and conserve the battery.”
We made the call and Mom assured us she would call the power company. She agreed it would probably be some time before it would get fixed. “We’re still out here in town, too. Turn off the phone now. Be sure you have enough wood inside and check back with me tomorrow morning.”
We sat around for a little while listening to the wind. Without the TV or our laptop, there wasn’t much to do. We decided to call it an early night. I banked the fire and blew out the lamps we wouldn’t need upstairs.
“Grab a flashlight, just in case,” I told Joan. We each picked up a flashlight and lamp and headed to our bedrooms.
Listening to the wind, I was glad our beds had the deep down comforters on them. I snuggled under the comforter and listened to the wind until I fell asleep.
I woke up to the smell of bacon cooking. Joan was up and cooking breakfast over the fire. I really hated to stick my leg out from under the comforter. It was freezing cold out there!
I pulled on my slippers and ran to the bathroom. The water was very cold and sure woke me up in a hurry. Fortunately, when The Cabin was being rebuilt, experience dictated that a pipe from the fireplace be run up through the water tank so our water didn’t freeze. It was cold enough, even with the heat source, but at least we did have running water.
“We’re going to need more wood,” Joan said as I came downstairs. I put on my heavy winter boots and coat and went out the front door.
Outside things were still a whiteout. I couldn’t see more than a few feet beyond the front steps. There were drifts covering the railings on both sides of the steps and the snow in the front reached almost to the top of the railings. Fortunately, the wood was stacked against the house, so it wasn’t covered. I piled several logs on my arm and went back inside. I was amazed how cold my face had gotten in the little time I was outside.
Joan swung the hook with the teapot back off the fire and picked it up by the handle while wearing oven gloves. We’d learned that any cooking utensils hanging over the open fire could get very hot.
She poured steaming water into the cups and I added hot chocolate mix as she shoveled eggs and bacon onto our plates. The toast was a little blacker than usual, but it had been a while since we cooked over the fire and Joan was a little out of practice.
The hot food tasted really great after my brief journey into the arctic cold.
After breakfast, I put the dishes into the sink, ran some water and added a little water from the big teapot. Then I refilled the teapot to the brim and put it back on the hook in the fireplace. It would stay there, filled with warm water, until the power came back on.
I hurried through washing the breakfast things and then we turned on the cell phone and called Mom.
There’d been no change, except the storm had gotten even worse than they’d feared last night. It would be at least two or three days before it stopped snowing and could be much longer before the power company could even think about the lines out in the country.
“Since we’ve both got to conserve our batteries, turn off the cell phones and just check in at 10 a.m. and 4 p.m.,” Mom said. “If something comes up, we can leave voice mails and talk at that time. Love you both. Be good!”
“As if we had any choice,” I snorted as I turned off the phone.
There really wasn’t much to do. We cracked the drapes to let in light, but didn’t open them very far to keep the cold out. We’d brought some books and read them while snuggled up in the fur blankets on the sofas by the fireplace. Every so often, I’d get up and put another log on the fire.
After a while, we hauled out the old board games we kept at The Cabin. But they were old and not nearly as exciting as video games. Soon we were completely bored. “Well, we could clean The Cabin up a bit,” Joan suggested.
I glanced around. “Looks okay to me.”
“Just a thought.”
We read some more.
Finally, Joan made some sandwiches for lunch, washed down with some ice-cold lemonade. A while after that, I headed to the bathroom to get rid of the lemonade. I finished my business, flushed, and returned to the living room. Joan was looking at me.
“What?”
“You left the door open.”
“So? It isn’t the first time you’ve heard me going.”
“No, but…” Joan paused and gave me a very intensive look. “What’s it like to have a penis?”
“What do you mean? It’s just there. It’s always been there.”
“But how does it feel?"
I had to think about that. “It gets in the way sometimes. I’ve got to watch when I zip up my pants so that I don’t pinch it. Believe me, you only want to do that once. But otherwise, it just sort of hangs there.
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know,” Joan kind of shifted, looking away. “I mean…it just looks like it would be so handy to have one. Just one zip and you can pee. Especially out in the woods. When I want to go, I have to pull everything down and squat. Mom really keeps on me about squatting in public restrooms. Unlike me, you just aim and go, not touching anything.”
“Well, it’s not just my penis,” I said. “I’ve also got my nuts to watch out for. You really don’t want to know what it feels like to have them hit. I’ve always wondered why boys’ bikes have that bar right there.”
“It just seems like boys have it so much easier,” Joan said. Then she stood up. “Come on, I want to watch you write your name in the snow.”
I’d done that a couple of years ago, showing off for her when we were in third grade. She’s thought it was kind of gross at the time, but she had kept watching.
Since there wasn’t much else to do, I decided to go along with her request. But I needed a couple of more glasses of lemonade before I was ready. We put on our coats and boots and went out into the blowing snow on the front porch.
We went over to the drift to the right of the door. I pulled off my glove and immediately my hand felt like it was freezing in the wind. I pulled off the other glove and immediately stuck both my hands in my pockets. “Boy, this is cold!”
“So hurry up,” Joan called over the wind. I unzipped and pulled it out. That was a mistake. It was immediately cold. I wasn’t sure I could get anything going.
“Hurry up!” Joan yelled. I pushed and pushed and finally felt the flow start. As the yellow liquid began to shoot out the end of my penis, I started to direct it. I spelled out the letters in cursive. S-t-e-p-h. That was as far as I could go. My pee stopped flowing. I held it for a few seconds more and shoved it back into my pants. I didn’t even stop to zip as I ran to the door.
It took a while for me to stop shivering enough to even get my coat off. I kept rubbing my hands. My cock felt like it was frozen solid. I hurried to the fireplace and dropped my pants and briefs, exposing myself to the heat. It still felt cold. Finally, I pushed it back between my legs to get it warm. I felt like I had an icicle between my legs.
Gradually, things started to warm up. I looked up to see Joan holding a pair of her panties out to me. “Put these on,” she said. “They will hold it up against you better than your briefs would.”
I didn’t even think, I just pulled the panties up and sat down on one of the fur blankets. Slowly, everything warmed up. I even got to the point when I couldn’t feel my cold cock against my bottom anymore.
Finally, I reached down and felt a smooth space between my legs. Somehow, while pushing my cock back between my legs, my nuts had decided to go on back in me. Not that I could blame them, as cold as everything had been.
Joan glanced over as I reached down. “You look like a girl.”
“If we’d stayed out any longer, I would have been one,” I replied. “Everything would have frozen and broken off.”
“And you gave yourself a new name,” Joan continued. “Steph. Short for Stephanie.”
“That’s all the farther I could get,” I replied. “I got too cold before I could get the e and n out.”
“No, I think you were telling me something,” Joan teased. She stood up and pulled off her jeans.
“Here, put these on. You can be the girl today, Stephanie.” Before I could respond, she grabbed my briefs and jeans. Since I was getting cold without pants on, I pulled hers on. They were tighter than mine. They hugged my legs and crotch, providing further reinforcement to the way the panties were holding me in. I fastened the top button and zipped them up. Looking down, I realized Joan was right. I did look like a girl with her pants on.
Meanwhile, Joan pulled down her panties and put on my briefs. “If you’re going to be the girl, I’ll be the boy,” she said.
“You don’t look much like a boy with those baggy briefs,” I replied.
“You’re right,” she said. She ran over to the chest with all the recreation equipment in it. Rooting around, she came up with a couple of golf balls that she promptly slid into the briefs.
“That helps some,” I said. “But something pretty major is missing.”
Joan thought for a minute and then went to the refrigerator. She opened the door and quickly pulled out a hot dog. She washed it, dried it off and stuck it down the briefs.
“How’s this?”
I had to admit that the addition of the hot dog, together with the golf balls, gave her a pretty male look.
“Okay, you look like a boy.” I said. “You can be the boy and I’ll be the girl.”
“Fine,” she said as she pulled my jeans on. Then she reached up and unfastened her gold chain with the small cross that she always wore. Putting it on the table, she pulled off her power-blue turtleneck sweater and the cami she wore under it.
“Here, put these on and give me your flannel shirt and tee shirt.”
We exchanged tops. As I pulled the shiny cami on, I shivered as I felt the nylon slide across my chest and sides. I was almost instantly warmer, in spite of the fact that only thin straps covered my shoulders. It was amazing that something so thin could be warm like that. And the sweater was incredibly soft against my skin. I felt like I was being hugged by down feathers.
Joan, in the meantime, pulled on my tee shirt and buttoned up the flannel shirt. Then she picked up the gold chain and fastened it around my neck. I looked down at the small gold cross hanging against my chest.
“But this is your most prized possession,” I said. “Every since Grandma gave it to you, you always wear it.”
“It belongs to the oldest girl in the family,” she replied. “And right now, that’s you.”
I was stunned. Somehow this felt more serious than the game I had been taking it for. I thought for a minute, then nodded and reached up and pulled off the scrunchie holding my hair in its usual low ponytail, letting my blond hair, courtesy of our Scandinavian heritage, hang free. I handed the scrunchie to Joan who swept her hair into a ponytail much lower than she usually wore and fastened it. Then she looked at me.
“Hi Stephanie, I’m your brother.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir,” I said trying to curtsey. It was kind of awkward in jeans, and we both giggled.
I ran my fingers through my hair to fluff it out, and looked at my “brother.” “Okay, now what do we do?”
“Simple. You’re the girl and I’m the boy. We just do what the girl and boy would do.”
That made sense, so I reached over and picked up one of the books Joan had just finished. It was one of her yucky romances, but if I was playing the girl today, I’d read a little of it.
“By the way, ‘brother,’ we could use a little more wood on the fire.”
She grinned and walked over and proceeded to build up the fire. Then she went and pulled on my boots and heavy coat and went outside to bring in a couple of armloads of wood for later.
As she came in, I noticed she was walking a little funny. She usually took steps with one foot right in front of the other. Now she was walking with her legs further apart.
She put the wood in the holder and turned around to take off my heavy coat and gloves.
“I see now why you walk the way you do,” she said. “This stuff, especially the balls kind of push your legs apart.”
“And you really don’t want to get them squeezed between your legs,” I replied. “It can really hurt in a hurry.”
I, on the other hand, realized that I had nothing hanging down between my legs. I tried a few steps, putting one foot right in front of the other, like Joan usually did. It felt really good not having to worry about my package between my thighs.
After a few more steps, I kind of relaxed and let my hips sway a little.
“Wow! Look at that girl with her sexy walk,” my “brother” said.
“It feels nice,” I replied. “I now see why you walk this way.”
By that time, it was time to check in again. We turned the phone on and listened to the voice mail on it.
“It’s still coming down here,” Mom’s voice said. “We did get power restored, but the lights keep flickering. A lot of branches are coming down, so we’re not sure how long we’ll have electricity. They say this is going to keep up for at least two more days, so let me know how you guys are doing.”
Joan hit the “reply” button and told Mom that we were doing fine and not to worry. Then we fired up the laptop and looked at the weather. Somehow the storm had stalled right over us and was pulling moisture in from both the Great Lakes and the Atlantic and dumping it right on our part of the country. Two more days was the minimum they thought the storm would last, but it could be longer.
Once we saw that, we quickly shut the laptop down to save the battery. Then, I felt an urge and headed to the bathroom. “Don’t forget, girls sit to pee,” Joan yelled.
“I can hardly wait to see you pee standing,” I shouted back.
For some reason, I felt shy as I entered the bathroom, so I shut the door. After doing my business, I tucked my thing back between my legs and pulled on my panties and jeans. As I washed my hands, I realized I’d thought of Joan’s panties as “mine.” I wondered where our game was going to go.
As I came out, I saw that Joan was rummaging around in one of the storage closets. She soon came out with a short length of clear plastic tubing left over from our attempt to have an aquarium a couple of summers ago. As I watched, she undid her jeans and pulled out her hot dog “penis.” She got a knife and made a cut along the length of the hot dog. She pushed the tubing in the cut and then used a bit of tape to secure it in.
“Now where does Mom keep that stuff?” she said to herself as she headed to Mom’s bedroom. She emerged carrying a tube of something with a big “KY” on the side and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she emerged with her pants zipped back up and the boyish budge showing again.
“Get your coat on,” she ordered.
We bundled up and trekked to the door. We emerged again into the howling, blowing snow. The drifts were even higher than they had been. My yellow signature was long since covered up.
“Watch,” Joan said. She went over to the drift and unzipped her pants. She pulled out the end of the hot dog and pointed it at the drift. As I watched, a yellow stream started to come out of the tube sticking out of the end of the hot dog. She moved the hot dog around and began to write in the snow. She made a cursive “J.” Next came the “O.” Then, where I expected the “A” in her name to come, she made a sweeping “H,” followed by the “N.” Then, she stuffed the hot dog back into her pants and we went back into the warm. As we took off our coats, she looked at me with a look of triumph on her face.
“See,” she gloated, “I’m your brother, John.”
“Wow John! You did as good as I did earlier. Congratulations. I guess you are a boy.”
She, no, maybe I should say, “he” looked pleased. “Anything you can do…”
Right then I resolved that for the rest of the day, I was going to be the best girl I could be. I went and fixed us a couple of cups of hot chocolate to take the chill off. Then I started in on Joan’s book. I was surprised that the book wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. In fact, it was a pretty good story. I really flew through the pages.
Somewhere along the line, I was startled to realize that I’d been picturing myself as the leading female character and was feeling the strong man’s arms sweeping me up and carrying me into the castle. Boy was that weird!
As it started to get dark, I reluctantly closed the book and went to start cooking supper. I asked John to build up the fire and get a pot of water boiling. Since we’d both been taught to cook over open flames, I didn’t have any trouble fixing a meal. For some reason, I decided to cook hamburgers rather than hot dogs. I took a little extra time to mix some egg, dried onion and steak sauce into the hamburger meat before cooking the burgers.
I poured some of the hot water into a saucepan and added a pack of dried mixed vegetables. I asked John to get out the buns and condiments, while I set the table. Soon, our meal was ready.
“Steph, this is really good!” John said. “We should have you cook all the time.”
“Thank you, sir,” I replied. “Just remember, you have to do the dishes.”
We didn’t stay up too long after everything was cleaned up and put away. While we had plenty of lamp oil, we really didn’t want to burn up any more than necessary. I told John how to bank the fire and we lit candles to go up to bed.
As we reached the top of the stairs, John turned into my room. “This is the boy’s room,” he said. “The girl’s room is the next one down.”
I nodded and went into what had been Joan’s room. I pulled open the dresser drawers looking for something to sleep in. There were no PJs, only flannel nightgowns. I pulled off my sweater, taking care to keep the gold cross on. The cami came next and I quickly threw the nightgown over me to keep out the cold. I then took off my jeans, but kept my panties on. I was surprised how warm the nightgown was. I took off my shoes and put Joan’s fuzzy slippers on my feet so I could get to the bathroom and do my business. As I pulled up my nightgown, I realized that the only practical way to go was to sit, which I did. I then wiped, tucked and pulled my panties back up and let my nightgown settle back down. I really liked the simplicity of it all.
As I snuggled under the down comforter, I thought about my new status. I was being the girl in the family. I thought it might be fun to find out what that meant. I was soon asleep.
A soft buzzing awoke me the next morning. Joan’s alarm was going off. “Why so early?” I wondered. Then I remembered, I was the girl. It was time go get things going.
After sitting again to do my business, I washed my face and looked at myself in the mirror. Without the scrunchie, my hair fell down to my shoulders. In the nightgown, I really looked a lot like my sister. I decided that this was a chance I didn’t want to pass up. I was going to experience everything about being a girl.
I really didn’t want to change out of the warm nightgown, so I went to Joan’s dresser and pulled out a fresh pair of panties and a pair of lined tights. As I pulled up the panties, I again marveled at how good they felt hugging my lower body closely. The tights warmed my legs and I pulled the fuzzy slippers back on.
I went downstairs and saw that the storm was still blowing. In fact, the porch was almost covered by drifts. It was lucky that I’d gotten the shovel ready, I thought. I’d have a job getting the snow removed so I could reach the woodpile. Wait a minute. That’s the boy’s job. And I was the girl today! Shoveling the snow would be John’s job.
I pulled out an apron and moved to the fireplace to build up the fire. As the flames started to rise on the wood I’d just added, I noticed we were running low. I went back upstairs to the boy’s room and knocked on the door.
“John, up and at it! We need more wood and you’re going to have to shovel the snow to get it.”
I heard a mumbling and what sounded like some cursing.
“Don’t you start using bad words, or I’ll tell Mom,” I shouted. Then I went down to my room.
I took a few minutes looking at the clothes hanging in the closet. There was a beautiful long skirt that I knew I wanted to wear, but not yet. I ended up pulling on a pair of jeans and some high top zip-up boots. I found the cami that matched the panties I’d already put on and pulled a thick sweater over that. As a final step, I picked up the tinted lip-gloss and lined my lips. I brushed out my hair and looked at myself in the full-length mirror. A cute blonde girl with pale pink lips stared back at me. She looked a lot like Joan, but was a different person. For sure, we were sisters, except, that at the moment, I didn’t have a sister.
As I started back downstairs, I passed the open bathroom door. John was standing there with his hot dog out in front of the toilet getting ready to take a whiz.
“Ewueee, gross!” I said. “Shut the door. And if you make a mess, you’ll clean it up.”
I shook my head as I headed down the stairs. I hoped we had some of that laundry detergent that took out smells. I didn’t want my briefs all smelling like warm lunchmeat when I went back to being Stephen.
As I started to fix breakfast, John came down stairs and opened the front door. “My gosh, that’s a lot of snow!” he said.
“That’s why you need to get started,” I replied. “The shovel is right behind the door.” He glared at me.
“Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one who wanted to be the boy,” I said.
He pulled on the heavy parka and gloves and walked outside. Soon I heard the sounds of shoveling.
I heated water and put bacon and eggs into the frying pan. I smeared butter across the bottom of the smaller frying pan and threw in two slices of bread. With the power out, toast was a kind of fried bread.
While things were cooking, I looked around and tried to see things as Mom or Joan would see them. Suddenly there was a kind of mental shift. The place really needed a good cleaning. What I’d seen as okay the day before, now revealed itself to be severely dusty. There were clumps of dirt that had been tracked in. It needed a good once-over and straightening up. Without power, I couldn’t run the vacuum cleaner, but I could clean, dust and sweep.
I went back to the fire and pulled the bacon and eggs out and onto a plate. Then I used the spatula to hold up the half fried bread while I smeared more butter onto the pan. Then I flipped the bread onto the uncooked side. I put milk and cereal on the table, noting that we’d have to start using the powered milk soon. As soon as the toast was done, I put it on our plates and went to call John.
I was impressed when I opened the door. “He” had done a good job clearing the porch, even though the wind was still blowing. There was now a clear path to the woodpile.
“Grab some wood and come in,” I called. “Breakfast is ready.”
After breakfast, while John was doing the dishes, I grabbed the cleaning supplies and headed to the bathroom. John hadn’t done too bad a job standing up. There were only a few spots on the floor. I scrubbed the toilet, shower tub and floor. I straightened the shampoos and lotions and pulled out fresh towels and washcloths. We wouldn’t be able to wash until the power came back on, but we had plenty of spares. We could have quite a contingent of people staying here during some holidays, so we were well supplied.
Then I made the beds and picked the dirty clothes off John’s floor and put them in the hamper with the ones I’d carried from my room earlier. Finally I swept the hall and down the stairs into the main room. John was sprawled on the couch with his legs spread apart. As I came down the stairs I heard a loud “burp!”
I shook my head. “Boys!” I said.
While John read, I dusted everything and then swept the floor. As I did, I looked over at John. “While I’m finishing up, you can check the oil levels and make sure we have enough candles out.”
As he heaved himself off the couch, the sound of a large fart sounded.
“Don’t you have any manners?” I asked.
“Hey, you’re the one who served beans last night.”
Finally, I finished. Then I gave the room a good looking at. It was as clean as I could get it without electricity. It was probably not as good as Mom would like, but I’d only been a girl for about a day.
“Now, Mister Muscles,” I said. “I want you to go up into the attic and bring down the Christmas tree.”
We had an artificial non-flammable tree for Christmas at The Cabin. That was because we always had a traditional Christmas tree with candles. While it was beautiful, candles and a live tree didn’t mix well at all. One wrong breeze and a live tree could become a blazing inferno. That was the reason the original cabin had to be torn down and rebuilt.
As John maneuvered the tree down the stairs, I found the boxes of decorations and carried them down. John carried the tree outside and let it stand in the wind to blow the dust away.
After the tree was set, I began pulling out ornaments and the special things we always put on the tree. I had John get out the wire basket popcorn popper and pop a couple of baskets of popcorn to string for the garlands. I carefully put the candles in their holders and finished with tinsel. Then I went around tying ribbons around lamps and hanging candles in the windows. Our Naivety scene went on the mantle over the fireplace.
When everything was done, I went back upstairs. I partially filled the tub with water and then added boiling water from the teakettle and took a quick bath. I wrapped the heavy towel around me and went back to my room.
I took out Joan’s red nail polish and proceeded to color my finger and toenails. It took a couple of fingers before I started getting it right.
After my nails dried, I took out the long velvet green skirt and chose a white, high-necked long sleeved blouse with lace and red ribbons winding through the lace around the neck and at the cuffs. I put on a matching white cami and panty set and finished with white tights. Then I put on the blouse. It took a little while to figure out how to fasten the buttons in back, but I managed. I pulled my cross up and out of the neck of the blouse before fastening the final button, then tied the red ribbon into a bow. Then I stepped into the long, green skirt and zipped it up. To finish up, I put on Joan’s patent leather Mary Janes and stepped to the vanity to look at myself.
Again I saw the pretty blonde girl looking back at me, but I needed some finishing touches. I brushed my hair back and carefully parted it down the middle. Then I pulled my hair on one side and made a side ponytail, fastening it with a red ribbon. I repeated on the other side so my hair stood out in two bunches. I found some lip-gloss that was redder than the one I’d worn that morning. It made my lips redder to go with my red ribbons. I even put a little on my cheeks. Then I put on the gold and red clip-on earrings from Joan’s jewelry box and slipped on a gold ring.
Taking a last look, I knew I was finished. I was the perfect Christmas girl.
As I walked down the hall, I was conscious of how my legs felt in the tights and skirt. With nothing pressing against my legs but the tights, I almost felt undressed. But I was perfectly decent in my skirt and I loved the way I felt.
As I came down the steps, I heard a whistle from John. “Steph, you are a hot girl!”
“Thank you, brother. Now it’s your turn. Go get cleaned and put on your Christmas suit.”
While John was taking his bath, I put on an apron and started a batch of cookie dough. I stirred the chocolate chips into the dough and spread balls of dough onto the bottom of our Dutch Oven. I hung the oven on the hook and swung it over the fire. I refilled the teakettle with water and put it on the other hook to warm for hot chocolate.
About that time, John called me for some help with his tie. I went up to his room and saw him standing there in his white dress shirt and blue suit. He couldn’t figure out how to tie the red silk tie, so I turned him around stood behind him while I did the knot for the tie.
“Wow, you even did your nails!” he said as he watched my fingers twist the tie into the knot.
“I wanted to look especially nice,” I replied.
“You sure do. I wouldn’t have believed how pretty you are.”
“And I wouldn’t have believed how handsome my brother could be.”
He finished putting on his black wing tip shoes and walked around to get used to wearing them. “These are really stiff,” he said.
“That’s because they only get used for church and Christmas,” I replied. “I…that is Stephen, got out of them as soon as he could.”
We walked back downstairs. The odor of baking cookies filled the room. I swung the hook back from the fire and took off the lid of the Dutch Oven with the special tool it needed. Then I put the fresh-baked cookies onto one of our special Christmas plates. I poured hot water into two cups and added hot chocolate mix.
But before we’d eat, we had one thing to do. I went to the decoration sbox and took out the star for the tip of the tree. I carried it over to John and curtseyed as I handed it to him. As was our tradition, the boy got to place the star on the top of the tree. John looked at the star for a moment and then placed it in its place.
“I’ve never felt so much like the boy.”
“And, dressed like this, I’ve never felt so much like the girl,” I replied.
We looked at each other for a moment and I reached out to take my brother’s hand. “Now, let’s have some cookies,” I grinned.
We laughed and joked as we enjoyed our tree-trimming snack. Then we moved to the couch and John showed me how to smooth my skirt before I sat down so I didn’t wrinkle the beautiful green velvet. Then we started telling each other all the things we needed to know, to be each other.
“Mary Beth wears padding? No way!”
“Way. Actually the only girl in our class who has started developing is Janie. She tried to hide it but we saw her changing in the locker room.”
“Guys really compare the size of their cocks? Why?”
“Then, you start bleeding down there and have to wear pads and pretend like nothing is wrong. I really don’t want to experience that”
“Guys just know who can beat who up. They don’t usually even have to actually fight.”
“Girls join into groups of friends. It’s somewhat for protection, but mainly because we like being together.”
Finally we had exchanged all the information we could think of. It was growing dark and I moved to get the long matches. Striking one, I started lighting the candles on the tree from the top down. That was the girl’s job; just as putting the star on was the boy’s job. I moved very slowly so as to not blow any candles out.
Finally the tree was completely lit and we sat and looked at it. Even though it can be very dangerous, there is nothing so beautiful as a Christmas Tree glowing with the soft light of candles. There is something quiet and noble and warm about such a sight. And I had helped create it. I was overwhelmed with what I had done. And somehow, knowing what I’d done, and how much satisfaction I felt about that, made me realize something.
“John,” I said softly. “I’m really enjoying being a girl.”
“I know,” he replied taking my hand. “You are so good at it. It’s fun being a girl, most of the time.”
We stood there in the silence, looking at each other. Then, I realized that it was silent.
The wind had stopped. We walked to the window, pulled the drape aside and stared out. The clouds were rapidly disappearing and a moon was throwing pale shadows on the snow.
“Oh gosh, we forgot to check in with Mom!” I said.
“I’ll get that,” John said. “You put out the tree.”
We had a special little candlesnuffer that was put on top of the candle flame to put it out. I took almost as much time to blow out the candles as it had to light them. By the time I had finished, John had heard Mom’s message.
“It’s stopped in town, too. Mom isn’t sure when the roads will be clear, but she has called the power company. They’ve got a lot of places out, and they’re not sure how long it will take to get to us.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “It’s just that we are getting low on milk and will have to start using the powered stuff soon.”
“Well, I’ll let the cook worry about that,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
I had thawed a chicken, and soon had the pieces frying over the fire. I stirred powered milk into the mashed potato mix and poured it into the pan of water I had heated, adding about half a stick of butter. Then I poured some frozen peas into another pan of boiling water.
While I was cooking, John went out and started shoveling the snow off the porch again. At one point, I heard him stop and I went to the window to see what was the matter. I looked out to see him standing there writing his name in the snow again. He’d gotten pretty good at it. Better than Stephen had been. When he finished, he picked up the shovel again and cleared the yellow “John” off the porch.
He brought more wood in as I set the table and lit the oil lamps. We ate mostly in silence. I think we were both thinking about all we had learned about our adopted genders that afternoon. I knew I’d never look at some of the girls in our class in the same way again.
Soon after John had finished doing the dishes, we went up to bed again. As I crawled into bed in my warm flannel nightgown, I felt sad that I’d have to soon leave such nightwear behind.
The next day was sunny but cold. It seemed like little jewels sparkled on every tree branch. It was so bright that we had to put on our sunglasses when we looked out the window.
It was a little after noon, when we heard something. I was sitting on the couch wearing a thick red cowl sweater and blue plaid miniskirt over some thick dark blue tights. I’d been reading when I heard a kind of buzzing far off. John heard it too and we went to the door. Far down the mountain, we heard the sounds of a chair saw. Someone was cutting wood.
About an hour later, the lights suddenly came on. We had our electricity back! Soon, we heard the unmistakable sound of a snowmobile coming up the mountain. A man, wearing a Power Company hard hat and earmuffs came into view. He stopped in front of The Cabin and we went out to greet him. “Is your power back on? he asked.
We assured him it was.
“Tree fell on the line and knocked it down. We had to cut it up to get to the line and fix it. We left the wood, if you want to add it to your store.”
“How are the roads?” I asked.
“Still closed to all but utility and emergency vehicles. Some pretty high drifts all over the place. Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“We’re fine. We’re used to roughing it up here in the winter. But thanks for getting us lights again. It makes things easier.”
He said to call the company if we had any more problems, and roared away. It was only as I started back into the house that I realized I’d been talking to him dressed as a girl. And he hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t noticed. I’d been wearing female clothing long enough that it was natural to me. I hadn’t given it a thought to showing myself to a stranger as a girl.
I stood before the fire to warm up. Tights help keep the legs warm, but it’s still cold in a skirt in sub zero weather.
Since the power was back on, I could use the stove again. I’d been waiting for that to do some very special baking. I got out a very special cookbook and looked up a recipe. I spent the rest of the afternoon baking. I’d just finished putting my baking away when we heard the sounds of a snowmobile again.
“I wonder if something else is wrong with the line,” I said.
“No, that sounds like two machines,” John said.
We walked to the window just in time to see two snowmobiles stop in front of The Cabin. Three heavily bundled figures got off and trudged up the steps. I opened the front door.
“Can I help…” Just then the lead figure took off her goggles. “Mom!” I cried, flinging myself against her in a big hug. I backed off just as fast. Her jacket was cold.
As the other two figures took off their jackets, I saw that they were my Aunt Karen and cousin Cindy.
“I thought the roads were still closed.”
“To cars and trucks,” Mom replied. “But not to snowmobiles. And we couldn’t miss Christmas. Come on out and help us bring in supplies.”
John and I pulled on our boots and went out to help. Mom untied some sacks of fresh food, and a few boxes that looked suspiciously like presents, off back of the snowmobile she was driving. We carried everything into the kitchen area and I took charge of putting everything away. Among the other things, there was fresh milk.
All the time we were putting things away, I kept up a running commentary about what we had been doing and what I had cooked over the open fire. As we finished, I noticed, for the first time, how Mom, Aunt Karen and Cindy were looking at me. Then I realized I had ribbons in my hair and was still wearing the sweater and miniskirt. I stopped and looked down.
“It seems I have a new daughter,” Mom said.
“Oh, we were just playing around,” I said. “I was being Stephanie and Joan was playing at being John. I’ll go get changed.”
“No, wait,” Mom said. “I think we’d like to get to know Stephanie and John a little better.”
So, we stayed as we were for the rest of the evening. I helped Aunt Karen and Cindy fix supper, while Mom unpacked the boxes she had bought. As I suspected, they were full of colorfully wrapped presents that she placed under the tree.
“I think this is the nicest this tree has looked in a long time,” Mom said.
“Stephanie did most of it,” John told her.
“Well she sure has an eye for decorating.”
It was nice not to have to do all the cooking. Everything tasted so good! And it was great to be with Mom, Aunt Karen and Cindy again. We kept talking and laughing, and they told us about what the blizzard had done in town.
Later, Cindy and I went to my–that is–Joan’s room to talk.
“I’ve never seen you so lively,” Cindy said. “I’m surprised, but you make a really good girl.”
“It was just playing.”
“I’m not so sure. The way you act, the way you’re moving. It seems like you’ve been doing this all your life.”
“Well, there is one more thing I want to do as a girl. And I’d like you to help me. If you would.”
“What’s that?”
So, I told her and she agreed to help. Later that night, we put on our nightgowns and snuggled into bed. Cindy had her own room, but said she wanted to spend time with her new cousin. We talked and giggled for a long time. Just before we turned out the lights, I reset my alarm.
It was still dark when the alarm went off. Cindy and I used the bathroom and washed up. Then she went to her room to put on her underwear. I put on a pair of white panties and was starting to pick up a white cami when Cindy came back, holding a training bra.
“Here, you should wear this this morning.”
Standing there in her bra and panties, Cindy helped me fasten the bra. As I turned around to face her, she gave a quick glance to my flat crotch.
“Wow! You look just like me.”
“And both of us are showing a little more in the chest department than we really have,” I said smiling.
We put on white tights and tip toed down the hall to the storage closet. There we pulled out two white robes and put them on. Then I took out a crown of greens and a box of candles. We put four new long candles into the holders in the crown. I started to hand the crown to Cindy but she shook her head.
“This year it’s your turn,” she whispered.
We returned to my room and took some time brushing our long blonde hair so that it surrounded our faces and hung straight down. Finally we put on white satin ballet slippers and tip toed downstairs.
Cindy started a pot of coffee while I retrieved my baking from yesterday. When everything was ready, I placed the crown of candles on my head and Cindy lit them. Then I picked up the tray with the cups, cream, sugar and the Lussekatter–the traditional St. Lucia buns that I had baked the day before. Cindy followed with the pot of coffee.
We climbed to the top of the stairs and stood in the hallway and started to sing:
Natten gá¥r tunga fjá¤t
rund gá¥rd och stuva;
kring jord, som sol fá¶rlá¤t,
skuggorna ruva.
Dᥠi vá¥rt má¶rka hus,
stiger med tá¤nda ljus,
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.
Natten gá¥r stor och stum
nu há¶rs dess vingar
i alla tysta rum
sus som av vingar.
Se, pᥠvá¥r trá¶skel stá¥r
vitklá¤dd med ljus i há¥r
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.
Má¶rkret ska flykta snart
ur jordens dalar
sᥠhon ett underbart
ord till oss talar.
Dagen ska á¥ter ny
stiga ur rosig sky
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.
As we switched to the English version of the Santa Lucia Song, Cindy began to sing in harmony to my strong soprano.
Night walks with a heavy step
Round yard and hearth,
As the sun departs from earth,
Shadows are brooding.
There in our dark house,
Walking with lit candles,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
Night walks grand, yet silent,
Now hear its gentle wings,
In every room so hushed,
Whispering like wings.
Look, at our threshold stands,
White-clad with light in her hair,
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
Darkness shall take flight soon,
From earth's valleys.
So she speaks
Wonderful words to us:
A new day will rise again
From the rosy sky…
Santa Lucia, Santa Lucia!
By that time, the doors to three bedrooms had opened. As we finished the song, we heard clapping. Then we went into Aunt Karen’s bedroom and served her coffee and buns. We did the same with John across the hall and ended up in Mom’s room.
“Oh, Stephanie, you make a very beautiful Santa Lucia,” Mom said. “But where on earth did you get Lussekatter?
“I baked them yesterday, after the electricity came back on,” I replied. “I didn’t want to try them over the fire.”
After we served Mom, Cindy and I went back downstairs and had our own coffee and buns. The others soon joined us.
The Sankta Lucia ceremony usually happens on December 13 in Sweden when the oldest girl in the family wears the crown of light and serves the family in their beds. Because of school and work schedules, our family has had to modify the ceremony, so we’d chosen to have it start our Christmas celebration. In the past, I’d always been so jealous of Joan and Cindy looking so beautiful in their white robes. I’d known the song, both in Swedish and English since I was a very little boy and had always wanted to participate. But it was just for girls. This year, I’d finally gotten to fulfill my dreams.
John came up and gave me a big hug. “You look so beautiful. You’re perfect. I never realized how left out the boy in the family could feel.”
“So now it’s time for Joan to come back for Christmas,” I replied. “I miss my sister.”
“Only if you stay Stephanie. I’ve really grown to like my sister in the past few days.”
So Mom had two daughters for Christmas that year. Joan, Cindy and I really bonded and had so much fun that day. Mom and Aunt Karen didn’t seem to mind the extra girl. A few of Stephen’s presents would wait for another day to try on, but overall it was one of the best Christmases seen at The Cabin.
I ended up staying Stephanie for the entire vacation. It meant we had a few extra washings of Joan’s clothes since two of us were wearing them, but that was okay. I found I really liked wearing training bras and having little bumps in my sweaters. So much so that, when the roads got plowed, Mom took me to town to buy a few of my own.
As we packed to return home, I was thinking how much I enjoyed being Stephanie. I wondered if Mom would mind having another daughter around. Or perhaps Joan and I could just switch. I wasn’t sure how Joan would feel about that, but yesterday Mom was complaining that we seemed to be going through packages of hot dogs at a record rate.
© 2013, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Lizzy turned from the white board where she’d just listed a timeline for the first century Middle East and noticed several pairs of male eyes looking suddenly away. She wondered if her miniskirt had ridden up when she was stretching to reach the top of the board. Even with three-inch heels, the board was a little high for her. She hoped she hadn’t flashed her class.
She supposed that once she had her Ph.D. in hand, she’d have to start wearing more professional, longer skirts when teaching her classes. But for now, as a low level instructor, she liked the way the boys kept eying her shapely legs. What was the point of being a girl if she couldn’t show off a little?
“Okay,” she told her class, “Tomorrow we’ll start examining the way the early church was shaped. Start reading the chapter on Irenaeus.” As she finished speaking, the bell rang and the class filed out.
Lizzy gathered up her notes and started down the hall to the office she shared with two other instructors and three teaching assistants. Not for the first time she thought how nice it would be if the state would start restoring funding for the university back to its previous levels so it could afford more space for its staff.
“Lizzy, do you have a moment?” Dr. Richard Williams, her faculty advisor, was standing in his doorway.
“Sure, Dick. Just let me put these notes on my desk.”
As Lizzy walked into Dr. Williams’ office, she immediately spotted the thesis proposal on the desk in front of him. Her Ph.D. thesis proposal. “Finally!” she thought.
“Lizzy, the committee has reviewed your proposal, and we have some reservations,” Williams said.
“That’s what I expected,” she said. “I am taking a pretty controversial stand.”
“That’s putting it mildly. A couple of the more conservative members of the faculty, had much stronger words for it.”
“But I can defend everything I propose! I purposely didn’t include all my arguments in the proposal because of the resistance I anticipated from those people.”
“Look, Larry...” Williams stopped speaking. “Ah...God, I’m sorry LIzzy. I don’t know where that came from. It’s just I want what’s best for you.”
“I know, Dick. And don’t worry. Even my parents slip once in a while. And I’ll always be grateful for you giving me this job so I could complete my transition using the University health plan and University hospital. We go back too far for me to get excited by a slip like that.”
Dr. Williams had been Lizzy’s advisor and friend ever since the small, shy freshman had realized that he was more Lizzy than Larry. In fact, Williams’ Early Religious Studies specialty had helped a very conflicted Larry come to the realization that God was not against transgendered people. It was this counseling that moved Larry to undertake the life-changing events leading to a much happier and fulfilled Lizzy.
“I appreciate that,” Williams replied. “It’s just that you are so good, and have already made some significant breakthroughs. I don’t want any controversy to derail an extremely promising career.”
“Dick, what I’ve gone through in the past six years has taught me that whatever happens I can deal with it. And I want to be academically honest. What I’ve outlined in my proposal is true. It goes against centuries of tradition, but false tradition.
“You know as well as I do, that the men in the church deliberately excluded and expunged almost all references in the Bible to the major role women had in the early church. The Council of Nicaea left in Peter’s assertion that women should remain barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, but excluded the woman’s view of Jesus in the Gospel of Mary. In fact there’s almost nothing about the women’s view of any of the events of that time and place.”
“Look, Lizzy, we’ve been over this before and I agree with you. But I have to say that your crusade to have the women restored to their rightful place in the story of the early church is starting to sound like a broken record to some members of the committee.
“I can understand where you are coming from. You chose the female role and you want to advance your new gender. But some feel you are letting emotions get in the way of objective academic research. It’s like if the only tool a man has is a screwdriver he thinks the solution to every problems is screwing.”
“Most men feel that anyway,” Lizzy said, smiling.
“You know what I mean,” Williams said. “The point is that it is pretty radical to assert that the Three Wise Men were actually women.’
“Dick, it’s only radical if you don’t consider the efforts of the early male church leaders. All the letters Paul wrote are in the traditional Bible, thanks to that highly political Nicaea concave that decided what would and wouldn’t be in the Bible. But where are the letters written by the female leaders of the early church? They’ve been hidden away and you’ve got to look for the few clues still left in what has come down to us.
“Lizzy, you’re preaching to the choir here. But you’re going to need a lot of concrete proof if you’re going to get a Ph.D. with this assumption.”
“But the clues are there,” Lizzy retorted. “You just have to pay attention. Look, I admit that my ‘situation’ probably caused me to look at things a little differently. But when I first asked the ‘what if ‘question, everything fell into place.
“You know that drawing of the pretty girl which suddenly ‘pops’ and becomes a picture of an old woman? Well that’s the same ‘pop’ I had when I wondered if the Wise Men could have been women. Suddenly everything looked a little differently. All of it was there, if you just looked at it differently. Consider the Gifts. Gold is pretty gender neutral. But Frankincense was used for healing in the ancient world. And who did most of the healing? Women, that’s who.
“And Myrrh. It’s used to prepare a body for burial. Who traditionally prepared corpses for burial? The women. Those were women’s gifts.”
“You do make a case,” Williams said. “But the Bible does state that they were Wise Men.”
“I think I could make a case that long distance travel for women in those days would be safer and more practical if they disguised themselves as men,” Lizzy said. “But there’s a big, fat statement right there in plain sight in the Bible that proves that the Three Wise Men were really women.”
“And that is....?”Williams asked.
And then Lizzy told him the revelation that would win her a Ph.D.
“The Three Wise Men stopped and asked for directions!”
© 2017, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Sara lifted her leg out of the bath water and inspected it closely. She raised razor and shaved the last remaining hair on her otherwise smooth leg. Satisfied, she rinsed the leg and climbed out of her bathtub. The bath oil she had used enveloped her with its sweet scent as she gently toweled her smooth, hairless body. Then she examined herself critically in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door.
What she saw pleased her to no end. Standing there at 5’8” was a beautiful redhead with soft shoulders and smooth arms ending in dainty hands. Her nails were gently shaped ovals extending about a quarter inch beyond her fingers and covered with a soft pink polish.
On her chest were two perky 36C mounds. Below were a flat stomach, narrow waist and widened hips. Just above the beginning of her long, shapely legs was the vertical slit that still gave her a little thrill to see, even after a year and a half. She was a hot girl and she knew and appreciated it.
Sara closely inspected her eyebrows and decided the last shaping she’d done two days ago was sufficient. Then she applied her makeup, keeping it understated so that it accented, rather than overpowered her natural beauty.
She added just a few touches of perfume to complement the scent the bath oils had left on her, and walked into her bedroom. There on the bed was the white lace underwear she’d last worn exactly a year ago on Christmas Eve. She fastened the garter belt around her waist and pulled up her panties, then attaching the sheer silk hose to the garters. She fastened the strapless bra in the back and settled her breasts into the cups. The pushup bra made for an impressive cleavage.
She smiled as she struck a pose and looked at herself again in the mirror. Jim didn’t stand a chance.
Finally, she stepped into the white, strapless wedding gown and zipped it up. It still fit like a glove, a testament to all the work she’d put into staying exactly the same size she’d been last year.
She brushed her hair and put her diamond combs on the sides. Then she added dangly earrings, a necklace and a tea bracelet. Finally, she stepped into her white heels and was ready.
The meal she had spent most of the day preparing was ready to pull out of the oven as soon as Jim was ready. The table was set with their fine china and silverware and the candles were waiting to be lit. All was prepared for Sara and Jim’s first wedding anniversary.
Naturally Jim didn’t disappoint her. He arrived home with a huge bouquet of roses. Tall and handsome, he swept her into a long, passionate kiss the minute he walked in the door. She reveled in his smell and touch. Jim could be so gentle and tender while retaining a man’s strength. He had demonstrated his love for her so much that she had been willing to do anything for him and had. After years of hormones, which had shaped her into the lovely woman she was, she had still been undecided about taking the final step.
Of course, when she and Jim started to get serious, she had to tell him her secret and hope upon hope that he would not leave her. He hadn’t. “I love the person, not the package,” he had told her. “Although I really like the package too.”
As he had kissed her then, she knew she would do anything for him, including taking the final step so she could give herself fully to him as a woman.
Although Jim had told her the surgery wasn’t necessary and he didn’t want her to take any risks, she had been determined after so long being undecided. He had been with her throughout the entire trip, surgery and recovery. She had awakened from the operation to find a diamond ring on her left hand. “That is, if you’ll have me,” he’d said shyly.
They’d waited until she had completely healed to have the wedding. She had chosen Christmas Eve, because she was giving herself totally to Jim. Her parents, who had supported her throughout her long journey, had been thrilled to celebrate her wedding. They had long accepted the fact that they would not be having any biological grandchildren and were only happy that their daughter was happy.
And tonight was the celebration of one year of wedded bliss. It had been so much more than she had even dreamed to hope for. She was so very happy to be the woman and wife for her man.
Dinner was everything she hoped it would be, but both ate lightly in anticipation of what was to come. As she stood up from the table, Jim had swooped her up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom.
Once there, she had turned on the music she had prepared, and performed a lengthy striptease for him. When she was down to her bra, panties, garter belt and hose, she walked seductively toward him and had proceeded to perform the lap dance she had studied on YouTube. She slowly undid his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and peeled his coat and shirt off before kissing his hairy chest. A pressure on her seat told her she was having the desired effect.
She reached down to gently stroke him through his pants. As soon as she touched him, he took her hard nipple in his mouth and began to roll it around on his tongue.
Soon they were both naked, enjoying the taste of each other.
At long last, anticipation grew to the point where Sara rolled onto her back and spread her legs so Jim could take her. She guided him to her vagina and lay back as he started to enter her. He filled her and the range of feelings and emotions were incredible. They moved into a pattern of movement as the two became one. Together, their love entwined, merged and moved them both to a higher level. Their very souls joined into a shining beacon that shot out into planes unseen by most, yet very visible to some. As they climaxed, their love became a shining point in the universe.
They finally lay back exhausted, drinking in the afterglow of their lovemaking. “I love you so much,” they both said simultaneously, looking into each other’s eyes and seeing their very being. They both began to gently laugh as they continued to caress one another.
Finally sleep began to overtake them. “Merry Christmas and Happy Anniversary,” Sara whispered.
“Here’s to hundreds more,” Jim sleepily replied.
Just before she drifted into dreams, Sara felt one tiny bit of regret that she could not give him the children he so deserved. Then she fell asleep to dream of a little girl with shining hair.
She had been searching for so long, she had almost given up. She’d observed thousands and thousands of candidates and none had been the right fit. She was becoming so discouraged.
Then she felt a great stirring in the energy of the universe. She looked up, with her equivalent of seeing, to observe a huge, brightly shining pillar filled with the love that is the very foundation of the cosmos. She was drawn to it, pulled by it. She couldn’t have resisted it if she had wanted to.
At last! The perfect match. Exactly what she had been waiting for, longing for, for such a long, long time.
She moved to it and down it, to the merged soul which had created it. She knew she had a limited time to set things in motion.
Moving into the vaginal canal, she began surveying the thousands of sperm moving around in it. Trusting her instincts, she let herself be drawn to one containing an “X” chromosome. She examined it closely, finally swapping out a few bits of DNA for better ones in a neighboring sperm. Once these were merged into the X, it was perfect.
Then she starting looking for the egg. Where was it? She couldn’t find the egg. Something was seriously wrong! How could that be? She’d been drawn to the perfect couple, what had happened?
She finally determined that there was no egg, so none of the other sperm had had anything to fertilize. She’d just have to make do. She reached for a cell in the lining of the vaginal wall. What was this? It was a skin cell. How had a skin cell gotten there? They had way too short a life span for what she needed. Then she noticed the cell contained an “XY” combination. What was going on? How could her future mother have cells with XYs in them?
In an instant, she decided she would have to make do. She reached into the hipbone to retrieve a stem cell and discarded the “Y” piece. Again, she studied the “X” chromosome and replaced some of the DNA with more optimal material from a neighboring cell.
Then she brought the stem cell and the sperm together, and started the process of merging. As that started, she looked to guide the newly merged cell to the uterus wall.
Now what? There was no uterus. Had this woman had a hysterectomy or what? She expanded her awareness. No ovaries or fallopian tubes either. This would never do. The ovaries would be needed to supply the proper amounts of hormones at the right times during the coming nine months. She’d have to improvise.
First, she triggered a surge of melatonin, so that the body would fall into a deeper sleep and not be awakened by the changes she was about to make. Then, she gathered a few more stem cells and locked them into growing into the parts she would need. She released a flow of energy that increased the growth rate to incredible speeds. Growth that should have taken months, if not years, was accomplished in minutes. Blood supplies, lymph channels and other necessary connections were made.
When all was ready, the tubes were attached to the new uterus. The entire new system was complete. As she moved the merged and now dividing zygote gently into the uterus and fixed its connection to the uterine wall, she had another thought. A quick scan showed her that all of the other body cells were “XY.” This would never do. She set a program into place that would add the missing pieces of the ”Y” chromosomes. As the cells converted to “XX,” the tissues they supported would be modified into the “XX” template, including widening the pelvis for an easy natural birth.
Finally, as almost an afterthought, she set a program into place that would avoid most of the morning sickness a pregnant body usually experienced.
Then, she settled back to monitor the progress of her programs and correct anything that might go wrong. She wanted the perfect environment!
Sara shivered nervously as she waited for the doctor to come in. The thin paper examining gown with its open back didn’t provide much warmth. Finally Dr. Bradley and his nurse appeared.
“Mrs. Lewis, I’m Dr. Bradley. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”
“No, I usually go to Dr. Snyder. But he’s on a trip for Doctors Without Borders and his office referred me to you.”
“Well, they didn’t send your file over yet, but I don’t think that should stop me from examining you. What seems to be the problem?”
“Well,” Sara paused, gathering her thoughts. Without her files, how much did Dr. Bradley know? “I’ve felt a little different for weeks now. I can’t exactly describe it, but something has changed.
“Also, I’ve had spotting on my panties that I never used to get. And it’s not like the leakage I get after Jim and I have made love. That’s usually gone in a day or two. But this seems to keep on coming. It’s not a lot, but it’s there and it’s new.”
She was about to tell him about her special circumstances, but he cut her off.
“Well, why don’t you assume the position and we’ll take a look. After I see inside, I’ll be in a better position to talk with you about everything.”
Sara dutifully lay on the examining table and put her feet into the stirrups, opening herself up. That was another thing she still wasn’t used to. Or the cold, hard speculum the doctor slid into her vagina. Why couldn’t they at least warm those things up a little?
She felt a pressure as he widened it and pointed his light to illuminate her insides.
“Oh, I see! Now I understand. Carol,” he said, gesturing to his nurse. “Come take a look.”
Both doctor and nurse stared into Sara and she suddenly became very nervous. “What’s wrong?” she stammered.
“Wrong? Nothing,” Dr. Bradley said. “It’s perfect. Nothing to worry about. You have one of the most beautiful, pregnant wombs I’ve seen in a long time.”
“Womb? Pregnant? What are you talking about?” Sara asked, confused. “I can’t be pregnant. I don’t have the equipment.”
“I beg to differ,” Dr. Bradley said. “After 35 years as an OB-Gyn, I think I know what a pregnant womb looks like. I’d say you’re about three weeks along. Have you had any morning sickness yet?
“I’ve…I’ve been feeling a little queasy some mornings, but nothing too bad. But I can’t be pregnant.”
“You are, dear,” the nurse said, patting Sara on the shoulder. “And you’ve come to the right place if you’re interested in Natural Childbirth. I’ll go over our whole program with you.”
Dazzled, Sara lay back as the doctor poked around her abdomen and breasts. “I’ll give you some skin cream to use as your breasts swell. And you and your husband will want to schedule the classes as soon as possible. Nine months seems like a long time, but you’ll find time flies when you’re expecting.”
He headed for the door, stopped and turned back. “By the way, congratulations. From your condition, I assume it’s your first.”
“I’ll say,” Sara replied.
“Come, dear,” the nurse said. “Get your clothes on and then we’ll have you spit into a capful of Drano. It will tell us if your child is going to be a boy or a girl.”
“Impossible,” Sara murmured. Yet, she did feel different than she ever had before. But what the doctor and nurse had said couldn’t be. Was she dreaming? Then, her brain kicked into a “Mommy” mode.
“Until I get this straightened out, I’d better act like it’s true,” she thought. “It can’t be, but this guy is supposed to be the expert. I don’t know what’s happening, but I need to act as if I were pregnant until it all goes away when I wake up.
“No more alcohol. Organic food, vitamins. Of course I’ll want Natural Childbirth. I will want to feel every last part of childbirth. This dream is letting me really feel like all the other girls.”
And, of course, she was going to have to break the news to Jim.
Jim and Sara started attending church regularly after that. They continued to give thanks for such an incredible miracle.
And the soul of the little girl settled back to wait for the next nine months. Later, she’d astound the world with her instinctive feeling for how cells work that led to her discovery of the cure for cancer. But for now, she would enjoy being surrounded by the love and protection of her perfect pair of parents.
A little over a year ago, Lauran published a story entitled, “Son” about how a widowed father and his son became a mother and daughter. The story ended just as the mother began living full-time with a man she’d first met while she was experimenting with being a woman.
I enjoyed the story, but wondered what happened afterwards. How does a man used to working full-time, providing for, and making decisions for himself and his son, adjust to living as a woman totally dependent on her man?
‘Seattle Gal’ began as my attempt to explore this question. But soon Jessica’s decisions and their consequences took over the story. Further along, a throwaway character opened her mouth and my story went in an entirely new direction.
While there is some explicit sex in the story, at its heart it is a romance. I’ll warn readers of the sections containing explicit scenes.
While many of the places in the story are real, none of the characters are and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Several products and names that appear in the story are trademarked and I used them to provide color, background and authenticity. No infringement is intended. My only intent is to present a good story.
“Seattle Gal” is already completed, so readers will get to read the entire story in several segments. My great thanks to Holly H. Hart, who is so valuable in both editing and in providing much extra information that has helped make the story so much better. I’ve learned so much working with her!
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved.
A few short months ago, I never would have believed I’d be standing here like this.
Standing at the door wearing a new mini skirt, hose and two-inch heels and a cute, low-cut top, I was about enter some cross-dresser’s dreams. I was going to move in and live full-time as a woman with a great guy!
Back then, I was despondent. My wife of four years had left me. Cindy said she’d found someone else who could “meet her needs.” She told me I was distant, but also controlling, and she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d packed her suitcases and driven off with a guy from her workplace.
I wandered around in shock for days. The days grew into weeks. In a daze, I ate very little and didn’t care what I was wearing. My hair grew into a tangled mess, falling down below my shoulders. Showers became a thing of the past. About the only thing that didn’t get scraggly was my face. I’d never been able to grow much of a beard and it appeared the shock seemed to have killed off the few hairs I’d had.
Fortunately , I worked from home writing programming for a number of clients. I’d started my business while still in college and it had gotten to the point where we could all communicate electronically without the need for face-to-face meetings. Payments were automatically credited to my checking account and my affairs were managed by Karen, my business manager. Spending hours creating and checking massive lines of code enabled me to ignore the huge gaping hole that existed where my heart had been.
I didn’t want any human contact. I’d gone so far as to have food delivered directly from an on-line source. Some days I could barely drag myself out of bed. In short, I was a mess.
That all changed when Karen stopped past. She had some paperwork that I had to sign. An e-signature wouldn’t do.
Karen was my oldest and dearest friend. We’d known each other since we were two. She was the sister I’d never had, the proverbial girl-next-door, except she’d actually lived two doors down when we were growing up. I’d even had her as my “best man” when I married Cindy. It was only natural that I’d ask her to become my business manager when I started my business. At the time, she was almost done with her business degree and she went on to get her MBA, achieving Phi Beta Kappa along the way. I’d trust her with my life.
Karen let herself in after I’d ignored several phone calls and e-mails from her.
“Mark, are you okay?” she yelled from the door. I grunted back and she started to come into my home office.
“I’ve got to have these signed,” she began and then stopped. “My God! What died in here? This place stinks to high heaven.”
I’d also neglected doing dishes and several stacks in the sink were sporting fuzzy growths of various colors. The garbage was stacked high with partially full pizza boxes.
“Mark,” Karen began and then stopped staring at me. “Sweet Mother, you’re just a shadow of your former self. You’re so thin I almost wouldn’t recognize you.”
“I just didn’t feel like eating,” I explained. “I don’t feel like much of anything.”
“Mark, you’ve got to pull yourself out of this,” Karen said. “It’s been months since Cindy left.”
“I just feel so worthless,” I said.
”Listen,” Karen said. “What Cindy did was cruel, but you’ve got to get control of your life. Come on! We’re going to get you and this place cleaned up.”
Karen came over and pulled me up out of my chair. “But the code,” I protested.
“Screw the code,” Karen said. “It can wait. You get yourself into the shower and take a good long soak while I tackle the kitchen.”
Reluctantly, I allowed myself to be pushed into the bathroom. Karen pulled the grimy towels off the towel rack and replaced them with clean ones. “Shower! Now!” she ordered.
I turned on the water and stood under the warm water.
“Use lots of soap and shampoo,” Karen yelled in the door. “And put on some conditioner, too. You’re going to need it with that mess on your head.”
When I came out, I did feel a little better. As soon as I’d turned off the shower, Karen started the dish washer. She’d already carried the moldy pizza boxes out to the dumpster and was putting the mail that had been piling up into a box. “I’ll sort through all this back at the office,” she said.
“Grab a brush and start on that hair,” she commanded. “Boy you’ve really let things pile up.”
I started pulling a brush through my hair and immediately hit tangles.
“Here, you’d better let me do it,” Karen said. “You sit here and look through the mail and I’ll tackle your hair.”
A lot of tugging later, my hair was mostly untangled. “It’s interesting that it’s a darker red, almost brunette, with red highlights, when it’s grown out.” Karen said. “I can’t believe how long you’ve let it get,”
“Well, I’ve been busy,” I replied.
“Busy sitting around,” she said.
While my hair dried, Karen put me to work on the vacuum cleaner. She took my long neglected clothes to the washing machine and started a load.
After a couple of hours of work, the place was reasonably clean and straight.
“Now you can sign these papers and get back to your coding,” Karen said. “But don’t you dare to neglect yourself again. I’ll be checking!”
True to her word, Karen was back in a couple of days. And she found mail piled on the floor and take-out boxes in the kitchen trash with half-eaten food in them. I just hadn’t been able to work up any enthusiasm to do better.
Karen sat me down on the sofa and we talked. I talked about Cindy and how what I’d thought was an ordered life was suddenly shattered. I just couldn’t seem to find a way to pick up the pieces.
“I just don’t have the will to do anything,” I said. “What’s the use?”
Karen looked at me for a long time. Then it was like a light came on. Her face brightened. “You’re right.”
“Mark, you’re in a bad space and you’ve got to break out of your mood. You need to put some distance between this and yourself. I think it’s time for Jessica to reappear.”
My eyes got big. I’d not thought of Jessica in several years. Not since I met Cindy, in fact. Jessica was my girl name since Karen and I started playing dress up. We were probably three or four when I had stopped by Karen’s one day. She was excited and dragged me up to her room to show me her new party dress.
She stepped into a vision of soft green satin and lace. The color contrasted nicely with her blonde hair. She pushed her arms through the puffy sleeves and turned around and asked me to button her up in back. I was astounded at how nice the dress felt and how good she looked. Then she reached around and tied a big bow in the sash in back of her.
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“And it feels so nice and light,” she said twirling around. “I can’t wait to wear it to church.”
I nodded and continued to run my hands over the smooth material. “It’s so beautiful,” I kept saying.
“Would you like to try it on?” Karen asked.
“Could I?” I asked.
“Sure, help me get unbuttoned,” she replied.
The buttons were quickly undone and the sash untied. Karen stepped out of the dress.
“If you are going to try it on, you need to be properly dressed,” she said. She went to her dresser and pulled out a pair of shiny panties and a matching camisole top. I quickly shed my own clothes and pulled on the undergarments. Then I stepped into the dress and Karen buttoned it up and tied the sash.
It felt wonderful. It was light and I felt like I had nothing on. But when I looked down, I saw myself in this wonderful garment of shiny satin and lace.
“Here, come sit on the bed and let me get the shoes that go with it,” Karen said. “But be sure to pull the skirt under you as you sit down. I don’t want my new dress to get all wrinkled.”
She pulled a pair of white socks, with the tops folded down, and pulled them on my feet. Then came a pair of shiny black shoes with a strap across the top. Later, I found out they were called “Mary Janes.”
“Now wait a minute while I do something about your hair,” Karen said. She picked up her hairbrush and began to do something to my dark red hair. At that time, my hair wasn’t too long, but I was a couple of weeks overdue at the barber’s. Karen was able to brush my hair and put barrettes in it on each side. She grabbed a little tube of lip gloss from her table and put it on my lips. Then she let me look in her mirror.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! Looking back at me was a pretty girl in a party dress. Her hair was held out of her eyes by the barrettes and her lips were shiny. Every time she moved, the dress shifted and subtle patterns of light changed. The green satin looked even better against my dark red hair.
“Karen, I’m beautiful too!” I cried.
“Yes you are, Mark,” she said. “But I can’t call a pretty girl like you ‘Mark.’ We need a girl’s name for you.”
She looked around the room, and moved to pick up a pretty doll on her bed.
“Jessica,” she said. “I named my prettiest doll Jessica. So I’ll call my prettiest girl friend Jessica too.”
And that’s how Jessica was born.
We soon changed me out of the party dress because neither of us wanted it to be wrinkled. But Karen wanted to continue to play with her new girl friend Jessica, so she pulled another play dress out of her closet and I put it on.
We played with her dolls the rest of the afternoon. When Karen’s mother, Mildred, came by the bedroom, Karen explained that we were playing “tea party.”
“Well, why don’t you girls come down to the kitchen and add some milk and cookies to your tea party?” she asked. Obviously she thought a couple of three year olds were having an afternoon of play and wasn’t concerned. I think she mentioned it to my mother too, but no one gave it a second thought.
After that, Jessica played a lot with Karen. They went out to the park and even to the movies. Mildred watched me most days while my mother was working and was just grateful Karen had someone to play with.
By the time we were seven or eight, Karen’s room had accumulated a lot of costumes and cast-off clothing from Mildred. Karen and Jessica were ballerinas and princesses and even clomped around in Mildred’s high heels.
I was all boy in school and loved sports, as did Karen. Karen became the star on her soccer team, while I was one of the fastest runners on our track team. We were in school plays and spelling bees and all the other activities schools have. We were mildly popular.
But we always found time for some Karen and Jessica time. Later on, Mildred showed Karen how to put on makeup, and since, I was there, we both got to practice. We were both taught how to move in more grown-up skirts and how to sit properly in them. We learned how to do hair and Karen and I practiced rolling each other’s hair and trying out new styles. And so, I learned how to be a little girl as well as being a little boy.
Of course, it wasn’t all one way. There were days that two little boys went to the park and played. Karen became “Keith” then. And she learned to play rough and tumble with the other boys at the park. These were skills that served her well in her soccer games.
But we always seemed to have more girl time than boy time.
As we moved into middle school skirts became longer and we learned about hose and bras. One day Karen excitedly ran me up to her room. “Jessica,” she said, unbuttoning her blouse, “Look! They’re starting to come.”
Sure enough, her nipples were starting to swell. Karen was on her way to becoming a woman.
At this point, Mildred began to teach Karen things she wasn’t also showing me. But Karen wasn’t about to let her best girl friend Jessica be left behind. So Jessica also learned about things such as adjusting bras. Karen even showed Jessica how to put in a tampon as that time approached. Jessica was well versed in female things.
About that time, Karen and Jessica began to notice a reluctance on Mildred’s part to permit Jessica to show herself, so the girls began to be more careful. They would still go out, but started to take care that Mildred didn’t see Jessica as they left.
As Karen developed curves, we girls began to explore the internet so Jessica could keep up. We settled on birdseed in bags as the most practical. Real forms were way too expensive for young teens, and more birdseed could be added to the little bags in Jessica’s bra. As Karen grew, Jessica grew too.
The internet also provided information about how to take care of Jessica’s “extras” so that she could wear tight shorts in the summer time. It looked painful at first but it turned out that stuffing Mark’s testicles up into his abdomen wasn’t hard at all. And when Mark’s penis was pulled back and under tight enough, and taped down, the result in front was a depression that looked like the beginning of any girl’s crack. Jessica felt really good strolling down the mall with a flat and slightly curved front in tight shorts. She and Karen looked exactly alike below the waist, and they both enjoyed the stares from the males in the mall. It was realistic enough that after Ken Stevens and Jerry Glasscock treated the girls to the movies, Jerry’s fingers stroked Jessica’s crotch a couple of times before she moved Jerry’s hand and covered up with her own hand. Jerry was never the wiser.
No one connected the boy Mark, a geek who spent a lot of time in the computer lab, with the pretty, outgoing Jessica. She and Karen hung around the usual middle school hangouts and at the mall, and told everyone that Jessica went to a private school.
About that same time, many of the guys in school started to shoot up and develop deeper voices. Mark grew some, but stopped when he reached about 5’ 8” or so. His voice dropped a little, but he could still call up Jessica’s voice any time he wanted to.
Why did I keep being Jessica? I liked the way it felt, and the freedom Jessica had to be silly . Boys had to be “cool.” Girls could be themselves because they weren’t taken as seriously. I enjoyed being able to walk down the mall in a skirt with my legs free. Both Karen and I enjoyed having the boys check out our legs.
We could giggle and skip and dance and be excited about things with no one thinking any less of us. I knew underneath I was a boy, but I enjoyed the freedom and fun of playing the girl.
When we got to high school, I found I really had to keep a tight lid on Jessica when I was Mark. I began to spend more and more time in the computer lab so I wouldn’t get myself in a position where I might forget and make a “Jessica” move or remark. I found that I was good at programming and actually wrote some programs that the school ended up using.
As Karen became a star at girl’s sports, I spent more and more time in front of a computer screen. My mother didn’t mind. She was at work a lot. Since Dad had died in the Middle East wars, she’d had to work hard to keep us going. She’d done well and had moved up into management ranks, which meant she was at work a lot and I was on my own most of the time.
To my surprise, the school came up with some funds to pay me for the programs I’d written for it. The extra income helped Mom and me. And I was able to pay for more things for Jessica, including realistic breast forms bought from the internet. The birdseed was finally retired!
My house started to become a better option for Karen and Jessica since Mildred was really beginning to worry about me. We even had a talk where I assured her that I liked being male and wasn’t about to change that.
But at my house, I got to experience wearing Karen’s prom gown and she put on my Tux. We danced in my living room with Keith leading Jessica for practice. However, I took another girl to the dance and Karen went with one of the jocks from school. Karen and I were too close as siblings to ever consider a romantic relationship.
During our senior year, Karen and Jessica went on a couple of out of town college visits. But when we started to narrow down our choices, Mark was the one going to the visits. He, not Jessica, would be the one going to college, after all. Besides that, I really did like girls and didn’t want to mess up any future friendships by confusing anyone at the orientation gatherings.
The University of Washington was my final choice. Karen went to a different college a few miles away. We were close enough that Karen and Jessica could still go out, in fact, it was easier now that we were away from our mothers.
But, I was a computer science major. Soon, I didn’t have a lot of free time. Karen was busy in her Business courses, and couldn’t get away much either, so we saw less and less of each other. It just wasn’t much fun being Jessica without Karen around.
Then I met Cindy.
I was in the computer lab at the library, concentrating on a paper due the next day, when I heard “Oh no! Shit” behind me. I turned and saw a girl ready to punch her fist into the screen of her computer.
“Come on,” she yelled. “I’ve worked five days on this paper. It can’t disappear now!”
Moving closer, I looked at her screen. “Whatever you were working on is still there,” I said. “It’s just that you hit the function key for a new window.”
Reached over to her mouse, I moved and clicked it. Her paper reappeared.
“Before you do anything else,” I cautioned, “save your paper and back it up. Do you have a flash drive?”
The girl looked at me, her face a combination of relief and confusion. I reached in my backpack and pulled out a flash drive that I plugged into the computer tower. When the icon appeared on the screen I saved her paper to the drive.
“Now you have a copy in case anything happens,” I explained. “I’ve got a few things I need on that card too, but there’s enough space for you to share until you get your own flash card.”
Naturally, that led to us going together to the campus bookstore so she could buy her own card. And naturally, I had to show her how to use it. And naturally we ended up in the student center over a couple of cups of coffee. I looked into her large brown eyes, noticed the brunette curls which framed her face, and I was smitten.
Cindy was from a suburb of Chicago. She was currently in the Liberal Arts college but was thinking of switching majors to get a degree in industrial design. She loved taking an object and reconfiguring it so it was attractive and appealing as well as useful and practical.
Cindy complemented me. She was much more social and outgoing. Soon we were going to campus dances, athletic events and other campus activities. I, on the other hand, was able to help her by writing several computer applications which helped her with her school work and in keeping track of her homework and social calendars. Somehow, we fit together well.
Cindy’s father was a big-time corporate executive. When he saw the scheduling program Cindy was using, he saw an immediate use for something like it in his business. I adapted it for him and was paid quite well when the corporation adopted it for their worldwide use . This led to me writing a project planning program which could take all the actions involved in a project, together with all the deadlines and lay out a complete project timeline with necessary start dates, deadlines and interactions so that everything came together when it needed to.
Other companies heard about my program and, before I graduated from college, I was already making a yearly seven figure income from my programming. Things had gotten so big and complicated that I asked Karen to help as my business manager even before she completed her business degree. Naturally, I wrote a program that aided her with her duties. Luckily, Karen and Cindy got along well.
Cindy and I married the summer after our graduation. My own mother had passed away earlier that year, but Karen’s mother Mildred attended our wedding. I think she was relieved that I’d married a girl.
Cindy and I were happy and very much in love. Cindy kept me from retreating too far into my programming and I was able to help her set up her own design firm. Her firm gradually added Graphic Arts, which led to adding advertising and public relations. Cindy was somewhat surprised to find she excelled in those fields too.
We moved into a suite in downtown Seattle which was close to her office and large enough for me to set up my computer equipment. Karen maintained my formal office in a nearby building, but I found I often had breakthroughs in the middle of the night. When that happened, I needed my computer close by, so it was easier to work from home and visit the office only when necessary. After initial contacts, I could communicate with clients electronically and let Karen take care of all the administrative matters.
Both Cindy and I became heavily involved in our businesses. The nature of writing code is that one completely loses track of time. I didn’t notice when Cindy left for work and come home. As I became involved in larger and larger projects, I resisted Cindy’s efforts to get me to attend many social functions. I wrote my own scheduling program and assigned ratings from “Critical” to “Skip” to my activities. I did have Cindy’s birthday and our anniversary in the “Critical” categories. But a lot of the “Moderately important” social activities slipped into the “Skip” column.
I did add “Make Love” to the critical column. I was very conscious of my husbandly duties and responsibilities to my wife. Besides we were both really great together. Cindy especially loved giving me oral sex. I, of course, loved feeling myself in her eager mouth. We didn’t neglect her opening on the other end either. I made very sure I adhered to that scheduled item in my program.
One day, I was working hard on a program that was up against a deadline. I’d hit a snag and couldn’t find the coding error that was screwing up the program. And if there’s one thing I’ve always insisted on, it’s doing a job completely and correctly. Cindy came into my office and reminded me about the Chamber of Commerce banquet that evening. She was up for a “Young Entrepreneur of the Year” award and had to attend.
“Sorry, Honey,” I apologized. “I’ve got to find out what’s wrong. Is there anyone else who could take you?”
“I could see if Jake from work is willing,” she said. “But I’d rather have you there.”
“And there’s nothing I’d rather be doing,” I replied. “I’m so proud of you. But I’ve just got to find this bug.”
She left the office and I heard her talking on the phone. Later she stuck her head in the door. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a little black dress with one side off the shoulder. The diamonds hanging from her ears moved and sparkled every time she moved her head. She was wearing dark hose which accented the silver heels on her feet. The necklace and bracelet she had on matched her earrings. I’d given her the set last Christmas and she was a knockout.
“I was able to get Jake to go with me,” she said. “I’d still rather it was with you.”
“Me too,” I replied, looking up from my computer screen. “Have fun and I’m sure you’re going to win. Love you.”
“Love you,” she replied, but I was already looking back at the screen. I heard the door close a few minutes later
That was the first of several times Jake took Cindy to a function. I was so busy, I really didn’t notice how many. I was vaguely grateful to Jake for helping me out
Then Cindy landed a really big new contract designing the casing for a new teen cell phone and had to start spending a lot of time away from home. There were many nights when she came home really late.
The project took her around the country to listen to focus groups to help her find out what was most appealing. She tried to tell me about the comments from some of the groups, but I listened with only half an ear as I tried to mentally compose more lines of code.
Finally, Cindy dropped the bomb. I heard her come in with Jake. Soon there were some thumps in the bedroom. I suppose I should have gone to see what was going on, but I was engrossed in a new project. When I did look up, I could see Jake carrying some suitcases out the door of our suite. Then Cindy appeared at my door carrying an overnight case.
“Mark, I can’t go on living like this,” she said quietly. “You’ve become so distant that we don’t even talk anymore. You have no interest outside your programs and haven’t even noticed me in weeks. You try to control your life and mine too so tightly that you even schedule our sex life, for God’s sake! I can’t take it any longer and I’m moving in with Jake. I’ll send movers for the rest of my things soon.”
With that, she turned and walked out of my life.
I was numb. I didn’t know what had happened. I don’t know how long I sat there with the computer screen flashing at me.
Then, like the good orderly programmer I am, I saved my work and shut down my machine. In a daze, I went to our bar and poured myself a good, stiff drink. And another. And another.
At first I couldn’t remember why I wasn’t in my bed when I woke up on the floor sometime the next day. Then I started to cry as I remembered. I’d had no warning! What had happened and why?
Karen could tell something was wrong when she answered my phone call. She was there within minutes and spent the next few hours cradling my head as I cried myself out. She tried to get me to eat something but I really didn’t feel like it. I told her what Cindy had said, but she wisely didn’t say anything.
“I’m just here to listen,” she said.
The next few days were a blur. I slowly pulled myself back together enough to get back to work and lost myself in lines of coding. I lost all track of time. Weeks went by. Movers came and took the rest of Cindy’s things. I didn’t pay any attention to what they took. I didn’t eat much, didn’t go out at all and basically did nothing but sit in front of my computer and work.
And that’s how Karen found me.
For the first time in months, I actually considered something other than code when Karen made her suggestion. Then the second thoughts emerged. Jessica had been fun, but I just wasn’t up to doing all that work. I didn’t have anything of Jessica left anyway. I’d thrown everything away after I met Cindy. It was just too overwhelming.
“Jessica is in the past,” I told Karen.
“Mark, I’m not going to take no for an answer,” Karen said firmly. “You’ve got to break out of this. Jessica is a way to do this.”
Despite much resistance on my part, Karen managed to get me to me stand up long enough to measure me. “My God! You’re skinnier than you were in high school,” she said. “Okay, I’ll need one of your credit cards, one with a high limit.”
Reluctantly I fished a card out of my wallet and handed it to her. “I’ll be back later,” she said. In the meantime, shave your pits. I’ll have stuff to take care of everything else.”
’Oh, what the hell?’ I thought as she left. Dragging myself back into the bathroom, I ran my razor through my armpits. It was slow going because the long hair kept clogging up the razor. But I persevered. Any job is worth doing right and worth doing completely.
Karen came back a couple of hours later and found me sitting on the edge of the bathtub staring into space. She was carrying several bags from department stores and a couple with a drugstore logo on them. She reached into one and pulled out a couple of bottles.
“Here,” she said. “Smear this hair removal lotion on. Arms and legs! And be careful. This other is for your bikini area. Go for a landing strip. That’s popular these days. Do that one first, but don’t get them mixed up. Trust me, I know.”
I followed her directions, rubbing the bikini cream around my private area and into my public hair, leaving only a narrow strip running up from my penis. Then I used the other bottle to completely cover my arms and legs. Owing to my genetic makeup, I didn’t have any other hair on my body.
After about 15 minutes things started to tingle. It was time for the shower again. What hair I’d had left on my body was soon running down the drain. Karen handed me a bottle of skin lotion after I’d dried off. It actually felt good rubbing it over my hairless body. I was starting to remember how good I’d felt like this when I was a teen.
Karen worked on my hair while I filed my nails. Old skills rapidly came back. Soon my finger and toe nails were shaped into more attractive forms. As Karen placed rollers into my hair, I used the bottle she handed me to paint my nails.
By the time the polish had dried, my hair was dry too. Karen took out the rollers and brushed my hair. Bouncy curls framed my face. They swayed every time I moved my head, reminding me they were there. The curls really brought out my dark red highlights.
Then Karen handed me a roll of tape and left the room. I leaned back on the bed, secured my testicles up into me and bent my penis back between my legs. I taped it down, leaving only a small space near the tip exposed so I had room to pee.
When I brought my legs back together and stood up, I had a girl’s flat front. I remembered how good it felt to be able to walk around with nothing touching me or bouncing between my legs. It was as if those hanging boy parts weren’t weighting me down anymore. Jessica was back!
Karen walked back into the room and took a look at me. Then she came over and gave me a hug, running her hands over my hairless body. “Welcome back, girlfriend!” she whispered in my ear.
“I’ve got something a little different than we used to do,” she said reaching into another bag. “You’re so skinny, I picked up some panties with some padding on the sides and back so you’d have some curves. Otherwise, you’d be really straight as a rail.
“Oh, here’s something else,” she said. She held up a box with what looked like most of a woman’s chest, including what looked like C cup breasts with nipples. “This is something new,” Karen said. “Its called an ‘All-in-One and gives you breasts, but the seams are not as close to them as your old forms were. That makes it easier to hide the seams, because no one will be looking anywhere except your cleavage. It glues on, but it’s recommended that you don’t wear it while sleeping. It’s much too expensive to risk tearing it if you rolled over in your sleep. The woman who sold it to me said you need to remove it every day or two and clean both it and your real chest to avoid an odor buildup. She also had fake vaginas, if you’re interested, but I remembered you didn’t like to wear gaffs when we were teenagers.”
“I still prefer tape down there,” I said.
“Well, if you want to see any more choices, there are several places you could look online.”
She had me lie down while she positioned it on my chest and made some marks. Then she applied the adhesive to the backs of the form and a little on my chest and then stuck the cold form onto me. She had me lie there about five minutes while it set and then had me sit up.
The weight pulling from my chest was different from anything I’d felt before. Back in high school, I’d never dared glue forms to me since I’d have to appear as a boy again right away. Now, as I looked down, I had two realistic breasts hanging on my chest.
“I guessed right on the color,” Karen said. “It’s a perfect match. I’ll just have to work a little makeup around the seams and no one will ever know they’re not real.”
I’d forgotten how light girl’s clothing was. And how revealing. After I’d put on my new black panties, I pulled on the short black dress Karen had bought. The dress had spaghetti straps with a built-in shelf bra and an uneven hem that rose on one side to reveal quite a bit of thigh. I felt like I had nothing on. Yet, I was completely decent. . Karen pulled out a pair of “come-fuck-me” sandals with a three-inch heel and I proceeded to reacquaint myself with balancing on them.
It all came back in a rush and soon I was walking around, swaying my hips and bouncing my boobs like I’d just done it yesterday, instead of several years earlier. I felt lighter all over. When I became Jessica, all the weight of the male world fell away just like it had when I was a teenager. I could be as light and silly as I wanted. I could have fun. I decided to put Mark and his troubles away for a while and just be the best Jessica I could be. I pushed my chest out, put my hand on my hip, balanced on my back leg and struck a pose.
“Oh, girl, you are so ready!” Karen said.
I smiled and began to fix my face with the makeup Karen had bought. As soon as my foundation was on, I began to see Jessica in the mirror. I continued with my mascara and blush and the effect was heightened. But before I put powder on, I turned to Karen.
“Hun, could you please thin my brows? “ I asked, resurrecting my Jessica voice. “You were always better at it than me.” Karen and I had worked on that voice for hours until my voice, pitch and inflections were perfect. Then, I raised my brows in a puppy dog look and Karen laughed.
“You are getting back into this,” she said. “Come here and I’ll get the lawn mower out.”
When she finished, I was surprised how thin she’d made them. We used to make them into sort of an arch, but not enough that anyone would notice on Mondays after I’d washed the eyebrow pencil out. Now they were in a very attractive, very feminine arch. I looked at her with a question in my eyes.
“Hey,” she shrugged. “You need a complete break from Mark. I’m planning on having Jessica around for a while. In fact, I was thinking that I could put you up at my place. You need to get out of here.”
I was just going with the flow and letting Karen make all the decisions. So I agreed, with the stipulation that we’d move my computer equipment to Karen’s too. There was still a deadline coming up on my last contract, but it was close enough that Jessica could finish it quickly. Karen agreed.
I finished my makeup by putting on my lipstick. Then I stood up and gave Karen a twirl.
“Wow!” she said. “Jessica, you are still one of the hottest gals I know. We’ve got to go out dancing tonight.”
Fortunately, Karen had also brought a pair of jeans and a simple, sleeveless top so I changed so I could work. I pulled on my sneakers, which were unisex. Then two girls unhooked cables and moved computer equipment down to Karen’s car. We left old, gloomy Mark in the suite. I waited in the car while Karen went back in to tell the building manager that Mark was taking a vacation and arranged for the mail to be forwarded to our office address. Then we were off to her apartment.
After we’d unloaded the car and set up the computer in Karen’s guest bedroom, it was time to get Jessica some more clothes. Mark was worth a great deal, so money was no object. Both Karen and I jumped into shopping with enthusiasm. It was just like old times, except I was keeping many of the clothes I was trying on.
We tried on dresses, skirts, tops, slacks and shorts. I was a little hesitant at how short some of the skirts Karen pressed upon me were. But she pointed out that I had the legs for them. “Hey,” she said, “you’re young enough to wear them and they look good on you. Enjoy being a girl.”
Karen also insisted I even purchase a couple of skirt suits for when I need to look “professional.” When that might be, I had no idea. I ended up with enough clothing for Jessica to last me almost three weeks without cleaning a thing.
Of course, we didn’t leave out underthings. I bought bras, panties, camisoles, and slips. We got several pairs of panties with hip and rear end padding to make my dresses hang correctly. We found stockings and pantyhose and, naturally, shoes. I ended up with 10 pairs of shoes ranging from casual to flats to pumps and sandals. And I needed several purses to go with my outfits.
We didn’t neglect jewelry, either. My pierced ear holes had pretty much closed up after several years of neglect, but weren’t too hard to get open again. I even got second holes on each ear this time. After the earrings, there were bracelets, necklaces, a few cute rings and even some ankle bracelets. By the time we got back to Karen’s apartment, Jessica was all outfitted for quite a stay.
After unpacking and stowing all my purchases into the guest closet and dresser drawers, it was time to put the little black dress on and go out clubbing. Again I marveled that I felt so exposed and yet was perfectly decent for a girl.
As we approached the club, I had a moment of panic. Could I do this? It had been years since Jessica interacted with boys. I had been pretty good then, but these were men I was going to see and who were going to see me. Could I still pass?
“Jess,” Karen said. “Don’t worry. I see only a hot girl and everyone will too. You are a natural.”
The doorman waved us through with hardly a glance. But, as he turned to check some guy’s ID, I realized I was going to have to get some identification for Jessica. No one in the stores had questioned my using my “boyfriends” credit card, but the stores we were in dealt with that sort of thing all the time. Jessica needed some picture ID for Jessica first thing.
The music in the club was loud, and the crowd noisy. It was Friday night and people of both sexes were out to meet up and let the tensions of the week go. We finally found a table. Within seconds of sitting down, we were on the dance floor. Not weighed down by heavy men’s clothing, I just let myself go and moved my body with the music. Gyrating back and forth, I became one with the beat. Jessica didn’t have a care in the world and I lost myself in the dance.
Karen and I didn’t have to pay for any drinks that evening, but Karen reminded me to keep an eye on those drinks. “Drink only those the waitress brings, nothing any guy hands you,” she said. “And watch your drinks on the table. Date rape drugs are a lot more prevalent than they were when we were in high school.”
I certainly didn’t want any guy finding the tape in my panties while I was helpless, so I followed her advice.
It was a great time. I’d forgotten how fun life could be. And I’d forgotten how fun life could be for a girl.
We finally got back to Karen’s apartment at 2 a.m. after a late night coffee with a couple of guys we met at the club. Karen made it clear to the guys that coffee was the only thing we were interested in that night. As we left the coffee shop, I surprised myself by giving the guy I’d been with a “Thank You for a wonderful evening,” quick peck on his cheek.
Karen had to remind me to take off my makeup before I hit the bed. After it was all off, I slipped into a silky baby doll nightgown and rolled into bed. I thought again about how nice the dress had felt as I moved on the dance floor. And how much my ears had tickled as my earrings swung back and forth. It was an incredibly sexy feeling that kept reminding me that I was Jessica again--and I loved it!
I got out of bed and went out into the hall. I softly knocked on Karen’s door.
“Karen?” I asked.
“What is it?” a sleepy voice asked.
“Thank you!” I answered. “Tonight was the best night I’ve had in years.”
“Me too,” she replied. “I got my best girl friend back.”
I closed her door and fell back into my own bed. I was asleep in minutes.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved. My thanks to Holly H. Hart for her editing.
I was briefly confused when I woke up the next morning. I usually was standing at attention when I awoke, but this morning I had a feeling of lack. I wasn’t feeling anything between my legs, but still felt faintly horny. I moved and felt a strange shift on my chest. Then I remembered. I was Jessica and hadn’t untaped last night. I brought my legs together and enjoyed not feeling any equipment down there. I reached down and felt an indentation leading to the beginning of a crack. I smiled at the feeling. I’d left Mark back at the suite.
In spite of all we’d bought, I’d forgotten to buy a robe. So I left my room clad just in my baby doll. I enjoyed the way the silky material brushed against my legs. I went into the bathroom, and remembered to turn around, pull my panties down and sit to do my business. I patted dry and started toward the door when I looked in the mirror. I stopped and grabbed a hairbrush. I had to do something with my hair before I’d show myself to anyone.
A few strokes with my new brush and my curls were back in their proper place. Then I left the bathroom. Karen was in the kitchen in similar attire. “Morning,” I said. “Anything I can help with?”
“Could you make the orange juice?” Karen asked. “I’ve got the coffee going and we’ll have eggs soon. Still like yours over easy?”
I nodded and pulled a can of frozen orange juice out of the freezer and opened it. Soon we were sitting at the kitchen table.
Over coffee, I looked over at Karen. “I can’t thank you enough for everything. I feel so different now. It was a really strange feeling waking up like this this morning.”
Karen took a long drink and nodded at me. “I knew I had to do something. And then I remembered how much more alive you’d always seemed as Jessica than you did as Mark.
“Don’t take this wrong. I’ve always loved Mark and thought of him as a brother. But when you became Jessica, you sparkled. You seemed to let yourself go in a way Mark never could. You attacked life, while he withdrew from it.”
She sighed, looked down and then up into my eyes. “When you got together with Cindy, I was happy for you and wanted everything to work. But I had some reservations. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Mark. I didn’t want to spoil anything. But I can tell Jessica things I could never tell Mark.
“I want you to go get dressed and put on your makeup,” Karen continued. “Then I want to show you something.”
I took a quick shower, remembering to wear a shower cap to keep my hair dry. I dried quickly and put on my bra and my padded panty. Then I chose a blue scooped neck sleeveless top and pulled on my jeans. I felt a thrill as the jeans came up and fit snugly against my crotch. They were certainly a tighter fit than I’d been used to wearing for the last few years. Yet there was something comforting, reassuring about feeling that area covered and protected in some way. It just felt good.
I took a little time with my makeup, since it had been some time since I’d had much practice. But in a little less than an hour, I was back out in the apartment’s living room. Karen was doing something with her cell phone when I came in. She hit the “send” button and called up a picture on her laptop. She turned the laptop toward me and showed me the screen.
“Who is this?” she asked.
“Cindy, of course,” I answered. Then I looked again. The figure in the picture was wearing a blue scooped neck sleeveless top that I’d never seen Cindy in. And her hair was red instead of blonde.
Have you ever seen the picture with the old lady where if you wait long enough it kind of “pops” and became a much younger woman dressed for a night on the town? That’s what happened to me. The picture of Cindy on the laptop screen popped and I realized I was looking at the picture Karen had just taken on her cell phone. The picture was of me.
I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach. I was confused. I had not realized how much Cindy looked like Jessica.
“I saw the resemblance when I first met Cindy,” Karen said. “I didn’t say anything because I saw how happy you were. Besides, no one who knew you and Cindy even knew Jessica. Except me. No one else had any idea.”
“But what does this mean?” I asked.
“Well, I’m no psychologist,” Karen said. “But you and Cindy were so much alike. You shared a lot of the same interests, liked a lot of the same things, looked at the world alike. It’s like you were made out of the same mold.
“So I wasn’t about to stir up any questions with Mark. But now I wonder. Jess, I wonder if on some level, Mark was attracted to Cindy because she was a lot like you.”
“You mean I was essentially marrying myself?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Karen replied. “All I know is that I was happy Mark was happy. But looking back, I wonder if Mark might not have expected Cindy to be exactly like Jessica.
“That wouldn’t work, you know,” she said looking at me. “Jessica, I helped teach you how to act like a girl, but you weren’t raised a girl. We have certain ideas programmed into us from the first doll we get, that you didn’t get.
“We’re trained to be maternal. To take care of others. To be pretty so we can attract a guy who will marry us and make us happy ever after. And we expect certain things from guys. They’ll take care of us, protect us, show us they love us.
“But if you really get down to the bottom of things, the biggest question we have when we look at a guy is, would I want to have this man’s children? That’s it in a nutshell. Thousands of years of evolution rolled up into one overriding question.
“It’s the basis for a lot of how we act, how we dress, how we respond to guys. And you didn’t have that. You didn’t have to have that and most guys don’t have a clue about it.
“So I wonder if you didn’t expect Cindy to act like Jessica would have, and ignored what Cindy’s needs and drives were.”
I was silent. My mind was whirling. Karen had given me a lot to think about. She was right. I knew how to act like a girl, but I hadn’t understood what was behind those actions. I really didn’t have a clue about what being a girl was all about.
Then guilt hit. “Have I done something terrible to Cindy?” I asked Karen.
“No Hun, no.” she said. “Very few of us think about or understand any of our motives for what we do. I’ve heard most girls end up marrying their fathers, and expecting their husbands to act just like their fathers, and most men expect their wives to act like their mothers, except in the bedroom.” She leered at this. “You just got a little off-script because of who you were.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said. “But I still feel like I did something horribly wrong.”
“You didn’t, anymore than any of us do. You just need to learn more about what it means to be a girl,” Karen said. “Then you’ll understand.
“You know, I was always a little jealous of you when we were teenagers.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because at the end of our weekends together, you could change back to being a boy. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to be a guy. It was fun pretending to be Keith, but I like being a girl just fine. But you had a choice that the rest of us girls didn’t have. You could go back to being a guy, with all their power. And once I got my curves, I couldn’t change if I’d wanted to. I was stuck with being who I am.”
I had no answer for Karen. I’d learned a lot but I needed time to process it. “Maybe I need to go back to being Mark,” I began...
“No!” Karen said firmly. “There’s not been nearly enough time for you to gain the distance you need from Mark’s situation. In fact, I wouldn’t have dreamed of telling Mark what I’ve told you this morning. Mark couldn’t have handled it, but you’re enough of a woman to be able to handle it and process it. I think you need to stay Jessica for several weeks, minimum.
“Besides,” Karen said grinning. “I’m looking forward to some serious face time with my best girl friend ever. We need to go out and take in a chick flick.”
We did, although Karen had to remind me to grab my purse on the way out. It was one of those films with an interchangeable blonde girl got herself into a situation and met the one man who could help her realize she had whatever she needed within herself. You’ve seen dozens of versions of the same film.
But I found myself identifying with the blonde. She needed to look inside herself to understand how she’d gotten into trouble and how to get out. The guy was just there to provide her with a few ideas to make her see the light. Of course, it also helped that he was cute and she got him in the end. And, yes, I realized that I was thinking of the guy as cute. I said I identified with the girl didn’t I?
We decided not to go out again that night. I had a lot to think about. Karen suggested I draw myself a bubble bath and I settled into the warm water and just relaxed. I’d untaped before I got in and found it felt strange. I really didn’t like feeling things rubbing between my legs after a couple of days without them. But I had enjoyed having them in the past when I was with Cindy. I thought about how we’d fit together as if we had merged into one complete whole.
'But', I thought, 'had I been looking for a partner or to make myself whole?' I’d always felt something lacking when I was younger. I felt closer to it when I started playing dress up with Karen and a little sad when I’d gone back to being a boy. But then, Cindy had been looking for something that she thought she found in me too. For some reason, it hadn’t worked and she’d found someone else to try to find it with. Looking at it from that standpoint, I guessed I really couldn’t blame her too much. She was different from me and we were lucky to be living in a time when we could explore other options.
I finally noticed the water was growing cold and most of the bubbles were gone. I got out of the water, dried off and made sure to retape before pulling my silky nightgown on. I felt like I’d turned a corner, but I wasn’t sure what it was yet.
The next few days, I got used to being Jessica full-time. Karen made sure I only spent a few hours a day in front of the computer, just enough to finish the current projects. She’d told clients that Mark was going to take a much needed vacation before taking on any new work.
As she was at the office during the day, I wandered around her apartment looking for things to do. I cleaned it from top to bottom for her. While I was doing that, I found a stash of cookbooks which looked brand new. Karen told me she’d wanted to really learn how to cook and had gotten the cookbooks to help. But she’d been too busy at the office and they’d finally migrated to a cabinet in the kitchen.
Since I did have the time, I decided I would learn how to cook. I studied the books and decided what to try first. Looking online, I found a little gourmet shop in Karen’s neighborhood, and went there for ingredients. I was a little apprehensive being out in skirts during the daytime, but was soon at ease when everyone took me for the girl I portrayed.
The meal turned out okay. Both Karen and I agreed it was better than fast food. So I studied the cookbooks and began making frequent visits to the gourmet shop. It turned out that the shop had cooking classes twice a week and I signed up. In no time, I was greeting Karen when she returned from work with exotic dinners.
The result of all these rich meals was that Karen and I had to start working out regularly at her health club. I noticed all the classes they offered and signed up for a yoga class and a dance class. The dance class was even taught by a member of the Seattle Seahawks cheer squad, the Sea Gals. Soon I was more flexible and moving more gracefully.
I hesitated at the entrance to the women’s locker room the first time, but a glance from Karen told me I’d better go inside before someone started wondering why this girl didn’t want to go in. Once inside, I was fine. I made sure not to take off my panties so everything looked okay. I found I wasn’t much interested in looking at the other women in various states of undress. But I did find myself comparing myself against them. I was curious how I stacked up to the real girls. Most of the differences were in my waist. I was just too skinny to have a real good waist.
The result of all this was that I was getting fitter than I’d ever been. Karen said I was looking better with a little added weight, but I didn’t want to gain too much.
I also started to pay attention to my skin. Given the styles of women’s clothing, I was exposing a lot more of my body on a regular basis than I ever had before. My skin was all right for an occasional night out, but it needed work. So I started learning about moisturizers, how and when to apply them.
This of course, led to me deciding on my smell. Karen made me realize that every woman has a smell which is uniquely her own. I recalled the smell I’d associated with Cindy, and I realized that Karen too, had a smell I associated with her. It was, Karen explained, a combination of her own body chemistry and the smells of the soaps, moisturizers, lotions and perfumes she used.
A lot of trial and error followed. My sense of smell became more trained. I finally decided, with the help of Karen’s nose, on a combination that left me smelling faintly of rose, which could be increased when we went out with some careful use of perfume.
I totally immersed myself in being Jessica. Mark was still too painful. And, I reasoned, the more of a girl I became, the more I might understand what Cindy had felt and why she’d done what she did. Karen and I spend hours on her sofa talking about how Karen had grown up and what her mother had told her. I began to really see how females have a much more realistic view of the world. And some of the things I overheard in the women’s locker room at the health club reinforced my education.
We’d been going to the health club for about three weeks when I stepped backwards off the running machine without looking back. I was tired and didn’t look. So I collided with someone and we both ended up on the floor. I looked up to see this cute guy I’d been watching out of the corner of my eye for a few days laying almost on top of me.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t look before dismounting.”
He smiled and said, “It’s all right. The treadmill can kind of throw you off.”
He helped me to my feet and looked like he’d like to say more, but the club has a strict “No Fraternizing” policy to keep the sexes from hitting on each other. It makes it a more comfortable place for us girls to let it all hang out while we’re exercising without feeling harassed. It also protects the cute guys from having a bunch of us girls hanging all over them, too.
He smiled at me and said, “Be careful!” and walked off. I immediately looked at myself in the mirrors on the club wall. What I saw wasn’t a pretty sight. I had no makeup on except mascara. My face was pouring sweat and my hair hung down in clumps. My tee shirt was soaked and my sports bra was clearly visible. I saw myself blush with embarrassment and headed for the locker room, fast. I toweled off my face, pulled on my sweats and headed out of the building. For obvious reasons, I didn’t shower until I was back at Karen’s. By that time, I’d cooled off and wasn’t so flustered. But I really realized why the fraternizing policy was in effect. When I was there, I wanted to exercise, not worry about how I looked to guys. Or to women either, I hastily amended.
I calmed down enough to revisit the health club on Friday, but Cute Guy wasn’t there. That night Karen and I went out clubbing again. I wore my blue, off-the-shoulder dress with the hem that came to mid-thigh. I was still a little amazed to feel like I was wearing nothing and still be completely dressed.
I was on my way back from the Ladies Room when I felt a tap on my bare shoulder. I turned around and there was Cute Guy smiling at me. “I thought I’d seen you a little earlier,” he said. “You have better moves on the dance floor than you do at the gym.”
I smiled back at him and replied, “I’d have better moves in the gym too if guys didn’t keep pulling me off the equipment.”
“Hey, don’t blame me if you don’t know how to use a treadmill,” he replied, smiling.
The smile was what stopped me from another smart remark. I threw up my hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, you win,” I laughed. “I never did get to thank you for catching me.”
“You could do that by letting me dance with you,” he replied.
I left my purse with Karen and joined him on the dance floor. We gyrated back and forth to the beat for a couple of dances. It felt so good letting myself go, moving my body to the music. I felt so alive and aware of my body. My dress moved with me, occasionally gently touching my legs. My earrings bounced back and forth pulling my ears in delightful ways. My breasts pulled against my chest as I twisted and turned. I wasn’t thinking, I just was one with the beat.
Then the music shifted to a slow dance. Cute Guy took my right hand and I put my left hand on his shoulder. I was glad Karen and I had practiced slow dancing back at the apartment. It had been a long time since I’d had a slow dance with a boy.
Cute Guy pulled me closer and I settled into his embrace. “Now that it’s a little quieter, my name is Phil,” he said. What a relief! I didn’t want to keep restricting the name “Cute Guy” to only one guy.
“Hi, Phil, I’m Jessica,” I replied.
He swung me around and I brushed up against a bulge. ’Oh my God!’ I thought. ’I’m giving a guy a hard-on. That’s a change. I hope he doesn’t expect anything.’
That startled me a little. With another “pop” I realized I was thinking like a girl and hadn’t really been aware of it. ‘No’, I amended, ‘I wasn’t thinking like a girl, I was being a girl.’ And with that thought, I relaxed even more into being Jessica.
Phil and I talked a little more and I invited him back to our table. I introduced him to Karen. Phil remembered her from the health club. He, we learned, was an investment banker. Karen told him she was the general manager for a software company and I admitted to being on vacation from a computer company. Karen added that I’d just gone thorough a breakup of my marriage.
When she said that, I dropped my eyes and nodded my head. “I really don’t want to talk about that,” I said softly.
Phil took the hint and steered the conversation back to sports. He ended up inviting Karen and me to his house Sunday to watch the football game. “It’ll be casual,” he said. “Team jerseys and shorts mostly. We gather around 12 or 12:30.”
We parted with Phil’s address and phone number. On the way home Karen turned to me.
“You did the flirting really well, Jess. My only advice would be to look into his eyes a little more.”
“I wasn’t flirting,” I said. “I was just interested.”
“Could have fooled me,” she replied. “Looking at him, eyes down, back at him. And then the kicker, you touched his arm when you were laughing at one of his jokes. That’s flirting in my book.”
I felt myself blushing again. I hadn’t been flirting. Really!
Karen had a couple of oversized Seahawk jerseys that she used for sleep shirts. We decided to wear those to Phil’s house with shorts and sneakers. When I pulled on the jersey, it came lower on me than my shorts. Karen gave me a nasty look.
“If you really wanted to give everyone a thrill, you could forget the shorts and only wear your panties under there,” she pointed out.
I actually considered it for a second. But then I thought about how I’d have to sit to avoid flashing anyone. And what would show if I jumped up in response to a good play?
No, I decided. Shorts were better protection.
I fixed up a big bowl of dip I’d been wanting to try from my cooking class workbook. Then we went looking for Phil’s house.
Talk about nice! These investment bankers must do okay. Phil’s house had two stories and was right on the water of the bay. It was huge! He had a big recreation room in the back with one wall of all glass looking out onto the water. On another wall was a 58 inch plasma HDTV with surround speakers. Several sofas and chairs were grouped around with coffee tables in front of them. Various snacks had already been set out and I found a place to set my bowl.
Several guys and gals were already there and Karen and I found a place on one of the sofas. Phil stopped by to welcome us and pointed out the kitchen. “There’s soft drinks and lots of beer in the fridge.”
I walked out to get us some drinks. When he said “Fridge” I was expecting a refrigerator like the kind we had in Karen’s apartment. Phil’s “fridge” was a shiny stainless steel, industrial strength monster, filled with several cases of various brands of beer. Soft drinks were in a tub of ice beside the fridge. I grabbed a couple of Cokes and turned to go back to the TV room. Then I saw the rest of the kitchen. The gourmet cook in me thought I’d died and gone to heaven. The kitchen had a cooking island with grill in the center. A complete set of pots and pans was hanging off the vent over the grill. A griddle was across from it. Around the room was lots and lots of counter space and enough cabinets to hold an entire cruise ship’s dishes.
“What do you think of my little galley?” Phil’s voice asked behind me.
“My god, you could feed an army!” I answered. “So you do a little cooking now and then?”
“I don’t,” he said. “This all came with the house. But it comes in handy when I entertain. When I have the bank officers and clients here, I cater and we eat in the dining room through there. He pointed to a door at one end of the kitchen. I peeked through and saw formal dining room with a table that could seat up to about 20 people.
“It’s beautiful!” I said.
“Well, if you want to get ahead, you’ve got to impress the right people,” he said.
I was about to ask more, but he put his arm around my waist. “Come on, it’s almost kickoff!”
We hurried back to the TV and were soon cheering on the Seahawks. I hadn’t been very interested in football, but I did know enough to know who the Seahawks were, and who the Chargers were. I asked Phil a couple of questions to clarify some of the slang the announcers and guys in the room were using.
During half time, I noticed a few bowls of chips were getting kind of low. I went to the kitchen, found the bags of chips and filled the bowls back up. As I sat the bowls down back in the TV room, I noticed my dip was pretty popular. I returned to the kitchen to find more dip and got to know some of the girls who were hanging out in there. Just before the second half started, I yelled out to see if Karen wanted a refill on her drink.
“Could you bring me a brew, too?” Phil asked. So I returned with two more cokes for us and a beer for Phil.
The Seahawks took the second half kickoff and one of their runners snaked his way down the field to score a touchdown. I screamed and joined several of the other girls jumping up and down. My breasts were going up and down a little behind the rest of my body and made my jersey bob up almost into my face. As I looked down, I was doubly glad I’d worn shorts under the jersey. Otherwise I’d have given everyone a real show. I hadn’t realized that having boobs like that could affect a big top that much.
After the game, Karen and I joined the other girls in cleaning up. We thanked Phil for a great afternoon and he asked me out for dinner. We made plans to get together the following weekend, and I made sure he had Karen’s address and phone number. I’d almost given him my cell number, but remembered in time that it was in Mark’s name. It wouldn’t do for Phil to see Mark’s name popping up on his screen when calling me. I made a mental note to get that changed as soon as possible.
On the way home, I found myself thinking about the girls at the party. I’d certainly fit in with them and enjoyed that. But, I’d really admired the skin on several of them. They glowed. I knew I looked okay, but I didn’t look as good as they did. My moisturizing program had done a lot for me, but I still wasn’t there. I reached over and ran my hand down Karen’s arm. It was soft in a way mine wasn’t.
“What,?” Karen said.
“I was just admiring how smooth your skin is,” I replied. “I’m working on it, but still aren’t there.”
“Well, I do have an advantage,” she said. “My girl chemicals contribute a lot to it.”
“Yeah, you do have an hormonal advantage,” I conceded. “They also keep those arms smooth even though you do a lot of heavy-duty lifting at the health club.”
“It’s the way things work,” she said. “They give us curves and soft skin and all we have to do is go through five days of hell every month to pay for it.”
“I’d wondered why you weren’t your usual peppy self,” I said. “Coming on, are we?”
“You know it!” she said. “This is one part of being a girl that you get to miss, you lucky bitch.”
I smiled, but decided not to respond. Karen was clearly not in a good mood. But I got to thinking that this was one aspect of being female that I wasn’t experiencing. And, it was a very important aspect. Women had to take that time into consideration every day when they were planning anything or just simply working. Karen was able to take it in stride so that most of the time I hadn’t even known when it was happening. She’d told me back in high school that it was just something all girls learned.
The following Friday, I was all in a dither. I’d laid out almost my entire closet trying to decide what to wear. When Karen got home, she helped me narrow it down. Finally we decided on the LBD that she’d gotten me that first day she brought Jessica back.
Karen pointed out, “It was kind of your birthday dress, and now it’s your first date dress,”.
“We’ve gone out before,” I said.
“Yeah, but those were boys. Tonight you’re going out with a man,” she replied.
“And I’m going alone,” I gulped. Realization set in. When we were teens, Karen and I always went on double dates. There had been no way I was going to risk being alone and found out. Tonight would be different.
“I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” I said.
“Look,” Karen said, “if you are worried about him finding out anything, don’t. You’ve been showing yourself off at the health club, at clubs and even at his house. If you haven’t given yourself away by now, you aren’t going to.”
“But what if he …” I asked, suddenly very worried.
“You’re a nice girl and don’t even kiss on the first date,” Karen replied. “Relax, you’ve got a lot more power on a date than you think. You can always say ‘No.’ Remember, a couple of minutes ago you couldn’t wait to go out with him.”
“I guess you’re right,” I said, thinking that I really should be concerned about the fact I had been looking forward to the date. Then I rationalized that if I was ever to really understand women, I had to see how we related to men.
Phil was suitably impressed when he saw me. Karen had let him in the apartment and then called me so I could make an entrance. I’d taken one last look at myself in the mirror before heading down the hall. My hair, my dress, my makeup, my nails, everything was perfect! Jessica was ready.
We drove to one of the fancier restaurants in town. Heeding Karen’s last minute reminders, I waited in the car until Phil came around and opened my door. I swung my legs around and let him pull me out of the seat. He gave the car keys to the valet and put his hand on my back to guide me to the door. It felt nice to have someone open the door for me. I gave him my wrap and waited, purse in hand, while he checked my wrap and his coat. Then we walked to the greeting area of the restaurant. We were immediately escorted to our table.
As we walked across the restaurant, I felt several pairs of eyes checking me out. I smiled as I saw more than one man looking at my legs. Karen had insisted I wear stockings and a garter belt rather than pantyhose.
“You’ll feel them more than you would pantyhose,” she explained. “So you’ll have a constant reminder that you’re a lady.”
She was right. I felt the garters move with every step as they held up my smoky gray stockings. My heels forced my leg muscles to tighten into a very sexy shape. It felt really good to look like this and know that other people appreciated how I looked.
I still wasn’t used to having someone hold a chair for me as I swept the skirt of my dress back under me and sat down. But I liked it.
In fact, I liked everything about being a good looking girl in an upscale facility such as this. The menu I was handed didn’t show any prices. Everything looked so good that I asked Phil what to order. He took care of ordering for both of us and I smiled in appreciation of his choices.
We talked and I remembered to keep looking at his face and into his eyes and to keep the conversation about him. He admitted he was young to be in such a high position at his bank. He’d been an economics major at a leading Ivy League school. As one of the brightest and best of his class, he’d gotten his choice of jobs. He’d chosen Seattle because of its position as a leading Pacific Rim center. It had been a good fit for his talents and he was well on his way up the corporate ladder.
I adapted my life story, changing it from a boy’s life to a girl’s. It was best to keep it simple so I’d be able to remember what I’d told him. Of course, it helped that there’d been a lot of Karen and Jessica time when I was younger. I avoided telling him about my successes with software, telling him only that I’d taken some computer classes in college and had gotten a job utilizing what I’d learned. I described my job as just “sitting in front of a screen all day.” I told him I’d been through a bad breakup a while ago and was spending time with Karen as a vacation to get over it.
I tried to keep the conversation off of me as much as I could. We compared books we’d read and music we liked. I told him I’d recently taken up gourmet cooking as a hobby. That led to a promise to cook him a meal.
At one point I had to excuse myself and grab my purse to go to the ladies room. By this time, I’d been Jessica long enough that I didn’t even hesitate going through that once-forbidden door. I waited in line and went in a stall when my turn came. I discovered going in my current underwear was a little better. With the garters holding up my stockings, I only had to pull up my dress and pull my panties down to do my business. Not having to deal with pulling the pantyhose down or up again made things a little easier. I still checked to be sure the back of my dress wasn’t stuck in my panties before I left the stall. I reapplied my lipstick, did a quick twirl of my dress to see everything was in place and went back to our table.
It was still early enough after we’d finished, so Phil took me dancing. Once again I found myself feeling so alive moving with the music. This time, however, I danced exclusively with Phil. He was an excellent dancer and I found myself almost melting into him during the slow dances. I was able to follow his lead with ease, almost instinctively moving in response to the tiny movement of his muscles that told me the directions he wanted to go. I just relaxed and let Phil do all the work.
All too soon, I found myself back in front of Karen’s apartment door. I looked up into Phil’s eyes and then down at the floor. “I had a really good time,” I said softly. “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”
He leaned down. I had told myself that Jessica wouldn’t kiss on the first date, but it was a losing battle. I closed my eyes as our lips met and I threw my arms around his neck. I could smell his strong masculine scent and his aftershave. I felt his strong body pressing against mine. Then I felt another pressure against my stomach. It was a reminder. I reluctantly pushed away.
“Good night, Phil,” I said, and turned and went into the apartment.
Of course, Karen wouldn’t let me get to bed until I’d given her a blow-by-blow account of my entire evening. I told her how really great it had felt to parade across the restaurant.
“You felt good because you looked good,” she said. “A lot of our self esteem as girls comes from the opinions of others. We’re trained from an early age that men will be looking and women will be comparing and judging us. It may not be a true measure of who we are as a person, but it is a very real fact of life. Sounds like you passed tonight with flying colors.”
“It’s just that everything about presenting myself as a woman is sensual,” I said. “The way my clothes, hose, shoes and even my jewelry move keep constantly telling me in a thousand ways who I am dressed as.”
“And that keeps calling to your attention how much that guy is appreciating you,” Karen answered. “You need to keep watching yourself and watch him too. You don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”
That brought me down some. I wasn’t what I appeared to be. And I couldn’t give Phil what he obviously wanted from me.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Thanks again to Holly Hart for all her wonderful ideas and editing!
Phil called early the next day. After telling me again how much he’d enjoyed our date, he asked me for a favor. Karen and I had again been invited to his football party the next day.
“But the thing is, I’ve had something come up at the office,” Phil explained. “I’ve got deliveries coming from the liquor store around noon and I can’t be at home to receive them. I was wondering if you’d mind stopping past and just make sure the beer, wine and snacks are squared away. There’s a key in the flower pot next to the front door.”
“I guess I could,” I said.
“Great!” he said. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge while you’re there. You can give me back the key at the party.”
Karen and I got to Phil’s house shortly before noon, just in time to let the deliveryman in. Obviously, this was routine to him and he took care of getting the beer and wine into the refrigerator, the soft drinks into the tub and the packages of snacks on the counter. I signed the delivery slip and he left.
Before we left, I took a little time to really explore that big kitchen. I found all sorts of interesting cooking tools, pots, pans and bowls. Phil also had some professional grade food processing equipment.
“Boy, I love all the equipment in here,” I exclaimed.
Karen and I set out some bowls to be filled the next day with the chips, pretzels, trail mix and other snacks. I decided I’d bring the makings for some meatballs and dip and cook them there. I left Phil a note about my plans and we locked up.
The next day we arrived a couple of hours early so I had time to make up my food before the kitchen became crowded.
“Something smells really good!” Phil said as he brought in some bags of ice for the soft drinks.
“Well, I hope everyone enjoys my working my fingers to the bone,” I teased.
“And such pretty fingers, too,” Phil shot back, grabbing my hand and licking my fingers. “Good enough to eat!”
“You’ll have to wait until it’s done cooking,” I replied laughing.
“I meant your fingers,” he teased back.
I was in my oversized Seahawk jersey again, with an apron over it. I’d tied my hair back with a Seahawk scarf to keep it out of the food and without thinking, wiped my forehead with the back of my hand.
“You got some sauce on your face,” Phil said. He leaned over toward me. I thought he was going to wipe it off, but he licked my forehead!
“What is it with you and your tongue?” I asked.
“I have a very talented tongue,” he replied. “Want to find out more?”
Fortunately Karen came back into the kitchen after putting the snack bowls out, saving me from having to think up a reply to his innuendo. I wasn’t sure where this flirting was going and wasn’t ready to find out.
The party was a lot like the previous Sunday. Our team lost in a heartbreaker when the Bengals kicked a last second field goal. But, since it was only preseason, it wouldn’t count in the standings later. Karen and I and the other girls cleaned up and I went to give Phil back his key.
“Why don’t you keep it?” Phil said. “I appreciate the job you two did yesterday and may ask you to do it again sometime. That is, if you are willing.”
“It was no problem and I really liked getting a chance to cook in your fabulous kitchen,” I replied.
“Well, you are sure welcome to cook those great meatballs anytime,” he said smiling. “Thanks for that and for coming.” With that, he leaned forward and gave me a kiss. As our lips touched, he flicked his tongue across my lips. I jumped back.
“Told you!” Phil said, grinning. “There are lots more where that came from.”
I turned to Karen. “Let’s get out of here before I really get a licking.”
“You two really seem to be clicking,” Karen said on the way home.
“He’s fun,” I replied.
“Do you like him?” Karen asked.
I thought about that for a while. “Yeah, I do,” I said. “But since this is all temporary, and nothing could happen anyway, I’m just having fun.”
“You never know,” Karen said.
The following day, I made an appointment with my doctor. After seeing all the girls at the party for a second week, I decided I needed to do more about my skin.
Unbelievably they’d had a cancellation and I was able to see Dr. Burns that afternoon.
The nurse was surprised when I stood up when she called “Mark.” We walked back to the examination room and she shut the door and opened my file.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “This appointment is for Mark Stafford.”
“That’s kind of what I want to talk to Sandy about,” I replied.
She looked skeptical, but took my weight and blood pressure. “You are 30 pounds lighter than Mark’s last visit,” she said. “And your blood pressure is significantly better than his was at his last visit. Are you sure you are really Mark?”
I smiled. “Sometimes I wonder.” I replied.
Sandy Burns and I had gone to college together. After she’d gone through Med School, it seemed only natural to become one of her patients. I’d even met her as Jessica a few times before I met Cindy and had given it all up.
She remembered Jessica. I saw it in her face when she came in.
“Okay, Jessica or Mark,” she said. “What’s going on?”
“Well, as you can see, Jessica is back for a while,” I began. “Karen thought Mark needed a vacation for a while after Mark and Cindy broke up.”
“Yeah, I was sorry to hear about that,” Sandy said. “Maybe Karen’s right. You always seemed so much happier when you were Jessica. But why are you here today?”
“Mark is temporarily gone while I try to understand what happened, “ I said. “I am trying to understand what it means to be a woman and figure out why Cindy did what she did.”
“So are you having any problems?” Sandy asked.
“No, but I’d like to get checked out,” I replied. “And I’ve been doing some online research. I really want my skin to be better and I understand taking hormones can help.”
“That’s a big step,” Sandy said. “Have you also seen the possible effects?”
“I know if I continue for too long a time, it could have an effect on my ability to be a father,” I said. “But I don’t plan to take it that far. I just want a few months so I can look like the best girl possible. Oh, and I want to have periods.”
“There’s no procedure I know of that can do that,” Sandy said, “although there has been more than one occasion when I’d have like to have Max experience that.”
Max, of course, was her husband. I smiled at her comment.
“But that’s why I want to get as close as possible to being a real girl,” I said. “I need to experience the bad as well as the good. I was hoping you had some ideas.”
“Well,” she said, thinking. “I could give you some pills that would make you retain water. After a few days of that, you’d understand PMS a lot better.”
“That might work,” I said. “At least I could share some of Karen’s discomfort when she’s coming on. I’m staying with her for a while.
“I’d have to get the timing down, though,” I mused.
“Honey, you can do what every other woman does,” Sandy replied. “You can make up a monthly calendar with those days on it. I’ll give you an example. Then you can ask Karen for her calendar to set your schedule up. That is if you two can stand to be around each other while that is going on.”
“We’ll work it out,” I said. “What about the hormones?”
“That could be a little trickier,” Sandy said. “Have you been living full-time as Jessica? If so, how long?”
“Let me see. My gosh! Has it been that long? I moved in with Karen on April first. I remember because she made a joke about how I was beginning April by fooling everyone. Now it’s August, so it’s been four and a half months already.”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s a little short,” Sandy said. “Accepted standards call for you to live as a woman full-time for at least a year before I can even consider prescribing any hormones for you. You’ve also got to work with a psychologist and I’ve got to have a recommendation based on your therapy. But I do want to check you over. Get undressed and let me have a look.”
Sandy was impressed with how realistic my all-in-one form was. I had to remove it so she could hear my heart and lungs. I also had to untape so she could check out my genitals.
“How long have you had them pushed up?” she asked.
“I let them down for a while each day while I take a bath,” I replied.
“Well, I’m going to need some sperm samples, and too much warmth interferes with sperm production. I’m going to have to ask you to stay untaped for three days and then come back to give a sample. If all the tests look okay, I can prescribe a moisturizing cream which contains some weak plant estrogen. That will help soften your skin somewhat.
“ I do have a therapist, Dr. Christina Overmeyer, who I work with for my patients with gender questions. I can see about setting you up with an appointment, if you’d like, or you can find someone on your own.”
“Sandy, we’ve been friends for a long time. I’ll take anyone you recommend. But, remember, I’m not going for anything permanent, I’m just wanting to look a little better.”
“We will see about that.” Sandy said. “I’ve had other patients who wanted to experiment. Sometimes they go back, sometimes not. But I don’t want you to take any chances. You pass very well, now, but if you are going to continue living as Jessica for a while, you need certain legal protections that Dr. Overmeyer can help you with. Let me call her while we complete the rest of your tests.”
She had a nurse come in and completely drain me of blood. Well, not really, but she seemed to take an awful lot. Then I retaped myself in order to get home. Without the tape, my tight jeans might have given something away.
Sandy was able to set me up with an appointment the following week and gave me Dr. Overmeyer’s office information.
“Good luck, Jessica,” she said giving me a hug. “Sorry I can’t do more for you yet, but we’ll work on getting everything going as soon as we can.”
Once home, I changed out of my jeans and resigned myself to skirts exclusively for the next three days.
I was nearly driven crazy the next couple of days. Although I’d done it for years, I’d gotten out of the habit of feeling things rolling between my legs. They got in the way and I had to keep shifting to avoid sitting on them or pinching them when I moved. I had to sit with my legs apart and so had to bring out my long skirts to be modest. I certainly couldn’t cross my legs like I had been doing the last few weeks. I really didn’t like the feeling.
Of course, the health club was out for obvious reasons. Phil called to ask why he hadn’t seen me there. I told him I was having some “female” things going on, which was kind of true in a reverse kind of way.
Needless to say, I was very happy to get back into Sandy’s and fill a few sample bottles and then retape. Since the blood work had come back in good shape, she told me she was going to give me the prescriptions she had promised. But I had to come back monthly to have things checked. I left with a prescription and instructions for the moisturizing cream and one for the water retention pills so I could simulate having a period .
I also left with a big smile. Now I’d be a lot closer to understanding what it was like to be a woman. I’d forgotten that old Chinese curse, “Be careful what you wish for!”
Karen thought I was crazy when I asked her if I could copy her calendar onto one I’d bought on the way home. “You really want to make yourself miserable?” she asked. “Listen gal, you so don’t want to do something like this.”
“I’ve got to understand everything,” I replied.
“It’s your funeral,” she replied. “I can’t wait to see how long this experiment lasts.”
She was two weeks out, so according to Sandy’s instructions, I’d start taking the water retention pills in a week and a half. I’d take them five days and then stop. Sandy hadn’t wanted to give me anything to stimulate cramps.
“Too invasive,” she said. “Just hit yourself in the testicles few times a day and you’ll come close.” Then she assured me she was joking and told me not to harm myself.
Friday came and Phil took me out again. This time, we went on a tour of Underground Seattle and then to a restaurant in the lower town. The tour was interesting because we got to see some of the buildings from the olden days that had been covered over as the city modernized. I was amazed that I’d lived here so long and hadn’t seen a lot of things like this.
When we got back to Karen’s apartment, I invited Phil in for coffee. Karen was out on a date and we had the place to ourselves. We sat on the sofa talking. I’d kicked off my heels and folded my legs under myself. Phil knew so much about so many things! I realized my own education was limited to a few subjects. I had only grudgingly taken the minimum number of Liberal Arts courses required to graduate, but it seemed like Phil had taken everything. When I mentioned this, he pointed out that he had to have a wide range of knowledge in order to make the right investment decisions. I resolved then and there to expand my education by finding some on-line courses to take.
“Tell me more,” I said, leaning against his large upper body. He put his arm around my shoulder and I asked a few questions about some things he was talking about. Gradually, I realized he was fondling my breast! It took a while since I didn’t have any feeling in them. But when he twisted my nipple, it pulled a little on my own skin and caught my attention.
My brain went into overdrive. What would a real girl do? Since I hadn’t reacted when he’d first made his move, he was assuming I didn’t object. Moving beyond that, should I be liking his attention? I might even be getting a little aroused. What should I do?
I solved that problem by making an age-old move. I turned around and kissed him.
It should have worried me that I liked kissing him. Jessica had kissed boys before in high school. But that was for fun. I’d gotten a kick out of fooling them. This was different. I wasn’t trying to fool Phil for fun; I just didn’t want him to find out about me--the real me.
But, the more we kissed, the more I liked it. I had a warm feeling starting in my middle and spreading. His tongue found its way into my mouth and I started sucking it in and playing with it with my own tongue. My arms went around his neck on their own and I found myself pressing against his body. The pressure of the breast forms was doing things to my own chest underneath and I liked what I was feeling.
We finally broke the kiss. “Coming up for air,” is the way we used to refer to it. We traded little biting nips on each other’s lips and I giggled. Then he pulled me in again and started another marathon kiss. I just let myself go, giving into the moment.
Sometime in that kiss, he took my hand and guided it down to the bulge in his pants. I could feel his penis straining against the fabric. Without pausing to think, I reached up and unzipped his fly. As my tongue found his mouth, I reached through and pulled his shaft free of its restraints. It seemed huge! I had only one penis to compare it to, but I’d seen a few others in boy’s locker rooms. This seemed to dwarf any I’d seen.
I ran my hand up and down it. He was circumcised. The head was kind of bell shaped with edges that folded back to the rest of the shaft. And the head was so smooth! I ran my thumb back and forth across it.
Now all my life I’ve had a thing for very smooth surfaces. I used to run my lips across apple skins because they were so smooth and it felt good. Freshly peeled hard-boiled eggs felt so good across my lips. I’d liked kissing girls just after they’d applied a fresh coat of lipstick because they were so smooth. When I felt Phil’s smooth head with my fingers, I couldn’t resist.
Breaking our kiss, I moved my head down toward Phil’s crotch. I pulled his penis up and ran my half-opened lips along that head. It felt so smooth, so good!
After a minute, I slid onto the floor in front of Phil, never taking my hand off his penis. I bent forward and took the tip of the head into my mouth so I could feel that smoothness all around my lips. My lips went back and forth on it from the small tip to the ever-larger body of the bell-shaped head. As my lips reached the end of the head, where the skin started to curve back down, I ran my tongue across the tip. Phil was breathing hard and started to moan. I tasted a drop of liquid that was starting to form on his tip. It was a little salty.
At this point, I became aware of what I was doing. I had taken Phil into my mouth. But I was feeling so girlie that I wanted to. I wanted him to feel as good as possible. All the things Cindy used to do to make me feel good, I started doing to Phil.
I sucked his penis in a little further and began running my tongue all around the little fold where the head met the rest of his shaft. I explored that little groove where it folded under, licking it as far as possible and then reversing course until I’d approached the top from the other side. Then I took even more into my mouth, running my tongue all along his shaft.
It was pulsing. I could feel veins running just below the skin and I began to suck in time with their beating. Suddenly, Phil grabbed the back of my head and pulled me onto him so that my nose was tickled by his pubic hair. I almost choked as his penis rammed down my throat. Then I relaxed my throat and breathed through my nose. I wasn’t doing much of anything except keeping from choking as Phil moved up and down, fucking my face.
Then, he gasped. I felt a huge pulse in my mouth and Phil erupted in me. I couldn’t do anything except swallow. It seemed like he kept coming forever. I wasn’t sure I could keep swallowing and have enough oxygen to keep conscious.
Finally it was over. I’d given another guy a blowjob. ‘Rather,’ I thought, ‘Jessica had given a guy a blowjob.’ And, aside from the choking part, she’d kind of liked making the guy feel good. Again referring back to my experiences with Cindy, I carefully licked everything off Phil’s penis. I took a napkin off the coffee table and dried him off. I then returned it inside his pants and carefully zipped him up. Then I stood up and kissed him, driving my tongue into his mouth. ‘Share and share alike,’ I thought.
Phil wanted to reciprocate, but I told him no. I was quite comfortable just leaning against him with his arm around me, basking in the afterglow of a brand new experience. After he was gone, I discovered I had a wet spot in the bottom of my panties. Whatever orgasm I’d had just sort of blended in with my overall feelings of the moment.
The next morning I was beside myself. Karen noticed and asked me what had happened. I told her what I had done.
“Did you enjoy it?” she asked.
“I think I did,” I replied. “And that’s part of the problem. I shouldn’t have enjoyed it. And besides, I had unprotected oral sex. I got carried away. Now who knows that I might have?”
“Okay," Karen said. “First relax. It’s unlikely that a guy in Phil’s position would risk anything. I’m betting he’s clean, but you might want to have both of you checked out just to be sure.
“As to the rest of it, you liked it. That’s fine. You were a girl pleasing her man. It happens all the time. I’m a little surprised it took this long.”
“But I’m not supposed to like it!” I replied.
“Why not?” Karen asked. “You are Jessica and you are trying to experience everything about being a girl. Pleasing guys is a big part of that. You are just really getting into who you are.”
I had to admit, I’d had a few of the same thoughts, but I’d tried to shut them off as fast as possible. There were times when I really didn’t know who I really was anymore. That was something I was going to have to discuss with Dr. Overmeyer.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
Phil readily agreed to have us both tested just to be sure when I talked with him after the Sunday football party. We’d stayed again to clean up and I’d managed to get him alone for a few minutes.
“Sure,” he said. “I’d be glad to. We both got a little carried away, but you were something else. I’ve never felt so good!”
“Glad you enjoyed it,” I replied, grinning. “If, and I mean if, we ever do anything like that again, I want us to both be protected.”
“I understand completely,” he replied. “How about right now?”
I looked at his lecherous grin and decided I couldn’t be mad at him.
“You know I can’t just now,” I said. “But maybe soon.”
Blowing him a kiss, I went out to Karen’s car.
Tuesday brought my first appointment with the therapist. Dr. Overmeyer, “Call me Tina,” was nice, but made me work. When we first met, she was surprised that I wasn’t all woman. I explained that I’d been living like this for over almost five months, and off and on since I was very young. Talking with her, I realized that I’d never been much of a success as a boy. Absent parents hadn’t helped. Neither had my shyness.
Then she asked how I felt as Jessica and I told her how much more fun life was. She made me look at my early life. By the time our session was over, I had admitted both to her and myself that wearing Jessica’s clothes was not a turn on for me. That seemed odd to me, considering what I’d read on the net, but she thought it was very significant. I left with a couple of written tests to complete for next time, together with a letter from her stating that I was undergoing my real life test.
“I doubt if you’ll need it since you are so natural,” she said. “But you are protected if you have it.”
We had several sessions and I was forced to look at myself in a way I never had before. I learned that the way I did my programming was a way to avoid confronting life. While my childhood hadn’t been that bad, it wasn’t great either. Most of the time I didn’t have a parent with me and had missed out on some important life lessons. My friendship with Karen and her mother was the only thing that helped me with any socialization I had.
In several sessions we talked about things that seemed to have no bearing on what I was there for at all. But eventually I began to see some patterns as to why we were discussing many things. Perceiving patterns is something that I am especially good at and always have been.
I decided the sessions were doing me a lot of good and arranged to pay Tina a lump sum to cover weekly sessions for a year.
In the meantime, Phil and I continued to date for several weeks. It had become routine for Karen and me to set up for Phil’s football parties. After Phil came back with the blood tests that showed both of us were clean, I started to hang around after the parties. To my surprise, I really liked feeling Phil in my mouth. On Karen’s suggestion, I kept my hand curled around the base of his shaft so he couldn’t push himself so far in that I choked. I don’t know if I was understanding women any better, but I was having fun. Most of the time. Mark, being straight, was aghast at my behavior. But I just pushed him to the back of my mind. I was a girl on a mission.
It was a rainy day in Seattle. So what’s new about that? Nothing. The rarer day is one that’s sunny. But it being a rainy day was fitting. I felt awful. I felt bloated. It felt like I was blowing up like a balloon inside. Even my brain seemed ready to explode. It was hard to think straight. It was day three of my water retention pill time.
“How can you stand it?” I asked Karen who seemed her usual chipper self.
“You fake it,” she replied. “I feel just like you, but when you grow up with it from around the time you’re 12 or 13, you get used to hiding it. At that age, the last thing you want to do is letting anyone know you’re coming on. Especially not any of the boys!”
“I knew,” I said.
“That’s because I told you everything! You’ve always been my best girl friend, and we’ve always shared everything. It’s not like Jessica was a boy or anything.”
I only grunted. I wasn’t in the mood--for anything.
When Karen started having cramps, I remembered that Sandy had said a woman’s menstrual cramps were probably the equivalent to a guy getting kicked in the balls. Determined to experience everything about periods, I untaped my guy equipment, but couldn’t bring myself to hit my testicles, so I asked Karen to do it.
“You’re kidding?” she asked.
“No, Sandy said it would feel something like you do right now.” I said.
“Well, it does feel like my ovaries are on fire, and like I’ve been punched in the stomach,” she said. “But I wouldn’t wish anything like that on my worst enemy.”
Eventually I convinced her I needed to do this. I lifted my skirt and exposed my scrotum.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Karen said. Then she cupped my testicles in her hand. It felt weird having them hanging down again.
“Just pretend you’re taking out your anger on feeling this way every month,” I said.
That did it. She brought her other hand around in a sharp slap with my balls in-between.
I doubled up and fell on the floor. Pain shot up from my scrotum into my abdomen causing unbelievable cramping. Every guy knows a punch or kick there hurts because they’ve experienced it. But they don’t…can’t possibly really remember the pain. The brain blocks it out. Now I remembered. It’s funny, but the pain really is as much in the abdomen as much as the testicles. I guess that’s because they descend from up there and there is still some sort of connection.
In misery, I lay there for a while, until Karen helped me into my bedroom. She kept saying “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”
“It isn’t your fault,” I gasped. “I asked you to do it.”
They were still throbbing and I couldn’t really straighten up. Karen helped me onto my bed, then left and came back into the room with a glass of water and a pill
“This might help,” she said gently.
I swallowed the pill with the water and then laid down.
“What was that?” I asked. “Aspirin?”
“A Midol,” she replied.
The next day, I was better, but still sore. Karen gave me a pad to wear to cushion everything. It was a little intrusive, but helped. On general principles, I continued wearing pads the next three days. I finished my round of water retention pills and spent the next day mostly peeing. It helped to have the pads on as I didn’t quite make it into the bathroom a couple of times. Then I experienced how it felt to have a damp napkin between my legs.
Finally it was over for both of us. “Well, I’m glad that’s behind me,” I said.
“Yeah,” Karen replied. “You won’t have to face it again until about 25 days from now. Remember, we have about a 40 year sentence.”
’Again?’ I thought. ’I don’t know if I can stand it.’
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
Phil stopped by after I called him to tell him my “female problems” were over. Since Karen was at the office, I promptly showed him how much I appreciated his concern for me.
Kneeling there between his legs, I thought about the submissive position I was in. When she’d done the same thing to me, Cindy had always insisted on having me lay down on the bed while she knelt above me. I was faintly disturbed to realize I liked this position better and that I really liked what I was doing for Phil.
Afterward, I again refused to let Phil return the favor or even touch me between my legs, pleading still being a little sore from “that time.” We just cuddled on the sofa and I found myself melting into his strong arms. We hadn’t known each other that long, but I found myself really liking the guy.
Just then, Karen came bursting through the door. She took a look at us on the sofa and said, “Phil, I’m sorry, but can you please leave? I’ve got something personal to discuss with Jessica.”
Phil looked confused but did as Karen requested, kissing me at the door as he left. Then I turned to Karen wondering what was going on.
“Jessica, we’ve got a real problem! I just got served with a couple of notices. You are barred from having anything to do with the business, until everything is settled in court. Apparently they’ve been trying to find you to serve a divorce summons. They haven’t been able to find you, so everything you’ve got is frozen until it’s all sorted out in court. And, if that wasn’t enough, as an employee of the company, I’ve been forbidden to have any contact with Mark.”
“And, that means...?” I questioned.
“If anyone finds out Jessica and Mark are the same person, I could be held in contempt of court.”
“Let’s call Fred right away,” I said. Fred was my attorney. A friend from college, I’d used him for all my legal business ever since he passed the bar. After he spent some time working with a law firm, I helped him set up practice in Seattle.
I set up an appointment with Fred for the next morning, then drove over to my suite to pick up some Mark clothing. I found the locks had been changed and there was a notice on the door stating that access to the premises was forbidden pending court proceedings. The building manager informed me that he didn’t have the new key and, as long as the rent was kept up-to-date, he couldn’t gain or grant access until he heard differently from the court.
Undaunted, I headed to a store to buy a suit. The sales clerk thought he’d racked up a big commission, as I needed everything from the skin out. My boyfriend had lost his luggage, I said. He had a big presentation the next afternoon, so I had to pick up clothing while he finalized the presentation. The clerk was fine with using Mark’s credit card, until it came back denied. It seemed the account was frozen. Mark’s two other cards were also denied. It was then I realized that the cards I was using were joint cards I held with Cindy. The only other card I had was a business card which was also frozen. A call to my bank confirmed that, in addition to my credit cards, my bank accounts were frozen too. I had no access to any money or credit.
Defeated, I returned to Karen’s apartment.
“I’d like to help, but my cards are maxed out until next payday,” Karen told me.
“What am I going to do?” I asked. “I’ve got no way to be Mark.”
“Remember you’ve got client confidentially with Fred,” Karen said. “It’s time Fred met Jessica.”
And so, the next afternoon I walked into Fred’s office building wearing a gray pinstripe skirt suit and a white silk blouse with ruffles on top. I’d gone all out to look like a young, professional woman. My hair was up and I was wearing conservative earrings, a simple strand of pearls, a single bracelet on one wrist and a small watch on the other. My skirt ended a few inches above my knee and my legs were clad in smoky charcoal gray hose. Black three-inch heels completed my look and. I’d made sure to wear a short black half-slip and black panties so that if I should happen to flash anyone with my somewhat short skirt, they wouldn’t know if they were seeing panties or a shadow.
My makeup was simple but elegant, suited for daytime. My heels made a tapping sound as I walked along. Out of the corner of my eyes, I could see and feel the sly glances of the men I was passing. For some reason, that made me feel good. My exercise at the health club had fleshed out my legs somewhat and the heels made them look terrific. I really liked showing off my legs.
I told Fred’s receptionist that my brother Mark had been held up and requested to speak with Fred in Mark’s place. At first, she seemed a little skeptical, but then she decided to let Fred decide what to do and showed me into his office.
My heels tapped across his hardwood floor as Fred stood up, looking a little puzzled. I reached out my hand and gave him a ladylike shake. “Hello, Fred, I’m Jessica Stafford” I said. “I’m taking Mark’s appointment, but we need to discuss it in private.”
Fred closed the door. As he sat back down at his desk, he took a good long look at me.
“Jessica...I know you. We met when I was a freshman at UW. You were at a frat party with Karen. I remember because when you two walked in you really lit up the room. I always wondered what happened to you.”
“Well, it’s a long story,” I replied. “And relates to why I’m here now.” I opened the briefcase Karen had lent me, and pulled out all the court notices and summonses.
“I’m going to tell you a story, but it must be in strictest confidence. You are restricted by lawyer-client confidentially aren’t you?”
“Yes, of course,” he replied.
His mouth dropped open as I gave him a brief history of Mark and Jessica.
“I would never have guessed!” he said. “You are a knockout. You’ve really been wasting your time as Mark. Things make so much more sense now.”
Then I brought him up to speed on the present situation. He’d heard about Cindy leaving Mark, and had actually expected to hear from Mark before now.
“I’d fallen into a deep depression and Karen felt I needed a vacation from even being Mark, so she bullied me into bringing Jessica back. I’m now very glad she did, but, with this order, it seems I can’t go back to being Mark,” I said, handing him a copy of the latest order.
“My suite is sealed. I can’t even get my Mark clothes. My credit cards and bank accounts have been blocked and Karen’s been told if she has anything to do with Mark, she’ll be in contempt of court. I’m destitute, and don’t even have the means to find a place to live in the time frames that have been set. I can’t even pay you anything right now.”
“The yearly retainer you pay me will cover my services,” Fred said. “Let’s take a look.”
I was almost in tears. Tears? I don’t cry. Haven’t for years. But I held off then because I didn’t want my mascara to run.
Fred looked over all the papers I’d brought Then he made a couple of phone calls and talked for quite some time. Then he looked at me.
“You didn’t help yourself at all by ignoring the earlier correspondence,” he said. “Everything is now tied up and complicated. Among other things, Cindy’s afraid of losing her business. You provided the capital to get her business started, and Washington is a community property state. Her case is further weakened by the fact she left you, so she’s decided the best defense is a strong offense.
“But this really isn’t my field. You need a divorce attorney.”
“Fred, you’re the only game I have. I can’t afford anyone else. I don’t have any money or credit.”
Fred sighed. “Okay. For friendship’s sake I’ll try. And I do owe you for helping me when I was first starting out in this business.” He thought for a few minutes.
“I should be able to get you something to live on, but it’s going to take time. In the meantime, you’ve got to lay low somewhere. Your cross-dressing could be used against you in the divorce proceedings. Other than that, I agree with Karen. You need to be Jessica for a while. If you can survive until I can get some funds freed up, we can see about getting Mark back.”
For some reason, I felt reluctant to think about being Mark again. Of course it was inevitable somewhere down the road, but not yet.
“Can you make it for a while?” Fred asked. “You can’t stay with Karen anymore. If someone connected Jessica with Mark, Karen would be in serious trouble.”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I’ll have to think about it.”
I asked him if I should make any changes to my IDs or driver's license. He told me not change anything until the divorce was resolved. “We don’t want any legal paper trails connecting Mark to Jessica until after that.”
I left Fred’s office feeling really down. What he’d told me was that for a while I didn’t have any access to my money, and I couldn’t use any of the programming work I’d done previously until a settlement had been reached, because it was all my company’s intellectual property. I was also worried that if Fred had remembered Jessica from college, someone else might connect Mark with me. My parents were gone and I’d sold the family house. In essence, I was out on the street with nothing to fall back on.
I sat at a table in an open-air cafe and ordered a coffee. Then the tears started in earnest. I pulled a tissue out of my purse to stop them from running all my makeup and sat there sobbing.
“Jessica?” a voice said. There was Phil across the hedge barrier that separated the cafe patio space from the sidewalk. “Jessica, what’s wrong?
“Oh Phil,” I said and started sobbing again.
Within seconds he was at my table. He sat down and just held my free hand until I’d cried myself out.
Finally, I calmed down. I pulled out my compact and took a look at my face. The tissues had taken the brunt of the tears, but my face could use a little work.
“Let me fix my face,” I said to Phil. “Then we’ll talk.”
In the ladies room I splashed cold water on my face and repaired the damage. Phil had ordered us coffee during my absence.
“So, why are you here?” I asked.
“My building is right across the street,” he replied. “I was returning from a meeting when I saw you here. You looked like you could use some help.”
“Can I ever,” I replied, feeling like I was going to tear up again. “I’ve just found out that I’m basically out on the street with no job and no funds.”
I explained how “my former spouse” had tied up everything until the divorce proceedings were completed and how, due to legal issues, I couldn’t even stay with Karen any longer.
“I don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” Phil said. “You can move in with me.”
“Oh, Phil, I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to take your charity.” I said.
“You wouldn’t be,” he replied. “I’ve been thinking about asking you, but didn’t want to rush things.”
“But …” I began.
“No buts,” he said. “Jessica, I need you. I need a hostess. I’m in a position where I need help with all the entertaining I have to do. You’ve shown that you can do that at my football parties. So it wouldn’t be charity. You’d be helping me a great deal.”
“But …” I began again.
“Look,” he interrupted. “This is strictly business. Anything else will evolve as we let it.”
“But I have no money to pay my share of things,” I said.
“Jessica, I’ll support you. Look, I do a lot of entertaining of the top brass in my company and important clients. Your help would be more than enough payment. If you succeed as well as I know you can, I’ll be moving to the top floor. You’ll be supporting me at the most important time in my career. It’s you who will be helping me, not the other way around.”
There was some logic in what Phil was saying. I’d attended enough of such gatherings as Mark to know how important good impressions are to careers.
“There is one thing,” I said. I knew I was taking a chance, but I had to be completely honest with Phil. And, we were in a public place where nothing could happen.
“Phil, I like you a lot. But you can’t go into this expecting more down the road than I can give you. You have to know that we’ve been as intimate as we’re going to be. You see, I was born a boy,” I said softly.
I flinched as I uttered those devastating words, waiting for him to blow up at me.
“I know,” he said calmly.
Now it was my turn to be flabbergasted. “You know?”
“Jessica, you are very, very good at being female. Not one person in a million would ever guess you were anything but the girl you show to the world. But that one person would be me.”
I raised my eyebrows in a questioning look.
“You see, when I was growing up, my best friend was transgendered. I got to know Ron as Lisa in grade school. I took her out in high school so she could have the experience of knowing what it was like to be a teenage girl. I helped her with her transition and, in the process, learned how to spot any clues that might have given her away. She went full-time when we went to college.”
“What happened to her?” I asked.
“Between her Sophomore and Junior years, she had her surgery. We eventually drifted apart, but today Lisa is a happy housewife raising two adopted kids with the help of her loving husband.”
“Does he know?” I asked.
“Of course,” Phil replied. “Lisa had to be honest with him. That’s why I appreciate so much you telling me, even if I had already guessed.”
“Speaking of which, what gave me away?” I asked. I had to know.
“Two things, three really,” he replied grinning. “First you have a slight Adam’s apple if one knows what to look for. But the biggest give away is that both your tits are exactly the same size. Genetic women almost always have one bigger than the other one.”
“So you have been looking at my chest,” I said in a mildly flirtatious way.
“No more than every other male within a 20 block radius,” he said, grinning. “You may have been born with the wrong plumbing, but you are one hot chick.”
“Thank you, kind sir,” I said. “Back to your original question, I’d love to be your hostess, but you will have to support me for a while.”
”I can only hope it’s a good long while,” he said.
I went to call Karen to tell her about my new arrangements and found that my cell phone had been cut off. Then I remembered Karen had made it a company phone for tax purposes. Obviously Cindy had finally remembered it, too. It was probably just as well. If she could get access to my calling records, she could see what I’d been up to and if I’d been talking with Karen. Fortunately, since I’d been living with her, I hadn’t had a need to call Karen.
When I told Phil my cell wasn’t working, he walked me to the nearby office of his cell provider and added me to his account with my own phone number and a brand new phone with the latest apps.
Karen was the first call I made from my new phone. I quickly filled her in and we made arrangements for me to move my clothes out of her apartment right after work.
So there I was. I was standing at Phil’s door wearing a new mini skirt, hose and two-inch heels and a cute, low-cut top. I’d changed out of my suit because Phil was going to take me to dinner.
It had been a very trying day. I could barely keep my eyes open during dinner. On top of my emotional crisis, there had been the physical labor of moving all my things out of Karen’s apartment, loading my car, and unloading everything into one of Phil’s spare bedrooms.
I couldn’t believe how much girl stuff I’d accumulated in a relatively short period.
When we got back to Phil’s, I barely lasted long enough to get my makeup off before falling into my bed. I paused only long enough to give Phil a kiss on the cheek and whisper, “Thank you!”
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
When I first woke up the next morning, I wasn’t sure where I was. Then everything came rushing back. Stretching, I realized I needed to find a bathroom. That wasn’t too hard but as I staggered in, I realized that I was really feeling wrung out. Yesterday had really been stressful! Yet, everything had turned out for the best, at least for a while.
As I sat there doing my business, I noticed there were little triangles of dirt in the corners of the room. Phil’s cleaning service was only giving a lick and a promise to the previously unused rooms in the house. I really didn’t want to expose myself to anything that might be lurking in those corners or anywhere else in the room, so I went looking for cleaning supplies.
After scrubbing down every fixture, tub, and floor in the bathroom, a long soak in the tub was in order. After a brief search, I made a mental note to get some bubble bath beads, but settled into the hot water anyway.
I found the same neglected corners in my bedroom, so I found a dust cloth and vacuum and proceeded to clean there, too. Then I inspected the other rooms and ended up cleaning the entire upstairs.
By then, I was so hungry I could have eaten my pillow. Pulling a robe out of my suitcase, I hurried down to the kitchen, making a mental note to finish unpacking after breakfast.
The kitchen wasn’t too encouraging. Phil had almost nothing in the kitchen but snacks. Fortunately, he did have coffee. I was able to survive on a cup of coffee and some left over cheese and meatballs.
After my “breakfast.” I inspected the entire kitchen and made a shopping list. Phil--no make that we--needed just about everything. He didn’t even have staples like salt and pepper, much less any spices or even staples like bread and eggs. Obviously, Phil ate out all the time. ‘Typical bachelor,’ I thought.
On my way out the door, I realized I only had about $10 in my purse and no other money. I was completely dependent on Phil!
There was nothing to do but call him. He was in a meeting, but his secretary promised to have him get back to me as soon as possible. I decided to pass the time by doing some research on my new role.
I went into Phil’s home office and fired up his desktop computer. It was password protected, but I solved that in about a minute and a half. I spent the next few hours studying how to be the ideal hostess at dinner parties, etiquette, and assorted related subjects.
By 4 p.m., I’d worked my way through a bag of pretzels, a bag of chips, a can of dip and finished the rest of the leftover meatballs. I’d start worrying about my figure if I had many more days of this.
Finally, at 4:30, Phil called and I explained the situation.
“But we can just eat out,” he said.
“No we can’t,” I replied. “You obviously do, but I’m stuck here. I need food to eat, and a bunch of other things for the house.”
Phil paused for a minute. He obviously hadn’t thought through this living together thing much more than I had. “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ll set up a credit card account for you for household expenses, I’ll have the people downstairs get right on it and bring it home tonight.”
“Bring home some dinner, too,” I told him. “We need to talk.”
While waiting for Phil, I gave some thought to our arrangement. Yesterday, Phil’s offer had been a life saver, and it still was. But we needed to talk about how this was going to work. I was totally dependent on him for funds to run the house and for just about everything else in my life. Fortunately, I’d already paid a year in advance for the health club and for the classes I was taking.
But I’d need funds for my prescriptions, my makeup and just about everything else a woman needs around the house. And if we were going to be entertaining, I’d need a lot more things for the kitchen. All of it would have to come from Phil.
It was then I realized that I’d taken on the same role as a lot of other stay-at-home women. In essence, I was functioning as Phil’s wife! I was a long way from Mark.
I drew a breath and completely changed my perspective. Phil might consider this as a business arrangement, but I had to look at it differently. I was going to be a woman supporting her man as he tried to climb the corporate ladder. I really had no other choice for now. And if the job was worth doing, it was worth doing right!
I greeted Phil with a big kiss when he came home with Chinese. I’d already set the table in the TV room. He handed me a newly minted credit card with the name “Jessica Watson” on it.
“It’s easier if I put my last name with your first name. That way, you’ve just been added to my account,” he explained.
As we ate we decided that, in addition to the card for the house things, I needed to be put on his account for the food for entertaining. It needed to be kept separate from the food we consumed at home for tax purposes. Also, I added, I needed money for some things of mine, including a few hostesses dresses.
“It looked like you had plenty of dresses when we moved you in yesterday,” he objected.
“Phil, what do you wear to the formal dinners when you entertain important clients or the higher ups in your bank?” I asked.
“Why a tux, of course,” he replied.
“And as your hostess, I’m going to need the feminine equivalent of a tux. In other words, formal dresses with long skirts,” I replied. “And shoes to match. And I can’t wear the same dress twice with the same people. You don’t want me to disgrace you with all these important people do you? I don’t want to disappoint them or you.”
“Think of it as an investment. The better I am, the better you are going to appear to those who matter.”
He saw the logic of that. He didn’t understand it all, but he agreed. After all, he was out to make a good impression with people who were very important to his career. I could see the wheels whirling in his head. I wasn’t going to be a cheap date, but I could help him--a lot.
Once we had everything settled, I told him I wanted to thank him properly for rescuing me the day before. I told him to give me 10 minutes and then come upstairs. I hurried up and pulled off my clothes. I grabbed a blue lacy baby doll with matching panties and pulled them on. Touching up my makeup took only a minute, then I let my hair down. I squirted a cloud of my perfume, stepped through it, and went to wait on his bed. When Phil walked in, I was kneeling on my hands and knees in such a manner that my boobs were almost hanging out of the bodice of their flimsy prison. Phil didn’t have a chance.
Phil took a long, lustful look. I reared back on my legs and said in my most sultry voice, “What are you waiting for? I said I wanted to thank you.”
It was almost funny to watch him trying to get out of his clothes. When he finally succeeded, I had him lie down on his back on the bed. We began with a long, passionate kiss, both our tongues playing games. Then I began to kiss down his neck and across his hairy chest. As I reached his waist, I swung my left leg over his body so that I was straddling him with my rear end almost in his face. Then I worked my way down to his pubic hair.
I laid kisses on the insides of both his thighs. Finally, I reached down and gently pulled his testicles up and moved my lips over them, rolling them around with my tongue. He was breathing very hard by then and his penis was brushing the side of my face. I gently sucked on his sack and nudged his penis across my cheek with my shoulder.
Finally, I decided to take pity on him and ran my tongue over his tip. Then I proceeded to take him into my mouth and slowly push up and down on his rock hard shaft, gradually taking it deeper and deeper.
Phil was running his hands all over my body as far as he could reach. He rubbed my bottom. There is something incredibly sensuous about feeling a hand rubbing your behind through sheer nylon panties. I really responded to his touch. Then, as I began to suck him in earnest, I felt him move the bottom of my panties aside and his fingers began to stroke my rectum. He began to part my cheeks and probe the hole. It almost tickled, but really felt good.
He gently began moving his fingers in a circular motion spiraling down until his finger was penetrating me. Once inside, he kept the circular motion going, widening my opening. Soon another finger joined the first. It began to hurt when the third one joined the first two. It felt like I was having an enormous bowel movement. It hurt, but at the same time, it felt kind of nice. I spread my legs even further apart and pushed back as I kept moving my tongue along his penis. I was aware of my body on both ends and wanted my man to feel as good as possible as I opened myself to him. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure in my rectum and I couldn’t decide if I liked it or not when ..MOTHER OF GOD!!!
His fingers touched a spot on my prostate that felt nothing like when the doctor would touch me in there during my physicals.
‘Oh my God that felt good.’ Suddenly there was a huge wet spot in my panties where my own member was. Phil moved his fingers in and out of me faster and faster as I felt his penis tense in my mouth and then release spurt after spurt of his semen down my throat.
Finally it was over. After Phil’s penis wilted in my mouth, I took a last lick and leaned forward and pulled myself off his fingers. Then I turned around and gave him a long kiss. I snuggled next to him with his arm around me and just lay there experiencing the feeling of being surrounded and protected by this man.
“Thank you!” I whispered. “For everything.” He gave me a hug and we lay there for a while. Then I started to say something else, but was stopped by a snore. He had fallen asleep. I continued to snuggle, but it wasn’t quite the same with him unconscious. I finally fell asleep too.
I woke the next morning in Phil’s bed feeling that I was an instrument which had been well played. I had been vaguely aware when Phil gotten up to leave for an early morning meeting. I stretched and felt the silky cloth of my baby doll moving over my skin. It felt so good!
Then I felt a dried, sticky mess between my legs and decided it was time to get myself clean.
I realized as I walked back to my room that I still had a glow inside. I’d liked what I had done for Phil last night and what he had done for me. Running a hot bath, I peeled off my panties and put them in the sink to soak.
I realized it was almost past time to let everything air out. Reluctantly, I peeled the tape between my legs back and let things hang out. I found the solvent for my boobs in the box of toiletries I still had to unpack and used it. It felt so empty not having the weight on my chest. I worked on cleaning the rest of the glue off the inside of the form and set it on the counter to dry as I sank into the warm bath.
For a while I just lay there, letting the warm water soak all over my body. Finally I soaped up and grabbed my razor to shave my legs and pits. I was thrilled to feel how soft and smooth my skin was getting.
My pubic triangle was still smooth, so I didn’t attempt to put a razor down there, but I did run the soap over my penis and testicles to remove any tape residue. That brought Mark back in a hurry.
‘What had I been doing?’ Mark was straight, as far as I knew. Yet, I’d given a guy several blowjobs and let him put his fingers inside of me and do some very enjoyable things to me. ‘What was I thinking of? What was the world coming to?’
Then Jessica answered back. Mark was straight, and so was Jessica. What I’d done was the same as most other girls did with a guy they liked. And it was me, a girl, who was doing them with a guy. What could be straighter than that? Phil had done me an enormous favor and I’d thanked him the way many girls do, by using my body to make him feel good for helping me. I wanted him to feel good because I liked him. He made me feel good and protected against a hostile world. And I still felt like a nice girl because of my reasons for doing it.
If anything, Mark should be feeling guilty. Not about my relationship with Phil, but about letting things get screwed up in the first place by not paying attention to his mail in the first place!
But then, Mark had had good reason for doing what he did. The poor man had been devastated by his wife’s betrayal. She had crushed his manhood by taking up with someone else. While his typical male “nose-to-the-grindstone” attention to work had contributed to the situation, it hadn’t all been his fault. Sometimes things just happen. I wanted to give Mark a big hug and hold and comfort him and tell him everything was going to be all right. I forgave him for the situation he placed us in.
I toweled off and looked in the mirror. Even without my chest, and in spite of that stuff hanging between my legs, I couldn’t see Mark.
Then, I peered at my throat. Phil had said I had a small Adam’s Apple, if one knew where to look. I couldn’t see anything, but if Phil had noticed, maybe I ought to get something done about that. I’d ask Sandy about that too.
I finished my examination by plucking a few hairs out of my eyebrows and then rolling my hair. Finally, I reattached my chest and used some fresh tape to get things smooth down below again. Then I dried and styled my hair. It felt great to be back to normal.
After a quick breakfast of Chinese leftovers, I knew it was time to head to the stores to stock up. Phil had given me the new household credit card and left the keys to his SUV because I was going to be hauling a lot of food back. I pulled on my jeans and a scoop-necked, powder blue top, popped my pills and was out the door.
It took quite a while to organize and put away all the food I’d gotten. There was plenty of room in the enormous kitchen, but I needed to have things I’d use often close to the work areas where I’d be using them. Then I realized that I needed some sort of an inventory system so that things could be replenished as they started to run out. I also found I’d forgotten things when I made my first list.
After I finished putting things away, I fired up Phil’s computer and made a spreadsheet of my shopping list and the things I’d forgotten. I printed out those things I still needed for my return trip to the store. Then I checked what I could get from the regular grocery store and what had to come from the gourmet store. That was backwards. My sources should have been on the spreadsheet before I printed out the shopping list. By trial and error I was getting some ideas of how a good shopping list spreadsheet should be organized. But revisions would have to wait until I’d finished completely stocking my kitchen.
‘Wait! My kitchen? It’s Phil’s kitchen. No, it is my kitchen. It is one of my work areas in our house. It isn’t just Phil’s house. We are now sharing it and until my situation gets sorted out, it is our house.’
My mind was on autopilot as the grocery clerk ran my purchases across the checkout scanner. I ran my card through the card reader and she handed me my receipt. Taking a quick look at the totals shown, I started to put it in my purse. Then I looked at it again. There on the receipt was the name and quantity of everything I had purchased, together with the unit and item total pricing. It even included weights on produce. There, as a result of a quick scan of a bar code, was a wealth of information about my purchases. And it gave the computer behind the scanner all sorts of inventory information. In fact, the computer could not only tell what was and was not selling, but as quantities got low, the computer could automatically reorder that stock.
Such a system could help me manage my kitchen. With the large amount of entertaining Phil did, we’d be running out of some things very quickly. Phil had had the same order delivered each week for the football parties. Many things did go quickly, but in the pantry I’d found large quantities of some snacks that people apparently didn’t like. Tracking consumption at the parties and reworking the weekly order could save some money and stop wasting food.
The wheels in my mind started turning. It would take some upfront work, but the time savings down the road would more than return the time I’d need to get a system up and running--and save money.
As I drove home, I continued thinking about a home inventory system. I’d need a bar code scanner, no sense in reinventing the wheel there. A small scale connected to the scanner like the store had would be handy. But it had to be something that would be small enough to fit on the kitchen counter without taking up valuable workspace. I’d take a look on the internet after I’d finished putting my food away.
That afternoon, as I was following directions out of one of the cookbooks, I had another idea. If I could tie my recipes into the system, I could get the same sort of inventory control the grocery had. Once I told the system I was going to use a certain recipe, if a recipe called for a stick of butter, my system could automatically subtract a stick of butter from my inventory, without my having to do a thing.
Further, if I planned a week’s worth of meals on the computer, I could have it generate an automatic shopping list by comparing what we had in stock with what would be needed. It could print out what quantities I’d need to buy for my menus. .
I finished cooking, set the table and hurried upstairs to change. I wanted to look nice for Phil when he got home. When he arrived, I greeted him with a big kiss and asked about his day.
“We’ve got a huge deal coming up,” he said. “I’m going to have to burn some midnight oil studying a bunch of papers and reports to get ready.”
“Well, dinner is waiting, so you can have a drink while I bring it in. Then you can get right on your work right after dinner.”
“Thanks, Jessica,” he said. “That will save a lot of time. By the way, I bought you this.”
Phil handed me a plastic bag. Inside was a rubber bag, tubing and a bottle of douche. “I thought you might like to clean yourself out and smell pretty down there,” he said.
“But I don’t...” I started and then the light bulb came on. Such an apparatus could be used for the front or the back, depending on one’s plumbing. I recalled reading that Marilyn Monroe had given herself an enema daily. Clearly, Phil had something in mind beyond what we had been doing.
“Thanks, Phil,” I said. “I’ll try it tonight.”
After dinner, I cleared the table while Phil retreated to his home office. After everything was washed, I walked in to see how he was doing. Papers were scattered everywhere. Some looked odd. I picked up one stack and looked closer. As I thought, the writing on the page was Chinese.
In keeping with my like of complex puzzles, I’d taken Chinese in high school. I continued it as my language in college, but had never used it. It’s a complicated language with many symbols used instead of letters like we use in English. Each symbol had its own meaning, but the meanings can change or at least be shaded by the symbol’s proximity to its neighboring symbols. I sat in an easy chair beside the desk and started to read. It took a few minutes, but everything started to come back to me.
Phil finally noticed what I was doing. “It’s Chinese,” he said. “But there’s an English translation below the original.”
“What’s it all about?” I asked.
“Well, China is the world’s supplier of rare earths which make just about everything electronic work. They have announced they are cutting back on exports and we’re trying to lock up much of what they will export. If we succeed, we’ll reap huge profits, I’m talking trillions here! But you can’t tell anyone about this,” he cautioned.
“Okay,” I agreed. “Do you mind if I look at this?”
“Why not?” he said. “You might have some fun trying to figure out what is being said. You can use the translation to help you figure out a sentence or two.”
He went back to work, leaving poor pretty little me playing with her China toy. Yes, I meant that sarcastically.
I did pull out the English translation and begin to compare it with what I was reading in Chinese. It was pretty technical, but I didn’t have trouble with it. Then, I spotted a difference between what I read in Chinese and what was in the translation. I reread the Chinese and concluded I was right and the translation was wrong. A little further down, I found another discrepancy. Then another.
“Phil, who did the translation?” I asked.
“They had one of their people do it,” he said. “It was easier than us having to find someone.”
“But, if you signed a contract with them, which version counts?”
“Well, they’re both the same,” he answered. “We’d sign a version in both Chinese and English. I suppose the original Chinese contract would be the official one, but it’s no problem.”
“Phil, there could be a problem,” I said. “I don’t know that that is, but I read and speak Chinese. What you’ve been given in English isn’t always the same as what the original says. There are differences. I don’t know yet if they matter, but they might.”
Phil looked first surprised, then confused, then anxious. “Keep reading. Let me know what you’ve found,” he commanded.
I grabbed a pencil and pad and started making notes. The document was a list of which rare earth compounds would be delivered in which time periods and the prices Phil’s company would pay for each. Not in all, but in several of the highest priced compounds, the quantity promised was higher in the English version than it was in the Chinese original. The prices, I noticed, were the same. In effect, the Chinese version was promising less quantity for the price paid.
I showed Phil what I’d found. “You need to get this double-checked by someone who is a certified translator,” I said. “I only have a college-level knowledge. But what I found worries me. There seems to be a pattern here, and I’m really good with patterns.”
“If you are right, I do need to get this double-checked,” Phil said. “I can’t do anything else until I know the numbers I’m working with are accurate.” He gathered up the papers and returned them to his briefcase.
“Thank you so much! You are a woman of many talents,” he said. “Let’s go upstairs.”
I hadn’t realized how late it had gotten. I was hoping for a repeat of the previous night, but by the time I’d undressed, removed my makeup, and found a sexy nightgown, I found Phil fast asleep. I lay down beside him and snuggled up, but his only response was to shift a little and snore a little louder. I thought about relieving myself and reached a finger to press down in the taped area between my legs, but before I could get anything going, I drifted off as well.
Phil was already gone when I awoke the next morning. I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to cook him breakfast and resolved to do better about getting up. But I had my first real breakfast in a couple of days. Phil left a note telling me he’d be looking into the business I’d found last night. He also reminded me that the cleaning people were coming to get ready for the football party on Sunday. Since he had a standing order for food and drink to be delivered, I didn’t have to add anything unless I wanted to.
The cleaning crew consisted of an older lady and two girls. As the girls started in upstairs, I took a minute to introduce myself to the lady and mentioned that the girls seemed to be cutting a few corners. I told her about the dirt in the corners and she said she’d take care of it. I went upstairs and took a quick glance into the bathrooms. The corners there were still dirty. After a while, the lady came up and went into my bathroom. When I looked again, the corners were clean.
The delivery people brought the drinks and snacks for the party. I’d already made sure to leave room for all of it when I was organizing the kitchen, but I told them to put some of the chips and stuff in a different location that I thought would be more efficient.
I’d just finished cooking dinner when Phil called to tell me that there were lots of high-powered meetings going on and they were going to cater dinner down there. “You really stirred up a hornet’s nest,” he said. “But we’re glad you did.”
He told me he’d be working the next day, so it was up to me to run the party. By now, that was routine, so it wouldn’t be a problem.
The next afternoon I was finishing getting everything out for the football party when one of the early guests came up to me. “The toilet paper is low in the hall bathroom,” she said.
“Oh, those cleaning people must have forgotten to change it,” I said, as I put the cheese tray down.
“Well, at least you got them to clean the corners,” she replied. “It’s nice to have a woman in charge here now.”
As I changed the paper roll, I reflected that now that I was here, everyone expected me to be in charge of the house. The guys might not notice things, but the women did and I was going to be judged in a way a guy wouldn’t be. It was something else I now had to keep track of.
The party was fun and Phil arrived at about halftime. We watched the big TV and screamed and hollered, and generally had a good time. Of course it helped that the Seahawks won! Karen was there, and we got to catch up a bit. She told me Fred was keeping her posted on developments, but that he didn’t have much hope for a speedy resolution. I started to tell her about my kitchen project, but she stopped me.
“The less I know about what you are doing, the less anyone can claim that the company has any interest in it. It’s probably a stretch, but I don’t want to take any chances.”
Naturally, I was disappointed. I’d used Karen as a sounding board on just about everything I did. I felt like a piece of me had been cut off.
As we said goodbye, Karen stopped and looked at me. “You’re looking really good Jessica,” she said. “Being a kept woman really agrees with you.”
“I’m having a ball taking care of Phil,” I replied. “It’s really given me a lot of purpose in my life right now.”
“Have fun, girl,” she said. “I hope everything works out for you. I miss you.”
“Me too,” I said. “Let’s hope everything is resolved soon.”
After everyone was gone and I’d finished cleaning up, Phil and I snuggled on the big sofa in front of the TV. He told me he couldn’t say anything yet, but my discovery might have had a big effect.
Then he pulled me close and gave me a big kiss. “Everything was perfect today. You got it all put together and everyone had fun. Several of the girls told me it was the best party yet. Thank you.”
We kissed for a while. I was feeling warm and protected in his strong arms. Finally we broke, and he looked at me. “Did you use the package I got you yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, shyly.
“Then, let’s go upstairs,” he said. “I want to thank you properly.”
When we went upstairs I paused only long enough to put on another of my sexy nightgowns. At this rate, I was going to have to go shopping again for night clothing!
Phil was standing without a stitch on when I walked into his bedroom. Something else of his was also standing. I marveled again at the size of his package. I wondered how I’d been able to fit it into my mouth.
Phil kissed me passionately and then picked me up and laid me on the bed. He reached down and pulled my negligee up and gently pulled my panties down and off. I looked away. I was shy about anyone seeing me down there. I’d switched to flesh-colored tape a while ago, but I still didn’t look completely like a girl.
Then Phil lifted my legs and I felt his hand gently moving across my behind. He also softly rubbed the insides of my thighs and I felt a little thrill in my tummy. Then, a cold, slippery finger probed at my opening and slid inside. I gasped as Phil circled his finger around inside me and then withdrew.
I turned to see him applying more KY Jelly to his finger and then it was inside me again. He gently rolled his finger, both applying the jelly and enlarging my opening. Soon he had two fingers in and then three. I felt as if I was having a huge bowl movement, but it didn’t feel that bad.
Then he withdrew his fingers and put more jelly on his penis. I tensed as I realized what was to come.
“Relax,” he whispered. “You’re going to love this.”
With that, I felt his tip probing my opening. Slowly he pushed himself inside me. He’d push a little and then stop, letting me get used to feeling him inside me. Then he’d push a little more.
I don’t know exactly how to describe what it felt like. There was some stretching and pain around the entrance to my rectum, but beyond that, I had a feeling of increasing fullness in the bottom part of my anatomy. Finally, I got tired of waiting anymore. I wanted him fully inside of me so I pushed myself against the rest of his shaft.
We both gasped. “Oh Phil,” I moaned. “Please do me. Make me a woman!”
“Jessica …” was all he could say. Then he started moving in and out of me.
’This is what it feels like to be a woman,’ I thought. ’I’ve got my man inside of me and I want to make him love it!’
As he moved in and out, I tightened my kegel muscles around him and began to move with him, trying to get as much of him as possible in me. Strangely, he missed my spot. I’m not sure if it was the angle or what, but he didn’t hit my prostate. But I felt another feeling building between my legs. My muscles were pulling him into me and squeezing him and with every pull, I felt better and better. The feeling was spreading up and throughout my body, extending down my arms until I felt like it was going to explode out my fingertips. Then my whole body spasmed and I broke out in a sweat all over. It felt so good! My entire body felt so good. I felt every nerve. Ripples moved up and down my skin. Then I spasmed again and again, raising myself off the bed to meet Phil’s body.
Finally, I felt him twitch and shoot into me. I was vaguely glad he’d had his orgasm, but I was more interested in mine. It felt nothing like I’d felt in the past. I think I got wet down below, but my attention wasn’t just on my genitals, it was on the feelings going throughout my body. And as Phil wilted, my muscles kept twitching, trying to pull him back in.
Finally, he dropped out and collapsed beside me. I had a feeling of emptiness that I wanted to still be filled, but at the same time a feeling of vast, warm contentment spread throughout my body. I kissed Phil and hung on for dear life. It was so wonderful!
I had to share my experience with Karen, so I called her the next day after Phil had gone to work.
“My God, Jessica,” she squealed, “what you are describing to me sounds a lot like a female orgasm. Did you feel anything in your male parts?”
“I’m not sure,” I told her. “If so it wasn’t much, but overall it was great. My whole body was involved and felt wonderful.”
“Oh, Jessica, I’ve always felt you were really a woman, and now you’ve proved it to me,” Karen said. “I really wish we could celebrate this together.”
“Let’s do lunch after our health club session,” I told her. “It was too great not to celebrate.”
“Just so we’re careful,” she said.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “No one is going to see Mark in me right now.”
I had my yoga class just before I did my workout. My dance class alternated with yoga, and on dance days, I had my cooking class afterward since I had to be in the neighborhood anyway. I’d also started some online classes, but they could be done anytime.
Karen gave me a big hug on our way into our workouts. “My gosh, you’re looking good!” she said. “You’re so soft and smooth.”
“I’m doing my best,” I laughingly replied. “I feel good, too.”
We had lunch in a little out-of-the-way place near the health club. Karen told me she was keeping the company running mostly on royalties and fees from the users of our large mainframe software. Nothing much had changed except that she had to send a monthly report to Cindy’s attorney now. She sent the same report to Fred.
“I’ve had to hire a couple of freelancers to handle tweaking and maintenance issues on the software we’ve got out there.” she said. “They work fine for fixing or building on what you’ve already created. We can go for some time on what we’re doing now, but no one can approach your ability to create software, so eventually we’re going to need new product.”
“And that can’t happen until we get this mess straightened out,” I said. “Are you doing okay, personally?”
“Oh sure,” she laughed. “You are very generous with your pay to me.”
“But you told my your credit cards were maxed out,” I said.
“Well, I’m getting my balances down now that I’m not going out partying with my girlfriend every weekend,” she said.
“I’m not going out as much either. My partying is mostly at Phil’s, and I’m stuck doing the work. That reminds me, I need to know more about food bar codes. Could you ask around and see who I need to talk to?”
“Sure,” she said. “As long as I do it on my lunch hour I’m probably okay.”
That night, when Phil got home, he had another package for me. “I was thinking it would be fun for you to wear this at this weekend’s party,” he said, handing it to me.
Inside was a Seattle Seahawk cheerleader’s costume. I looked at it and looked at him. Was he out of his mind? I didn’t have the figure for this. If you don’t know what the costume looks like, you can see it for yourself on: http://www.seahawks.com/cheerleaders/
“I didn’t get the boots,” he said. “I figured you’d need to try them on anyway to be sure they fit right.”
“I can find out from Terri tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll ask her after my dance class.” Then I realized I’d just agreed to wear that outrageous thing. I wasn’t sure about this at all. I really didn’t have the figure for it. Still, I really owed Phil big-time for all he’d done for me. I guessed I could try it.
I went upstairs to try it on. The top wasn’t bad. It was a kind of modified sailor’s shirt with a drawstring below the boobs. It showed a generous amount of cleavage, but was actually much more conservative that some of the other pro teams’ cheerleader outfits. My boobs would work, since they were exactly the same color as my skin. But I’d have to be really careful with my makeup around the edges. But the white shorts were really tight! They left little to the imagination and rode low on the hips. I’d have to get a padded bikini panty to be able to wear them. Even then, in my opinion, my waist left something to be desired.
I went down in the costume to show Phil. As I turned around to show him, I knocked a magazine off the coffee table. I bent over to pick it up and happened to see my reflection in the glass doors of the CD cabinet. Behind me, Phil was staring at my tush with lust in his eyes. I was turning him on!
Turning around, I told him I’d try to make it work. Then I went over to him and asked if it looked okay from the back, batting my eyelashes as I did so.
“Oh yeah!” he grunted.
“Thanks Phil,” I said. I’ll work on the boots tomorrow.”
Then, I had an inspiration. I could use Phil’s mood to my advantage. “By the way,” I said, “to change the subject, I need a laptop, bar code reader and electronic scale for the kitchen. Do you mind if I put them on the house card?”
“Not at all,” he replied, looking at my white shorts. I don’t think he even heard what I’d asked. I was learning how to use the power we women have over men. Phil didn’t have a chance!
The next day after dance class, I asked Terri about the boots.
“You’re going to dress up as a Sea Gal?” she said. “You’ll have so much fun!”
She told me where to get the white boots and then offered to show me some of the routines. The moves weren’t much different from some of the things we’d been working on in class. The biggest differences seemed to involve stopping to pose in provocative positions. I could see right away that those positions were designed to drive the guys in the audience wild with the display of the female body. Terri also told me about the use of two-sided tape to secure my top. With it in place, I could control how much of my cleavage showed and the tape kept the top from tenting out to show more than I wanted to.
“After all, we have families and children in the stadium too,” she said.
Soon we were gyrating in time together.
“Jessica, you’re really good!” Terri said. “You picked up the routines really fast.”
“Well, you’re a good teacher,” I replied.
“Hey, how would you like to come to one of our practices?” she asked. She explained that the group was always training people who could fill in if some in the group couldn’t be at a game. I told her I’d love to come and she told me when and where. I gave her a big hug of thanks.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I said. “Next week is an away game. How would you like to come to our football party? We could show off these routines.”
Terri said it sounded like fun. They’d had a long home stand and it would be fun to have a day off to relax. I gave her times and directions and told her I’d be at the practice. When I left, I headed straight to the place where Karen had gotten my padded panties. I figured since Phil wanted me to look good for his party, I could put the expenses of looking like a Sea Gal on the credit card.
I’d brought the shorts along so I could see if they had anything what would work under them. When I explained what I was up to, the woman behind the counter, asked me to go to the changing room and take off my padding, put on the shorts, and come back out for measurements.
“You can see my waist needs work,” I said as I came back out. I’d pulled the draw string really tight to show what was needed.
“From where I’m standing, it’s not as bad as you made out. But for those shorts, I think you need to wear one of our models with the artificial vaginas built in. You don’t want to take any chances with any bulge being visible or anything slipping.”
She brought out their padded bikini vagina panty for me to try on. I was wearing one of my regular bikini panties to wear under whatever I tried on. The one she brought out worked pretty well. It was low cut enough and shaped so that it did fit under the shorts. It really made it seem like my hips did expand and my waist go in, even a little above the panties. Obviously it was an optical illusion due to the way the padding was shaped. I really looked like a girl with it on. She showed me how to arrange myself underneath so that I could actually pee while wearing it. I’d never liked wearing so much latex since it made me feel clammy after a while. But I’d tough it out to look convincing.
“You’ll have no trouble driving all the men at your party up the wall,” the woman said. Then she handed me a regular padded pair to try. These actually made my skirt fit better than it had when I came in. The other padding must have been beat down by all the moving and sitting I’d been doing these past few months. I ended up buying three pairs of the regular padded panties and one of the bikini vagina panties. Now I was ready to face the world as a Sea Gal.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
I wanted to surprise Phil about Terri’s offer, so I didn’t tell him that she was coming to the next party or that I was going to the Sea Gal practice. Terri had told me to wear dance equipment, so I showed up in leotards and tights, with a short practice skirt. The skirt came off and we started warming up. Our class warm ups were the same ones the Sea Gals used and I really began to feel at home. A couple of other girls and I lined up behind the squad and watched carefully as they went through their moves. It wasn’t hard to pick up and I realized that Terri had been incorporating a lot of the movements into our class. That made me really comfortable, and I began to really cut loose, moving from side to side in time with the music. It was so much fun!
The practice finally ended and I toweled off. Terri and a couple of the other girls came up and complimented me on my dancing. For obvious reasons, I begged off accompanying them into the dressing room to shower off, saying I had another appointment and the shower would have to wait until I got home. I felt tired, but had a warm glow of well-used muscles as I drove home.
The phone message light was blinking when I came in the door. Karen had followed up on my question about bar codes. There was an order to the way they were laid out and all the big manufacturers had to conform to it so there was no duplication. Unfortunately, while the manufacturers’ databases were supplied to huge chains like Wal-Mart and Safeway, managing the sheer volume, to say nothing of updates was at least a full-time job. The costs, while not too great, were more than I could justify for a home operation such as mine.
While I was relaxing in my bubble bath, I thought about the problem and decided I’d have to create my own database while I was scanning packages. It would be easy enough to scan the brand name and product name along with the bar code. I could also scan the weight on most packages and read it all into the database. It could even be linked to recipes if I also included my favorite ones. All it would really take is a print recognition program that translated a scanned word or number into a usable data field. Simple!
When I put on my Sea Gals costume Sunday, I was still worried about my boyish waist. With the new vagina panty I didn’t have to worry about taping myself. I had a slight indentation in front and was smooth all the way back between my legs. In those shorts, there was no room for error. As I took a last look before heading downstairs, I decided there was no way anyone would doubt that I was a girl.
As it turned out, I didn’t have to worry about my waist at all. All the guys were either staring at my boobs or my crotch. As I moved around, I felt completely naked and exposed. Eyes were undressing me all over, especially Phil’s. But, I realized, what those eyes were seeing was a naked girl! I had fooled everyone. So I stuck out my chest a little more and wiggled my bottom a little wider and proudly walked around. Jessica was a sexy success. I even got used to the guys looking at either my boobs or crotch while I was talking to them.
Then Terri arrived. It was the only time I could think of when two women didn’t mind that the other was in the same outfit. She’d brought some pom-poms and during every commercial, we’d do one of the routines. Everyone loved it. We were a hit. Terri kept answering questions about what it was like to be a Sea Gal and it sounded like so much fun. I gave her a big hug of thanks when she was leaving.
“You were really good,” she said. “See you in class.”
Karen was one of the last to leave. She gave me a big hug and whispered into my ear, “Girl, you are so hot!
“By the way,” she added, “don’t forget, we’re coming on this week.”
That served to bring me down a little, but just a little.
Phil couldn’t wait to get me in bed, and I was walking a little bowlegged the next day.
Tuesday, very reluctantly, I took the first of my monthly water retention pills. I really didn’t want to, but if I was really to understand being female, I had to continue to experience as much as I could.
By Wednesday evening, I was beginning to feel bloated again. My ankles and feet swelled some and I was feeling a little fuzzy. I was pretty much uncomfortable all over. When Phil reached for me, I told him I was approaching that time of the month and I didn’t really feel like it. He looked a little puzzled, but didn’t insist on anything else.
The next day about noon, Phil called. I’d been working on my kitchen program when the phone rang.
“Jessica,” he said. “I’m bringing six very important people home for dinner. Please set up for a formal dinner and make sure the bar is stocked. We’ll be there about 6:30.” Then he hung up.
I nearly panicked. I wasn’t feeling that well and he dumped this on me. What would I serve them? What about the house? Were the diners all men, or would there be couples?
I called Phil back and told him I needed a little more information. It turned out that there would be three couples and no dietary restrictions. Two vice-presidents and their wives were in town from New York, and Phil’s boss and wife would be coming too.
I called the caterer, but they had a big banquet at UW that evening celebrating the football team’s season. All they could offer me was the use of one server. I was on my own for food.
Diving into my cookbooks, I decided I had time to whip up a chateaubriand with béarnaise sauce, provided the gourmet shop had a suitable cut of meat. Dashing over there, I found the meat and purchased enough for ten people. There were only eight of us dining, but I wanted to have enough if someone had a big appetite. The shop also had the right potatoes for chateau potatoes and I grabbed a few other veggies to serve with them. Since French Onion soup would be the first course, I picked up the makings for it, including the thick cheese for the topping. For the small salads, I got three kinds of lettuce and a red wine vinegar. Of course the store also had the shallots, tarragon and chervil I needed.
The other ingredients for the Béarnaise sauce including the cayenne pepper had been part of my stock-up run days earlier. Three bottles of rose’ wine would balance the delicate taste of the meat. I mentally ran through my pantry and decided on mousse for dessert. The bill was astronomical, but I had the business credit card with me to cover it. The bill served Phil right for hitting me with this at the last minute!
Once everything was going in the kitchen, I grabbed the cleaning supplies and gave the downstairs a quick going over since the cleaning crew didn’t come until Friday. I paid special attention to the bathrooms, scrubbing the toilets and sinks.
I kept running back to the kitchen to do what was needed there. Right in the middle of everything, the server appeared. I gave her instructions on how to finish the next few steps and ran upstairs to jump through a shower and pull out one of my long hostess dresses. There was little time to do much with my hair, so I just pinned it up into a formal style and slapped on some evening makeup. I cursed a little as I crammed my swollen feet into my strappy heels. What we women went through!
Back downstairs, I grabbed an apron to protect my dress as I finished the food and demonstrated the presentation to the server. She understood immediately, thank God!
I pulled off the apron, just as I heard Phil and our guests come into the house. I hurried out of the kitchen to become the gracious hostess as Phil introduced me to the couples. I really liked Phil’s boss, Steve and Steve’s wife, Madeline.
We relaxed with drinks in the television room and I made small talk with the women. After about 20 minutes, I decided it was time to adjourn to the dining room. By then, I’d learned everyone’s names and who outranked who, and was able to seat everyone at the table. I rang my small bell and the server began the first course.
It went well, but I was glad when it was over. The ladies were astounded to find out that I’d had to cook the meal myself, and were very complimentary, especially Madeline. After dinner, we adjourned for coffee, the men to the TV room and us ladies to the living room. I was curious what the men were discussing, but my job was to keep the ladies entertained. It didn’t last too long. The two couples from New York were on east coast time, so while it was only 10 p.m. here, it was 1 a.m. their time and they were tired. I bid them goodnight and again received compliments from all.
After they left, I couldn’t wait to get my heels off. Women went through this every month and successfully hid it? How did they manage? I’d barely held it together for one evening. Phil was most appreciative, even after I told him how much I’d had to spend.
“That’s okay,” he said. “Tonight was a big boost to my career hopes. You did well.” He gave me a big kiss and we adjourned to the upstairs. I could barely keep my eyes open long enough to get my makeup off. I pulled on a negligee and, as I was pulling the matching panties up for it, remembered to insert a pad in them. While I didn’t have any flow, wearing pads at that time was part of the regimen
As I stumbled toward my bedroom, I heard Phil call. I walked into his room. There he was lying on the bed, and you could have run a flag up his pole. He said he was tense from the strain of the dinner and needed relief. I was dead tired and didn’t feel like doing or having anything done to me, but reached down and began to rub his cock. I wanted to get this done as soon as possible and get to sleep so, to hurry things along, I cupped his balls in my other hand and began to roll them around. His breathing got faster and faster. As he started to surge I took him in my mouth and finished the job as quickly as possible. I swallowed and licked him clean and fell into bed beside him. I didn’t want to cuddle; I just wanted sleep. The last thing I remember was my head hitting the pillow.
The next day I spent time with my cookbooks. In light of the previous day’s sudden dinner demands, I decided I’d better have the ingredients in the house for at least two easy-to-make but delicious formal dinners. It wasn’t hard to do, and I actually was able to scan the recipes into my evolving kitchen computer program. The scan and read feature worked fine, and I was able to generate a shipping list from the program. I did have to add a step where I entered the number of people eating to ensure I had the proper quantity of ingredients for each meal. Ten people seemed like a good default number. Then I went shopping wearing my trainers. Such relief being in flat shoes that accommodated swelled feet!
I thanked the powers that be that the Seahawks had a bye week and I didn’t have to worry about the weekend football party. I suppose I could have pulled it together, but I was relieved I didn’t have to. My yoga class was work enough, and I even skipped my workout.
I wanted to go for a drive or a sail on the weekend, and put on a tight top and shorts to be ready when Phil walked in the door Friday night. I found something to have to bend down and pick up in front of him and wiggle my rear end, and then went over and plopped in his lap. I moved around enough getting settled to have given him a lap dance and a big kiss. After that, there was no way he wasn’t going to agree to my wishes.
But, in typical Seattle winter weather, it rained all weekend. We ended up going to a movie.
Monday marked the end of my water pills, for 23 more days anyway. I’d stocked up on heavy-duty pads to ensure I wouldn’t leak if I couldn’t make it to a bathroom in time. That was a lesson learned while I was shopping and the line was too long in the ladies room. At least I’d taken precautions, but it wasn’t pleasant having a wet pad between my legs.
Phil called my cell while I was out and informed me we were going to a big charity banquet the next night. I asked him what the women wore to such an event. He didn’t have a clue. So I called Madeline and asked her.
“Well, we old broads usually wear long dresses, but trophy wives or girlfriends like you usually come in something short, but tasteful,” she told me. “And go just a little heavy on the makeup. Phil will want to show you off, as in ‘This is what I’m fucking, aren’t I a stud?’ All the young up-and-comers do it.”
I could agree with her assessment. I’d done it myself with Cindy in college when we’d first started dating. It was a rush to be out showing that a guy like me could snare a hot girl like Cindy, and I’d even preened a little. I’d walk with my head up, thinking, ’Eat your heart out, losers. You can get a hard-on looking, but mine is going inside this hot piece of meat!’
This time around, I realized I was going to be the hot piece inspiring all the hardons. At least, I hoped so.
So, I headed downtown to the exclusive dress stores. I was going to help Phil as much as possible on the stud meter.
The next day, I was tempted to skip my dance class, but decided I needed the workout before heading to the beauty parlor. Terri put us through our paces and afterward invited me to come to the Sea Gals practice again. “And,” she added, “if you’re up for it, I can get you on the sidelines for Sunday’s game. You wouldn’t have to do anything, but you could see what it’s like.”
She told me to wear my costume and where to meet her. I was thrilled to get the chance to see what happened behind the scenes of a game.
When we parted ways, I headed to the beauty parlor for a makeover. I wanted to look my absolute best for Phil at the banquet.
That night, my long red hair was set up in a very attractive style that I liked a lot. I was wearing a metallic blue off-the-shoulder formfitting dress that came down to about mid-thigh. Jewelry, pumps with three-inch heels dyed to match my dress and a matching purse completed my outfit. Since the dress was so short, I even had on panties that matched the dress color in case someone should see up my skirt. I had to take very short steps in the dress, and hung onto Phil’s arm as we walked into the hall, and made sure to keep my knees together as I sat down.
The CEO of Phil’s firm was getting some sort of award, so Steve and Madeline were at our table. She and I were talking recipes when I choked as I took a drink of water. I quickly grabbed my napkin to cover my mouth. But I really hadn’t choked. I was really hiding, as my soon-to-be ex Cindy walked by. Wouldn’t you know it? She sat down at the next table.
I took a big breath, which Madeline thought was me recovering. In reality, I was trying to keep from panicking. I told myself that there was no way Cindy was going to link the hot chick, (and I knew I really looked hot!), in the sexy blue short dress with her ex-husband. My makeup, together with my arched eyebrows made me look completely feminine. I told myself several times that there was nothing male about me. Gradually, I calmed down. I resolved to focus on my role as Phil’s beautiful woman. I took another breath and stuck my breasts out a little more.
Madeline and I continued to talk, but I found myself stealing looks at Cindy. She looked good, as the head of a major agency in town should. Jake was with her, and from the looks of things, was being more attentive to her than Phil was to me. Of course, I told myself, Phil was schmoozing up his superiors, and it was necessary. But, after all the work I’d put in to being his perfect woman this evening, I found myself wishing he’d pay at least a little more attention to me.
Everything went well at the banquet for a while. The main speaker went on and on and on about some obscure man in the early 1900s who had come to the Pacific Northwest to study salmon and the discoveries he had made. Finally, we learned this man had been able to make his fortune with his discoveries and had started the charity we were celebrating that evening. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that I was on my second day off the water pills and my bladder was getting bigger and bigger. I didn’t dare leave until Phil’s CEO received his award. It would have reflected very badly on Phil.
Thank God I was wearing a heavy-duty pad! It was full by the time the applause for the award died down and felt very unpleasant between my legs. The liner was supposed to keep me dry, but I was really straining it. As soon as I could, I made a beeline for the ladies’ room. I managed to beat the crowd and dove into a stall. I pulled down my panties and sat, letting fly. After achieving some much-needed relief, I pulled another pad out of my purse and carefully opened the bag it was in. I peeled my very heavy used pad out of my panties, carefully slipped it into the bag and put it in the little white box on the floor beside the toilet. As the little swinging top made a swish-swish noise as it went back and forth, I put my replacement pad into my panties and pulled them up again. I straightened my hose and pulled down my dress, at least as far as it would go.
As I started to open the door to my stall, I heard an identical swish sound from the adjoining stall. I stepped to the sink and washed my hands. As I was drying them, Cindy stepped out of the adjoining stall. I almost dropped my paper towel, but managed to keep my cool.
“I thought that old fart would never shut up,” Cindy said as she stepped to the sink. “Isn’t it a bitch to have to come to these things when you’re on?”
“You know it,” I replied in my best Jessica voice. “I thought I was going to overflow my pad before I could get changed. Thank God he stopped when he did.” I hoped I was reacting as a woman would. I’ve listened to other discussions in ladies rooms before and women are surprisingly frank about what they discuss. No bodily function is off-limits.
I guess I passed, because Cindy didn’t react, other than to nod and say, “Me too!”
I pulled out my compact and lipstick and began to repair my face. Cindy did the same. Then she looked at me in the mirror.
“Do I know you?” she asked. “You look kind of familiar.”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said, thinking fast. “I’m Jessica.” I almost said “Stafford” which would have been a complete giveaway, but I continued, “Jessica Watson,” taking Phil’s last name that was on my credit cards.
“Cindy Harris,” she replied as we shook hands in the light way women do. She looked again.
“I’m just sure I’ve seen you.”
“Well, do you ever go to Seahawks’ games?” I asked. “You might have seen me on the sidelines. I’m a Sea Gal backup.” At this point I was thinking about one sentence ahead of where my mouth was. I needed to stay as close to the truth as possible so I didn’t dig myself a hole I couldn’t get out of in this conversation.
“I’ve been to a few,” Cindy said, which was news to me. “Perhaps that’s it.”
“Well, if you go Sunday, look for me,” I replied. “I’ll be in the far corner.”
We exchanged a few more comments on the banquet, picked up our purses and returned to our tables. “It’s nice to have met you, Jessica,” Cindy said as we parted.
“Me too, Cindy.” I replied. “See you at the game.”
I almost fell into my chair as Phil held it out for me. My knees were weak. I was a bundle of nerves. Then I started feeling elated. I had passed probably my biggest test yet. Cindy, who had known me intimately for several years, had only seen another woman!
The next day was the Sea Gal practice. I listened closely as final instructions were given for the weekend. Terri had cleared my attendance with the front office and had been given permission to issue me a Sea Gal warm-up outfit since the weather forecast wasn’t all that favorable. I found I was a little disappointed that I wouldn’t get to show my body off to thousands of fans. Now is that weird, or what?
Terri handed me an entrance badge which would get me through the designated gate, into the dressing room and onto the field. We agreed to meet at the gate two hours before the game.
Karen and Brandy, another regular attendee of the football parties, agreed to keep things flowing in my absence. It shouldn’t be a problem. After all, it had only been about five months since I’d started attending, and things had come off okay before I arrived. When I mentioned this to Brandy, she was quick to correct me.
“Oh no,” she said. “Before you came, things were kind of haphazard. Some Sundays, it would be fine, but other times there wouldn’t be enough snacks. Once we even ran out of drinks, and Phil was too snockered to go get more. You’ve made things a lot better and everyone has a better time now.”
I was flattered. No one had told me how much difference I was making. Certainly not Phil! It felt good to be appreciated.
Sunday dawned gloomy. You almost couldn’t see the water in the bay it was so foggy. While this wasn’t unusual for Seattle, I’d hoped for better weather for my first live Seahawks game.
I showed up at the right gate at the right time and signed in. If anything, weather at the stadium was even worse than at the house. The stadium is only a couple of blocks from Puget Sound, and the fog was blowing in. I was really glad they’d given me the powder-blue warm ups.
It was exciting seeing behind-the-scene things. A lot of work goes in to putting in a pro football game. Terri helped me add to my makeup to make it more of a stage makeup look. When you are in front of thousands of people, everything needs to be bigger than normal from your gestures to your makeup. Otherwise, you just won’t be seen. I stretched with the regular girls to warm up and Terri showed me where to stand.
Frankly, while being down on the sidelines on the field is fun, it isn’t the best possible way to watch a football game. However, I could also see a lot of things that happened there, that aren’t noticed from the seating, and never shown on TV. There was a lot of communication going on between coaches and the players who were not on the field. There were also a lot of guests standing around. Most of them were taller than I am, which blocked most of the field from my view. There was a great view of the action from the 20-yard line to the goal line, but most of the game was played beyond that.
The girls did their thing in front of me. In addition to the dances that they did on breaks, the girls were kept busy cheering and waving pom-poms after each play. They actually faced away from the field most of the time so that the fans could see and hear them. I gained a real appreciation of how hard these girls worked.
Then it happened. A pass came into the corner of the end zone where we were standing. One of the girls, Jan somebody, had turned away from the field towards the stands. A receiver trying to catch the ball was looking back for it as he barreled into the end zone. It was over his head and he made a leap to catch it and smashed right into Jan.
She screamed as 220 pounds of football player slammed into her at full speed. He rolled off of her as quickly as possible, but by that time, her right leg was sticking out at a very wrong angle. Trainers were there quickly and they carefully examined Jan’s leg. Then she was slowly lifted onto a stretcher and taken to a waiting ambulance. The player walked with her as far as he could, apologizing all the way. Then, he was called back into the game for the next play.
Terri came running up to me. “Jessica, we need you to take Jan’s place!” she yelled.
“Me?” I said. “But I’m not a regular back-up.”
“You are today,” she replied. “That’s how I got you into the game today. You’re it.”
“But I’ve only practiced with you girls twice!” I protested.
“No matter. You’re very good and I taught you everything in class.”
So, with a big gulp, I picked up Jan’s pom-poms and took her place on the line, resolving to keep at least one eye on the action on the field.
It was a blast! I screamed and yelled and shook my body around and helped give the fans a show. It was such a trip! I remembered all the moves in the dance numbers and fit right in with everyone else. I almost wasn’t sure who had won until this huge football player picked me up and tossed me into the air. Luckily, he caught me on the way down and gave me a big hug. I screamed and hollered and waved my pom-poms. Then we all lined up and danced our victory dance and it was all over.
“You were great, Hun,” Terri said giving me a hug. “You saved our bacon.”
“I didn’t do that much,” I replied shyly.
“Yeah, you did,” she replied. “Without you, we would have been unbalanced and it would have showed. Thank you!”
In the dressing room, several of the other girls also came by to give me hugs and thanks.
A woman from the front office who was in charge of the Gals came by to thank me and have me fill out a couple of forms.
“What are these?” I asked.
“Oh, the usual,” she said. “W-4, Workman’s Comp, the usual.”
“For what?” I asked, still confused.
“For your pay, girl,” she said.
“I’m getting paid?” I asked.
“Of course. You provided us a service, you get paid for that service,” she answered.
“But it was for fun,” I said.
“I’m glad you had fun,” she replied. “But all aspects of Pro Football are part of a business, and we pay our employees.”
And so, for a couple of hours of fun, I’d earned a tidy little sum.
“Did you see me?” I asked Phil when I burst in the house a little later. I was still excited and on a high from my afternoon.
“See you?” he asked. “I saw a great game, but I didn’t see you.”
I was disappointed. He hadn’t even looked for me!
Karen had left a message on my cell phone. “Was that you in the dance line at the end?” she asked. “I saw a few shots of you on the field, but they kept cutting away so quickly, I wasn’t sure.”
I called her back and we talked for almost an hour about my experience. She assured me that everything had gone fine at the party, but that I had been missed. I hadn’t realized how many of the people at the party were becoming my friends. I only rang off when Phil asked me to fix something for supper.
Later, he took me to his bed and spread my legs apart. “It got me so hot thinking of you with the Sea Gals,” he said as he plunged inside of my rear end. I only grunted in reply. He was a little rough with me and pounded in and out of me with an urgency that had him explode in record time. Then he turned over and was soon snoring. I had to reach down to finish myself off. I pressed down on my taped member as I pictured myself showing off my body to thousands of fans. It felt great.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The following Monday evening, Phil announced we’d be entertaining some Chinese businessmen, together with Steve and the CEO the next evening. As the hostess, I’d be the only woman there. After some research, I headed down to the Fish Market to pick up some fresh-caught fish for the dinner, together with a case of good white wine.
My efforts in the kitchen earned several comments of praise. Dropping my eyes and almost bowing, I thanked everyone. Phil had warned me ahead of time to not let our guests know that I understood Chinese, so I didn’t react when one man asked the other in Chinese how much he thought he ought to offer Phil for my services for the evening. The other replied that it would have to be a very high amount, and I announced I had to go into the kitchen to check on dessert. Once there, I didn’t know whether to smile or be angry that they thought I was a high-priced whore. Since I was fooling them so well, I finally decided that I’d appreciate being a “high amount.”
'If they only knew,' I chuckled to myself.
Later, Phil asked me if our guests had said anything important when they were speaking Chinese. After I replied in the negative, he told me that he wanted me to go to work with him the following day. It seemed they were having a major meeting, and Steve wanted me to attend and sit in a corner like a secretary taking notes, and listen to anything which might be said. The Chinese had brought an interpreter with them for the meeting, but Steve thought it might be valuable for me to be listening for our side.
Agreeing, I rode in with Phil the next morning wearing my grey pinstriped “professional” skirt suit. My red hair was put up in a stylish, but conservative bun. I had on grey hose and shoes with only two-inch heels so that I did not tower over the Chinese. I was even wearing glasses with non-prescription lenses. My job, Phil kept telling me, was to blend in and not call attention to myself. Although I did nothing to call attention to myself, I noticed every man in the room, including the Chinese, checked out my legs as I entered. I found a chair to one side of the conference table, sat down, crossed my legs and pulled a steno pad out of my briefcase.
I wasn’t introduced and I sat quietly taking notes. It was hard work keeping a professional face at times when I overheard things we Americans weren’t supposed to understand.
After the meeting ended, we adjourned to Steve’s office and I was asked if I’d heard anything. “Not much,” I admitted. “It was a little strange, however. I picked up a couple of comments that indicated they were expecting you to object to some points. I’m not sure why.”
As I couldn’t add anything else, Steve had Phil show me to a cubical where I could type up my notes. When I’d finished, I sent them to the printer and saved them to a “Negotiations” file. I was wondering what else to do when I saw a familiar face.
“Hi, Jessica,” Carly said peaking around the wall of the cubicle I was in. Carly was a regular at the football parties. “A bunch of us girls are heading out to lunch and wanted to know if you’d like to join us?”
It turned out that Phil was still tied up in Steve’s office, so I joined the girls at a nearby restaurant. I had fun at lunch just being one of the girls. We didn’t talk about anything earthshaking, just girl talk and office gossip. I was asked if I was going to be a new office assistant, and I told them I was just in as a consultant for the negotiations. They talked about how important the project was. In fact, the CEO, J.B. Anderson, whom I’d met the night before, would be attending the next day’s session.
Too soon the lunch hour was over. It was disappointing that everyone had to get back to work so soon. I realized I was missing a lot of contact with other women when I was home alone. Even my workouts and classes didn’t quite make up for it because there, everyone was busy working on their own agenda, and there wasn’t a lot of time to stop and chat.
That’s when it hit me how much I missed Karen now that our contact had to be hidden. Thank goodness for the football parties where we could have some time together. But in a party atmosphere, we couldn’t have the close heart-to-heart talks we used to have.
Phil and I rode into the office again the next day. I was wearing another of my “professional businesswoman” skirt suits and looked much the same as I had the day before. I took my seat and again took notes. As I wrote and listened, I started to put a still fuzzy picture together. One of my biggest strengths is to pull disparate things together and see patterns that most people miss. After the meeting ended, the men on Phil’s team stayed in the meeting room and went over the meeting with J. B. Steve again asked me if I’d heard anything of note.
“I’m not sure yet,” I answered. “I’m starting to get some ideas that may be worth exploring, but I need to observe tomorrow’s meeting to be sure.”
“Just let us know what you hear,” J. B. said. “We’ll handle the ideas.”
I was again ushered out to type my notes while the men stayed to plan their strategy. That got me to wondering why there weren’t any women on the team? I mean, this is the 21st Century, after all.
“Oh we’ve got a glass ceiling you wouldn’t believe,” Carly said at lunch when I asked about it. “We’ve got a woman Vice President of Human Resources and one who runs Public Relations, and a couple of analysts who have high duty titles, but the really big, high powered stuff is just for the men.”
“With that kind of climate, no wonder I was shown the door so quickly today,” I replied. “I need to do some research. Can you show me how to access the internet when we get back?”
Carly did, and I spent the rest of the afternoon researching on-line. I made several interesting discoveries. It was time to read both the English and Chinese versions of the revised contract, and I asked Phil to bring copies home with us.
I put dinner together while Phil got online to check his e-mail. After dinner, he turned on the TV while I finished up doing the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Then I went into the office to get online again.
It turned out Phil had not signed out. Someone had forwarded him a PowerPoint file labeled “XXX.” Out of curiosity, I opened it. It was a series of pictures of naked girls in full frontal poses, many with their legs spread wide open and everything showing. My God, some of their breasts were huge! I felt sure some of them had to have had implants because I had never seen such breasts on any normal woman. I also checked out how they had shaped their public hair since I had to shave down there before my next dance class. One of the girls started up with a typical “landing strip” but had a little round ball shape on top almost like a tree. It was cute and I decided to see if I could do the same to myself.
Then it hit me. If Mark had gotten a file like this, he would have been so turned on, he would have shot cum across the room the minute he touched his dick. And yet, here I was going through the pictures with a critical eye, comparing myself to each of the women and rating how I stacked up against them. (Yeah, that’s a pun!) When I looked at the pictures where the girls had spread their legs apart, rather than being turned on, I found myself jealous, wanting the same as they had!
That caused me to stop and do some deep thinking. Of course, at some point, I planned to go back to being Mark, didn’t I? When everything was straightened out, I had to. Yet my reactions to the photos in the file made me take a close look at myself. Where was Mark? I didn’t feel any vibes from him over the pictures. They didn’t do much for me at all. This was something Tina and I had to discuss at our next session.
I shut down the computer and went up to take a bath. I took off my form and shaved everywhere. I was able to shape my pubic region into a pretty good likeness of the stripe and ball. After a good soak with everything off and untaped, I patted myself dry and stood naked before the full-length mirror. I took a good look at myself.
I liked the way my skin felt with my moisturizing routine. It was soft and smooth as I ran my hands along my legs and arms. With my health club routines, yoga and dance classes, I was getting really toned, but not muscular.
The only thing out of place was that little package hanging between my legs. It disturbed me, and I pushed it back between my legs, closed them and looked again. Now things looked right! I was getting anxious for my year’s RLT to be up so I could try seeing what hormones would do.
I put myself back together, rolled my hair for the next day, pulled on a nightgown and went back downstairs. Phil was involved in a Lakers-Trailblazers game, so I gave him a kiss and went to bed.
Later, I found myself in the weirdest dream. I was trying to find a toilet because I needed to have a bowel movement. When I finally found one, I sat down only to have the seat pulsing against me. Then I woke up enough to realize that Phil had come to bed, pulled down my panties and was pumping my rear end from behind. ‘Oh well,’ I thought. ‘Let him have his fun, as long as it doesn’t involve a response from me.’ Then I went back to sleep. I guess he did have some fun, since I had to clean myself up in the morning. It would have been nice if he’d at least asked.
The meeting confirmed what I’d been speculating about. I’d read the revised contracts yet another time on the way to work. A pattern had become perfectly clear, was logical, and made sense.
Once the Chinese had left, Steve asked me what I’d heard. “What they said was that they expected you to find what you did,” I said. “Every point you raised was anticipated. You are not engaged in negotiations, but are following their script to get to the point they want you to be.”
“Can you prove this?” Steve asked.
“Not directly,” I answered. “But the pattern fits. Especially since there’s a clause in the Chinese version that states that you all agree that in case of any conflicts, the Chinese version will be the binding agreement.”
“Now, young lady, you just don’t understand,” J.B. said. “You’re misreading things. I’ve been dealing with these kinds of people since before you were born. I remember an incident in Tokyo in 1982 ...”
“But these are Chinese, not Japanese,” I interrupted. “What you need to do ...”
“Young lady, that is enough!” J.B interrupted loudly. “I know what to do. I won’t have a cheerleader telling me any different! Go type your report and let us decide what to do.”
‘Oh crap, he knows about my weekends.’ I looked at the floor, picked up my purse and left the room. I had tried.
I was so frustrated I called Madeline and dumped on her. I felt okay doing this since she was part of the bank family, and I hadn’t signed any sort of confidentially agreement anyway. “They are being led down the garden path,” I told her. “J.B. may have experience dealing with the Japanese, but the Chinese are a totally different culture. They are determined to get exactly what they want, regardless. To top it off, the Chinese version of the contract says that the deal is only for North American rights, and a lot of the manufacturing that uses the rare earths has moved off shore. This isn’t the money maker they think it is.”
“Oh, you young ladies today,” Madeline replied. “You take women’s lib so seriously you don’t realize it’s still a man’s world. Worse, you told J.B. he didn’t know what he was talking about. You challenged his masculine ego. Have you ever seen his office?”
“Huh? No, but what’s that got to do with it?”
“Everything,” she replied. “There are kings in some countries whose throne rooms are smaller than J.B.’s office. Men are so insecure that they need lots of visual reminders that they have achieved something.”
“So what should I do?” I asked.
“Prepare your report,” she answered. “Sometimes, facts in black and white on paper are more credible than when coming from the mouth of a very smart, but very beautiful young lady. But also don’t be surprised if even the report is ignored. Sometimes, you just have to let the boys play with their toys, no matter what the consequences.”
“I can do that,” I said. “But I still don’t like it.”
“Sometimes that’s all we girls can do,” she said. “But in the meantime, I think I’ll see about moving some of my money around until this all blows over.”
I went to lunch with the girls in the office and was asked again if I was going to hire on as a secretary. I told them that once I finished my latest report, I’d be leaving. They all said they were sorry to see me go and that they’d see me at the football parties.
I typed up my report, included what references I could, and sent it to Steve. The problem was that I couldn’t prove some things, but I had every confidence that the patterns I’d seen were correct. It was just that, like in school, I could see patterns that everyone else missed and I was unable to communicate to them how I’d arrived at my conclusions.
Phil wasn’t too happy with me that evening. My challenge to J.B. reflected badly on Steve and Phil. He said he’d smoothed things over by explaining that I misunderstood why I was there. In any case, I was through, and the “people who knew what they were talking about,” would take negotiations from there. I didn’t need to worry my pretty little head anymore about it.
The next day I made a quick call to Karen and suggested she review our company’s investments to be sure Phil’s firm wasn’t among them. “I’ll snail mail you a list of alternative sources of rare earths which may be worth investing in,” I said. “But you didn’t get them from me.”
Next, I made an appointment to see Sandy before I worked on uploading more recipes into my little kitchen program.
I was surprised to get a call from Steve that afternoon. He’d read my report and thought a lot of it. Unfortunately, J.B. had set the Bank’s course, and Steve could only try to minimize the potential damage I foresaw. I agreed to review any documents he might send over and prepare reports on my reactions to them. He emphasized that I was to send my responses directly to him, and let no one, not even Phil, know what I was doing.
Sunday was a big day for Seattle. It was an away game, which was always more difficult to win, but if the Seahawks won, and someone else lost, they’d make the wild card playoff game. Everyone was excited at the football party. I was running around in my Sea Gal costume and receiving the usual looks at my boobs and crotch. A couple of guys couldn’t seem to take their eyes off the space between my legs, and I knew in their minds, they were seeing the same sorts of things that I’d seen in that computer file Phil had. Just for the fun of it, I made sure to spread my legs wide before them when I jumped during one of the cheers I did between plays. For some reason, they sat a little hunched over for a while after that.
Some of the girls from the office and I spent some time talking. There was really nothing new they could tell me, except that there were a lot of meetings going on. I also got a little time with Karen, and she told me Fred might be calling me the coming week.
Wonder of wonders, the Seahawks won! Better, the team that needed to lose, lost. We were in the wild card game!
Terri called me the next day and told me they wanted me to work the wild card game. ”But what about the other girls who have been on the standby squad all season?” I asked. “I really don’t want to jump line over them. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Listen, Jessica,” Terri said. “This is a business decision. Just like with the football team, it’s not about seniority, but rather ability. You are better than those other girls, and that’s why we want you out there Sunday.”
Still a little reluctant, I agreed to do it. I was jumping ahead of girls who had been waiting a long time, and that bothered me. I wasn’t even a real girl!
Terri handed me a check at dance class. It was for my work at the previous game. I decided to open an account in my own name with it. I don’t know why I didn’t want to use “Watson,” but I thought that Jessica Stafford ought to have at least a little money of her own.
Phil was extremely busy that week and it became a pattern for the next several weeks. He started getting home later and later, so I started planning menus that could be reheated easily. He’d come home very tense, and often he wanted me to provide him with relief more than he wanted to eat. I obliged, mostly with a quick blowjob, before getting dinner out. After dinner, he usually watched some sports event on TV and I found myself going to bed alone.
I told Phil I was going to be a Sea Gal at the wild card game and that I’d made arrangements again to have the football party covered. He gave me a halfhearted “Fine,” and went back to watching his game. For some reason, that hurt. I wanted him to be proud of my accomplishments and he wasn’t paying any attention.
Game day began rather nice and sunny, so we started out wearing our regular tops and tight, full-leg pants. Somewhere in the second quarter, the fog rolled in and it got a lot colder. All of the Sea Gals had goose bumps all over their skin and their nipples were sticking straight out. Except me. With my all-in-one form I wasn’t showing either goose bumps or hard nipples on my boobs. When I realized that, I began holding my pom-poms up to my chest like I was trying to keep warm. Clearly I was going to have to do something about that.
We all covered up at halftime. As I was putting on the warm-up top, I got bumped rather hard in the back.
“Ow!” I said. “Watch it!”
“Watch it yourself, Bitch!” came the reply. Shaundra, a tall blonde, got in my face. “You shouldn’t even be here. Some of us waited a long time for our chance to be a Sea Gal, and you come waltzing in here in a few weeks and take over the open spot.”
About that time, Terri arrived. “It’s not about time, it’s about talent,” she said. “I know your friend Betsy is a standby, but Jessica is better, and we’ve got a show to put on. So get over it and get back out there!”
Shaundra gave me a glare and stomped away. “I’d watch out for her next half,” Terri warned me.
Sure enough, Shaundra seemed to be near me a lot the second half. It seemed like her pom-poms would “accidentally” get near my face a few times. On one dance, I had to jump a little to avoid getting tripped. Fortunately, I was able to improvise and make my jump look like part of the routine. I decided it would be best to just ignore her as much as possible. As Terri said, we had a show to put on.
The game was exciting. The lead went back and forth. Near the end, it looked like the Eagles would win when they scored a touchdown giving them a one point lead with only a little over a minute remaining. Then the Seahawks had a great kickoff return out to nearly the 50-yard line. We were jumping up and down and yelling our lungs out.
Two passes got the ball to the 32-yard line right next to where we were standing. Then, the Eagles broke through the line and sacked our quarterback, putting the ball back on the 39. With only a couple of seconds left, our kicker came out onto the field. I’d watched him warm up almost beside me. He kept kicking the ball into a net, over and over again.
It was all up to him. The ball was snapped. The kick was up and we won by two points as time expired. I jumped up, turned a cartwheel and came down into a split. Then we regrouped and did our victory dance in the end zone.
Finally the excitement died down and the crowd started filing out. I was gathering up my things next to the wall when I heard my name called. I looked up and saw Cindy leaning over the rail and waving down to me.
“I thought that was you, Jessica,” Cindy said. “I met you at a charity dinner a while back.”
“Oh yes,” I said. “Cindy, wasn’t it?”
“You remembered,” she squealed. “Good to see you again. Wasn’t it a great game?”
“Wasn’t it!” I replied. Cindy looked as frazzled as I felt after the game. Jake was with her. They made a great looking couple.
“See you next game,” Cindy yelled, and then they were off. I gathered my things and headed into our dressing room. When I got there, I could see Terri talking to Shaundra. Terri looked very angry and Shaundra was red faced. After a while Shaundra came over to me and gave me a very hesitant apology.
“I still don’t think it’s entirely fair,” she said. “But you are good. Just don’t expect me to be your friend.” ‘Well, you can’t please everyone,’ I reflected. ‘Some girls are just going to be mean.’ It was good to have the right friends in the right places.
It wasn’t until the glow of the win wore off a little while I was driving home, that I realized what had happened just before I’d come off the field. I’d seen and talked with Cindy and hadn’t had any strong feelings at all. Okay, I was being Jessica, but when I looked inside, Mark didn’t have any strong feelings either. No feelings of depression, or any other kind of reaction. In fact, I’d even thought how good Cindy and Jake looked together.
Karen’s “Jessica” therapy had worked.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The following Tuesday, I saw Sandy again. “Wow, Jessica!” she said. “You are looking great. I saw you on TV and they kept coming back and showing you after every big play. You certainly got a lot of exposure.”
I smiled as I exchanged my dress for one of those paper examination gowns. “I wish that exposure had really been me. I didn’t get goose bumps on my chest like the other girls did.”
“And you wanted them?”
“Yes, that is I would like to really fill out my uniform. I really like showing myself off.”
“So you want to stay Jessica?”
“For a while,” I said. “I was always going to go back to being Mark.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because that’s the way things are supposed to be.”
“Why?” she asked again.
“It just is,” I said. “I was born a boy and am supposed to be one.”
“Why not just remain Jessica? You seem to like it.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “Sure, I like being Jessica, but for the rest of my life? I don’t know.”
“Hey, there are ups and downs to being either male or female,” she said. “On the whole, I prefer our side, but it is a man’s world.”
“Oh, there are ways around that,” I said smiling. “I can pretty much get Phil to do whatever I want.”
“Exactly,” Sandy replied grinning. “It sounds like you’ve figured out a lot about being a woman navigating in the world.”
“I guess I have,” I said. “But it’s for survival.”
“And all us girls have had to learn the same thing,” she said. “At least the smart ones.
“I’m not saying you don’t have a ways to go,” she continued. “But I think you are well on your way. While I don’t want to influence you one way or the other, I think you make a great girl. I’ve talked with Tina about you. I want to see you again in April.”
“There is one additional thing you should know. When I took those sperm samples from you several months ago, I had some of it frozen. You are not the first patient I’ve had to experiment with the other side, and I’ve learned to plan ahead. Not many of my patients decide to go back.”
“I really hadn’t thought about that,” I said. “The idea of fathering children hadn’t really entered my mind. So I’ve got something to think about. What’s would be next?”
“You would have some choices to make,” Sandy said. “Are you going to stay as you are? You would develop the figure you seem to want if you go on hormones. Some people go on to have surgery to become completely female, at least in appearance. Some choose to keep their male equipment. I have to tell you, however, that with any hormone treatment, your male equipment isn’t going to work very well. In many cases, it’s best to remove the testicles to prevent complications down the road.”
“Can I try hormones and then go back to being Mark?” I asked.
“If you come off hormones you may stop developing. But many of the changes would remain. Your breasts and hips may lose some fat, but the breasts won’t go away without surgery, and if your pelvis actually widens, you’ll always have a feminine shape down there. Your skin might get rough again.”
“I could hide my figure with clothes,” I said.
“You could. You’d have to hide a lot of other things too. You may not realize it, but every move you make, every look you give, all scream ‘female’ to others.”
“I’ve come that far?”
“You really didn’t have that far to go originally,” Sandy said. “Even back in school, I always thought you should have been a girl.”
“If I do want to continue becoming a woman, what’s next?”
“After hormones, if you want to consider surgery, you need to have Tina’s consent as well as mine as the physician,” Sandy said.. Frankly, I don’t think you’d have any problem at all if that’s what you want to do.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just didn’t think ahead.”
“That’s why you have to go through these procedures. No matter what you end up doing, it’s a big decision, and you need to be crystal clear as to what you are going to do and why.”
“Does it cost much? I’d have to wiggle my ass at Phil to get him to pay for it.”
Sandy laughed. “Sex Reassignment Surgery is very expensive, and most insurance won’t cover it. You are very lucky if you’re in a situation where you can get things paid for. Some of my patients really have to scrape to get enough for their treatments and therapy, and many don’t make it.’
“Payments could be a problem just now,” I said. “I’ll have to see if Phil will help me. Thanks for everything, Sandy.”
I called Karen and asked her if we could meet for dinner at her apartment. “I’ll bring things to cook,” I said, bribing her.
“I’ve been missing your meals,” she said. “Is Thursday okay?”
The next day in dance class, Terri asked me if I’d be interested in going with her on some personal appearances. The first playoff game after the Wild Card game was an away game, so Saturday had been set aside for local appearances. “We can actually make more money on personal appearances than we make doing our thing at the stadium,” she said. “The fees are set quite high, so we only get serious offers. The tradeoff is we also visit places like hospitals for free.”
When I said, “I’d love to help,” Terri said she’d put me on the list. Apparently, I was a full-fledged Sea Gal now.
That night, I told Phil I was having dinner with Karen. It turned out he had to fly down to San Francisco for a business meeting anyway, and wouldn’t be home Thursday night. I told him it would be nice if I knew his schedule a little more.
“Look, babe,” he replied. “I’m very busy right now and I’ve got to remain flexible. You saw what was going on in the office. We’re talking really big bucks here. I’ve got to be able to move on a moment’s notice.”
“I realize that,” I replied. “And I support you. It’s just that if I knew as much as you about your schedule, I could do a better job of helping you.”
Walking over, I rubbed myself against him and gave him a big, sexy kiss. “I want to help you in any way I can,” I whispered. “Let’s go upstairs and I’ll ‘help’ you.”
We adjourned to the bedroom and I did a real job on Phil that would end up with me walking bowlegged again the following morning. “By the way, Phil,” I said as we cuddled afterwards. “I saw the doctor yesterday and she’d like me to think about some procedures. Is that a problem?”
“No, but is there anything wrong?” he asked.
“No, it’s just to help me with the changes I’m going through.
“Babe, you’re getting better all the time,” he said, giving my left tit a squeeze.
“How would you like it if I got a vagina to add to the package?” I asked. I felt Phil tense.
“No, babe,” he replied. “I wouldn’t want to put you through all that pain. You are fine just the way you are.” He patted my rear end and turned over and went to sleep.
I lay there thinking of how nice Phil was to want to spare me any discomfort. He was looking out for me. Off and on, I’d been wondering about that a little.
The next evening found me at Karen’s, fixing a very tasty, but very calorie-conscious meal. Karen kept going on and on about how much she’d missed my cooking. Finally, we finished and curled up on opposite ends of the sofa with our coffee.
“So, much as I appreciate just getting to see you in a quiet atmosphere, what did you want to talk about?” Karen asked.
I told her about all the things Sandy had said and the decisions I had to make.
“I told Sandy I had to go back to being Mark, and she kept asking why.”
“I’ll ask the same question,” Karen said, “Why?”
“Because underneath this makeup and padding, that’s who I am. That’s who I started out as. When we were little and I’d be Jessica, I always had to go back to being Mark at the end.”
“I’m not so sure you even completely started as a boy,” Karen said.
I started to say something, but she waved me to silence. “Let me tell you something Jessica. When we started playing together as kids a long time ago, you were kind of quiet and withdrawn as a boy. But when you put on my new party dress, you changed. You became so much more animated and outgoing than you’d ever been before. You just seemed more excited about life in general. You were fun to be with and we had a blast playing together. We did things, explored things, played pranks and did all kinds of stuff that I’d never done with Mark. That’s when you became my BFF and we shared everything. Do you think I’d have ever showed anyone else my boobs when they started developing, especially a boy? I don’t think so. I didn’t even tell the other girls until it was pretty obvious. But I did share that with my sister Jessica, and lots of other things too.”
Karen took a deep breath and sighed. “I always felt a little sense of loss when you went back to being Mark. It seemed like the more Jessica reached out for life, the more Mark withdrew. I didn’t know what I could do to help you. When you met Cindy, I thought Jessica had gone away forever. I cried for days and days because I felt I’d lost my sister.”
“But you were so supportive about us?”
“Of course I was, silly. I love you and wanted you to be happy, whoever you were. I knew that if Mark was happy, somewhere inside my sister Jessica was happy too. And that kind of made it okay.
“But, I think I was right to bring you back when Mark was so hurt,” she continued. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen you happier than I have the last few months. I just wish this legal stuff didn’t mean we had to keep from hanging around together more. I have so missed our late night heart-to-heart talks.”
“Me too.” I moved over and gave her a big hug. “So what do you think I should do?”
“Honestly, I think you are so much better as Jessica. I don’t know what you should do physically, but Jessica, you are so much better at life than Mark was. You’re out doing things, learning new things, having a good relationship with a nice guy. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve always been Jessica and should continue to be her. You’ll have a much better life if you do.”
I hadn’t wanted to bring up my relationship with Phil with her at that time because that wasn’t what I was there to talk about. But when she mentioned it, I felt myself flinch a little bit.
“Oh, Karen, you’re right. I have had the most fun I ever have had in my whole life in the past few months,” I said. “It’s just what I have left of a masculine ego keeps telling me I ought to be responsible and do the right thing.”
“The right thing is to tell it to shut the hell up. You don’t have any reason to go back to being Mark. There’s no one you are accountable to, and nothing to be responsible for. Everything Mark did you can do, and much more!
“In fact,” she continued, “once we get this mess with Cindy behind us, there’s no reason for Mark to ever come back. And I won’t miss him as long as I have my sister.”
We both ended up crying a bit. But they were tears of happiness at being together again after being forced to be apart. I vowed that whatever happened, I wouldn’t let anything come between my sister and me again.
I returned to my empty house. There were no messages. Phil hadn’t bothered to call even to let me know he’d made it to San Francisco safely.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The following day, the Sea Gals practiced. The Division Playoff game was away, but if we won that and then the Conference Championship game, the team would take us to the Super Bowl. I issued a blanket invitation to everyone to come to the Football party on Sunday.
“If you can make it, come in uniform,” Terri added. “Jessica would love to have us show off for her friends. It’s really fun.”
After practice Terri reminded me and a couple of other girls that we had a couple of appearances on Saturday. First, we’d help open a new sports bar. Then, since it was nearby, we’d visit a hospital. We’d be wearing our shorts and sailor tops for the sports bar. For the hospital, we’d put on our more modest warm ups.
The sports bar was okay, if you like a lot of horny guys looking at you everywhere except your face. I even got a couple of pats on my rear end, which I really didn’t appreciate. But the pay for a couple of hours of being looked at was pretty good.
Then we went to the hospital. It was really heartwarming to visit the patients. Several of the patients and staff had seen us performing on TV during the last game. A couple even told me the TV broadcast had replayed my cartwheel and splits about five times after the game. I’d almost forgotten I’d pulled that off.
Then we went to the adjoining Children’s Hospital. The amount of unconditional love and attention these children showed us was overwhelming. I can’t recall when I have given so many hugs and signed so many autographs. One little girl even asked me if I could be her mommy. I almost came completely unglued and gave her the biggest hug I could. “Oh, honey, I’d be so proud to be your mommy, but I’m sure your real mommy would miss you,” I told her.
“She’s not here anymore,” she replied. “She was in the same wreck I was, but she went to be with God.”
I didn’t know what to say. She told me her name was Deanna. I gave her my e-mail address and told her to write to me any time she was feeling lonely.
On the way home, I couldn’t get little Deanna out of my head. The hospital staff had told me that she and her mother had been in a big pileup in heavy fog. Fortunately, if anything about a fatal wreck could be called fortunate, they were on their way to pick up the father and two sisters. As a result, with the exception of Deanna’s mother, the family was still intact. It was so sad.
Then I realized I had told Deanna the absolute truth. I would have been so proud to be Deanna’s mother. Not her parent. Her mother! For the first time in my life, I really thought about having children and being a parent. A mother. I wanted it and I couldn’t have it. I wanted to be able to give birth to a child and it wasn’t possible. Pulling to the side of the road, I wept. Sandy had frozen my sperm so that I could have children of my own, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t be their birth mother, and I wanted to so badly.
At last, I pulled myself together to drive the rest of the way home. There was a lot to talk about the next time I saw Tina.
The football party Sunday started out great. To my surprise, most of the Sea Gals showed up, even Shaundra. Everyone mixed well and we all did a few of our routines. Then a lot of the enthusiasm deflated when the Bears scored three quick touchdowns in the first quarter, two of them on interceptions. With the score already 21-0 it was hard to pretend to be happy about the way the game was going. Coming back from that far down is very hard in the NFL. We did score a field goal just before half time. That was the only bright spot. There’d be no Super Bowl for us this year.
I was busy making sure everyone had enough to eat and drink and was in the kitchen a lot. Coming out with a tray of snacks, I noticed Shaundra was talking with Phil. I was a little miffed. She was spending more time with him than I’d been able to do. Of course, she didn’t have a party to keep going. It was just that I hadn’t spent much time at all with him for weeks. He was always gone these days. Yes, I knew the deal was important, and I supported that. But since J. B. had exiled me, all I knew was what I read in the information I reviewed for Steve. I had no idea what else was happening. I’d have liked to continue to support Phil by contributing, but all that I was able to do was indirect. And, to make matters worse, I couldn’t even tell Phil what I was doing for the project.
I never did find out exactly what it was about the football parties, but after each one, Phil was always hot-to-trot. We went upstairs as soon as I’d finished cleaning up everything. This night, Phil wanted to do me doggy-style. I crawled up on the bed completely naked on my hands and knees with my rear end sticking off the end of the mattress. I tried to spread myself as wide as possible and really had to brace myself as Phil slammed into me. Not for the first time I wished I had another opening better designed to take him in.
He seemed to have an urgent need tonight and was soon into a rhythm that involved almost completely withdrawing and then pushing back in as far as he could do. It wasn’t doing a whole lot for me, but I wanted Phil to be happy. Soon, I could feel him tensing up and his warm fluid began spurting inside me.
“Oh...oh...oh Lisa!” he gasped.
Lisa? I’d heard that guys sometimes said other girl’s names in the heat of passion. But Lisa was just the transgendered girl Phil helped transition in high school, wasn’t she? Obviously, they’d done a little more than Phil had led me to believe.
Phil wasn’t even aware of what he’d said and I decided to not say anything. After all, a lot of guys have slipped up at climax, haven’t they?
Phil soon went limp. He quickly slid out of me, fell on the bed and was soon snoring, leaving me to finish off myself and go clean up.
As I settled back into bed, I found it did bother me that Phil hadn’t remembered my name. I mean, a lot of rear ends look the same, but we’d been together for months. I began to wonder about Phil and Lisa’s relationship. He said they had drifted apart. But, why?
The next day, I decided to visit Deanna at the hospital. When I arrived, she was looking at her reflection in the mirror. “Why so glum?” I asked.
Deanna turned and reached out for a big hug.
“Jessica, I can’t believe you came back.”
“Well, I said, I’d keep in touch.”
“But lots of celebrities say that and don’t mean it,” she said.
“Me, a celebrity? Not me. But tell me, why the long face a minute ago?”
“I was just looking at this huge bandage on my head and ...”
“… wondering when it will come off?” I guessed.
“More like wondering how I’d look.”
“Probably like you did before.”
“But all my hair is gone,” she wailed. “I used to have long, pretty red hair like yours. They had to shave it off to fix me after the accident. What am I going to look like?”
This was a major female crisis for a girl of any age. I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I was proud of my hair and wore it down and curled back from my face most of the time. I did put it up for various formal occasions. It was fun to experiment with it to see what I looked like with different styles. Maybe that was the answer!
“Deanna, you’ve got a great opportunity ahead. Your hair is going to grow back. But as it does, you can play around with it. You can have lots of different looks.”
“I guess I could,” she said, tentatively.
“Of course you can. Do you know that actress who was in the Star Wars movies? Natalie Somebody? She got all her hair cut off for a role in another movie later on and then appeared in several other movies while it was growing back. She looked different in each one, but she was also cute in each one.”
“Oh,” Deanna looked like she was brightening up.
“Tell you what,” I said. “I’ve got an idea. If I can take your picture, I’ll put it on my computer and show you kind of what you might look like with lots of different hairstyles.”
She was now eager to do it, so I pulled out my cell phone and took her picture from the front, both sides and her back. “Now,” I thought, ’if I can just pull this off …’
We talked for a while and I told her more about what it was like to be a Sea Gal. I told her it was a lot more work than it looked, and I explained how the girls came from all sorts of backgrounds and jobs. “It’s not just looks. Everyone has to have talent and work hard.”
Finally Deanna’s father came in. I shook his hand and expressed my condolences on the loss of his wife, told him what a fine girl Deanna was, and left. I wasn’t sure how to act around someone in his situation.
I thought more about my promise to Deanna as I drove home. What I had in mind was a program that would take her pictures and combine them into a 3 dimensional head. Then I could take pictures of various hairstyles and move them onto her head so she could see how she looked. I would do my own hair in various poses. But I didn’t want to cut my hair for the short hair look that Deanna would have in the near future. I’d have to get pictures of other hairstyles. Some of the Sea Gals would probably let me take pictures of their hair. And a couple of the girls in Phil’s office had short hair. Maybe they’d help.
The programming would be fairly simple. There were already photo altering programs available. My task would be introducing the 3-D aspect and then the hairstyles. It could be an application of an existing program.
I made a few calls and found several willing women. Karen came over a couple of evenings and we had fun fixing up each other’s hair into various styles and photographing the results from several angles. We developed a routine I could use with the rest of our hair models.
The photos were finished quickly, since Phil wasn’t home most evenings. That gave me more time to work on the program. It went faster than I’d thought. I was tempted to tell Deanna how it was coming, but decided to keep it as a surprise. Most evenings, after visiting hours were over, we’d talk on the phone. She was lonely and most of the television programs at that time of night were too adult for her to be interested. I told her about my classes and promised to cook her something special I’d learned in my gourmet cooking class.
Phil was home the next weekend. No one was up for a football party after the playoff loss, so we went to a UW basketball game. Since the Sonics had left, UW was about the only game in town.
Phil was kind of distant, even when we were together. Finally, I decided to take the bull by the horns and ask him what was the matter. It turned out that almost all of what I’d tried to warn Phil’s bank about had been right on the money, (if you’ll pardon the pun!), The Chinese had pulled a fast one and J.B.’s experience hadn’t helped with the negotiations.
“Of course not,” I said. “Just because they look somewhat the same to Western eyes, doesn’t mean the Japanese and Chinese are the same. They are two different cultures. That’s what I was trying to say.”
“And you were right,” Phil said. “So now J.B. is even more pissed than he had been.”
I shook my head. ‘Men! I’d been smarter than J.B. and he didn’t like it one bit.’
“I do have some suggestions ...” I began.
“No!” Phil yelled. “Our team will figure this out.”
“Well, excuse me for thinking a mere woman might be able to help,” I said. “If that’s the way it is, I’ve got better things to do.”
We were in the same bed that night, but we slept apart.
The next day, I had lunch with Karen downtown. I’d brought my laptop to show her how the hair program was coming, but she waved me off. “I can’t know anything you are doing with computers right now,” she said. “Not until Fred gets everything straightened out. I’m happy to help you with pictures, but I can’t know anything beyond that.”
Hurt, I retreated to the ladies room. I sat there thinking about how much of my life was up in the air. Exiting the stall. I looked at myself in the mirror and sighed. At that moment, there was a flush from another stall and Cindy walked out.
“Jessica!” she cried. “What is it about us and restrooms?”
I smiled at her.
“That was you that just made that deep sigh?” she asked. “What’s the matter?”
I couldn’t very well tell her that she was the cause of most of my problems.
“Just a lot on my mind,” I replied. “My boyfriend is so wrapped up in his work that we hardly talk anymore. I’ve offered to help, but he turned me down flat. Some sort of a guy-pride thing.”
“God, I know exactly what you mean,” Cindy replied. “My ex was like that. So wrapped up in his work that we hardly ever talked. He got so distant, that I couldn’t take it any longer. I needed some attention, and I couldn’t get it from him. We finally broke up.”
I almost staggered in shock. She’d just described my situation with Phil, and yet it was my situation with her. Suddenly, it all came crashing in. I really ... really understood what had happened and why Cindy had felt as she did.
“I’m so sorry!” I said.
“Don’t be,” she misinterpreted my response. “Everything worked out for the best, and I’m sure it will for you too.”
She patted my shoulder and turned and walked out the door. I was in shock. All the pieces had come together. With Phil, I was now living what had happened between Mark and Cindy. No wonder she had left me.
‘But,’ I thought, ‘she could leave. She had a successful business that would provide her with an income.’ At this point, I was trapped. With little income of my own, I had to live with Phil. Don’t get me wrong, I had chosen this. But, I’d had little choice. I had to settle for the best deal I could get. It was what a lot of women had to do every day, take what life gave us and make the most of it.
If I hadn’t realized it before, it now really sunk in that I was a woman in a woman’s situation.
“You could look at it that way, and a lot of women do,” Karen said when I returned to our table.. “But today women have a lot more choices than our grandmothers and mothers did. We can go out and make something more of ourselves, rather than just being an appendage of some man.”
“You do,” I replied. “But right now, I haven’t any access to the things which could help me even get a start. Until this mess with Cindy is fixed, I almost don’t exist.”
“You’ve got a lot more going for yourself than you think, Jessica. All you need to do is look around.”
I drove home with a lot to think about.
Tina took the latest round of homework she’d assigned me and promised to discuss the results of what I’d put down at our next session. “But next time, I want to meet Mark. I want you to come as him.”
I didn’t want to, but decided I could do it. Now I had a little money from my Sea Gal appearances and the money the bank had paid, so I went shopping for a man’s suit. I couldn’t spend a great deal, but I decided I wanted Mark to look as nice as possible. I got him an inexpensive, but nice looking navy blue pinstripe suit with matching shirt and tie. I picked up a package of briefs, black socks and black wing tip shoes at one of the local big box stores. While I didn’t spend as much as I would have on a female outfit for me, outfitting a guy takes money too. That made me feel better about the progress I’d made since I’d found out I didn’t have access to Mark’s clothing or money. I’d done the best I could at the time.
I put Mark’s clothes in the back of my closet in my mostly unused bedroom. I’d not only need them for my meeting with the therapist, but I was sure Mark would have to be present a few times when Fred was settling things with Cindy.
I wanted to do something really special for Super Bowl Sunday. It was the last football party of the season, so I powered up my kitchen laptop and chose several party food recipes. I printed out the shopping list for them and ran my plans past Phil. He almost didn’t notice what I’d planned, but nodded when I told him I wanted to have a party worthy of the Super Bowl.
It took two days to get everything fixed. Thank Heavens for the industrial sized refrigerator. Instead of the usual cans and bottles, I ordered some kegs of beer and found out they would have been less expensive than cans and bottles all along. I made a note in my laptop about that.
It was our biggest party yet. I thought back to the first party I’d attended way back during the preseason and marveled at how far we’d come in entertaining. Lots of people complimented me on the party and the spread I’d put out. Many of the Sea Gals were able to come, which got me a lot of appreciation from the guys. I, of course, was in my Sea Gal's uniform, reminding myself of how much I enjoyed showing myself off.
We started the party way early. There were lots of pre-game shows on television. We’d moved a couple of the upstairs TVs down into the living room and dining room so everyone could see the whole spectacle.
Shaundra and her friends showed up too. At the height of the party, I was coming into the kitchen with a tray to refill when I caught sight of her and Phil heading for the stairs. ‘What’s with that?’ I wondered I started to move in that direction when one of Shaundra’s friends stopped me to ask a question. When we’d finished talking, there was no sight of either Shaundra or Phil. But I had a tray to refill, so I proceeded to keep my guests entertained.
I was in the pantry about a half-hour later when Shaundra came into the kitchen. She didn’t see me, but I could hear her talking to her friends. “Boy was that a disappointment. All he wanted to do was go in the back door. It didn’t do a thing for me.”
I dropped a can. When I backed out of the pantry carrying a big can of nacho cheese, I saw Shaundra’s friends pointing to the pantry door. Shaundra looked at me and at least had the decency to blush a little.
“Oh, hi Jessica. I didn’t see you there. Nice party.”
“Well, I hope you’re having fun,” I replied, ever the hostess.
“Well, things are going as I’d expected. See you.”
With that, she left the kitchen. A few minutes later, I notice she and her friends going out the door. I waited a few minutes and found an excuse to go upstairs. The comforter on our bed, which I had taken pains to get really smooth that morning, was slightly rumpled. I checked the waste can. At least the bastard had used a condom.
I was livid. Clearly Shaundra had planned a little tryst to get back at me. And Phil, that stupid man, had fallen right into her trap. At least she had told her friends she didn’t enjoy it!
But Phil, with a real vagina to play with, had still preferred the anal route, like he did with me. ‘What does that mean?’ I was getting confused.
Just then, someone called from downstairs. I grabbed a roll of toilet paper from the bathroom and carried it to the downstairs bathroom to keep up appearances.
That night after everyone had left, Phil wasn’t his usual post-party horny self. But I was not about to be denied. I pulled his thing out of his briefs and ran my hand up and down it as I cupped his testicles with my other hand. I pumped him up until it was standing at attention, then pushed him down on the bed. I mounted him and shoved it in me, moving until it was rubbing my prostate with every stroke. Reclaiming what was mine, I went for all the pleasure I could get from it.
It was the most pleasure I’d gotten out of our lovemaking in some time. But it still didn’t fill the empty place somewhere in me that realized that Phil had cheated on me.
I called Madeline the next day and arranged to get together for lunch. As an older, more experienced woman, I hoped she could help me. She couldn’t meet me until Wednesday. So I spent most of the day going over and over in my head what I’d say to her. It seemed like a loop of thought that boiled down to the same thing: “He cheated on me!”
What did I really know about Phil’s past life? Had he done this before? Was he a serial cheater? A chilling thought hit me. Would he get tired of me and throw me out? I just didn’t know.
The only person he’d ever spoken of from the past was Lisa. Could she help me if I could find her? Phil had gotten a Christmas card from a “Lisa, Bob and the kids.” Was that the same Lisa?
The cards and envelopes were still in a pile on Phil’s desk. I found the card from Lisa and Bob and saw from the return address that they just lived across the Sound in Bremerton. I looked up their phone number and called.
It turned out that she was the correct Lisa and she’d be happy to meet with me. “The only problem is it will have to be here. I can’t leave the kids alone during the day.”
That wouldn’t be a problem, so I arranged to meet her the next day. I offered to bring in lunch, so she told me about a cafe in Bremerton near the docks that furnished takeout. “I just love their chicken salads. The one with the grapes and walnuts is to die for! I’ll get the kids fed before you get here, so just get enough for the two of us.”
I promised to appear, chicken salad in hand, shortly after noon.
The passenger ferry across Puget Sound is kind of a fun ride. It has long benches running across most of the width of the boat with large windows on each side. You can stand outside, but most people prefer sitting inside, especially in January. I was glad I’d worn a jacket and jeans. The wind coming across the water is very chilling that time of year. The boat I was on is strictly a commuter operation, with no room for cars. It wound among the islands in the Sound making several stops before depositing me in Bremerton almost exactly at noon. I checked the return schedule and saw that if I caught the 4 p.m. ferry, I’d be back just about exactly on time. The cafe was just down the street from the dock. Soon, I was standing on Lisa’s front porch holding chicken salad and croissants.
Lisa opened her door, baby in hand. She was a pretty woman in her late 20s or early 30s, with brown hair and red highlights. Looking at her, I’d never have believed she’d ever been born a boy. She was just so maternal looking standing there with her baby.
“Hi, Lisa, I’m Jessica,” I said smiling. “Sorry to not shake hands, but we both seem to have things in them.”
“Please come in,” she replied, stepping aside to let me enter.
We passed two older children watching “Elmo” on a wide screen television. She led me into her kitchen and we sat at her kitchen table and dished out the chicken salad.
“I’ve got sodas, coffee or tea,” she offered. I decided hot tea would be nice after my ride across the water.
“So how is Phil?”
“Busy,” I said. “Working on a really huge deal worth a lot of money.”
“He is always working on a huge deal. Ever since we were kids, he had a bunch of irons in the fire.”
“Well, between you and me, I’m a little concerned that they’ve messed this one up,” I said as I spread the chicken salad on a croissant. “I did some analysis work on the project, but he and his bosses wouldn’t listen to my concerns.”
“Typical,” she replied. “Phil always thought he had everything in control. He would never let anyone see any doubts about whatever it was that he was doing.”
“So,” she said, switching subjects, “let’s talk about you. How long have you two been living together?”
“A little over six months,” I replied. “I moved in during the preseason after coming to his first football party.”
“And how long have you been transitioning?”
I paused. “Is it that obvious?”
“Oh no! If I didn’t know Phil, I never would have doubted for one second that you were a woman and had been born that way. But I know Phil, and the only women he will have anything to do with have something extra hidden in their panties.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. We grew up together. We were best buds in elementary school, did everything together. Then one day, Phil walked in on me when I was wearing one of my sister’s dresses.
“I almost died, but Phil was cool with it. In fact, he told me he liked seeing me as a girl. After that, it was Phil and Lisa doing things together as much as it was Phil and Ron. He helped, and covered for me a lot. When we were older, he even took me to the prom so I could experience what it was like to be a girl at a big dance, telling everyone I was a friend from out of town. I was in heaven, but I did notice Phil was kind of showing me off to everyone. At the time I was thrilled that everyone accepted me as a girl, but Phil kept going on and on about how he had the prettiest girl at the dance. It got a little embarrassing. After all, I didn’t want to call too much attention to myself and be discovered.
“Fortunately, no one recognized Ron under all that makeup in the pretty. strapless prom gown. But I remember wishing Phil would shut up.”
“I’ve seen that,” I commented. “He just goes on a little too much sometimes.”
“The prom convinced me I wanted to be a girl for good. Phil and I roomed together off campus in college and I became Lisa full-time. We were an item and began experimenting. Phil discovered he loved taking me the only way he could. I was pleased I could satisfy him that way, but I wanted more. I wanted to be a real girl.
“After college, we moved to Seattle and began working at an investment firm. I was lucky enough to find a little startup that had an idea to sell books over the internet. Not only did I put some of my own money into it, I also recommended it to some of my clients and ended up earning some big commissions.
“I did the same with a little chain of coffee shops which had started up in the area. Soon I had more than enough for my surgery. I fulfilled my dream and was a real woman at last.”
She had finished eating and had rocked her baby to sleep. She put him down in the crib while I finished my own salad and put the dishes in the sink. She checked on the two older children and then continued her story.
“I thought Phil would be thrilled that I could be a complete woman for him. After I healed, we made love using my new equipment. It was great for me, but Phil wasn’t so enthusiastic. He made some noises about want to spare me until I was completely healed and went back to taking me from behind. I tried to tell him I wanted to use my vagina, but he persisted.
“I’d also been more successful in the investment business than he’d been, and that was a big no-no. He wanted to be the one in charge, taking care of me as he had seen himself doing when we were in school. The fact that I’d done most of it on my own just wasn’t on his radar.
“The upshot was that he became more and more distant and a little mean to me. I finally moved out. Later, I met Bob and we fell in love. Bob works at the Naval Base. We moved over here and have adopted our wonderful kids. I can’t tell you how much I love being a mom!”
I felt so jealous. I loved watching her interaction with her children as we talked.
“So you are now a stay at home mom?”
“Have to be with kids this young. But I still sneak in a few trades a day for my clients. The internet is great that way.”
“What happened to Phil after you guys split up?”
“I heard he made a good connection with an international bank,” she replied. “After a couple of years he was doing well enough to get that big house you are living in and start being ‘Mr. Entertainment.’ The parties started as a way to impress the people at Phil’s new workplace, and kind of grew from there. Bob and I went to a few of his parties before we moved across the Sound. I even got to know the new girl he was with. She was a T-girl like us. It wasn’t hard to see, if you knew what to look for. Like me, once she had her SRS, it didn’t take long for them to split up. And that’s been Phil’s pattern ever since.
“I love him for what he did for me,” she continued. “I really needed him for a time. Now I’m so sorry he can’t find someone to really settle down with. I’m hoping you might be the one. That’s why I agreed to meet you.”
I bowed my head for a minute. “I don’t know what to tell you,” I said. “We live together. I’m his hostess. We have sex, but once I began talking about getting surgery to finish the direction I’m headed, Phil began to distance himself. I keep telling myself it’s just the big deal they are working on, but I don’t know.”
Lisa reached over and gave me a big hug. “Do you love him?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been coming off a big breakup trauma myself, so I’ve been avoiding the ‘L’ word.”
“Are you sure you want to be a woman?” she asked softly.
“I think so,” I replied.
“Don’t take that final step until you are absolutely sure. It was right for me, but I can’t speak for anyone else. It’s got to be completely right for you before you do it.”
I thanked her for our talk. We agreed to keep in touch and I walked out her door knowing I’d made another friend.
Lisa had given me a lot of insight and the ferry ride back to Seattle was a great time to process it. I did some heavy thinking as I watched the waves. The skyline of Seattle was beautiful from the water. It was a clear day for once, so the mountains formed a magnificent backdrop for the city. Although it was wet and cloudy much of the time, days like this one made up for all the moisture.
Just as I got back on dry land, I got a text from Phil. A bunch of big shots from out of town had come in and Phil needed to host a dinner tonight. ‘Way to give a girl some lead time,’ I thought. ‘Thank goodness I’ve kept up my stash of emergency meals!’
I made it home about an hour before Phil, and had dinner waiting. But the house wasn’t as clean as I would have liked it to be.
The next day was my luncheon with Madeline. As I pulled the panties up my legs, I again thought how nice they felt with that soft silkiness touching my skin. Why had I taken so long to start wearing such nice feeling clothing every day? I’d decided to wear my silk rose blouse and my gray skirt suit. On a whim, I put on black patterned pantyhose. My black heels completed my outfit.
Since I was wearing a “professional” outfit, I spent some time putting my hair up and putting on some daytime makeup. With small pearl earrings and a single strand of pearls around my neck, I was ready to go.
Since the hospital was on my way, I left early so I had a chance to see Deanna. Her face lit up when I walked into her room. “Jessica!” she squealed.
“Hey, kiddo. Looking good!”
She did look better. She still had a lot of the bandages, and that cast was still on her head, but the bruises on her face were fading. I noticed she had a picture on her table. It was of her and two other girls who looked like they came out of the same gene pool. All with curly red hair and button noses.
“These are you and your sisters, I’d bet.”
“How did you guess?” she asked.
“I’m psychic,”
She grinned and pointed to the girls in the picture. “This is Sarah. She’s three going on four, and this is Millicent, but we call her Millie. She’s five. We all got our names from our grandmothers.”
“Nice to meet you, Sarah and Millicent,” I said, curtseying to the picture. Deanna laughed.
“Listen, Deanna,” I said. “I can’t stay long, but I wanted you to know that I have a surprise for you. I’ll bring it by the end of the week.”
Of course, she wanted to know what it was and I was adamant that I wasn’t going to spoil the surprise by telling her.
“If you come by Friday afternoon, my sisters can see it too!” she said. “Daddy has arranged for me to meet them downstairs in the lobby.”
“Great,” I said. “I’d like to meet them in person. What time?”
And so, I had a date with three other redheads for 4:30 Friday.
Madeline and I met at a seafood restaurant down by the bay. It had several secluded alcoves looking out over the water, and we asked for one.
We made small talk for a while. I was nervous and didn’t know where to begin. Fortunately, Madeline took the lead in our conversation. Right after we’d ordered, she took my hand and looked into my eyes. “All right, Jessica, what’s troubling you?”
“I almost don’t know where to start. I guess the most important thing is that at our Super Bowl party last Sunday, Phil cheated on me.”
“At your party?”
“Yes. I was busy seeing that everything was going okay and getting food out of the kitchen. I happened to see Phil and one of the other Sea Gals heading upstairs, but was too busy to do anything. Later, I heard her telling her friends about it.”
“And how did you feel?”
“Hurt, angry, betrayed, I guess.”
“Why?”
“Why? Because Phil and I are together,” I replied.
“You are living with him, but did you ever talk about being exclusive?” Madeline asked.
“Well, not in so many words. I just assumed ...”
“You assumed. He obviously didn’t. So let’s go over the arrangements you made when you moved in.”
She already knew most of the story of how Phil and I had met, and that, lacking a job or funds, Phil had offered me a place to stay. In return, he’d asked me to be the hostess for his parties and dinners.
“We just fell into a pattern, and started sleeping together.”
“And, like a lot of girls, you assumed a relationship that Phil didn’t,” she said. “I’m not saying there weren’t some expectations on both sides, but you didn’t communicate them to each other, did you?”
“No, I guess not.”
“You know, this could be viewed as a great opportunity to start talking to one another,” she said. “At least you aren’t married. You have a chance to see if you still want to stay together. When one finds oneself married to a man who has cheated, it gets a lot messier.”
“Forgive me if I’m a little out of line,” I said. “But the way you say that, it sounds like you’ve had experience along those lines.”
“Of course, I have,” she replied. “All men cheat occasionally. It’s in their nature. They’re programmed to want to screw any floozy who shows a little cleavage and leg. I’ve seen Steve looking down your blouse more than once.”
I blushed. “I haven’t done anything to encourage Steve.”
“No, of course not,” Madeline replied. “You are too young and naive for such behavior. It just happens because you are a very attractive young woman. You probably have no idea how many men become stiff when you walk by. But it happens. We expect it to happen.
“And, because it happens, sometimes the time and place and opportunity comes along and those men who are weak, succumb. It usually happens on out-of-town business trips. I used to not mind as much, but since the AIDS thing came up, I’ve accompanied Steve on a lot more of his trips.”
“And you really don’t mind?” I asked.
“Of course I mind. It’s more that I’ve had to accept it. Look, men are weak. It’s in their DNA. A pretty girl makes their hormones go crazy.”
“But, you are married.”
“And that means something else to men than it does to us,” she replied. “Men have a different way of looking at things. They go around with these checklists in their heads. As they accomplish one of the things on the list, they mentally check it off and don’t think about it again. One of the boxes they check is to get some woman to take care of them. Once they have that, they go on to other things on their list and don’t really think about that any more.
“We, on the other hand, look at everything as being connected. We are programmed to find a man to take care of, and to have his children to keep the human race going. One thing flows to several other things, and they are all connected.
“Of course, you are young enough to think you can have it all, without any tradeoffs. It was only in my mother’s time that women had to start working outside the home to have enough family income to keep going. In my grandmother’s time, women were expected to stay at home unless something like a war took the men away.
“Due to a lot of work by women in my mother’s generation and in mine, you younger women have a lot more opportunities going for you. But the men haven’t caught up with that.”
“I suppose you’re right,” I said. “I fully expected to work when I got out of college. In fact, I was working until things got so mixed up.” I wasn’t going to tell Madeline everything.
“When I suddenly didn’t have an income, I’d just really started seeing Phil. I liked him and he offered me support. But now, he’s become distant. I sometimes think we’re together for what I am, rather than who I am.”
“There’s a big element of truth in that,” Madeline said. “Many of us are in our relationships just because we can offer a man what’s between our legs. It’s what keeps things going. If we’re lucky, we get a partner who we can relate to at a level above the sexual one, but it doesn’t happen in a lot of instances.”
“So what does a woman do?” I asked.
“What we’ve done for thousands of years,” she replied. “Make the best of the situation we’re in. Survive. Decide that we’re willing to put up with, and what to try to change. In these times, at least, we have choices. We haven’t always had those choices.
“What you need to do is decide what it is you want, and how to get it. Remember, you are not going to change Phil. He’s pretty well set by this time. You can only change you, and make yourself into what you want to be. If Phil is a part of that, fine. If not, decide how you are going to change your situation.
“You’ve got so much going for you, Jessica,” she continued, taking my hand again. “You have so many talents and skills that you should be able to write your own ticket. Just stop thinking about your lacks and start thinking about your possibilities.”
By that time, we’d finished lunch. A sailboat glided past our window and I idly wondered where it was going. I was starting to think about where I wanted to go, too.
“You’ve been a great help, Madeline,” I said. “Thanks!”
“Oh honey,” she replied, “Mothering younger women is one of the things I like to do best.”
I thought about what she’d said as I got ready for my therapy appointment the next day. I waited until Phil had gone to work and then started transforming myself into Mark. I straightened my hair and pulled it into a low ponytail. I made sure all my makeup and nail polish was off. I was not going to cut my nails, however. I filled in my brows as best I could with eyebrow pencil. Then I took off my all-in-one and put aside my breasts.
The male undergarments were horrible! The cloth was coarse. The pants didn’t fit well at all, and the tie felt like it was strangling me. The male wing tip shoes were stiff and I felt like I was slamming my heels into the ground with every step I took. I put a little makeup over the holes in my ears and took a look. I decided I could pass as Mark, barely.
As I drove to my appointment, I felt the shutting-down that I’d always had when going from Jessica back to Mark. I felt heavy and withdrawn. I tried to bring back my Mark voice and found it took a while to drop my pitch at all.
I kept shifting as I sat. I’d untaped and was really uncomfortable having things squishing around between my legs. I kept trying to close my legs, and squeezing the equipment. It wasn’t pleasant.
I was just about to step out of the car carrying my purse when I remembered that men don’t carry purses. So I grabbed my keys and checkbook, stuffed them into my pockets and put my purse in the trunk. I should have had a billfold, but I hadn’t thought of it and my regular woman’s wallet was too bulky to fit into any of my pockets.
I walked into the office, consciously remembering to keep my hands down. The receptionist looked up. “Je...that is, Mark Stafford to see Tina,” I said.
“Oh, of course, sir,” she replied. “Please have a seat.”
I sat down and had to stop myself from crossing my legs. I started to pick up a Cosmo and dropped it in favor of a Sports Illustrated. It was an old one, but had a feature about the cheerleaders of the NFL. I found myself wondering if I could be in next year’s feature.
Finally I was called and clumped into the Tina’s inner office. I felt really heavy.
“Mark?” she said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
We shook hands and I had to remember to give her a firm handshake, but one not as hard as a man would give to another man. I sat down with my knees together and then remembered to spread my legs apart.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Awful. I’ve forgotten so much. My clothes, even the way I carry my body just doesn’t seem right.”
“Yet you have said that this is what you should go back to being?”
“Well, it is, isn’t it? This is the way I was born. This is the way I should be.”
“The word ‘should’ implies a value judgment. I’d rather talk about what is.”
We talked more about what I felt, and how I had always felt when going back to being Mark after being Jessica. I kept having to rein in my hands when I started talking and just gradually shut down. I had trouble keeping my voice low, and my throat was beginning to feel strained from doing it.
Finally she asked, “Okay, what would you like to do right now?”
“Tear this suit off and get back into a skirt!” I shouted.
“Exactly, but why?”
“It’s all uncomfortable,” I said.
“How?”
“The clothes don’t feel right and ...” I stopped.
“And?” she asked.
“I can’t do this. I don’t feel right as Mark. I want to be me and stop having to worry about everything I do,” I said. “I can’t keep this up.”
“Why?” she asked again.
“Because this isn’t who I am. I’m… I’m ...” I broke down crying. “I’m a woman. I’m Jessica.”
“Yes, you are,” she said gently. “I’ve watched you trying to be a man, but you’re not. I don’t think you ever were. And you tried so hard that you, as Mark, had just about shut down.
“You are so alive as Jessica,” she continued. “You are almost not alive as Mark. You’ve told me how you retreated into programming to shut out the pressures to try and be Mark. If your wife hadn’t forced the issue, I doubt if you’d have lasted another year before you cracked. She did you a big favor.”
I nodded, my tears flowing. How could I have ignored the obvious? I had been so busy enjoying just being able to be Jessica, that I’d ignored the meaning of the fact that I was succeeding. I was Jessica and always had been. Thank God Karen had the insight to see that. She’d found me and encouraged me to be me around her. Thanks to her, I’d had something of a girlhood, and had grown up knowing a lot of girl things. And I’d almost destroyed that trying to be Mark. It was just a huge mix-up.
“Jessica,” Tina said. “I’m going to write Sandy a letter. You have my permission to be Jessica for the rest of your life if you want. And if you choose, I’m recommending you go on hormones. Depending on how that goes you’ll be able to get the surgery to complete yourself if you so choose.”
I drove home in almost a daze. I felt so liberated! I mean, I knew I’d talked with Fred about getting my records changed, and had talked with Sandy about surgery. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d always had the thought that I had to go back to being Mark.
That wasn’t there anymore!
I could be Jessica for the rest of my life. I felt so relieved!
At home, I almost tore off the Mark suit. I took a bath and threw in some scented bath gels.
I spent some time putting the curl back into my hair and making sure my eyebrows were properly shaped. I did my nails and put the prettiest pink polish I’d ever seen on them. I celebrated the fun I had making myself pretty again.
I put on one of my sweater dresses and loved the way it fit my curves. Soon I’d have real curves! I gloried in the way my rear end felt as my panties slipped across my silky slip, and the way I was completely dressed and yet could feel the inner parts of my thighs rubbing skin against each other. I loved the way my legs felt as the hem of my skirt gently touched them as I moved.
In short, I was intoxicated with the whole feeling of being a girl. It was as if I’d not been doing it for almost a year straight.
About that time, Phil called with yet another hurry-up dinner for me to fix and host. Even then, I couldn’t let go of how good it felt to be doing things that a woman does around the house. I liked the fact that what I was doing would bring enjoyment and pleasure to others. I also liked feeling I was attractive and the people at the dinner would enjoy looking at me. Okay, maybe I was going a little overboard. But I was in the process of changing everything about the way I viewed myself on a very basic level.
I like to believe that I was a charming hostess at dinner than evening. I glowed at the compliments I received on the dinner and how nice the house looked. It was only later that reality set in. I had to start looking at my future. Phil would never pay for my surgery. He liked things just the way they were. He was getting a cook, hostess, and sex toy all rolled into one for the price of keeping me. Considering who the people were that we’d entertained that evening, it was a good investment for him. He was definitely on his way up. But did I want to go along for that ride?
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The next day I put my laptop in the car and headed for the hospital. I couldn’t wait to show Deanna my surprise. When I arrived, Deanna and her sisters and her father were waiting in a corner of the lobby. This time I properly introduced myself to Deanna’s father, Ken. He was a tall guy, several inches taller than I was in my 3-inch heels which got me close to 6 feet. He had brown hair, which led me to believe the girls had gotten their red hair from their mother.
He was nice looking, but had a drawn, tired look. Obviously he was still grieving for the loss of his wife, and was under continuing strain with Deanna in the hospital. I’m sure having to take care of the other girls alone added to his burden.
Deanna was excited to learn what her surprise was. I pulled out the laptop.
“Remember you told me you were anxious about your hair when it grew back in?” I asked. “Well, I decided we could all see how it might look and decide what to do with it.”
Turning on the laptop, I called up my hair program. There was Deanna’s head with a bald top. I’d taken out the cast and done some Photoshopping to copy her forehead and cover the place the cast actually was.
“Eewwwe,” all the girls said. “I look like Grandpa Evans,” Deanna said.
“Not for long,” I said. “Now first we have to decide on a hair color.”
“I want my red hair back,” she said.
“Red it is,” I said, clicking on a menu button. “Now let’s look at some different hair styles.”
I proceeded to show her a page with 26 of the different hairstyles we’d photographed. “Which one do you want to pick first?”
Deanna took some time looking at them all. I let her scroll up and down the page. Her sisters started lobbying for different styles. I told them we could try them all. Finally Deanna picked one that looked a lot like the style she’d had in the picture in her room. I clicked on the hairstyle and it moved across the page. Deanna’s head moved back onto the page and the hairstyle enlarged to fit the head and settled on the picture of the head. Then Deanna’s head started rotating so we could see what the hair would look like from all angles.
“Oh, wow!” the girls cried. Soon they were all clamoring for different styles and Deanna got to see what she’d look like with several styles. Then, I asked Deanna if she’d like to see what she’d look like as a blonde.
By that time, all the girls were into the game and we soon saw Deanna as a blonde, brunette, and with long, shiny black hair.
Of course, the other two wanted to see themselves with different hair too, so I clicked another button and took pictures of them both with the laptop’s camera. We then got to see both Sarah and Millie in different styles too.
I looked up and saw Ken smiling at his girls. I showed the girls how to move through the program and let them try. The program was set up so that it couldn’t be hurt by anything short of serious reprogramming. I’d expected the girls would want to play with the program and had made it childproof.
Leaving them with the laptop, I sat down next to Ken.
“I haven’t seen them laughing like this since the accident,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Hey, its fun to play with different hairstyles,” I said. “Every girl knows that. I just made it virtual until Deanna has some real hair to play with.
“She’s really special,” I continued. “I’m glad I could brighten her day a little. So, how are you getting along?”
“As well as can be expected,” he said. “Our auto insurance is covering most of Deanna’s bills. They’ve been great at work about letting me have time off. I just need to get everything sorted out, but the girls aren’t ready to go back into day care and pre-school yet.”
“This may seem a little forward of me since you really don’t know me,” I said, “but, if it would help, I could take the girls for a day at my house. We’ve got a couple of big, wide screen HDTVs and I could rent some children’s DVDs.”
“Well, I do know about you,” Ken said smiling. “You’re all Deanna talks about. And it’s not as if someone as public as a Sea Gal is going to do anything bad to anyone’s children. I could really use the space, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“You name the date and I’ll pick up Sarah and Millie. We can spend the morning at my house and then head over here to the hospital as soon as visiting hours begin.”
“I can’t tell you how much that would mean to me,” he replied. “Our extended families are all back east and had to leave right after the funeral. Some of neighbors have helped, but they have their own families to tend to.”
“Let’s ask the girls.”
It turned out that the girls would be thrilled to spend the day with me. Deanna looked a little green-eyed until we told her we’d be coming down to see her as soon as visiting hours started. We set up a date for early next week.
Phil wasn’t too happy when I told him I was going to have Sarah and Millie at the house. He grumbled something about not wanting his house to become a day care center. I assured him it would only be for a few hours and then we’d be off to see Deanna. It was the least I could do to help a grieving family and an injured girl. I even brought out my “Oops, I dropped something, look at my rear end” trick. He finally, grudgingly, agreed. Men are so easy!
Phil had to go out of town on a business trip that would keep him away for most of the next two weeks, so I wondered what all the fuss had been about in the first place. He wasn’t even going to be in town!
With Phil gone, I spent a lot of the following weekend filling out a notebook of possibilities of things I could do to get some cash flow of my own going. I’d started one successful business, I could do it again. The trouble was most of my ideas required some upfront money. I’d been lucky the first time around that the school and Cindy’s father had helped me get started. But, I couldn’t do anything with software until the divorce was settled.
I could open a restaurant, but that required a lot of capital. I could start teaching dance, but that wouldn’t bring in the kind of money I needed, and had overhead. I could offer my skills as a researcher and provide forecasts and risk assessment. That had some possibilities. But I’d have to build some sort of reputation to get something like that going.
In the end, I decided I needed to expand my network of contacts. I was just “Phil’s partner” or “Phil’s mistress” to too many people. Of course, being a Sea Gal sort of cast me in the “mindless bimbo showing off her body” category, which was really unfair. All of the girls were intelligent, hard working women. Many of them were professionals. What they did with the Sea Gals was for fun. It certainly didn’t earn enough to pay many bills. I decided I needed to find out how the professionals in the group managed to live two different lives.
I needed to make a list of the successful professional woman in the group and talk with them. Terri could help me with that. I’d ask her at my dance class the next week.
The play date with Sarah and Millie was so much fun! I was a little late picking them up because I got lost trying to find their house. Any city with hills has roads that wind all over the place. You think the street should go one way, and it winds around and twists until you’re headed in totally the wrong direction. Fortunately, I was able to get the directions app on my cell phone to get me headed to the right place.
Ken and his family lived in a modest house in a suburb between Bellevue and Redmond. Of course, even the modest homes in that area were expensive. I wondered what Ken did for a living.
The girls were on the front porch when I pulled up. Ken and I chatted for a few minutes and he gave a list of places he’d be that day. We arranged for him to pick up the girls from the hospital.
“Jessica, you don’t know how much you’re helping me today,” Ken said.
“I’m just glad I’ve got the time to help.”
Two squirming girls in tow, I headed back across the floating bridge to Phil’s. The house being right on the water fascinated the girls. It was too cold to go out on the lake, but we walked the shore for a bit before we went back to the house and played.
We watched a Disney DVD and then played dress up. I put the girls in a couple of my fancy dresses that were easily washed. They clumped around in my heels and then we played with makeup. They used way too much eye shadow and blush, but it was fun. Looking suitably like clowns (in my opinion) we then had a tea party. As we were setting out the cups and saucers, we decided we needed cookies to go with our tea. That led to baking cookies. By the time the cookies were cooling, it was almost time for lunch. So our tea party morphed into a luncheon, complete with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cookies. Among our guests were the dolls the girls had brought with them.
After lunch, we put our plates, cups and saucers in the dishwasher and took our doll guests into the TV room. Karen and I had played dolls when we were both little, so I wasn’t completely clueless, and it was fun to play with them again. I was reminded again of how much fun it had been when I could be a little girl and how sad I had always been at the end of each day when I had to go back to being Mark.
I put on another DVD and the girls fell asleep watching it. Just about the time the movie ended, it was time to head for the hospital. All three of us changed out of our fancy clothes and scrubbed our faces. I took a few minutes to reapply my normal makeup and then it was over to the hospital.
Deanna was waiting for us and I showed her my cell phone with a few photos I’d taken of the morning’s festivities. She felt bad that she’d had to miss it. I gave her a big hug and promised that she’d be there with us in no time.
Ken hadn’t shown up by dinner time so, after checking with the nurses, I took all three girls into the hospital cafeteria. He walked in as we were finishing up the last of our ice cream.
“Sorry to be late,” he said. “But I was so busy catching up on things that had been postponed, that I completely lost track of time.”
“Well, don’t worry about it,” I replied. “We had a ball and I didn’t have anything else to do. I’m just glad the day was productive for you.”
We talked for a little while. It turned out that Ken worked for an internet communications company in Bellevue. He’d been able to do some work from home, but had really needed some face-to-face time with some of his team. I was happy to give him that time. and offered to do it again, but he declined. He felt it was time for the girls to get back into their pre-school and day care routines. One of the things he’d been able to do that day was to arrange for after-school care for the girls. Deanna would be joining them at an after-school center once she got out of the hospital.
Ken told me that Deanna was going to be moved to a Rehab Clinic which was part of the hospital campus, but not as high-care as the hospital. There she could continue to recover and receive the physical therapy she was going to need. I again offered any help I could give and obtained information about visiting hours. Giving each of the girls a big hug, I told them they were welcome to visit any time.
As I drove home, I reflected on how good I really had it. Sure, Phil and I had some problems with our relationship, but overall, I had a roof over my head and lots of free time. Phil had taken care of all my physical needs and what he demanded in return were things I was glad to do. I was healthy and worked hard to stay that way. Much of the time, I was happy living as a woman taking care of a man, although I had a vague feeling that I wanted to do more.
Deanna, on the other hand, through no fault of her own was facing a difficult period of healing and painful therapy to recover what she had lost in terms of mobility. Even then, she had lost her mother, and that could never be fixed. I wished there was a way for me to do more for her and her sisters, but I realized from my own experience that they needed time and distance to work through their grief. I could only keep restating my offer to help however I could.
I made sure everything was completely back to normal at the house before Phil got home. I didn’t want him to feel he’d been imposed on in any way by my having the girls over. The only difference was that we had a plate of home-baked cookies sitting in front of the TV.
When I saw Sandy next, she had received Tina’s letter. “Since Tina has recommended hormones, I see no reason to wait until April to get started,” she said, showing me a syringe she’d brought into the examining room with her.
“But let me ask you again, are you sure this is what you want?”
“Oh yes! Tina has helped me see that this is exactly what I want.”
“Okay, hike up your skirt and drop your panties.”
A minute later I had a slightly sore rear end and had started the rest of my journey. “How long before we can talk about surgery?” I asked.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Sandy replied. “Let’s see how your body handles these shots and the pills you’re going to be taking. I’m going to be watching your liver and kidneys closely to see if you can handle everything first.”
“I understand. But I’m still impatient.”
“I’ve seen that in other patients. But after being on hormones for a while, some still change their minds. That’s why we don’t want to do anything that can’t be undone yet.
“Normally I’d say ‘Welcome to my side of the fence’ at this time. But in your case, I think that’s a little redundant. With you, it’s more like welcome to the next step.”
I filled the prescriptions Sandy gave me. Becoming a woman wasn’t cheap, even at this step. I’d have to do a lot of personal appearances just to pay for my pills, and I didn’t know how much surgery would be.
Since I’d decided to go the whole distance and become completely a woman, I did some extensive research on the web. There were several places I could go to get my surgery, but each made it clear that it was expensive. That was my sticking point. Even going to Thailand, while cheaper even with plane fare, was much more than I could afford. I would also have to have a new passport, which would require other paperwork and none of that could be done until Fred got my situation straightened out. I was still stuck. I had to go on living the way I was now. I could live with that for a while, but it wasn’t what I really wanted.
Of course, even if I did get the surgery, what would change? I’d be complete and the way I wanted to be, but that by itself wouldn’t change my situation. I’d put off thinking much about the future, as long as I was in a holding pattern, but I really needed to focus on what my life as a woman would be.
I had discovered several talents I didn’t know I had since I’d started living as Jessica full time. Mark had been so pulled into himself, that he’d not explored much of anything beyond computer programming. On the other hand, I had opened myself up to all sorts of new activities and experiences. What I’d done so far had only scratched the surface of what I could be and do. I had so much more to find out about Jessica that I couldn’t wait.
‘Wait,’ I thought. What am I waiting for?’ I was already a woman. The surgery would only complete and validate what I already was. I’d been Jessica for a long time, and fully Jessica for almost a year. I had so much more to do and I could start right now. ‘I don’t have to wait.’
I still had duties and obligations, of course. Everyone does. But there was nothing to stop me from expanding myself even more.
I started by looking around at the opportunities in the area that I’d never considered before. There were cultural events going on all the time. The University was a rich source to explore. The Seattle Symphony was having a concert the next weekend. I mentioned it to Phil and found out that the Bank had a block of season tickets available for employees.
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“You never asked,” he replied. “And I’m not much for that kind of thing.”
I bounced onto his lap and looked up at him from under my eyelashes. “Could we please go? I’d like to see what it’s like.”
He grudgingly agreed and Friday night found us in Benaroya Hall. What a fabulous place! The views are fantastic and the acoustics were superb. I was wearing my black dress with the tight top that looked like a strapless formal with black lace rising from the bodice to cover my shoulders. It had a full skirt with a red belt and I wore my matching red-strapped 3-inch heels. I loved going out in public in clothes like this and looking nice!
I lost myself in the music. It spoke to me without words and carried me to heights of emotion. I loved it!
At intermission, we were enjoying wine in the lobby when I heard a familiar voice. I turned around and there was Cindy and Jake.
“Jessica,” she said, “How lovely to see you! Do you come to the symphony often?”
“Actually, it’s my first time. I found out Phil’s bank has season tickets and I insisted we come.”
“I’ve been coming from almost the time I moved to Seattle,” she said. “My agency is a sponsor and we do most of their publicity pro bono.”
She’d been coming to something this wonderful from almost the time we moved to Seattle? I groaned inside. How much had I missed because of Mark’s workaholic life? I was so much better off without him!
“Are you two coming to Momma Mia next week?” Cindy asked. “The touring company is so much better than that awful movie. The actors on stage can actually sing.”
“I’d love to see it,” I replied. “I hope we can still get tickets.”
“Look,” Cindy said. “Call the box office and ask for George. Tell him I told you to call. He’ll take care of you.”
“Thanks so much, Cindy,” I said, hugging her. “You’re such a nice person.”
“Well, I like doing things for nice people,” she replied, smiling.
As she walked away, I was smiling too. Then I thought back to my impulsive hug. I’d often hugged Cindy in the past and felt her breasts against my chest. This was the first time her breasts were bumping up against my own, even if mine were still fake. That was different!
The second half of the program was just as great as the first. I was so sorry when the last note died away. I was on my feet clapping as loudly as I could in appreciation of the performance.
On the way out, I noticed a poster advertising a young people’s concert on a Saturday afternoon in two weeks. I wondered if Deanna, Sarah and Millie would like such a thing. The poster said it was recommended for children 4 and up, so I decided to call Ken and see if he’d mind me taking the girls.
When we got home, I gave Phil a big kiss. “Oh, thank you for taking me to something so wonderful!”
“I’m glad you liked it, babe,” he replied. “It wasn’t really my cup of tea, but if you’d like, I can see about getting you a ticket for the rest of the season.”
“Do you want to go to Momma Mia next week,” I asked. “I thought I’d call tomorrow for tickets.”
“Why don’t you just go by yourself? I’ve got a lot going on.”
Although disappointed at his response, I was not going to let his attitude stop me from getting out and enjoying myself. Maybe I could talk Karen into going to Momma Mia with me.
Phil was rewarded for going with me to the symphony with a spirited romp in bed. Maybe it was just my imagination, but it felt like the new hormones sent all kinds of feelings throughout my body. I was so glad I’d finally started them!
Karen agreed to go with me to see Momma Mia when I called the next day. Ken was okay with my taking the girls to the Young Peoples’ Symphony, but told me to check with the Rehab Clinic to see if Deanna could come. It turned out that the Clinic had a special bus designed to handle wheelchairs and was already planning on taking several children to the Concert. Subject to doctor’s approval, they would add Deanna to the list. I was going to send them a payment to cover her ticket, but they told me the Symphony let kids from the Clinic in free and had a special wheelchair section reserved for them.
I asked if I could take her out afterward to eat with her sisters. They thought it could be done, provided the doctor okayed it and my car could handle a wheelchair. The car wasn’t a problem and I was sure I could lift Deanna in and out of it. Then I called Ken back and told him about the arrangements and asked if he wanted to join us. He begged off the concert since he had a lot of work to catch up on, but agreed to join us for dinner. Phil, naturally, didn’t want to come either. He said he just wasn’t into children.
The following week, I finally got some good news. Fred had convinced the Judge that I needed access to some of my funds. He’d explained that I had been living on the charity of a friend since being tossed out of the suite. Without access to my company, my income had been very limited. So the judge approved a monthly allowance with the proviso that Cindy and I try to come to some sort of agreement about our assets soon.
I told Fred I’d agree to split our money, including selling the suite. I wanted my company, and Cindy could have hers. That should be simple enough. Since Cindy had left me, Fred thought my proposal was quite generous. I told him I’d been doing a lot of thinking, and Cindy had had every right to leave. It may have been her action, but it was my inaction that had driven her to leave. He agreed to try and set something up as soon as possible.
It was fortunate I’d talked to Fred when I did, because the next day was the start of my water retention pill regime. I know, I was crazy to subject myself to something like that if I didn’t have to, but it had developed into something I felt I had to do. As much as possible, I needed share the experiences of a real woman if I was going to be one. And the monthly discomfort was part of that. I needed to be a real woman in every way. Most people probably wouldn’t understand it, but Karen did. We both commiserated since we shared that time of month. Misery loves company!
Fortunately, the five days were up two days before we went to see Momma Mia. I was still wearing a pad, just in case. But I wouldn’t have survived the lines in the ladies room the day before when I‘d really been running.
The performance blew me away! It was amazing how an almost bare stage with one revolving set piece could become an island resort. All of us in the audience were so swept up in the story, that we really believed we were in the Mediterranean The songs, golden oldies I vaguely remembering hearing when I was growing up, fit the plot so well. And I found myself dancing in the aisles along with everyone else during the encore. I made a point of telling Phil what a great evening he’d missed when I got home. As usual, he wasn’t too responsive.
Then he told me that he had a big dinner party coming up. Wouldn’t you know it? It was the same day as the Young People’s Symphony. I told Phil I had a conflict.
“Well, break it,” he commanded.
“I can’t break it,” I said. “I promised.”
“I don’t care what you promised,” he replied, angrily, “This is important.”
“This is more important,” I replied calmly. “I am not going to break a promise to three little girls who recently lost their mother.”
After some fast thinking, I offered a compromise. “Look, I can prepare a special meal before I have to leave. We always have someone in to serve anyway, so the only thing that will change is that I won’t be here. You do a great job as a charming host, even without me. If I can, I can make an appearance later before they leave. Just tell them I’m helping a family who recently had a tragic loss.”
“You are suppose to be here to support me!” he said, with a raised voice. He was starting to sound like a little pouting boy.
“And I will be supporting you,” I said. “Just not quite to the extent I have been for this one time. In fact, I bet if I asked her, Madeline would be more than happy to serve as hostess for the evening.”
“Oh yeah,” he replied sarcastically, “I’m really about to go crawling to my boss for help.”
“No, I’d be asking your boss’s wife for a little help. And I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to help. She’s helped me with a few last minute things before at some of these dinner parties.”
“I’m not going to look needy to my boss,” Phil almost screamed.
“All right,” I said. “Postpone your dinner party until the next night or move it up a night.”
“I can’t!” he shouted.
It was obvious I’d backed Phil into a corner. That wasn’t a good thing for me, as a woman, to do to a man. I thought back to the conversations I’d had with Madeline. I had to let him think he’d won while getting what I wanted to.
“Phil,” I said, dropping my eyes. “You’re right. I’m sorry I got myself into this situation. I’ll try to find a way to make it work. In the meantime, I promise to prepare the best dinner you’ve ever served in this house.”
“Well, okay,” he said, calming down a bit. “See that you do.”
I spent quite a bit of time the rest of the evening snuggling up to Phil, trying to calm him down. I coaxed him to go down on me when we got upstairs, although I’d just as soon have avoided it. But I had to appease his male ego.
I called Madeline the next day and discussed the situation.
“Of course you need to take those poor children out,” she said. “There is no way you can cancel with them after you promised. They’ve felt abandoned by their mother’s death already. They don’t need another abandonment, even a little one, right now.
“You just tell Phil you’ll take the children to the Symphony and will come back as soon possible. If you have one of your fantastic meals ready to go, no one will notice if you are not there. If it comes up, I’ll just tell them you got a little delayed.”
“Madeline, you’re a lifesaver! Thank you so much. I just couldn’t disappoint the girls.”
Since the Symphony was in the afternoon, the timelines might just work. Ken was meeting us for dinner and he could take the girls home with him. It might be a little tight, but workable.
Phil was skeptical, but I assured him it would all work out. I pointed out that I’d compromised to fit his needs. “Everything will be fine. No one will notice a thing.”
It actually did work out. The Symphony was great and the girls loved it. They were dressed in their party dresses. Ken had brought Deanna’s dress to the clinic and she, with the help of the nurses, was able to get it on. I was dressed in one of my long skirted hostess dresses. I just love the long skirts! They allow my legs such freedom of movement, and there’s almost no danger of showing anything I don’t want showing. The only two drawbacks are in going up and down stairs. First, sometimes I can’t see my feet beyond the skirt and I’ve really got to watch out where I’m stepping. The other is that I don’t get to show off much of my legs.
I picked up Sarah and Millie at their house and drove them downtown. We parked in the garage, but before I let the girls leave the car, I pulled out my hairbrush. Ken was a great father and was really trying. But he hadn’t really done the girls’ hair justice. I spent a few minutes with each girl brushing and getting their hair as close as possible to the style they had picked as ideal on my laptop during our session at the hospital. I think I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.
Then we met Deanna inside. Of course, she still had the bandages on her head, but I was not to be deterred. I pulled a red marker out of my purse and proceeded to draw a cartoon of some curly red hair on her bandages. We all got a laugh out of my artwork and Deanna loved it.
The girls were in awe of the hall. They had never been there before and couldn’t get over how big it was. Then the music started.
The conductor did a fine job of selecting music that evoked images in the children’s minds. He played the old standby, Peter and the Wolf, pointing out the various characters’ themes. One of the local radio personalities was the narrator for the piece. It was followed by In the Hall of the Mountain King, from Peer Gynt. Sarah, Millie and Deanna all had suitable screams when Muppet-like monsters lumbered across the stage during the piece. This was followed by the trail ride from the Grand Canyon Suite. This time the girls laughed as a monster “Cowboy” rode his “horse” across the stage during the music. Then the “Cowboy” got into an argument with his horse and the piece ended with the horse riding the Cowboy off the stage.
The highlight of the second half was Wagner’s The Ride of the Valkyries with acrobats “flying” around the hall on long hanging pieces of shiny cloth. What a magnificent spectacle for the children!
The concert ended with The Moldau. While depicting a river in Eastern Europe, the conductor had the children picture a little trickle of water from melting snow in the Rocky Mountains, which grew into a stream as it wound through meadows. As the stream joined others, it became a river, and that river joined another one to become the Columbia River, flowing at last into the mighty Pacific Ocean. As the piece played, pictures appeared on a screen behind the orchestra.
The girls were beside themselves. They all wanted to play all the instruments in the orchestra. They couldn’t stop talking about the concert all the way over to the Chuck E Cheese in Bellevue, where we met Ken. We ate pizza, watched the shows and the girls played the games. Deanna even did the skittle bowling in her wheelchair.
Naturally, Deanna was disappointed when the time came to take her back to the Rehab Clinic. She did tell me that the doctors had told her she was healing and would soon be able to go home and do her physical therapy on an outpatient basis. Ken thanked me again and again for the day the girls had had. I told him the look on their faces was more than enough thanks for me. I gave them all hugs and jumped in my car to get to Phil’s dinner party.
The timing worked out, thank heavens! Traffic was lighter on the weekend and I walked in just as dinner was being announced. It helped that the Symphony could be formal enough for me to wear my hostess dress. I greeted everyone with smiles and apologized for my errand running a little longer than expected. I paid especial attention to Phil’s Chinese guests and saw Madeline give me a wink.
Even with that, Phil was a little unhappy that I’d not been there from the beginning. He always wanted everything to be perfect, whatever perfect was in his mind. I pointed out that I’d received several heartfelt compliments on my meal and that Madeline had told me everyone had had a good time. I then suggested once again, that I could do a better job for him if I had more notice about upcoming dinners. He just grunted.
I was so bothered by his attitude that I called Carly at the office the next day and asked if there was any way to get more up front notice when I might be called upon to do one of the dinners.
“Why sure,” she replied brightly. “We make all the airline and hotel reservations right here in the office, so we always know when someone’s coming in. And there’s a kind of floating schedule of who will be hosting the next dinner. In fact, just a minute,” I heard her entering something on her computer keyboard. “You, that is Phil, is scheduled for another dinner in three weeks and two days.”
“You have it that exact?” I asked stunned.
“Pretty much so,” she said. “The last hurry-up panic dinner off the schedule was almost three years ago. They learned quite a while ago to have everything tight and planned so there were no disasters.”
“Do the spouses know the schedule?” I asked.
“Most do,” she said. “A few guys seem to like watching their women jump through hoops.”
“I see,” I said, thinking that I knew one of those guys. “Can I get a copy of the schedule?”
“Sure,” she said. “It’s company confidential, but you need to be in the loop and you signed a confidentially agreement when you worked in here a while back. I’ll e-mail it to you, in fact I’ll just add you to the distribution list.”
Naturally, I was a little pissed. Phil had known about all these parties well before hand. He just enjoyed making me panic. It gave him more control over me. I also didn’t remember signing any confidentially agreement. I wondered what the signature on that agreement looked like.
“Oh, before I forget,” Carly said. “Jane in Accounting wanted to talk to you. I just gave her your number this morning. Want me to transfer you to her?”
“Sure, Carly,” I said. “Thanks for your help. This will make my life a lot easier. Hey, are you guys free for lunch sometime this week?”
“How about Wednesday?”
“You got it.” I said. “I can’t wait to see everyone again!”
There was a click and a ring and a voice answered, “Jane Sachs.”
“Jane, this is Jessica Staf--uh Watson. I understand you wanted to talk with me?”
“Oh yes, Jessica. There’s a glitch I need to straighten out. The IRS just notified me that your Social Security number is already assigned to a Mark Stafford and I need to verify yours.”
‘Oh great!’ I thought. “Oh yeah, Jane. There is a problem. Both this Mark Stafford and I somehow got assigned the same number. I’m working with my attorney to get it all straightened out.”
‘Why did this crop up now,’ I wondered. It had been quite a while since I’d received that payment from the bank for covering those meetings.
“Do you have any idea how long it will take to resolve?” Jane asked. “I’m hoping you can get it fixed before the next monthly payroll goes in next week. And this one has the quarterly bonus included.”
“Wait, what payroll? What quarterly bonus?” I asked.
“Your monthly pay and this quarter’s bonus for your team,” she replied.
“I’m getting a bonus?” I asked, really confused.
“Well, yeah,” she replied. “Just like the last three quarters. Your team has really been doing well.”
“Remind me again,” I said, trying to get a clue. “Where does my bonus go? How am I getting it?”
“I can recheck, but I think it goes directly into your account, like your monthly pay does. By the way, did Phil remember to give you your W-2? If it has a Social Security number that has to be changed, you ought to let us know as soon as possible so we can get you a corrected one before you file your tax return.”
“No, he didn’t,” I said. “I’ll have to remind him. Just so I can separate the monthly from the bonuses, what is my take-home a month? Sorry to be such a diss, but I’ve had other issues taking up my time for a while.”
“Just a minute,” she said. I could hear keystrokes in the background. “Here it is, you get a regular salary of...” I wrote the figure down. It sounded familiar.
“Thanks Jane. Give me your direct line and I’ll call you as soon as I check with my attorney.”
After I hung up the phone, I went straight to my account, which I’d been downloading online and storing in my laptop. You know, the credit card account that was part of Phil’s account, but had my name on it. The one I’ve been using for food and party purchases. The one that had amounts put into it, I thought, from Phil’s account. The amounts that suddenly appear to be my money in my account. The amounts that I’m going to have to pay income tax on. I wonder if Phil was going to give me the W-2 or if I was going to file on the amounts I’d gotten from the Seahawks and then get a big notice from the IRS later.
I was really getting angry. Phil was setting me up for some major trouble. I needed more information. I called Steve. He’d always been straight with me, just like Madeline.
When he answered, I said, “Steve, it’s Jessica. I need a little information. I just talked with Jane in Accounting about some trouble with my W-2. How long have I been receiving a salary from the Bank?”
“Since you started providing feedback on the conversations at your dinner parties. Of course you got a bonus when you reviewed the initial contracts and sat in on the first round of negotiations. And, you’ve gotten the quarterly bonuses as a member of the team since then,” he answered. “If you need the exact date, I can get it.”
“No thanks, Steve, I can look it up,” I replied. “And, I’m still getting both the monthly salary and the bonuses?”
“Of course,” Steve replied. “I keep reviewing your reports from each dinner. And, of course, being on the payroll keeps your confidentially agreement in force.”
“Of course, but I wouldn’t tell any one outside our bank family anyway,” I replied. 'That includes Madeline,' I mentally added.
“Sure, I know,” he replied. “And I want to say again how much I appreciate your high quality work. I don’t think we utilize your talents as much as we should, but I’m grateful for what we do get.
“So what’s the problem with your W-2?” he asked.
“Well, I haven’t seen it yet. Aside from the fact that I need it for my tax filing, there’s a little problem with my Social Security number that I’m working with my attorney to straighten out.”
“Gee, we issued them a few weeks ago,” he said. “I’m sure I gave yours to Phil to give to you.”
“He probably just forgot,” I said. “I’ll ask him about it tonight.”
We chatted for a couple more minutes and I agreed that I’d contact Madeline about getting together for dinner at their place before we hung up.
I was stunned. Apparently I’d been on salary almost from the time I moved in with Phil. He had set it up that that my money would go into the account he set up for me, but led me to think that it was funds he was putting in to cover our food and entertainment expenses. I’d been asking him for permission to use my own funds for the laptop and my clothing. I’d thought I was totally dependent on him for everything, but I was actually using the money I was earning to pay for his entertainment expenses.
Clearly, I had a lot of heavy thinking to do. First, I went into the office to see if the statements for my “Jessica Watson” account were in his financial files. They were in the locked file cabinet. I’d found the key months ago, so getting to them was not a problem. What I found out was a problem.
As I scanned the statements, I saw my expenditures. A lot of food and drink expenses, my laptop and adjunct equipment, some clothing and gas expenses. All of which I recognized. But there were some large cash withdrawals too, which I didn’t recognize. Curious, I compared the dates of the withdrawals with my past calendars. What I found disturbed me. The cash withdrawals pretty much corresponded with times Phil had had to go out of town on business trips. He’d been using my money to spend on his trips. I looked at the deposits and didn’t see any efforts to repay the amounts withdrawn.
I picked up the phone and called Jane again. When she answered, I asked her how to redirect my paychecks into another account. She agreed to fax me the form I’d have to fill out and gave me a number to fax the form back to payroll.
As soon as the form arrived, I filled it out, sending my paychecks to the other account I’d opened to hold my cheerleading income. That account was one Phil didn’t know about and didn’t have any access to. I then went online and transferred the remaining balance out of the “Watson” account into my “Cheerleading” account.
Then I went upstairs, threw myself on the bed and cried. Phil had lied to me, he’d stolen from me and he’d cheated on me. While our relationship had been strained at times, I’d felt good that he was taking care of me and had wanted to pay him back any way that I could. That had included not only being his hostess and cook, but also being almost his wife. I’d been, and still was. I’d been grateful that he’d been there to help me out of a really tight spot when I was faced with being homeless, but it was now obvious that he was taking much more back in payback than I’d thought.
I rolled over on the bed and thought of the times we’d been intimate here. I’d done things and become someone I never thought I’d do or be when I’d been Mark. I’d become totally a woman pleasing her man because he took care of her and, I’d thought, had feelings for her. Certainly I’d had feelings for Phil when I gave myself to him.
Then, I remembered his reaction when I wanted to go further and become totally the woman I knew I was. He wanted me to stay in this almost halfway state for his own needs without considering my needs. He’d used me in so many ways, I couldn’t believe it.
Finally, I summed up my total picture of Phil and asked myself the question that Karen had told me over a year ago. “Would I want Phil to be the father of my children?”
And, the answer was “No!” Now I realized that I’d known the answer for some time, I’d just denied knowing it. Today, with this new information of my betrayals, it was conscious. I didn’t want a family with Phil, but I did want a family. I wanted to be a mother with a man who was loving and kind and honest. Phil had none of these traits.
I got up and started packing. I filled my suitcases and piled them and all of my clothes and personal effects into my car. I got my things out of the kitchen and wandered the house checking for anything of mine that I could find. Once the car was completely packed, I went in and fixed Phil’s dinner and stuck it into the fridge. Finally, I wrote Phil a note and stuck it up on the kitchen counter.
I told him I was leaving him, but that I would honor our business agreement. I’d cook for his dinner parties and act as a hostess. “I now have access to the schedule,” I wrote, “so I know when I have to be present. I’ll coordinate with you as to guests, menus, etc., before each event. I am keeping my house keys since I will need access to supervise the cleaning crew and to take food and drink deliveries, as well as to prepare the food. And I will e-mail my observations of each event and what I hear to Steve so that he gets the reports just as before.
“By the way,” I added, “there has been some trouble with my W-2 from the bank. Steve said he’d given it to you to give to me two weeks ago. Please have it ready and I will provide you with an address to send it to as soon as I have it.”
I signed it, “Jessica” and walked out the door.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
I had to wait a few minutes for my tears to subside before I could pull away. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was going to do since everything had happened so fast. After driving around for about a half hour, I pulled over and checked my cell phone for hotel locations and made a reservation for the night at a moderately priced hotel. I checked in, using my “Jessica Stafford Cheerleader” account card, and parked my car in the hotel parking garage. I took a suitcase and my personal bag with me to my room. Then I called Karen, and broke down on the phone talking to her. She immediately asked where I was and rushed over.
I spent the next half-hour crying into her shoulder. Finally I was spent and lay back on the bed.
“If I were Mark, I wouldn’t be feeling this way,” I said.
“If you were Mark, you’d be in another shell,” she replied. “And you wouldn’t be living the wonderful life you have been this past year.”
“But I feel so...so...” I began, and then stopped. What was I feeling? It wasn’t the same abandoned feeling of lost love that I’d felt when Cindy left. It wasn’t a feeling of losing Phil--he wasn’t worth it. What it was, was the feeling of ending a piece of my life and a relationship that had gone sour. I was now facing having to make some decisions that I hadn’t had to for a while.
But the more I thought about it, the more I found I was really looking forward to making some changes. I’d come a long way in the past year or so. I’d acquired some new skills and some new relationships. The more I thought about it, the more I found myself ready to move forward. I had actually been needing a kick to get me moving. I’d been pretty passive and had been just going with the flow. It was time to take charge of my life. Sure, I had some apprehension, but, I realized, I was looking forward to putting some closure to my past life and totally embracing my new one.
I started smiling and told Karen what I’d just been thinking.
“Atta girl, Jess,” she said. “You are a lot more resilient that Mark ever was.”
And I realized it was true. We women looked at life differently than men. Men could be such hopeless romantics, but we had to be more practical. But we had the choice to be optimistic or pessimistic about what life was going to bring. Mark had been a pessimist, hiding from the world. I, on the other hand, had had a glimpse of how much was out there in the world and I wanted to embrace it, the bad with the good.
Karen and I went out to dinner and had a great time. She agreed to help me find a place to live the next day. My cell phone rang several times during dinner, but I ignored it. I looked at my missed calls after I got back to my room. Several were from Phil, which was to be expected. I had two from Madeline and one from Deanna.
After checking that it wasn’t too late, I called Deanna back first. She wanted to tell me that she’d actually walked between the bars that day and, most importantly, she was getting the bandage off her head in the morning. She wanted me to stop past in the afternoon so she could show off her “new” look. Of course, I wouldn’t miss that for the world and told her so. We agreed I’d be by to see her at 4 p.m. the next day.
Then I called Madeline. She told me Phil had called asking if she or Steve had seen me. I told her that I’d left Phil. I didn’t go into specifics, but told her I’d caught him lying to me again and that I just couldn’t keep living like that. I said I planned to keep catering and hostessing the bank events at Phil’s house.
“I’m being paid to do so and to report my observations to Steve and I will honor that obligation until the project is completed,” I explained. “Actually, I really enjoy doing them. It’s just that my personal relationship with Phil is over.
“Frankly,” I continued. “I didn’t realize they were on a regular schedule. Phil never told me.”
“Of course they are,” Madeline said. “We host one every so often, too. Of course, we have ours catered, since I’m nowhere near the cook you are. There are a few unscheduled ones when someone important hits town unexpectedly. You had the last one. And, of course, you always get the ones when the Chinese are present. That, and your work with the contracts, was the reason Steve put you on the payroll in the first place.
“We’ve always enjoyed coming to your place since you took over,” she assured me. “That is, your former place. You add real class to the dinners and your food is to die for. I’m glad you will continue to host them in spite of Phil. Frankly, I didn’t want to influence you, but I’ve always felt you could do better.”
“Well, I guess I’ll find out,” I replied. “And, Madeline, thanks for being such a good friend.”
“I’m just so happy we got to know each other,” she said. “Let’s not lose that.”
“We won’t,” I said.
I decided I’d avoid talking to Phil for a couple of days to let things settle. As far as his personal needs, I was sure he’d go back to take-out and dining out as soon as he got it though his head that I wasn’t there to fix his personal meals anymore. As to his other personal needs, he had a hand, didn’t he?
The next morning, Karen and I set about finding me a place to live. Surprisingly, it didn’t take all that long. An apartment had come open in Karen’s building that day. It had three bedrooms, so it was a little more than Karen was paying, but with the allowance the Judge had allowed from my company’s account, I could swing it. Since it was already cleaned, Karen and I moved my things in immediately.
As Karen headed back to work, I made a run myself. I had ordered something special in anticipation of this afternoon. After I picked it up, I headed to the Rehab Clinic.
I got there just as Ken and the girls were getting out of their car. I grabbed my purse and package and joined them in trooping to Deanna’s room. She was waiting for us, but kept her head down shyly. It was the first time I’d ever seen her head without the bulky white bandage. She had a nicely shaped head with a fine covering of very short red hair. It was shorter than a boy’s burr haircut. On one side of her head was the healing crescent scar where they’d had to go in and correct all the damage the accident caused. It was still an angry red, but looked like it was going to be okay.
When she saw me looking at it, Deanna held her hand up over the scar. “I really don’t want anyone to see it,” she said, with a tear starting to form in her eye. “It looks gross.”
“You’re right,” I said, truthfully. “It does look gross, but having that is much better than the alternative might have been.” I had decided that it was best to be completely honest with her. If she embraced reality, she’d heal that much sooner.
“But,” I continued. “There is something we can do about that.” I’d already checked with Deanna’s doctors and gotten their approval for this. I opened the package I’d hidden behind my back. “Let’s see if this helps.”
I pulled out a wig I’d had made for Deanna. It matched her hair color and was styled in the same manner as she’d settled on when we were playing with my hair program on the laptop. It wasn’t cheap. It had taken all that I’d made from three Sea Gal personal appearances to pay for it. But the look on Deanna’s face was more than worth it. It was priceless.
“Oh my,” she gasped.
I carefully slid the wig onto her head, and turned her toward the mirror. Before us all, was the most beautiful girl in the world, with a smile that wouldn’t stop.
“Oh my gosh!” she said. “It’s beautiful!”
“And you are beautiful,” I added.
Naturally Sarah and Millie were squealing in delight. They grabbed Deanna and hugged her and all three were jumping up and down.
“Easy, easy!” Ken said. “She’s still got some healing to do before you guys can roughhouse like you usually do.”
The girls stopped, looking chagrined “Hey, I almost did the same thing,” I said. “We’ve just got to remember to be a little careful for a while.”
Deanna took a step over to me and gave me the most loving hug I’ve ever gotten. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“Hey, a gal has to look her best,” I replied. “Wait until you have to spend hours getting ready to be a Sea Gal.”
Ken opened the ice chest he’d brought with him and we all celebrated Deanna’s new look with ice cream. Then the girls settled in to watch cartoons on the room’s TV. Ken packed up the left over ice cream and threw the dirty paper bowls and plastic spoons in the trash can.
Then he walked over and put his hand on my arm. “Thank you,” he said quietly. You’ve done so much for us. I can’t begin to tell what it has meant.”
I reached up and gave him a quick hug. “I’m just glad I could help,” I replied. “I just love your daughters to death. They’re great kids who shouldn’t have had to live through this.”
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the girls looking at us. I quickly stepped back. It had felt nice to have Ken touching me. But he had just lost his wife and the girls had lost their mother. It was way too soon for anyone to step in. They had to grieve. And the last thing I wanted to do was get caught up in any kind of a rebound relationship based on their grief. I truly just wanted to help them and be their friend.
Besides, I had a lot of stuff of my own to get fixed.
I stayed a few more minutes and then made my excuses to leave. I promised Deanna, I’d stop by again soon, but told them I had to spend some time organizing my new apartment. When I let that slip, the girls were disappointed that I wasn’t living in Phil’s fabulous house. I had to tell them I was taking a few new directions in my life and moving was one of them. I had to promise them a visit to my new place, once I had it organized. Then I finally got to leave.
I kept feeling Deanna’s hug all the way home. It was so good to feel like I was loved unconditionally. Doing things for others was extremely satisfying. Then reality intruded. I spotted a Post Office on the way and pulled into the parking lot. I had decided I’d need a Post Office box to receive my mail from Phil. I didn’t want him to know where I was until I was more certain about our new relationship. It took only a few minutes to set it up. Armed with my new-found information, I called Phil on my cell before I left the parking lot.
I thought I’d get his voice mail. I was wrong. Phil picked up. “Jessica, what are you trying to pull?” he screamed into the phone.
“I told you in the note I left, Phil,” I replied calmly. “I just couldn’t take your lying to me anymore.”
“What lies?” he asked angrily.
“The source of the money in my account, for one. Your little tryst with Shuandra for another. Your knowing well in advance about most of the dinner parties. Your using my money for your out-of-town trips. You forging my signature and nearly getting me in big trouble with the IRS. The list goes on and on,” I said.
“You owed me the money for taking you in,” he snapped.
“To an extent you are right,” I replied. “And I’ll always be grateful for you giving me a place to stay when I was desperate. If you had been honest with me, I probably would have agreed to pay you room and board once I had a source of income.
“And don’t forget, I’ve been your cook and housekeeper since I moved in. I’ve saved you a bundle there."
“Look,” he replied, his voice changing. “I was just trying to take care of you, babe.”
“The days I needed taken care of are passed. If you’d been upfront with me about everything, it could have been a lot different. But I just can’t live with knowing how much you lied to me.
“Which reminds me, I need my W-2 for my taxes. I need you to sent it to my Post Office box.”
“And if I won’t?” he asked.
“Then I’ll get a duplicate from the bank and your boss will know you couldn’t be trusted to give me the original like he asked.” I could play hardball too.
“I could tell everyone about you,” he said, playing his trump card.
“You could, but I doubt anyone would believe you,” I answered. “I know Karen would tell anyone that we’d known each other since we were both little girls. It would only make you look desperate and foolish. And, I could tell Steve about the tricks you’ve been playing with my money.”
And that was my overtrump. More than anything else in the world, Phil needed to appear competent and in charge.
“Phil,” I said, “I’ll always love you for helping me when I needed it. That’s the reason I’m not telling anyone about what you did. And, as I said, I’ll keep helping you with your dinners and your parties, if you want. But our personal relationship is over.”
I cringed a little saying that. I had just echoed what Cindy had said to Mark over a year ago. I knew what Phil was going through. But it had to be said. I gave him my new Post Office box address and told him I needed the W-2 in a week.
“Take care, Phil,” I said. “By the way, Lisa is a great gal. You made a mistake letting her get away. I really like her children, too.” Then I hung up. I felt like I’d driven the last nail into our relationship and it felt pretty good.
But thinking about my own breakup with Cindy, I realized I’d achieved what I set out to do. I finally really understood what Cindy had gone through. All of it. It wasn’t fun, but it felt liberating. I knew that Cindy had gone through this and had come out better for it. I would too.
Still in the Post Office parking lot, I hit Fred’s number on my cell phone. It was getting late, but I’d hoped he’d still be at work. Luckily, he was.
“Fred? This is Jessica. I need to give you my new address, but more importantly, what’s happening with my divorce? I really need to get moving with completing my identity change.”
Fred hemmed and hawed around. “Your wife’s lawyer is very...demanding,” he said. “I just can’t seem to reach a fair settlement.”
“I thought the settlement I offered was more than fair. Especially since it was Cindy who walked out.”
“She, that is Cindy’s lawyer, doesn’t see it that way,” he replied. “I was lucky to finally get the allowance for you.”
“Okay, Fred, here’s what we’re going to do,” I said. “It’s time for you and me to sit down with Cindy and this lawyer and see what’s going on.” I wondered what was going on. This had been dragging on way too long. I wanted to see for myself what the holdup was.
“I can see what I can do,” Fred said.
“No,” I said. “Get it done or I’ll call Cindy myself.”
I was tired of excuses and delays. And I was sure Cindy was too.
“Will you be there as Mark?” Fred asked.
“Yes, Mark will be there,” I said. “Unpleasant as it might be, Mark needs to be there. And I want this meeting within the next two weeks.”
I snapped my cell phone shut, hanging up on Fred. I really hated to handle it like that, but Fred needed to realize I meant business. There was no reason this had gone on so long, except that I had been very passive about it. That had to end if I was to move on.
My phone rang then. I saw on the caller ID that it was Terri. She had another personal appearance she wanted me to go to. I promised to attend, if I could find my white boots which were somewhere in the boxes in my new apartment. Fortunately the appearance wasn’t until Sunday.
I was beginning to think I was living in the Post Office parking lot when my cell rang again. It was Fred. We had a meeting with Cindy and her lawyer set for the next Wednesday morning.
I called Karen and invited her to dinner in my new apartment to celebrate. She, of course, accepted. Then I drove out of the parking lot before Homeland Security began to suspect me.
I stopped by the gourmet food store near the apartment building and picked up some things for dinner. While checking out, I noticed a flyer for an advanced gourmet cooking class. I promptly signed up for it.
Dinner was nice. I told Karen about my phone call with Phil and she complimented me on how I’d handled him. I also told her about my call to Fred.
“That reminds me, I’ve got some mail for you,” Karen said. She went back to her apartment and returned with a stack of mail. “There’s a couple of pieces that will interest you,” she said.
She pointed out a big envelope from Cindy’s Agency and another envelope from our company.
“I think you’ll find them interesting reading,” she said. “Do it before your meeting.”
She hesitated and then looked me in the eye and said, “I was really weirded out by that court order last year forbidding me to have any contact with you.”
“Well, technically, you haven’t,” I replied. “You’ve had a lot of contact with Jessica, but none with Mark.”
“That’s it,” she replied. “I was so worried about us being found out, that I kicked you out of the apartment. And things could really have been bad if it wasn’t for Phil. I’m so sorry.”
“As it turned out, no one did find out about the link between Mark and Jessica,” I said. “It all worked out for the best. If I hadn’t been forced to go live with Phil, a lot of wonderful things in my life wouldn’t have happened. I don’t blame you one bit. In fact, I’m grateful for the way things turned out. I’ve learned and done so much that I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t had to do what you did. Don’t feel at all guilty. I’m glad it happened. Sure there’s been some bad, but so far the good outweighs anything bad that happened. I’m better for this past year.”
We hugged, and adjourned to the living room for some wine.
Next: Mark’s final meeting with Cindy.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The personal appearance went well Sunday. Someone was opening a new big box hardware store, so I and the other girls stood around smiling and looking sexy. At the right moment, another girl and I took the giant scissors and snipped the huge ribbon across the entrance. Actually, the ribbon was just let go by the other two Sea Gals since the scissors couldn’t have cut anything except, maybe, Jell-O. Then we stood around smiling and signing autographs on the photos being handed out as people entered the store.
Everything went fine until Phil showed up. I guess I should have expected it. The ads about our appearance were in all the media. He tried to talk to me and I told him I was working. I finally agreed to grab a coffee with him at the Starbucks in the store after I was done working. I figured that was as public a place as there could be.
I kept signing photos while he headed towards the Starbucks. I endured a few pats on my tush, which was normal at these events. Secretly, I was kind of flattered to feel hands moving across my rear end. I liked the idea that my body gave the guys a little thrill. The pinching was a different matter. The fake vagina lessened the feelings but I didn’t like it.
Finally, I could not put it off any longer. Our contracted three hours was up and I walked towards the Starbucks. I didn’t want to, but I had made a promise and I meant to keep it.
I bought a small coffee, one of their sweet mixed ones, and carried it to the table Phil was sitting at. He rushed to pull out my chair so I could sit down. That was something he hadn’t done for a while.
“Babe, I don’t understand why,” he began. “Everything was going so great.”
‘Yeah, great for Phil’, I thought. He’d had a live-in cleaner, cook and sex toy for free. Not that I’d minded living that way. I really enjoyed taking care of him. But he’d become distant and I’d wanted more in our relationship. I knew he was busy at work, but would it have hurt to pull my chair out for me a few more times? And, of course, I really couldn‘t get past his dishonesty.
Our conversation was almost a repeat of our phone conversation earlier. Phil just didn’t get it. I guess he thought repeating it in person would make a difference. He’d even dressed in a tight tee shirt that showed off his abs. I assume he thought I would get turned on by his physical appearance and want to come crawling back to him.
Yet, as we talked, I could understand the dynamics of what was going on. Guys carried around an unconscious checklist. As they moved through life, they’d accomplish something on that list, like “getting a promotion” and mentally check it off and move onto the next goal. I had been “get live-in she-male” on his list. Of course, I’d turned out to be much more for him, but somewhere in his mind, I’d still been something to check off and let him move on.
I, on the other hand, had wanted to be as much like a wife to Phil as I could be. And my subconscious wanted all the love and affection that came from being a wife. I’d ignored, for a while, the fact that I wasn’t his wife, only someone living with him. I’d wanted more that I wasn’t getting out of our relationship. I could have gone on ignoring my needs in favor of what I was getting from Phil. I had gotten a sense of satisfaction out of supporting him at home and with his work. That’s why his dishonesty had hit me so hard. It forced me to face the reality that I wasn’t going to get what I really needed out of our relationship.
And somewhere in the back of my mind, I was aware that I really, truly understood what Cindy had gone through with Mark. I was seeing the same thing from the other side. And for that, if nothing else, I was grateful to Phil. Just not grateful enough to want to get back together.
I was searching for a way to end this conversation. We’d said everything in different ways about three times and he still didn’t and wouldn’t get it. Just then, I heard a voice behind me.
“Please, Ms. Stafford, do you have time to autograph another picture?” a little girl’s voice said. And I turned around to see the most beautiful little redheaded girl in a wheelchair holding out a photo.
“Deanna? What are you doing here?” I asked.
She laughed and Sarah and Millie came running from behind the counter. We all gathered in a group hug.
“Daddy decided we could come see you today,” Deanna said. “I’ve been wanting to get out for the longest time.”
I looked up and saw Ken smiling behind the girls. “This seemed to be a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon,” he said.
I took the photos and signed each of them with a personalized message for each girl. I signed each one, “Love, Jessica.”
“Good seeing you, Phil,” I said as I stood up. “I’ll see you for the next dinner party.”
Then I walked away with the girls and Ken. “What other plans did you have?” I asked Ken.
“I was thinking about dinner at the cafeteria across the street,” he replied. “Do you have plans? Or did we take you away from that guy?” He looked back at Phil, still sitting there wondering what had just happened.
“Oh, no,” I replied. “No to both. I have a small catering business, and he’s one of my clients. We were just discussing the next dinner party I’m doing for him. And I’d love to join you for dinner, if that’s okay.”
Judging from the squeals from the girls, that was okay.
“Just let me get changed,” I said. “I’ll just be a few minutes.” I retreated to the women's employee locker room to slip back into the sweater and jeans I’d worn to get here. I packed my Sea Gal uniform in my gym bag and was ready.
We had fun. The nice thing about cafeterias is that they have enough selections to accommodate the varying tastes of growing children. And, after we’d gone through the line, Deanna actually stood up out of the wheelchair and took a couple of steps to sit down in a chair at the table, rather than eat in the wheelchair.
We all laughed and joked. The girls wanted to see my new apartment, but I put them off until I could get everything unpacked and fixed just right. We decided they could come in two weeks.
“What happened to your big house by the water?” Millie asked.
“That just didn’t work out,” I replied.
Too soon it was time to get Deanna back to the clinic. We all hugged and the girls reminded me of our date to see my apartment. As Sarah and Millie wheeled Deanna out to the car, I turned to Ken.
“Thanks so much for stopping by,” I said. “It was a really nice surprise.”
“After the girls saw the ad for the grand opening with your picture in it, there was no way we wouldn’t come,” he replied.
“Well, it is great to see Deanna out and about,” I said. “I’m so glad she’s on the mend.”
“You have no idea how much it meant to me to watch her step out of that wheelchair and sit at the table,” Ken said, brushing a little moisture out of his eye.
“I know,” I said, putting my hand on his arm. “It thrilled me too. I just wish I could do more.”
“You’ve been a great friend,” he replied. “Not many celebrities would go out of their way for people like us.”
“Hey, we’re just people too,” I said. “I got into this whole cheerleading thing by accident.”
“Well, we’re glad you did,” he said. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I said. Then I reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “You’d better go before the girls start racing Deanna around the parking lot.”
He grinned and hurried to his car.
I spent Monday and Tuesday getting ready for our meeting with Cindy and her lawyer. I carefully reviewed the documents Karen had given me and spent some time doing research on the internet. I also went out for some supplies.
I straightened my hair and put a wash on it so that it was lighter than my trademark Jessica scarlet red. I’d kept my hair short while we were married, but I wasn’t about to cut it now just for a meeting. I thought it best to change the color a bit since Cindy had seen Jessica several times. I put it in a low ponytail and covered the holes in my ears with a little bit of putty.
I took an eyebrow pencil and thickened my eyebrows. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but I didn’t have time to grow my brows back after appearing at the big box store a couple of days before. They looked okay from a distance, but I decided not to take chances and opted for a pair of “Clark Kent” glasses to obscure them. Hey, it’s worked for him for 80 years!
Wednesday morning, I left off my all-in-one and added some padding around my waist. I didn’t undo my taping. I couldn’t stand the feeling of male equipment bouncing around between my legs and no one was going to see what was underneath my pants anyway. For the same reason, I didn’t bother with male briefs but went with some black panties.
Reluctantly I pulled on my white shirt, tie and blue pinstripe suit. Black socks and male wing tip shoes completed my look, and Mark was back.
I picked up the old briefcase that Karen had brought by from the office and was out the door.
The meeting was held in Cindy’s lawyer’s office. It was in one of those big office buildings downtown. Fred met me at the door and we both went in together. We were escorted to a conference room, provided with coffee cups and left alone. Two urns of coffee, regular and decaf, and the various condiments were on a side table. I absentmindedly grabbed both my and Fred’s cups and went over to the urns.
“Regular or decaf?” I asked. Only then did I realize that I’d slipped into girl mode. Mark probably wouldn’t have served Fred. He didn’t seem to notice however, and I filled his cup with regular and mine with decaf. He took a sugar and I took a low-cal sweetener.
“You look a little different, Mark,” Fred said, grinning.
“Don’t get smart,” I said. “I needed to alter myself a little for this meeting.”
“I meant the glasses,” Fred said, smirking. Yeah, right!
We waited. I didn’t want to say too much. I didn’t think the room was bugged, but I was paranoid enough to not trust the lawyer on her home turf.
We waited some more.
“This is getting rude,” Fred said. “We’re over 20 minutes past our agreed time.”
“Standard procedure,” I replied. “Give yourself every advantage in a negotiation.”
After the second cup of coffee, I was feeling an urge. Telling Fred I’d be back, I went out and asked the receptionist where the rest rooms were. Following her instructions, I went out of the offices and down the hall to the end. I found the rest room doors and went in. I hurried into a stall and dropped my pants and slid down my panties just in time.
As I sat there feeling much better with every passing second, my foot bumped something and I heard a sort of metallic scraping sound. Looking down I saw one of those little white boxes on the floor. The ones with the swinging tops provided so used tampons and napkins can be deposited there rather than flushed down the toilet to clog the plumbing. I saw that my shoe had moved it a little.
My wing tip shoe.
My male wing tip shoe.
Oh Crap!
I’d gone on automatic pilot and come into the Ladies Room.
I quickly finished my business and wiped. Just as I was starting to pull up my pants, I heard the door of the rest room open. I quickly sat back down and lifted my legs so that my legs and feet couldn’t be seen under the stall door.
There was the sound of two pairs of heels walking into the room. Then I heard voices, one of which I recognized. Cindy was standing right outside the door of my stall.
“I just want to get this over with,” Cindy said. “Why are we waiting?”
“I want us to...” another voice started and then stopped. I knew what that stop implied. The other person was looking along the bottoms of the stalls to be sure they were alone. Satisfied, she, the lawyer I assumed, continued.
“I want us to have every advantage,” she said. “Your divorce is complicated. If we play our cards right, I think I can get your husband to give us part of the royalties on the software patents along with everything else. But you have to let me do the talking.”
“Whatever you say,” Cindy said. But I thought I heard some doubt in her tone.
From the sound of their voices, the two women turned to the mirrors and freshened their makeup.
“Now then,” the lawyer said. “Let’s go win this thing and get it over with.”
I listened as they walked out. I waited until the door had closed and gave it a minute longer. Then I stood, pulled up my pants and hurried to the door. I peeked out and didn’t see anyone in the hall. I quickly stepped out of the ladies room and into the men’s room across the hall. There I washed my hands, noticing how much nicer the ladies room had been and turned to leave. I resisted the temptation to check my makeup.
I strolled back into the conference room to the hostile stare of the lawyer. “Sorry,” I said. “I was down the hall getting rid of some of your coffee.”
“Well, now we can start,” she snapped. I took a seat next to Fred. Cindy and her lawyer sat on the other side of the conference table. The lawyer started in and it only took me a couple of minutes to understand why this process had taken so long.
There are several ways women can get what they want from men. One is what I call the “Sexy Vixen” approach. At its basis is the unwritten statement, “If you do what I want, you’ll get a sexual thrill.” Hollywood uses this approach a lot. It ranges from the woman sprawling out on the bed with a sexy negligee, to a woman opening an extra button on her top. The promise is, “If you do what I want, I’ll give you a view of a little cleavage.”
I’d used this approach myself when I wiggled my ass at Phil when I bent over after “dropping” something.
Another way is the “Daddy’s Little Girl” approach. This is the one women learn first. The little girl gets Daddy to do what she wants with hugs and being coy. Smiling through eyelashes is a common approach. The underlying message is, “I’m little and helpless and need a strong man like you to take care of me.” Some women even do a little lisp like a little girl when working this approach on a man. I, personally, find this affection a little revolting. This was what Phil was hoping I’d do last weekend.
The approach the lawyer was using on Fred and, she assumed, on me was the ”Mother” approach. This is conveyed by voice tone and body language. The basic message is, “I’m your mother (or teacher) and what I say goes!” We all learn about this one as we are growing up. It is an easy trap to fall into, since we all have to learn to deal and cope with authority figures as we grow up and go through school. And we learn that the easiest way to cope is to go along with the program, whatever it is.
I watched Fred squirm and try to be a gentleman in the face of the lawyer’s demands. He was trying to do the best for me, but he kept losing ground each time he tried to say something. Obviously this had been going on for some time. No wonder we were still going at it a year later!
I, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it. I wasn’t a gentleman any longer. I was a woman and knew how to deal with other women. Furthermore, I’d observed negotiations at a very high level with some of the best negotiators in the world. This lawyer wasn’t even close.
Finally, I decided to step in.
“Fred, let me say something,” I said, remembering to use my Mark voice. “I’m not happy with how I’ve been treated this past year. Cindy’s leaving was a shock. I admit I’d been so preoccupied with my work that I hadn’t seen it coming and it took me a while to deal with it. But the fact is, she left me. When I finally did start to look through my mail, I found I hadn’t responded to some things I should have. That happened, but it shouldn’t have affected our divorce like it did. I was kicked out of my home and business, denied any access to any funds and essentially put on the street homeless.”
“We had to get those injunctions,” the lawyer snapped, breaking in. “You suddenly started spending like crazy. It was obvious you’d run into some whore since you started buying her thousands of dollars worth of clothes. She must have wiggled her tits at you and was taking you for all you were worth.”
“Well, I admit there were some tits involved,” I said smiling. Actually I was feeling their lack just now.
“The point is, you took these actions with no attempt to contact me or find out what was going on. If I hadn’t had a very generous friend, I might have ended up sleeping somewhere in Underground Seattle and begging on the streets. I didn’t like that one bit.”
Cindy turned red and looked down. I could tell she was feeling guilty. I knew her. I knew from our time in college and when we were first married that she wasn’t really the vindictive person who had done this. My feeling had been reinforced after I’d met her as Jessica.
“In spite of the way I was treated, I’ve made a very generous offer to settle things,” I continued. “I’ve offered to let Cindy have her agency, the one started with my funds from my business. I would take my business and we’d split all our money and investments down the middle. I think that’s more than fair.”
“Throw in 50% of the revenues from your patents, and we can accept that,” the lawyer said.
Well, there’s couple of things wrong with that,” I said. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that Washington is a community property state.”
“Of course not,” the lawyer sneered. “That’s why we are entitled to those royalties.”
“The Washington law is very clear,” I replied. “It states that all that has been accrued during a marriage should be distributed to both parties in a fair and equitable manner. Note the phrase ‘accrued during the marriage.’ What you may not realize is that most of the software I was writing in my business is based on patents and copyrights which were in place before Cindy and I got married.”
The lawyer looked up at me, startled. Obviously she hadn’t done as much of her homework as she’d needed to. It was obvious she usually relied on intimidation of the man in the case to win her cases.
“As a result,” I continued, “those are off-limits under state law. Yes, I made a lot of money off of applications of them after we were married. And that money should be split.
“But …” I paused for emphasis. “But a large amount of that money was used to start and build Cindy’s agency. And that’s something that happened during our marriage. So under state law, if anything, I should be entitled to half of the retainers and billings the agency has done throughout our marriage, up to and including what has come in today, since we’re still legally married.”
“What?” Cindy gasped. “What is he talking about?”
“Then there’s the question of alimony,” I said. “State law addresses the question of alimony where the one who has more may be ordered to pay a monthly amount to the party who has less. In this case, the person with less would be me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the lawyer shouted.
“No it’s not,” I said. “You denied me the means to earn a living for almost a year. Without me, my company has had no new revenues and has been getting by on the royalties and licenses already in place. Business is starting to go elsewhere. The financial and tax reports my company just filed outlines this.” I held up a bundle of papers that Karen had given me the other night.
“On the other hand,” I continued, taking out some more papers Karen had given me from my briefcase, “Cindy has done very well. Her agency’s annual report and financial report filing boasts that it has grown to be, and here I quote, ‘The largest agency in the Pacific Northwest and Western Canada, with billings in excess of...' well I don’t think we need to get into exactly how many millions of dollars you earned last year, Cindy. Needless to say, you’ve done very well and I congratulate you.”
I smiled at her and she gave me a weak smile in return.
“On the other hand,” I continued. “Aside from a small allowance which I just began receiving, I challenge you to find any income Mark Stafford earned in the past year. You can’t, because it doesn’t exist.
“So,” I concluded, “if anyone needs alimony, it’s me.”
“We’ll challenge this in court,” the lawyer almost screamed.
“It won’t hold up,” Fred said. “Mark’s right. The law doesn’t say anything about which sex gets the alimony. Men have gotten alimony before in this state, and I can cite the cases before a judge.”
“And yet,” I added. “I didn’t ask for any in my proposal. All I ask for is the chance to get back and build my business back up again.”
“And that potential is worth millions,” the lawyer said.
“The law doesn’t address potential,” I replied. “I can just as easily choose not to write another line of code and live next to a steam pipe down by the waterfront.
“Cindy,” I said, looking at her directly. “I meant what I said about you doing so well. That’s all because of you, and you should get the rewards from your efforts. All I ask is the same.”
Cindy opened her mouth, but the lawyer cut in. “I’ll fight you on this,” she said.
“What? Do you get a percentage of the settlement?” I asked. “What if it’s a negative amount for your side?”
She glowered, and I suspected I’d hit close to the mark. “I will not let my client settle for anything less than what she’s entitled to,” she said in her best “Mother” voice.
“Rita,” Cindy said, “Mark is right. What he has offered is more than fair. We’ve done him a terrible injustice. I’m going to accept his offer.”
“No!” the lawyer, Rita, said. “I won’t allow it.”
“Then,” Cindy said, “you’re fired.” With that simple statement, I could see the businesswoman who had built a multimillion-dollar business. A woman who could make decisions. I felt proud to have known her.
“Fred,” Cindy said. “Draw up an agreement. I want to have us sign it today and be done with this.”
Fred agreed. I’d have to sign that I considered the agreement fair and renounce any claims against Cindy, but that had been my objective from the start.
Cindy smiled. “I think our business in this office is concluded. Nicely done, Mark. I’d almost forgotten how analytical and what a thorough researcher you are. I’m so sorry I put you through this.”
“I’m not,” I replied. “I’ve learned so much in this past year. Your walking out was a real wake-up call for me. It probably saved my life.”
“At first I was so bitter I let Rita talk me into some things I regret,” Cindy said. “I tried later to find you, but you’d disappeared. Even Karen didn’t know where you were.”
“That happens when a court tells you not to have any contact with someone,” I replied.
As we started toward the door, I paused. “Cindy,” I said. “I’m glad you found Jake. You two are so good together.”
She touched my arm in gratitude and walked out. The following week we appeared before a judge. We both testified that we felt the agreement was fair and equitable and we were declared divorced. All restraining orders were reversed. That was the last time anyone saw Mark.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
Karen and I cleaned out the suite. All of Mark’s clothes went to charity. The furnishings were sold with the suite. Cindy and I split the proceeds.
The next day, I wore one of my pinstriped skirt suits into the office. I really liked the way my skirt fit over my hips when I zipped it up and the way it hugged my rounded backside. Soon I’d be able to wear it without any padding needed. I had on gray hose and gray heels. But I had a sexy black bra and panty set on beneath my clothes. Yes, I’m a naughty girl, and I love it!
Karen gave me a big hug. “Welcome to the office, Jessica,” she said. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. I’ve got several pending orders from clients waiting for Mark to return from his sabbatical”
“We’ll get to those,” I said. “But we’ve got some other things to talk about first.”
Karen and I adjourned to the conference room that has the big white boards; the kind that you can write on and have it saved to a computer or printed out.
“We need to take a couple of days and map out where we go from here,” I said. “First and foremost, last year when all the trouble started, you wanted to help me, but all your credit cards were maxed out. That tells me you aren’t getting paid nearly enough. Especially since you’ve kept this place running for almost a year without me. So as of this moment, I’m tripling your salary.”
Karen gasped. “That’s too much for an office manager in any business,” she said.
“I agree,” I replied. “You are the only reason there is still a business here, much less still profitable. So, also effective immediately, you are promoted to CEO.”
Karen started to protest, but I stopped her. “Karen, you deserve this. It’s your business knowledge that helped me grow the business to what it is, or at least what it was. As I just said, you’ve kept it going. Furthermore, you’ve taken some big chances to remain my friend when I really needed you. But most of all, you are the best qualified person for the job.”
“Okay,” she said. “Then how do I relate to you?”
“Well, I’m still the owner,” I said. “But you are going to have to work with me. I now have a very different life than the ‘nose-to-the-grindstone’ life Mark had. I’ve got a lot of other interests going and I can’t be buried in code 12 to 15 hours a day anymore. It’s going to be up to you to crack the whip so that I don’t over-schedule. I’ll be giving a reasonable amount to the business, but not everything, like it’s been in the past.
“In connection with that, I want to take a substantial part of the Owner’s Equity account, say 25% to start, and give it to a very smart woman named Lisa to invest and manage. Depending on how she does with it and, based on her track record, I expect her to do quite well, we’ll gradually increase the amount of the account she handles. Eventually, she’ll be managing the whole account because you’ll be too busy running the company to manage our investments too.
“You’ll be screening the proposals that come in the door and only take those that are reasonable and the most profitable. You’ll also have to negotiate the prices for that work. And you’ll have to hire and manage the other people we need to start working here.”
“What people?”
“We need to beef up our marketing side,” I said. “I had a lot of time to think while I’ve been kept away from here, and we’ve been way too specialized. All we’ve put out is customized work. Granted, it’s been lucrative, but it’s also been limiting. When I read your report and the financial filing, I was struck by how vulnerable we were when I was out of action. We had no new product to cover ourselves. I want to change that. I want to take some of our basic concepts and go retail with them. I don’t know exactly how to do that and don’t want to take the time to learn. Therefore, we need marketing people and distribution people. And product support people.”
“Okay,” Karen said. “What kinds of products do you envision?”
“The basic scheduling program that I started this business with is one,” I replied. “I’ve seen how many people are juggling all sorts of activities and need help. We can help lots of them with a good, simple program that helps them get themselves and their activities organized. It’s got to be simple and not take a lot of upfront time to load. My target is the Soccer Mom or the overworked office manager.” I winked at Karen.
“And I want to link it so that a desktop or laptop can talk to a cell phone while that Soccer Mom is at her child’s game.”
By now, I was writing notes on the white board. “And I want to market a whole new line of programs for girls. They’ve gotten the short shaft in the past with computers. They have needs we can help meet. For example, the hair program you helped me with. We can help girls decide what hairstyle they want by letting them see themselves with the hair, just like we did with Deanna and her sisters.
“And I was thinking we could expand that concept. We could let the girls scan their whole body into their laptop webcam or cell cam. Then they could see how they look in different clothing. My program can modify clothing to conform to a body image just like it makes the hair fit to the girl’s head. Then the girl can see how a skirt or dress looks on her, not on some super thin model.”
“You know,” Karen said, “We could sell seasonal updates to the girls. Let them see what the new fall clothes look like on them. We could make deals with some of the leading girls’ clothing manufactures to tie their new lines to our application.”
I could see Karen was really getting into our brainstorming.
“We could do the same thing with the older girls and their mothers.” I was really getting excited. “How about letting them see what the clothing in online catalogs would look like on them before they ordered?”
“Wow!” Karen said, “With the right contacts, we could have a bonanza! I could see all kinds of uses for that concept.”
“And almost all of it would come from the same basic program that I’ve already written. No rewriting a customized program each time we make a sale.
“And wait until I show you my kitchen inventory and recipe program. We’re going to corner the women’s market when it comes to computers and related electronics.”
When I told her about my kitchen program, Karen immediately jumped to the idea of recipe updates we could offer. That got me thinking about whether we could make a link with the major grocery chains and incorporate their weekly sales into the grocery list part of the program by using online updates.
We spent the next two days brainstorming our “Woman’s and Girls Market” ideas. It was obvious to both of us that I’d almost accidentally stumbled into an area with a lot of potential. That’s what happens when you see things in a whole new light.
Then we started in on how we could make this thing work. There was an organization to build. We went over what we needed in-house and what we could farm to outside companies. We quickly saw that the more we took things in-house, the more we’d be burdened with administrative overhead. Just hiring more than 10 people would bring us under all sorts of labor laws and requirements that our current operation did not.
In the end, we found that we could out-source most of what we wanted to do. When our marketing person came on board, she immediately saw the potential in our being able to transfer and transform the images scanned into a web cam. She suggested we add a makeup application. It was a big success. We later found we had a couple of interesting niche markets. A bunch of horny boys were buying the clothing program, asking their girlfriends for pictures, and then dressing their girlfriends in all sorts of costumes. Transpeople were buying the hair, makeup, and clothing programs to see how they’d look as a different gender. We even had to add a line of sexy corsets and accessories to our line of clothing programs. We called it our “Big Closet” line.
I stole Carly from the bank to run things for us administratively. We had a couple of people handling agreements with retailers and grocery chains for information and imaging placements within our programs.
Much of our sales was handled by online downloads after the initial programs were installed from mostly hard copy discs purchased in stores. We were very popular in the big box chains just before Christmas.
In the meantime, “Mark” continued to do some custom programming for high-end customers from wherever he had moved to find peace. He e-mailed his work in. His sister, Jessica, worked directly for Karen.
A few weeks after we had all our new operations plans completed, I got with Fred to complete my official change to Jessica. Fortunately I was born in a state where one could pay a $10 fee to correct any information on the birth certificate. Thus, Mark a male child, became Jessica, a female child in the official files of that state.
That wouldn’t work for Social Security, however, and we had to go to court to get a legal name change. Once that was taken care of, I could tie my Social Security and IRS records together. I could also get a passport, in case I decided to go to Thailand for my final change.
My final change was something I was thinking more and more about. Naturally, I was impatient. Swallowing pills every morning was now routine. Sandy kept checking me, and gave me an occasional shot to go along with the pills, but it seemed like forever nothing happened.
One night after my bath, I took a really good look at myself. In spite of that stuff hanging between my legs, I couldn’t see Mark. In fact, my chest was getting a little puffy. I had real breasts developing! I touched myself and things felt a little tender. And down below, things looked a little smaller than I remembered. I liked the way my skin felt. It was soft and smooth as I ran my hands along my legs and arms. As I ran my hands down my sides, I realized that my waist was smaller and my hips had been widening. I was developing a really good figure.
The only thing out of place was that little package hanging between my legs. It disturbed me and I pushed it back between my legs, closed them and looked again. Now things looked right! I was a really good-looking woman. Clearly, I needed to have a talk with Dr. Sandy.
At my next appointment, Sandy went through the normal routine. She felt around in lots of places, remarked on how much my hips had widened, felt my boy parts and drew some blood. Finally she told me I could get dressed again.
“Jessica,” she said as I came out from behind the screen, “I’m a little surprised it’s happened so fast, but you've reached a crossroads. In fact, you might be beyond a crossroads, but I won't know for sure until I see the results of the blood work.”
“Meaning?”
“You may have already tumbled onto the girl side of things,” she replied. “Your physical development certainly points in that direction. Your body has responded well to the female hormones. It's like your body was just waiting for them. But how have you been doing mentally?”
“Well, the drastic mood swings have evened out somewhat,” I said. “The biggest thing I’ve noticed is that I can cry at the drop of a hat. That never used to happen. But, more than ever, I’m sure I’m going in the right direction. Now that I’ve reached closure with the whole divorce thing, I’m discovering new and exciting things every day. I am so much more as Jessica than I ever was before. Colors are more vivid. I smell scents I never dreamed existed. Things I touch seem much more real somehow. I want to stay this way for the rest of my life.”
“What about surgery?” Sandy asked.
“I feel like it would correct the only thing I still see wrong with myself right now. And, if I had a vagina, I’d finally completely understand what being female is all about.”
“Well, Tina agrees with me that it’s time you looked into it.”
I left Sandy’s office on Cloud 9. Of course, I realized being a woman wasn’t all sweetness and light. That had been reemphasized to me a few weeks after I’d left Phil. I’d called Lisa to let her know I’d moved out.
Lisa had sounded disappointed when I broke the news. “I’d been hoping you were the one,” she said. She invited me to come over for dinner and a good, long talk. So I’d taken the ferry across the Sound after work, along with the other commuters. I met her husband, Bob, and enjoyed a really good meal with them. It was such a good time that I didn’t mind the interruptions of Lisa’s children. In fact, I was a little surprised to find I enjoyed helping her take care of the kids and get them off to bed.
We had a really good talk. I told her that Tina and Sandy had started me on hormones and she told me some things that had happened to her when she started. That information was so helpful when I started feeling the emotional changes. Instead of wondering what was happening, I kept thinking, ‘Oh, this is what Lisa was telling me about.’
She also told me about the process she’d used leading up to her surgery and what she went through afterwards. It was so helpful!
We were deep in discussion when Bob stuck his head in the door. “The last ferry goes back to Seattle in 15 minutes.”
“Gosh, how time flies! Thanks, Lisa for everything.”
“You keep in touch, Jessica. I’m here to help.”
We hugged and I flew out the door and down to the ferry.
Riding the ferry late at night is much different than during the day. On one hand, the view of the islands and of Seattle with lights twinkling and reflecting off the water was spectacular. On the other hand, there are very few people riding over to Seattle at that time of night. I was seated by the windows and became very conscious of two sailors sitting across from me. I was still dressed in my work clothes and was very aware that they kept trying to look up my skirt. Thank goodness I had my winter coat that I draped across my legs.
But as we docked, I began to feel vulnerable in a way I’d never felt before. There was a big, lonely parking lot with only a few scattered cars. My car was far across the lot. The echoing sound of my heels as I walked, reminded me that I was a female alone at night. I’d gotten myself into a situation where I could be a target with no help around. I’d never given a second thought as Mark to walking alone at night. But a woman alone at night was different. We could easily attract the wrong kind of attention. We could be hurt–or worse.
At least the lot was well lit and I’d be able to see anyone coming a long ways off. I breathed a big sign of relief when I reached my car. I remembered to walk around the car, check my back seat and look around again before fumbling in my purse for my car keys. As I started my car, I vowed that I would not put myself in such a situation again. As a woman I had restrictions men wouldn’t even dream of. I never felt totally secure when I was out by myself again.
After my appointment with Sandy, Karen and I poured over information about SRS surgery on the internet. There were lots of pictures of the final product of several surgeons in several countries. I got very confused and it took Karen, with her intimate knowledge of the female anatomy, to make sense of which pictures were of good work and which were marginal. We read testimonies and horror stories of new girls almost stranded in countries where almost no one spoke English. I could speak Chinese, but not Thai, so we ruled Thailand out. I know, they say everyone there speaks English, but I still wanted to be perfectly comfortable.
In the end, we decided I would stay in this country and go to the surgeon who boasted that over 90% of her women were able to achieve orgasms. That, Karen assured me, was the most important point of all.
“Men just don’t have a clue what we really look like down there,” she told me. “All they care about is getting in and getting off. So it doesn’t matter what we look like as much as how we make them feel. What we get out of the deal is how we feel. And, if it’s right, it feels really, really good!”
We had noted one complaint about a post-op woman complaining about hair in her vagina. There was only one way that could have happened. Somehow, all the hair had not been permanently removed prior to surgery. So I got out the home electrolysis kit I’d used last year to get rid of the few hairs I had on my face.
This was a more delicate operation than what I’d done before. Karen was the only person I trusted to help me. Very carefully we examined my penis and scrotum. There were a few hairs that needed to go.
Sending an electric charge down a hair follicle into such a sensitive part of the body is not something I’d recommend for anyone. The electric current did the job, but I was really not in too good a shape for a little while after that session.
My pubic pattern was getting pretty good after being on hormones, but according to instructions, there were a few areas that I needed to shave before I was ready. I used a bikini area cream removal instead of trusting the razor. After all, you don’t want to risk having a sneeze while wielding a razor in a place like that. I wanted to leave the cutting in that region to the professionals.
At last everything was ready. I’d told Deanna and her sisters that I’d be going on a trip for a while. Karen had agreed to accompany me. I was ready to embark on the next and most permanent part of my journey.
We checked in and I was examined. I provided both my medical and psychiatric letters. We discussed my options. The head of my penis was going inside to become my cervix, at least as far as anyone poking up in there would know. Somehow, some of the nerves would remain attached so I’d have some feeling up inside me. The remaining knob, with nerves attached, would become my clitoris and would be hooded by scrotum tissue as part of the operation. Apparently that used to require another later operation. My remaining scrotal tissue would become my inner and outer labia, something else that used to require another operation. In short, I could get everything done at one time.
Karen and I went to a room and I had a last meal with any part of me male. As we ate and talked, I finally asked Karen the question I’m sure everyone in my position has asked at about the same time in this process.
“Karen,” I said. “Am I doing the right thing?”
“Not getting cold feet, are you?” she asked.
“No, but you have to admit, this is a pretty big step.”
“Well, you’re not going to get me to make your decision for you,” she said. “But I will say, I’ve never thought of you as a boy or man. Even way back when we were kids, I knew you were a girl. I couldn’t understand why others didn’t know it.
“And the way you blossomed so quickly after you start taking hormones just proves it. Your body was just waiting for that little push. You just became who you really are.”
“I think so too,” I said. “I can’t wait.”
After we finished, Karen reminded me to take a dose of arnica and then place the Hypericum Perforatum tablets under my tongue. Hypericum is a homeopathic which they’d told me about at the natural health food store. The owner was telling me it helps when there’s nerve damage. He said he had had serious dental surgery and had taken it instead of the pain pills the dental surgeon had prescribed.
“I kept waiting for the time when I’d need the pain pills,” he told me, “but it never came.”
Naturally, I hadn’t told him what I wanted to use the arnica and Hypericum for, just that I was going to have a little surgery. And, as it turned out, they helped. A lot. Thank goodness.
The next afternoon, I woke up completely Jessica. There was no turning back. I was now a woman and would remain so for the rest of my life. I hurt, but not as much as I’d expected. My bottom was hurting and also my throat. I’d opted to get my Adam’s Apple shaved a little too, since I’d remembered that that was one of the ways Phil had “read” me.
I did have some pain medication coming in through an IV, but had Karen slip some of the pills under my tongue as soon as possible and they really helped.
“Everything went okay?” I croaked.
“Yes, your doctor was very pleased,” Karen said. “She said everything looked great as if you were just waiting for this.”
I smiled and fell asleep. I woke up to find Karen’s mother, Mildred sitting beside me.
“What?” I croaked.
“Don’t try to talk yet, dear,” she said. “I wanted to surprise you. When Karen told me about your trip, I had to come down and welcome my other daughter to the world.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“I had my reservations from when you were a little girl,” she said. “But seeing you here, so beautiful, I can see I was wrong. And don’t think I haven’t watched you on TV at the football games. You are the most graceful of the lot.”
I was crying by now. My second mother, the one who had taught me so much about being a girl, had also accepted me. It meant a lot. I reached over and squeezed her hand. That was as much as I could do with all the tubes sticking out of me.
The tubes didn’t last long. They had me up and walking around way before I thought I was ready. Then they removed the packing and introduced me to the joys of dilation. Not! The only happy thing about that whole process was finding out that I had a very good depth. I’d be able to take in just about any length of penis under 10 inches. Once I’d healed, of course. Right now, with everything swollen up, dilation was a necessary pain, and I do mean pain.
Soon, I was healed enough to head back to Seattle. I had a real sense of satisfaction as I pulled my panties up and didn’t encounter any taped parts. That little irritant was gone. Of course, I was wearing a pad, which felt somewhat the same in a different way, but that was temporary. As I pulled on my skirt and top on, I felt lighter. I had no fear of discovery now. I held my head up high, stuck my breasts out in front, my tush out in back, and walked out to face whatever lay ahead as the woman I truly was and always had been.
I had to sit on a rubber donut for a while as everything healed completely. Gradually things settled down and I was able to slide larger and larger appliances up into me, until I reached maximum depth with the largest one I had been given. When that one got all the way in, I discovered that I did, in fact, have feeling up in there. It was still tender, but I could feel it.
And, it looked perfect when I finally got a good look. In fact, one night when Karen and I had a little too much wine, we both dropped our panties, spread our legs and took pictures with my laptop camera. When we laid the pictures side by side on the screen, there was almost no difference, except for my red pubic hair and her blonde ones. I fixed that by running the photos through our hair program. With both with the same color hair, we couldn’t tell which one was Karen and which was me. I was as natural looking as a genetic girl. That really boosted my confidence.
“Now we’ll post them on our web page,” I joked. I should have waited. Karen had just taken a sip of wine and nearly spit it across the room.
“We’ll just keep those private,” she said. “No one but paying customers get a look.”
“You mean I can get paid?” I asked.
“Well, a little, but not much,” she replied. Then we both rolled on the floor with laughter.
The next week, I had to smile again as I pulled on my white short shorts for another Sea Gal personal appearance. This time the crease that showed in my crotch was real! I really loved showing myself off. But, just as I was about to walk out the door, I looked at myself in the mirror. While I liked the way I looked, there would be children at the event. What message would I be sending to girls like Deanna and her sisters if I were showing off my genitals in public? A suggestion is probably okay, but I was now beyond that. So I went back and slipped in a panty liner to soften my appearance.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
At the end of our Sea Gals personal appearance, Terri came up to me. “Jessica, I’ve been thinking about a project and would like you to be a part of it.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I want to get some of the better girls together and put on a show, a benefit for the Children’s Hospital.”
”Count me in,” I said immediately. “I’ll do anything I can do to help that facility.“
Terri was going to choreograph the show and had some ideas for places we could hold it. I volunteered to make some calls. I found a theater not too far from the hospital that could handle a stage show and large crowd. When I explained what we were trying to do, they agreed to let us use the venue for cost.
Then the work began. Terri not only talked to the Sea Gals, but also other entertainers in the area. Even some of the football players who stayed in the area during the off-season wanted to help. With all the talent, we came up with a spectacular variety show.
It turned out that Terri wanted me to be the headliner in a modern dance number. Then she dropped the big bomb.
“Sing?” I said. “I can’t sing. No way!”
“You can and you will,” Terri said. “You have a great voice. I’ve heard you singing along with lots of songs at class and on the sidelines at the games.”
“But, I haven’t had any voice training,” I protested.
“Sometimes, that’s a good thing,” she said. “Just sing in your natural voice and everything will be fine.”
So I found myself spending almost all of my free time learning a complicated dance routine and the music and lyrics to “Hey, Big Spender.” The words were modified a bit so that the song became a plea to donate to the hospital.
By the time the show was coming up, I was in the best shape I’d ever been in my life. It is really difficult to dance an athletic number by itself, but when it is combined with singing, it becomes a real art form. I had to be in good enough shape to not huff and puff as I moved and especially not when I was singing. No wonder so many singers lip sync their dance numbers at their concerts.
Then, when I had all that down, Terri came up with another surprise. I had sounded so good with my song, that I had been elected to take the lead in the grand finale number. This one wouldn’t involve as much dancing, but I had to carry the end of the show.
Somewhere in my youth or childhood, I must have really pissed off the karma gods.
To make it worse, I thought the finale number was weak. It just didn’t have the “punch” I thought the show needed to end on, especially if we were really asking the audience to help us help the Children’s Hospital.
Then, I had an idea. I didn’t want to sound presumptuous, but I remembered a song that I thought would be better.
It has started one day when Deanna was especially frustrated at her session at the clinic. I’d been there to help for most of her sessions, except when I was away for my own hospital stay. Today, things weren’t going well. She was hurting and angry that she couldn’t do the things that she felt she should be able to do. Things that had come so easy before the accident.
By the end of the session, she sat sobbing uncontrollably in her wheelchair. “I can’t do it, I just can’t do it,” she wailed. “I’m useless and I am going to stay that way!”
I tried to comfort her. I pointed out how far she had come and how much more she could do now than she had been able to do when she started physical therapy. But she felt like she’d hit a wall and wouldn’t be able to do any more than where she was at that point. I tried to tell her that there was always hope, but ended up suggesting she sleep on it.
That night, I thought about what she’d said and found I could identify with her. When I’d been in that dark place as Mark, I hadn’t had any hope. I couldn’t even conceive that hope was possible. And yet, now my life was so much wider, so much more open to possibilities than I’d been able to imagine at that point. When one is in that dark place, he or she thinks nothing will ever change. Yet life is all about change. It is always changing. If we can just hang on a little longer when we feel so down, things will change. And we can make them change for the better. My life is proof of that. All we have to do is reach out.
And, words started coming to me. I hurried to grab a piece of paper and pencil to get them down. They were the words I would say to Deanna. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I started to hear a tune as I put down the words. I don’t claim to be a songwriter, but somehow, my desire to help Deanna came together as the words and music I wrote that evening.
When Karen and I were little, Mildred had insisted Karen take piano lessons. Naturally I had been a part of them too, although I hadn’t done any playing in years. But Karen had kept up with playing and had a keyboard in her apartment. I crossed the hall and asked her if I could borrow it.
Once back in my apartment, I began to strike the keys. C,D,E,F, E,E,D,G. Then I repeated the pattern starting with G. It sounded right and I sang as I played the first notes, “Look up in hope.” It sounded right and I kept on.
I was up half the night finishing it. The next day, I took the keyboard with me to see Deanna and played my little song for her. As I ended it, she was in tears. “You wrote that for me?”
“I think I wrote it for both of us,” I replied. “I know what it’s like to be down too, but I lived beyond it and found a whole, wonderful world. A world that has a big part called Deanna. And I want--no I know--that Deanna will find out how wonderful it is too, if she only hopes.”
I reached out and gave her a big hug. She, in turn, promised to keep hoping and to keep working.
“I will get better,” she stated.
That was my song. And, considering the reason all the children were in Children’s Hospital, it seemed appropriate.
So, I pulled Terri aside and played my song on the piano and sang it to her.
She liked it, but said it needed a last verse that invited everyone to join in the hope. She hooked me up with the musical director of the show, who agreed to orchestrate the song. Terri and I worked on the words to the last verse. With some work, my song became the new finale.
At last, the big night was here. I was scared. Especially since I’d gotten tickets for Ken and the girls. Karen and the others from the office were also there. Steve and Madeline were also coming.
I was dressed in a satin leotard that was very high cut on the sides and very tight in the crotch. Underneath, I was wearing fishnet stockings that did great things to my legs. They were the kind that had soles in the bottoms. I’d tried a cheap pair at one rehearsal and found that the strings of the netting really cut into the bottoms of my feet. I lasted about three minutes before I had to take them off.
I had on three-inch patent leather pumps that further helped the shape of my legs. On top, I had a formal white shirt with bow tie and a formal tux coat with tails. You’ve seen the outfit in lots of movies. But I still felt great in it. I even had the top hat.
The number started out with a dark stage. I was standing at the top of a staircase when the spotlight hit me. I started singing and descended the stairs into a crowd of men that included some professional dancers and some of the football players. I moved and swayed, covering the stage with my dance steps. I rubbed myself up against some of the football players in an over-the-top parody of flirting. At one point, I jumped into the air, to be caught and lifted up by two of the dancers. Then two of the football players grabbed hold of my legs and moved so that I was doing a splits in the air. I almost felt like a Thanksgiving wishbone being pulled apart. Thank God I was completely healed! I also had to balance myself as they carried me around the stage. Actually, it was a good stretch for me and it got me ready for my big jump and splits at the front of the stage at the end of the number.
There was a thunderous applause. I was overwhelmed at how much they liked me. I took several bows and pulled the two football players who had carried me around the stage to the front to share in the applause. Finally the curtain fell.
Then I got to wait in the wings until the final number. Again the stage was dark. It was also bare. All the props had been cleared off. The melody of the final song began and I walked to the center of the empty stage, a spotlight following me. Then I began to sing.
“Look up in Hope,
And things will get better,
Look up in Love,
And there’s nothing you can’t do.
Look up in Joy,
For you are so special,
In all the world,
There’s no one just like you.
Reach out in Hope,
You’ll surely be better,
Reach out in Love,
So wondrous in you.
Reach out in Joy,
You’ll feel so much better,
Reach out your hand,
You’re never alone.
Join us in Hope,
We’ll make things so much better.
Join us in Love,
It’s all that we need.
Join us in Joy,
We’ll do it together,
We can remake
the world on our own.”
As the second verse started, other members of the cast joined in, walking from the wings. Soon the entire cast was on stage. The words “Reach Out In Hope,” flashed across a screen that had dropped down in back of us, followed by the rest of the song. As we came to the words, “Reach out your hand,” the entire cast joined hands and the members on both ends of the stage moved down the stairs on the sides and reached out to join hands with the audience. Soon, everyone in the theater had joined hands and was singing. When we came to the last line, we all raised our hands in triumph.
What I hadn’t noticed, as I raised my voice with all the others, was that a beautiful little redheaded girl with several bouquets of roses in her lap was being wheeled onto the stage. As we finished the song, the wheelchair stopped several feet from me and Deanna stood up and slowly walked from her chair towards me. She gave a bouquet to Terri and to the other principals in the show, ending up with one to give to me. I smiled at her through my tears, accepted the roses and gave her a big hug.
“I get to go home next week,” she told me. It was only when I heard her voice echoed that I realized my mike was still on and had been picked up and amplified her words throughout the theater. I picked her up and faced the audience.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I said. “This is my dear friend, Deanna. I met her over a year ago, at the Children’s Hospital. Her body had been horribly mangled in a terrible traffic accident. Today, after a lot of very hard work on her part, I was surprised to see her walk across this stage. There was a time when neither she nor I would have thought she would ever be able to do that.
“Thanks to the doctors at the hospital and the people at the Hospital Rehab Clinic, you all saw what she can now do. This is what your being here tonight and your contributions accomplish. You all make it possible for Deanna and all the other children at the Hospital and Clinic to look up in hope. They, and I, thank you.”
“Thank you,” Deanna added.
It seemed like the applause would never stop. I took Deanna over to introduce her to Terri and explain how this was all Terri’s idea. But I found out that they already knew each other. When Deanna heard about the show, she wanted to be a part of it somehow. Ken had called Terri and Deanna’s appearance on stage had been Terri’s idea. I wanted to brain her for surprising me like that.
“The look on your face when Deanna walked up to you was priceless,” Terri said laughing, “Your words were so much more wonderful than anything that could have been scripted in advance. They were the perfect ending to a perfect show.”
As I walked with Deanna back to her wheelchair, what she’d said finally registered.
“You’re going home next week?” I said. “Oh, Honey, that’s so wonderful!”
“I can hardly wait,” she said. “I’ll still have to come back once a week for a while, but I’ll be home!”
Just then Ken and Sarah and Millie came up and I got a big group hug.
“You were so beautiful,” Millie yelled.
“And so graceful,” Sarah added.
“And your speech at the end was wonderful,” Ken added quietly.
I don’t know what it was, but Ken and I had grown increasingly shy around each other over the past few weeks. But I wasn’t going to let that stop me.
“Listen,” I said. “In celebration of Deanna’s coming home, can I cook you dinner?”
Naturally, all the girls were in favor. While they didn’t say it loudly, Sarah whispered to me, “That would be great, we’re so tired of Daddy’s cooking.”
I smiled, and made sure I knew the day and time. Ken assured me that I wouldn’t be needed at the Clinic, so we made arrangements for me to meet them at their house. It turned out that Deanna’s favorite meal was roast beef, with mashed potatoes and peas, so I said I could make that. I’d bring all the food, so Ken could concentrate on making all the arrangements for getting Deanna home.
“But I reserve the right to prepare a gourmet dessert,” I cautioned. “By the way, you were going to clean, weren’t you?”
Ken turned a little red and mumbled something about “not enough time in the day...”
I smiled and told Sarah and Millie that I’d be arriving early that day and that as soon as they got home from school, they were going to help me clean their house.
“In the meantime, you two are going to pick up all your things and get your rooms in shape,” I said. “We won’t have time to do everything in one day, so you have to get your house ready for me to clean.”
I promised that if they did a good job, according to my inspection, we could also make cookies when we finished cleaning. That seemed to be a motivator.
As Ken hustled the girls out the door, I turned and saw Cindy and Jake standing in the wings.
“Jessica, you were magnificent,” Cindy said. “This was such a wonderful idea. The next time you girls want to do a benefit like this, let me know. My agency will do all your publicity for free.”
I thanked her for such a generous offer.
“Why don’t we meet for lunch?” she asked. “Are you open on Tuesday?”
We made arrangements to meet in a restaurant at the Fish Market. She gave me a hug and left. I finally got to go to my dressing room.
Next: Jessica and Cindy have lunch and Jessica gets a surprise.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
Tuesday, I dressed in one of my skirt suits and put on a low cut green silk blouse under it. For some reason, I wanted to show off some of my now very real cleavage. I chose my emerald pendant and matching dangling earrings to match my top and contrast with my red hair. I slipped on three-inch heels and examined myself in my full-length mirror. Damn, I looked good!
Cindy was waiting when I arrived at the restaurant. The waiter rushed up to help us with our chairs as the hostess handed us the menus. He couldn’t keep his eyes off my chest, so I decided to tease him a little. I leaned forward a little towards Cindy, letting my top gape open a little more. The waiter’s eyes almost popped out of his head.
“What’s good here?”
“Almost everything,” she answered, smiling. She knew exactly what I had just done.
As the waiter departed with our drink orders, she said, “Lean forward again and we’re going to get the best service in the place.”
“So I’ve learned,” I said, smiling back.
“You really like being a girl, don’t you?” she asked.
“Honestly, I love being a woman,” I replied. “I can’t imagine being anything else. It’s so much fun.”
“Well, it has its ups and downs,” Cindy said.
“I know, but the ups more than make up for the downs,” I said.
We made small talk until our drinks arrived. Then Cindy raised her glass and said, “To, Jessica. A really remarkable woman whom I want to be my friend.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “I thought we were friends.”
“Well, we’ve met casually several times,” she said. “But I really want to get to know you better. I have to say I was stunned by your dancing and singing the other night. You were the hit of the show. You have such control of your body.”
“It comes from a lot of work,” I said. “The audience doesn’t see the hours and hours of practice behind a performance like that. Or the hours we practice for our football routines.”
“You are in such good shape,” Cindy said. “What else do you do?”
“I have a small catering business. I also do some financial analysis for a major financial institution, and recently started a new project which may lead to promoting a new software product.”
“So many talents,” Cindy said. “And who was that beautiful girl who brought you the flowers?”
“Oh, I met Deanna when the Sea Gals were making a personal appearance at the hospital. I’ve been trying to encourage her in her recovery.”
“She’s a beautiful girl,” Cindy said. “With that red hair, I thought she might be related to you.”
“Right now, that hair is still a wig I got for her,” I said. “She had a major head injury in an auto accident, and they’d been keeping her head shaved while she recovered. Her own hair is growing back now, but it’s still shorter than she wants it to be.”
“You really seem to like her.”
“I love her and her sisters to death,” I replied. “I’m so glad I’ve gotten to help the family get back on their feet after their mother was killed.”
“It sounds like you have a busy life,” Cindy said.
“I do,” I replied. “Like most people, I’ve had issues I’ve had to work through, including some bad relationships. But I really have come to like myself and am having the time of my life right now.”
“I’m so happy to hear that,” Cindy said. “Now, I have something to confess.”
I looked at her expectantly.
“Did you know,” she said, leaning close to me, “that all legal actions, such as name changes, have to be posted in the newspaper classified ads?”
A cold chill went through me. Cindy knew!
“Don’t get upset,” Cindy cautioned. “When I saw that notice, it answered so many questions for me. And I do want to be your friend.”
“What do you mean?” I asked cautiously.
“It answered my questions about what happened to my marriage, for one thing,” Cindy said. “It answered my questions about what happened to my best friend and why I hadn’t been able to find him.”
I sat there, numb.
“Look,” Cindy said. “Back in college when I first met you--or Mark--whatever, it was so great. I found someone who shared so many of my interests that it was almost like looking in a mirror. We had so much fun together. We helped each other study. We went places together and were just so connected. I’ve never had so good a friend.
“Then the boy-girl stuff got in the way. Somehow, when we began to relate as a man and a woman, things changed. We still had fun, but somehow we weren’t as close. We were still so close that we ended up in a marriage, but it wasn’t the same. In some ways, I lost my closest friend when I gained a husband. But now I understand why. You started hiding Jessica.
“Before, you just been you and I’d just been me. Then, as it became apparent that we might be headed toward a man-woman relationship, you pulled the Jessica part of you back. As you did, I lost a big part of my friend. I still loved you enough to want a life with you, but you kept shutting down.
“I thought at the time it was the pressure of school. We both were under a lot of that. Then you started your business, and helped me start mine and we got busy with those and you shut down even more.”
“I thought if you knew about Jessica, you’d leave,” I said. “And I didn’t want that. I loved what we were.”
“Me too. I just didn’t know a large part of what we had was Jessica. Yes, we probably would have moved in a different direction if I’d known, but I loved you. I love that whole package that is you, Jessica.
“No, I probably wouldn’t have married you,” Cindy continued. “But I do want what we had at first. We shared something special, and I want it again.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said, holding up her hand. “I’m not a lesbian. Men do have their uses. But women have one or two special friends, I think the current term is ‘BFF.’ It is someone who they can relate to on a very deep level. Men may come and go, but these friends go on forever.”
“But why all this stuff we went through?” I asked.
“I was angry,” Cindy replied. “When we married, I lost my friend. You withdrew so much that I couldn’t relate to you at all. Then Jake came along and I realized what I was missing in a male-female relationship, so I left. But I didn’t mean for you to be completely cut off from everything. When we saw all the bills for women’s clothing and accessories come in, I thought you’d been seeing someone behind my back, so I agreed with my lawyer to initiate actions to stop you from giving all our money to some gold-digger.
“But it was you buying things for Jessica, wasn’t it?”
“Yes,” I replied, “I was so deep in depression that Karen convinced me that Mark had to take a vacation and I needed to be Jessica 24/7. And she was right. I’ve come to realize I never should have been Mark in the first place.”
“After I realized how successful my lawyer had been in denying you access to anything, I tried to find you,” Cindy said. “But Mark had disappeared. You had a very good disguise.”
“It was touch and go for a little while,” I said. “But I survived and now I’m grateful for my experiences. They really shook me out of my rut. I lived with a guy and was kind of his mistress. Then I got involved in a lot of other things and my life really changed.”
“On some level, I think I must have suspected something,” Cindy said. “I was attracted to Jessica from the first time I met you and felt we could be friends.
“It’s funny,” she continued. “The more I looked for Mark, it seemed the more I started running into you. Now I understand why.”
“When did you suspect?”
“Not for a surprisingly long time,” Cindy replied. “It actually didn’t start until that last time at the lawyer’s office when you were wearing those ridiculous ‘Clark Kent’ glasses. I really looked at you for the first time in a long time.
“At first, I thought I was nuts to think such a thing. Then I remembered that, after we’d started to date, I’d heard some people at college asking whatever had happened to Jessica. Since I didn’t know Jessica, I didn’t pay any attention. But when I first met you as Jessica, I did wonder if you might be the same person they’d talked about in college.
“I really didn’t put things together until I saw that name change notice in the paper. So, you’re Jessica for good now?”
“Completely. I’m Jessica now for the rest of my life. It’s who I should have been all along. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize it, and I hurt you along the way. I’m so sorry.”
I reached over and took Cindy’s hand. She squeezed back.
“It was tough,” she said. “But a lot of good had come out of it. If it hadn’t been for our relationship during our marriage, I probably wouldn’t have pushed myself to become what I am today. Every once in a while, I pinch myself to be sure I’m not dreaming. I never thought I had it in myself to do what I’ve accomplished. I have you to thank for that, rough as it was.”
“I’m glad some good things have come out of all this mess,” I replied. “I do want us to be BFF’s. I’ve missed you too.”
We stood up and hugged, not in a sexual way, but as two women friends greeting each other after a long absence.
“We’ve got so much catching up to do,” Cindy said. “But I’ve got a meeting in a half-hour I can’t miss.”
I was surprised to see how late it had gotten.
“One other thing,” Cindy said. “Now that we’ve gotten everything out in the open, I have something to ask of you.”
I raised my eyes questioning.
“Jake and I are going to be married next year. Would you be my maid of honor?”
I was floored. Cindy wanted me to attend her wedding, on the other side of the aisle.
“Of course,” I said in a daze. “I’d love to do this for you.”
We hugged again and Cindy whispered in my ear, “I’m so happy you’ve finally gotten where you needed to be.”
I left the restaurant with tears in my eyes. I’d reconnected with a very, very dear friend and we were finally on the path we should have been all along. I had no doubt that we’d be friends for life.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The following day was Deanna’s homecoming from the Clinic. I’d tried to work late the night before to make up for taking the day off, but Karen would have none of it.
“You got yourself in a heap of trouble trying to work too much,” she said. “I won’t have that happen to you again. We’ve got plenty of time to get this project done.”
Karen had been scheduling things so that I had time for a life, and then some. She, like Cindy, was a very, very dear friend and would remain so for the rest of my life. But I still felt a little guilty taking time off, but finally got rid of it by realizing that I was lapsing into Mark-think.
Arriving at the house early, I let myself in with the key Ken had given me. Sarah and Millie were at preschool and kindergarten, so I had the house to myself.
I brought in the food and set up to be ready when I had to start cooking. The roast went in a slow cooker so it would stay tender and juicy. Then came the house, the bathrooms first. Things weren’t in the best of shape. Ken had his hands full with Sarah and Millie at home and seeing Deanna at the Clinic
As far as cleaning went, there was evidence of a lick and a promise. So the bathrooms got a through scrubbing. The towels and washcloths went in the clothes washer with bleach to be sure they were disinfected.
Then came the bedrooms. I stripped the beds and piled the sheets in front of the washer. There were toys everywhere in the girls’ room. To save time, I pushed them into a pile and dusted and swept the rooms. I couldn’t tell which clothes on the floor were clean and which were dirty, so they went into another pile. Sarah and Millie were going to have some work to do when they came home.
I repeated the process in Deanna’s and Ken’s rooms. Of course, Deanna’s room hadn’t been touched for a long time, and dust was everywhere. I noticed that Ken still hadn’t done anything about his late wife’s clothes in the closet, but the vanity and dresser were clear of makeup and jewelry. I dusted and swept, but didn’t touch anything else. That would be Ken’s job when he was ready.
The downstairs was a little easier. It was obvious Ken had made an effort in the living room. The dining room looked like it hadn’t been used in some time. Obviously they’d been having their meals in the kitchen breakfast table.
I dusted and swept the living, dining and family rooms. All the dirty dishes went into the dishwasher. By that time, the bathroom things were ready for the dryer and the sheets and blankets went in the washer.
By then, when I glanced out the front door, I spotted the girls coming down the street. As they came in the door, I gave them a big hug.
“Hi girls! Isn’t this an exciting day?”
They jumped up and down, took off their jackets and threw them on the floor as they headed for a snack in the kitchen. “Sarah and Millie,” I said in a stern voice, “aren’t you forgetting something?”
They looked puzzled.
“These jackets have a place and it isn’t on the floor. Come hang them up.”
“Awww, we’ll get to them,” Millie said.
“Now!” I said. “It’s obvious that you’ve been lax in some things, like hanging up jackets and clothes and putting away your toys. That has to stop right now. We can’t have Deanna tripping over something you left on the floor.”
Reluctantly they came back and picked up their jackets and hung them up.
“Thank you girls,” I said. “Now let’s get a snack. A little later, you’re going to have to help me in your bedroom. I didn’t know where your toys go and, I don’t know where your clothes go.”
I could tell they were going to protest, but I cut them off.
“Then you can help me make up the beds with clean sheets. After that, we’ll have some fun making dinner.”
They perked up at that. While they were having their snacks, I pulled the bathroom things out of the dryer and put the bedclothes in. Then, I added the snack plates to the dishwasher, and started it.
Sarah and Millie had turned on the television while I was busy with the dryer. I went into the family room and turned the TV off. “We don’t have time for TV this afternoon,” I said. “Too much to do. Besides fixing dinner, I want us to decorate the house to surprise Deanna.”
I showed the girls the streamers I’d bought along with the “Welcome Home Deanna” banner I’d had printed up. They were excited by the decorations and wanted to hang them immediately, but I made them go up to their bedroom first.
“First we do work, then we have fun,” I told them. With my prodding, they put their toys away and sorted the clean from the dirty clothes. Clean went into drawers, dirty into the hamper.
“That didn’t take long, did it?” I asked. They reluctantly agreed it hadn’t. I took a minute to reemphasize that they absolutely had to keep things off the floors with Deanna home.
“She’s a lot better with walking than she was,” I pointed out, “but we need to do all we can to help her, so we can’t leave anything around for her to stumble on."
Both girls agreed they didn't want Deanna to get hurt again. Then we checked the dryer and found the blankets were taking longer to dry than I'd planned on. So I went to Plan B.
“Come on girls, let’s have some fun!”
We went into the kitchen and got dinner going. I’d decided on a Baked Alaska for dessert, so I set the girls to beating egg whites, while I prepared the veggies. Once the egg whites were done, I set the girls to work beating on the potatoes. They really got into the beating and we soon had well-mashed potatoes. I showed them how to make dough for rolls and then let them roll the dough into little balls. We put the balls into the roll pan and put it in the oven.
Then we hung streamers in the living and dining rooms. Next, we hung the banner outside over the front door.
By that time, dinner was about ready. I suggested the girls that might want to get dressed up in party dresses, telling them I was going to do the same. I used the bathroom to change into a blue halter dress with full skirt that I thought looked festive. I added an apron to protect it as I finished getting the food onto the dining room table. The girls set the table and I gently made corrections as they did so. Then we had a big group hug and I thanked them for all their hard work and help.
As if on cue, Ken pulled into the driveway with Deanna. Sarah and Millie went running out and pulled open Deanna’s door. Carefully they helped her out of the car. Tears came to my eyes as I watched Deanna walk from the car to the house on her own, Sarah and Millie walking beside her to help if necessary. Ken came around with Deanna’s suitcase. He handed it to me and pulled her wheelchair out of the back of the car.
“Come on in,” I called. Dinner is ready!”
Deanna paused and took in the banner. She clapped in delight as she walked inside and saw our decorations.
“I’m home, at last,” she said.
Sarah and Millie were both trying to talk at once and show Deanna everything. “One at a time,” I said, putting down the suitcase. “There’s plenty of time for everything.”
Ken came in, looked around and smiled. “This looks great!” he said.
“Well, there’s still a little to do,” I said. “We’ve got to get sheets and blankets back on the beds before bedtime. But in the meantime, dinner is ready.”
We all sat down in the dining room. Before Ken could start carving the roast, I felt that something was missing. Then it came. “I’ve not been the most religious person in the world,” I said. “But could we all join hands and could you say something, Ken?”
Ken looked a little startled, but nodded his head. We joined hands and I motioned the girls to bow their heads.
“We welcome Deanna home at last,” Ken said. “We are thankful that she is well on the road to recovery and hope that the rest of the way is swift and complete. And we thank our very special friend Jessica for doing so much for us. Thank you.”
We all squeezed hands and began to pass dishes around. Sarah and Millie told Ken and Deanna all that they had done to help today and Ken smiled at me. Near the end of the meal, I went into the kitchen to put the finishing touches on dessert. Everyone was amazed and thrilled at the Baked Alaska and the girls told Ken and Deanna how they had done the egg whites. It tasted as good as the recipe promised.
After that, I sat back and watched the rhythms and flows of a family coming back together. It was a warm feeling and I was happy to share in it a little.
Once the dishes were done and put away, we put the sheets and blankets back on the beds and the girls got ready for bed. I said goodnight to each of them and went back downstairs to get ready to leave. I’d already volunteered to take Deanna back to the Clinic each week, and Ken had somewhat reluctantly agreed.
As I gathered up my things, he came up to me and took my hands. “Thank you so much for everything. As I said at dinner, you’ve been a very special friend.”
He leaned forward and gently kissed my on the cheek. I felt a spark. I’d been denying to myself that I was starting to have feelings for this man. It was still too soon. There was the matter of his wife’s clothes still in the bedroom closet. I hadn’t looked, but I was sure there were still things in drawers. These would all need to be sorted and moved into their proper places before I would let myself look closely at what I was feeling for this man and his family.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
The days started to really fly by. Someone had put my performance of “Reach Out In Hope” on YouTube and views went into the millions almost as fast as Susan Boyle’s song had. I was approached to record an album with “Reach Out In Hope” as the featured song. After giving it a lot of thought, I decided I really didn’t want to be a singer. I had enough on my plate as it was. Still, I thought about how I’d kept expanding my comfort zone and the rewards I’d gotten from doing that. In the end, I compromised. I agreed to let “Reach Out In Hope” be released as a single download with all the proceeds going to the Children’s Hospital. I also agreed to record a few other songs and would periodically record more if those stirred any interest. I agreed to one photo shoot for publicity, but wouldn’t take the time to do any videos or concerts. Then I found out I really didn’t need to worry about a video anyway. They used videos of my dance number and finale recorded at the concert.
The next time I came to pick up Deanna to go to the clinic, the girls were all excited about hearing me singing on the radio. I was really tempted, but stuck to my plan in the end. I simply didn’t have time to start a singing career.
I went out on dates, but found many of the guys were just looking to score with a cheerleader. They were so obvious! Never in a million years would they realize that girls aren’t completely clueless and can see right through them.
It can be a burden to be a good-looking woman. A lot of guys see only the looks and the body and don’t even think to try to get to know the person behind those looks. It’s a real Catch-22 for us. We girls have to figure out a way to be attractive enough to catch the attention of guys. If we are too successful and turn out beautiful, however, we run the risk of not finding the deep connection with someone else that we long for. Many of us just wind up settling for something less than we’d hoped for.
Of course there were some really nice guys that I dated too. But, I just didn’t feel the connection I was looking for.
Sea Gals tryouts were held for the next season and I made it without any questions about my qualifications this time. I noticed my Sea Gal uniform and my bras were getting tight, so I headed back down to the shop where Karen had gotten my form and padding. When I showed the woman in the store what was going on, she nodded. “A lot of girls in transition go through that,” she said. “I have just the thing. You're far enough along for these now.”
She brought out some weirdly shaped forms and had to show me how they worked. They were designed to slip under my own breasts, forming a kind of shelf that provided padding underneath. When I put them in my bra, the tops of my own breasts were pushed up so that they were visible and provided cleavage. The forms just provided additional substance. With my Sea Gal top on, what I was now showing was all me. The forms were hidden underneath. That gave me a thrill.
We worked hard on some new routines I’d helped Terri develop for the season. I really liked performing our dances for our fans. I was even starting to be interested in how the team did during the season.
Karen and I went out clubbing and I had fun dancing with the guys. It was fun flirting, but I was careful to not take it too far. Karen kept urging me to try out my new equipment, but I just didn’t connect with anyone in that way.
I catered more dinners for the bank and Steve asked me to analyze several issues and opportunities. I prepared several more white papers on prospective investment projects. It turned out my paper on the Chinese project had been right on target. While the bank had realized a modest profit, it was nothing near what was expected. J.B.’s ego had gotten in the way of his business sense. As a result, he was no longer CEO. Madeline's investments and mine in rare earths were starting to pay off big.
I asked Karen to negotiate with Steve, since the projects he wanted me to examine had great potential, and I didn’t want to be paid just as an employee of the bank. In the end, I performed as a consultant, for a fee that included a percentage of any realized profits for either project. I ended up advising the bank not to pursue one project and to rapidly move forward on another. I can’t tell you what it was, but my bank account got considerably larger as a result.
I was increasingly involved in Cindy’s wedding preparations. One day we were trying on dresses and we found ourselves in the dressing room in just bras and panties. Cindy stopped and looked at my crotch.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you were a woman for the rest of your life,” she said. “Looking at you, I find it hard to believe I ever saw a male package between those gorgeous legs.”
“You have no idea how much better I feel now than I did. I just wish I’d done it a lot sooner.”
Then the attendant came back in with more dresses and we went back to putting on yards and yards of silk and satin. It was really fun and I couldn’t remember when I’d had a better day. I really liked seeing how pretty I looked in all those gorgeous dresses.
I'd started leaving off the padded panty when I was just going to be home for the day and discovered that I really didn't need it much anymore. My panties were beginning to fit just fine without it. And I was looking great in the dresses we were trying on.
As I bent over to place my breasts in the cups of the strapless bra I needed for some of the dresses, I realized I really didn't need much padding there, either. My breasts were filling my cups on their own. As I looked down at my new cleavage, I smiled. It felt right and I was proud of what I was seeing
Karen and I organized a shower for Cindy and we had a ball, especially with the games. As long as I’d been a woman, I still marveled at how gross and frank girls could be when they were by themselves.
As the wedding came closer, I ran into a problem. I’d be the maid of honor and Karen was one of the bridesmaids, but Jake’s best man was married and would be bringing his wife to the rehearsal dinner and reception. That left me without an escort. I didn’t mind, but both Cindy and Karen insisted I needed an escort.
“Having someone to be with you is a great help and a lot more fun,” Cindy said. She’d been a bridesmaid several times, so I assumed she knew what she was talking about. But, although I knew several guys casually, I really hadn’t been dating anyone special.
I was thinking about this as I drove over to pick Deanna up for her session at the Clinic. I’d fallen into the habit of holding an inspection of the house each week before Deanna and I left. If anything was really bad, Sarah and Millie had to fix it before I returned with Deanna. I wasn’t doing a military white-gloves inspection or anything like that, but I insisted the girls keep their rooms in order and keep the house generally clean and tidy. If they had done their jobs by the time we got back, we’d all spend time making cookies or something like that. I began to teach them how to sew too. Often, we’d cook dinner together and I’d stay for the evening.
This particular evening, I had a real treat for them. I had a beta version of a new program I’d been working on. Our new Marketing person had pointed out that what made us unique from the other products out there was our ability to translate a visual scan of the user into the program and produce images. It was Deanna’s face with different hair in my first version, but the software took the image and showed a 360-degree view of Deanna’s head. Of course, in later versions, we were able to add 3D.
This program I’d brought was a little different. Once I’d scanned them with the laptop’s camera, the program put the girls inside a version of a popular girl detective mystery. There on the screen, the girls could watch Deanna as Nancy, Sarah as George and Millie as Bess--all in 3D. This version was like watching themselves as characters in a film. We were still trying to decide if we should also offer an interactive version. There were some other interactive games already out there and we’d have to work through several copyright and trademark issues.
The girls were getting a kick out of Nancy/Deanna looking for clues to solve the mystery when Ken walked in. Then it struck me. Ken! He’d be the perfect escort for Cindy’s wedding. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but before I could say anything, he came up and asked me for a favor.
“It’s time I finished clearing out my wife’s things,” he said. “I’m afraid I’m not very objective about this and need the help of a neutral person. Could you help me?”
“Ken, are you sure?” I asked. “I don’t want to intrude on anything so personal.”
“You’d be the perfect person,” he replied. “You’re a good friend and know our family well. I can trust you to be sensitive, but objective. Please?”
How could I resist such a plea?
“Okay, I’ll help, but only if you’ll do me a big favor too. I need an escort for Cindy’s wedding. You won’t have to do anything except accompany me to the wedding and reception.”
“It’s a deal,” Ken said smiling.
We arranged for me to come back over Saturday.
When Saturday came we set to work. The girls were still busy trying to solve the mystery, so Ken and I had the bedroom to ourselves. It was fairly easy to separate Donna’s clothing into “keep” and ”giveaway” piles. We kept some things so the girls could play dressup. Some of her sweaters and skirts were timeless and the girls might want to wear them when they were older. Much was simply too old or would be too outdated by the time Deanna and the others would reach an age where they might be able to wear them. We put the dressup clothes into one box and packed the rest of the keepers into other boxes that went into storage. I insisted that we keep the wedding dress. It’s every girl’s dream to at least try on her mother’s wedding dress and, perhaps, wear it at her own wedding.
We separated the jewelry into things to sell and things to keep for the girls. Again, I insisted on Ken keeping Donna’s wedding and engagement rings. Such things need to be kept within families.
Once we finished packing, we headed for the nearby consignment store. The things they didn’t take to sell went to Goodwill. Then I treated Ken and the girls to lunch. When I left that afternoon, I gave Ken a big hug. I knew this final letting go was an emotional time for him.
“Thanks so much for your help,” he said. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“It had to be done sometime. I’m glad I could help you.”
A few weeks later, I let the girls watch me record the other songs I’d agreed to do. I was amazed by the number of hits the YouTube videos had gotten and the number of downloads “Reach Out In Hope” had gotten. People were talking about me as the next Susan Boyle. I tried to downplay all the fuss, but I was getting some requests for personal appearances from Children's Hospitals around the country to help with their fund-raising efforts. I found I just couldn’t turn those requests down. I worked with Terri to come up with a routine I could perform at the fund-raisers. It consisted of a little dancing, a few of the songs I’d just recorded and ended with “Reach Out In Hope.” I then gave a little talk about all the good the hospitals were doing and how much more they could do with more money. I’m proud to say I was a hit. Many of the hospitals reported a significant increase in their contributions
Between my appearances, the software development, preparing for Cindy’s wedding, the research I was doing for the bank, and my Sea Gal duties, I was kept very busy. The catering became just too much, so I let it go. I was so glad I’d promoted Karen to CEO of the company so she could keep me on track.
She knew I wouldn’t compromise on my taking time to run Deanna to her physical therapy sessions followed by dinners with Ken and the girls. That was paramount and she helped me force other things to change or happen without me so I wouldn’t miss that time.
Next: A disaster at Cindy’s Wedding.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
In no time at all, Cindy’s wedding came. She’d finally settled on bridesmaid’s dresses that could be reused for other formal occasions. She didn’t want her bridesmaids to have a bunch of unusable dresses sitting in the back of their closets.
The morning of the wedding, we all went in for makeovers. They did some great things to my hair. My nails were shaped and painted to match my dress color, and my brows were shaped a little. They chose makeup with accented my red hair and eyebrows. In short, I walked out feeling as feminine as I had ever felt. When I put on my dress and matching heels, I felt so pretty and was proud to be standing up supporting Cindy.
I couldn’t help think about my wedding when I’d been standing on the other side of Cindy. I decided that standing there in a dress and heels was much better and more comfortable than I’d been in a tux with the tight bow tie around my neck.
As the minister pronounced Cindy and Jake husband and wife, I was pleasantly relieved to find that I wasn’t jealous or resentful at all. Instead, I felt a great happiness that my friend was joined to the man she loved.
Ken was waiting at the table when we arrived at the reception after what seemed like endless pictures of the wedding party. He looked very handsome in his tux. I realized that at some point, I’d stopped looking at him as just the father of Deanna, Sarah and Millie. He was an attractive man with whom I had a lot in common.
We ate and then the dancing started. As I joined the rest of the bridal party in the second dance, Ken swept me into his arms and held me tight as we waltzed around the floor. I really liked being held by him and was finding a pleasant satisfaction out of responding to his moves. We began to almost move as one in time with the music and I lost myself in feeling that. We moved and swayed and dipped and enjoyed the moment.
When the music slowed, Ken swept me close to him and our tempo slowed. It was then, I realized that I could feel something against my thigh. I remembered the sensation from my past. Apparently, Ken was enjoying how close my body was to his. And, for the first time, I began to wonder about his body. What he looked like under that tux. Specifically, what that thing pressing against my leg looked like. That led to wondering what that thing might feel like in my new place. Certainly, he felt bigger than I remembered being when I had one. But those memories were starting to blur. After all, I’d spent more time trying to hide or deny its existence than I ever had studying it. ‘But’, I thought, ‘I could probably spend some time studying Ken’s.’
Too soon, the music ended and the band took a break. Reluctantly we returned to our table.
“So, how do you know Cindy?” Ken asked to make conversation.
“Oh, we met in college,” I replied. Immediately I was in turmoil. How much should I tell him? I valued the friendship of he and his family. What would he and/or they think if they knew my past? Yet I didn’t feel right lying to Ken. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I didn’t want to risk what might happen if he knew.
Yet, I knew to the depth of my being that I couldn’t lie to him. If I did, he’d never trust me again.
Fortunately, I was saved by the throwing of the bridal bouquet. We girls gathered behind Cindy and she let the flowers fly in a high arch. We all reached and it bounced from hand to hand.
No, I didn’t catch it. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to. We all congratulated the girl who caught the flowers and made suggestive remarks about what her evening was going to be like. Then I had to go back over to Ken.
We started to talk again. Ken told me he was sorry I hadn’t caught the bouquet, and I told him I really didn’t mind. I wasn’t ready for what catching the flowers implied.
“Well, you will certainly make a good mother sometime,” Ken said. “I can’t get over how much cleaner the house is since you started teaching the girls about housekeeping.”
“They just needed to know that there is a difference between ‘boy clean’ and ‘girl clean,’” I replied. I then proceeded to tell him the story of the time Karen and I, when we were little girls, had decided to have a formal tea party.
“We were probably about four or five,” I remembered. “We dressed up in Karen’s nicest dresses for our party in Karen’s back yard. But we decided two just wasn’t enough for a proper tea party. So we dressed up Karen’s cat in her third best party dress. Things were very prim and proper until the people next door let their dog out. It started barking at once, and the cat tried to head for the nearest tree. But it couldn’t move very well in the dress. Out came the claws and the dress was shredded. Luckily, the dress got caught on a branch of the tree and we were able to grab the cat and get it out of the remains of the dress.
“But just about then, Karen’s mother came out to see what all the fuss was about. When she saw how the dress was ruined, she just about had a fit. Then she saw what the dresses we had on looked like after we’d climbed the tree to get to the cat. Let’s just say she wasn’t at all happy. As punishment, we had to learn how to really clean a house. We cleaned and cleaned. A white glove military inspection wouldn’t be as complete as what she put us through. We cleaned and recleaned and recleaned. Finally, she took pity on us and taught us how to really clean a house.
“Then, we had to learn how to sew so we could repair the dresses. Finally, we had to design and make a new dress to replace the one the cat ruined. So you see, I’m just passing on what I learned.”
“Sounds like a very wise woman to have turned a punishment into a teaching experience,” Ken said.
“I learned almost everything about being a girl from her,” I said. “My own mother was always working and away a lot.”
“Well, Karen’s mother was a fine teacher,” Ken replied. “And I’m very grateful you are passing some of your knowledge onto my girls.”
“Well, you know what they say about playing it forward,” I replied. “I know it’s been rough on the girls now that their mother is gone. I’m just trying to help where I can.”
Just then Cindy came up and greeted us.
“Oh Jessica, thank you, thank you, thank you!” she said hugging me. “Everything has just been perfect because of you. We finally got it right this time.” She hugged me again and gave me a little kiss on the cheek before moving away.
“This time?” Ken asked.
Yeah,” I replied without thinking, “the last time at our wedding everything that could go wrong did. It was almost a complete disaster.”
Then I stopped, shocked. Had I actually just said that out loud? Oh crap!
Unfortunately, Ken was smart and he was quick.
“Your wedding? You mean you and Cindy? What, did you two get married during that time in California when it was legal? You two are lesbians?”
“Yes and no, Ken,” I said, tears starting to come. “I won’t lie to you. We aren’t lesbians. Cindy and I were married as husband and wife.”
“She was a guy?” he asked.
“No, I was,” I said seriously starting to cry now.
“But you were just telling me about when you were a little girl,” he said puzzled.
“I’ve almost always been a girl,” I said. “But I was born with a male body.”
“You are a guy? I find that hard to believe. I’ve seen you in the Sea Gal getup.
"Wait a minute, if you’re a guy, you’ve given my girls baths!” He was beginning to move from puzzled to angry.
“No, I am not a guy. I’m all woman. Look, this is difficult, but try to understand. I was raised as both a boy and a girl. I went back and forth. When I met Cindy, I tried very hard to be a man and we were married for a while. But I failed miserably. I found out that I’ve always been a girl and am so very much better at it. So I got rid of the male side of me. It was a woman who has been with your girls, not a guy.”
I fumbled in my purse for a tissue to dab my eyes. I was going to have to spend some serious time in the ladies room soon. Ken stared at me. To his credit, I could tell he was trying to understand.
“I...I don’t know what to say,” he said.
“Look, I know this is a shock,” I said. “I didn’t know how to tell you, or even if I should tell you. But I find that I can’t lie to you. You and your girls mean too much to me to even attempt to lie.”
He stood up. The bulge in his pants was gone.
“I need time to think,” he said. “We’ll talk.”
With that, he turned and walked away.
I ran to the ladies room and slumped down on a toilet in a stall and cried my eyes out.
Eventually, Karen came in. “Jessica, what’s wrong? I saw you run in here.”
“Oh Karen,” I wailed, “I’ve made such a mistake. I let it slip to Ken that I used to be Mark, and I’ve lost him. And I love him so much!”
For the second time in a very short time, I paused, shocked. I’d said what out loud? I loved Ken? Oh crap, why didn’t someone tell me?
Next: Final Chapter
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
Karen came in and took me in her arms. As the enormity of what I’d said really hit me, the waterworks started again. I did grab a wad of toilet paper to keep the tears off our pretty dresses. Karen held me until I had cried myself out.
“Why are you so good to me?” I asked.
“Because you’re my sister. We’re always there for each other.”
I gave her a hug and slowly, reluctantly, disengaged myself from her. I was still the bridesmaid and had a few more duties to perform.
We fixed my makeup and checked me over to see that everything was back in order. The reception was winding down when we returned and Cindy had gone to change. The crowd was gathering at the front door and we distributed little containers of bubble solution to anyone who had not picked one up off their tables. Bubbles are much gentler than rice. When Cindy and I had gotten married, I’d gotten some rice in my eye.
Finally the happy couple came out the door and ran to their waiting limo, popping bubbles as they want. They roared off with the traditional “Just Married” sign on the back of the car.
I was glad I’d come with Karen because I wasn’t in any condition to drive. My eyes were red and swollen. It was a quiet ride home. We were both exhausted, so little was said. We both changed and then I went over and told Karen exactly what had happened.
“Well, he didn’t completely close the door,” Karen pointed out, as she poured coffee.
“No, but I could tell he was shocked. After all, I’d told him I used to be the same as him. What guy, what hetro guy, wants anything to do with someone like me?”
“Someone who can see the person within,” Karen said softly. “Give it a few days, you might be surprised. I think a lot of Ken. I hope I’m right.”
I did give it a few days. I heard nothing. I wanted to throw myself into writing code, but Karen insisted that I also continue with my life. So I threw myself into dancing, both in Terri’s class and at Sea Gal practice. Terri had to caution me not to completely wear myself out.
“That’s when accidents occur,” she warned.
Finally, I made the call I dreaded. It was the day before Deanna’s physical therapy. I called Ken to see if he wanted me to drive her there as I had been doing.
“Maybe I can take care of that this week,” is all he said.
I put down the phone, dejected. I’d finally come completely out of my depression over Cindy and my somewhat more minor one over Phil, and now this. I’d allowed myself to open up. No, that wasn’t right. I’d opened up, but there was no allowing involved. It has just happened all on its own. I’d embraced Ken and the girls to the bottom of my soul and I’d never stop loving them, even if it was at a distance. I wouldn’t like that, but I could accept it. Inadvertent though my disclosure was, it was the result of my choices and I’d have to live with my decisions.
I sighed. I was staring at a lonely existence.
Then the phone rang.
“I’ve been outvoted,” Ken said. “Will you please reconsider and take my daughter to the clinic tomorrow? They said to tell you that they are already for your inspection after that.”
“I couldn’t disappoint them,” I said. “I’ll see them tomorrow.”
I had mixed feelings when I drove out to the house. What, if anything, had Ken told them? I decided I’d wait for them to say something first. But if it came up, I’d be as honest with them as I’d been with their father.
I was amazed that nothing was said. The girls proudly showed me a spotless house. They must have worked very hard on it. They informed me that Ken would be bringing home dinner when I returned with Deanna. I couldn’t disappoint them after they’d worked so hard, so I told them I was looking forward to it.
The session went very well. Deanna was almost 100% by now. She was even talking about getting into sports at school. She was thrilled when her therapist said they were reducing her sessions to once every three weeks. I had mixed feelings. On one hand, I was so very happy that Deanna was almost as good as new. On the other hand, cutting back the sessions meant I’d be seeing less of the girls.
I listened to her chatter on the way home. She wanted to play volleyball and softball. Soccer would have to wait for a couple of years to be sure she was completely beyond the effects of her concussion. I suggested she might want to consider running track.
A few blocks from the house, Deanna grew quiet. Then she put her hand on my arm. As we pulled into the driveway and I turned off the car, Deanna looked at me.
“Mommy, when are you going to come live with us?” she asked in a soft little voice.
That rocked me back on my heels, I can tell you!
She went on quickly. “You saw how well we are keeping the house. And we help you fix meals. All three of us are on the Honor Roll. You couldn’t ask for any better daughters than us.”
I was stunned. The girls wanted me. They wanted me as their mother. Deanna had called me “Mommy!”
I knew whatever I said next were some of the most important words of my life. They were probably the most important of Deanna’s life to that point.
I took a deep breath.
“Oh, darling, I am so honored you want me. I’d want nothing so much as to be a mother for you and Sarah and Millie. But we have to think of your father, too. It really is his choice who he wants as your mother.” I bit back a sob.
“We talked to him last night,” Deanna said. “He said you and he had a misunderstanding and he needed to clear that up. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do that.”
“Well, there were a few things that I hadn’t figured out how to talk about with him,” I said. “We talked about them at the wedding last weekend.”
“Well, he was acting funny when he got home,” she said. “How was the wedding?”
“Why don’t I tell all three of you at once?” I asked, relieved the subject had steered away from the things Ken and I had talked about.
We went inside and I told the girls all about Cindy’s dress. I’d modeled my bridesmaid dress for them the week before. I told them all about the ceremony, the bubbles and all the fun, happy things that had gone on.
By the time I’d finished, Ken had come in with a Mexican dinner. We all adjourned to the dining room. The girls kept whispering among themselves, the younger ones asking Deanna questions.
Ken and I were quiet. Finally, we both seemed to decide to confront the elephant in the room.
“I was...” we both said at once, then stopped.
“Go on,” he said.
“No you go on,” I replied, since I really didn’t know what I was going to say, anyway.
“Well, there’s a big company dinner Saturday night,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d go with me.”
I paused. Sunday was an away game, so I was free, but what was going on? I decided that I’d have to go to the dinner to find out.
“I’d like that,” I said.
“Yessss!” came three small voices.
“Girls,” I said. “It’s just a company thing. Obviously your father needs a companion for it, nothing more. Right, Ken?”
“Oh, right,” he said. “Big company party. Need an escort. That’s all.”
The girls just smiled.
My mind was a whirl during my drive home. Ken had asked me for a date. The girls were conspiring to get us together. They wanted me. I still didn’t know where I stood with Ken. What was going on?
Saturday came all too soon. I’d gotten the phone number of the wife of one of Ken’s associate's and gave her a call to find out what the appropriate dress would be for the evening. I didn’t want to get Ken on the wrong side of his company by wearing the wrong thing. Men really don’t have a very good grasp of how their women’s appearances can affect the man’s career.
I was wearing a strapless green satin gown that hugged my curves when Ken picked me up. My hair was done up in red curls piled on top of my head, much as it had been for the wedding. When Ken showed up, I grabbed my handbag and my green heels tapped on the stairs as we went to Ken’s car. He opened the door for me and I turned to slide in and turn around, tugging my skirt down. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Ken looking at my legs. I felt a warm feeling go through me. He obviously didn’t find me totally repulsive.
On the way, Ken told me the dinner was a recognition party for their company. Their fiscal year had ended in June, and the yearly results were a cause for celebration. Following some awards, there would be a dance.
There were still questions between us that Ken hadn’t addressed yet. I decided to let him take the lead and see what happened.
The dinner was lovely. Excellent food, elegant decorations, nice background music. I was introduced to many people and my head was soon swimming with names and relationships. I made sure to take note of Ken’s boss and his wife, as well as the woman who had helped me with dress and other information about the dinner.
I didn’t talk a lot, being content to listen and learn. Several people had been at the Children’s Hospital benefit or had seen the videos on YouTube and were complimentary. Sea Hawk fans asked me about my cheerleading experiences.
I had no idea what was going on during the awards ceremony. I know Ken received one, but I wasn’t sure what it was for. There was a lot of clapping and inside jokes.
Finally the dancing started. For the first time since we’d gotten there, Ken and I had a little privacy on the crowded dance floor. As I learned at the wedding, Ken is an excellent dancer. I snuggled close to him, enjoying feeling his strong body next to mine. Okay, I was also hoping to find out if his body was liking me in that way, too, but I couldn’t tell. He seemed nervous, like he was working up to something.
“You know,” he said, at last, “this week one of my oldest and best friends in the company told me she was transgendered. I’ve worked with her for years and never guessed.”
“Did I meet her?” I asked.
“Yes, couldn’t you tell?”
“No. It’s not like we all have a secret handshake or something. Who was it?”
“I just thought you had some way of telling or something,” he said. “If you couldn’t tell, I’m not going to betray her confidence, any more than I would yours.”
“I really appreciate that. I’m really trying to put all that behind me. I’m who I am, that’s all. What you see is what you get.”
“The thing is,” Ken said. “She helped me understand what you were trying to tell me last weekend. I understand now that you, like her, were always a girl, something just got mixed up.”
“And I complicated it by trying to be something that I was not,” I added. “She’s right. It just took me a little longer to fully understand myself.
“The only thing that I really regret,” I continued, “is that because of my circumstances, I’ll never be able to have children.”
“That’s where you are wrong,” Ken said, drawing me closer. “You already have three daughters who love you very much, as does their father.”
“They were kind of obvious the other night weren’t they?” I asked. Then the end of what he’d just said hit me.
“You, you...” I began.
“Jessica, I love you and have for a long time. Would you please be my wife?”
“Ken, I don’t want to replace your wife,” I said, tears starting to come to my eyes.
“Jessica, you are a caring, sensitive woman. There will always be a place in my heart for what I had, but it’s past time to move on. I’ve found someone else with whom I want to spend the rest of my life. Plus, my daughters knew this long before I did.”
My mind flashed back to the first time I’d met Deanna in the hospital. And to the other family gatherings in the hospital lobby. And to so many other times. I realized I’d loved them all from the first time I’d met them.
“You’re so good with the girls,” Ken began.
“Don’t try to use the girls to guilt me into anything, Ken,” I said. “This has to boil down to what I feel about you.”
“And that is?”
“That I love you very much and would be proud to be your wife,” I reached up to kiss him. We settled into a long kiss right on the middle of the dance floor. Then Ken pulled a box out of his pocket and showed me a gorgeous diamond ring that I allowed him to place on my left hand.
Then I heard applause. I looked around and everyone on the dance floor was clapping. The rest of the evening was a blur of congratulations. Ken and I danced some more and I enjoyed the feeling of being in his arms. And, yes, now that his nervousness had passed, his body was sending signals to my thigh that he was interested in me in that way.
I told him on the way home that I had not had sex since becoming a woman, and wanted to keep it that way until we were married. I pointed out that it was especially important because of the girls.
“I want to set an example for them,” I said. “They need and deserve a good female role model.”
Ken agreed, somewhat reluctantly, I thought.
We arrived at the house to find the girls were still up. The baby sitter told us that they had insisted on staying up to find out how our date had gone.
“It was okay, I guess,” I watched their faces fall. Slowly I crossed my arms, letting my left hand land on top of my right arm. “Why? I asked.
“We were just hoping, that is we were thinking, that is ...” Deanna began. Then she noticed the ring.
“Is that? Did he? Are you?” She started to squeal. Sarah and Millie looked at her, puzzled. Then they looked at where Deanna was pointing and they began squealing too. They jumped up and down and then we got into a group hug.
“We’ve got a Mommy coming to our house!” Millie said.
“Oh yes,” I said. “And it’s something I’ve wanted for a very long time.”
Boy, I thought being Cindy’s maid of honor was a lot of work. That was before I started planning my own wedding. It helped to have just gone through Cindy’s wedding, but it was still a lot of work.
Karen and I shopped and shopped looking for the perfect wedding dress. Madeline turned out to be the one who found a little shop that made their own custom-designed dresses. After a lot of consultation, we settled on the perfect dress for me. It was strapless, with a long train that served to minimize my height. Pearls were sewn into the bodice running around my breasts and from the end of my cleavage down to the waist of the dress. Matching pearls were sewn into the veil in swirling patterns. A white satin rose on the side of the waist added an accent. It was perfect for me. It included a white choker with a smaller rose for my neck.
Of course, the girls needed their own custom made dresses that echoed mine in pastel shades of green that contrasted well with their hair. Deanna’s hair was now long enough to be styled and the girls were excited to have their hair done professionally.
Ken worried about all the money the wedding was costing, but I assured him I had a sizable bonus coming from the “girl detective” program which had just been released. That did remind me to quietly check and find out how much Ken brought in a month. Once I knew this, Karen and I adjusted my salary so that I was taking home roughly 85% of what Ken did. Of course, a lot more was flowing into my owner’s account, so I would have no trouble getting “bonuses” whenever a need arose. And with the way Lisa was handling our investments, both Karen and I would never want for money, even if our company closed tomorrow. This account was considered retained earnings of the business that would not show up on any of my financial or tax paperwork until I needed it. Thus, on paper, as far as Ken and the government knew, I would be a wife making the traditional 85% of what my husband would be bringing in. Did it bother me to lie to Ken? Well, it wasn’t exactly lying, just not disclosing everything. I just didn’t want to have to deal with any male financial egos in my marriage.
I did tell Ken that I had set up a college fund for each of the girls through my work, to complement what he’d been putting away. It was a relief to him, since Deanna’s medical bills had made a very large dent in his savings, so he didn’t question the details.
Since I didn’t have any family left, except Karen’s mother, I asked Steve to walk me down the aisle.
Speaking of Karen’s mother, at some point in the planning, she came up to me and gave me a huge, heartfelt hug. “I used to feel so worried that I was doing the wrong thing, teaching you how to be a girl when you and Karen were growing up. I prayed that I wasn’t somehow twisting you by letting you be Jessica at our house. But now, I see that that was the right thing to do. You’ve always been my other daughter, and that’s the way it should have been all along.”
Ken and I agreed to write our own vows and I worked long and hard on mine. Obviously the “Obey” part was out the window. And the “Cherish” was going be a big part. I realized I wasn’t just marrying Ken. I was marrying a family, so I needed to write vows to the girls too, and make them part of the ceremony.
At last the big day came! I felt so beautiful in my dress, with my hair done just right and my earrings adding an accent. I closed my eyes and just drank in the sensations of feeling myself standing there in my dress and heels. Men have no idea how each little movement in beautiful clothes can feel to a woman. I was once again glad that I was--a beautiful woman.
Steve came up and it was time to walk down the aisle. I remembered at my first wedding. I’d only had a few friends from school on my side of the aisle. Cindy had had a lot more on her side.
This time, my side was packed. I had almost the entire Sea Gal team there, along with a lot of the football team. People from our company were there and several of the girls from the bank. Several of my friends who had attended Phil’s parties came, as well as people from my cooking and dance classes. Many people from the Clinic and Hospital with whom I’d worked were also sitting there if they could get time off. And, of course, Cindy and Jake were there, along with Sandy, Tina and Fred.
‘Wow,’ I thought, a few short years ago, Mark had had almost no one whom he could call a friend except Karen. Today, Jessica is blessed with so many good friends here to celebrate with me. All because I’d gotten out into the world and taken risks to grow and expand myself. I was so lucky!
Then I was there, standing along side Ken. Steve pulled my veil back and went to sit with Madeline. Karen, my maid of honor and Cindy, my matron of honor, moved to straighten my train. Next to them were my flower girls, Sarah and Millie. And the proud ring bearer was Deanna, the most beautiful little girl in the world, now fully recovered.
Ken and I exchanged our vows. Then I turned and gathered Deanna, Sarah and Millie into a hug. “Girls, while I am marrying your father, in a very real sense, I am also marrying you. This ceremony is all about me coming into your family. And I promise you that I will be the best mother I can be for you. I promise to be there for you and listen to you and always have time for you. What I won’t promise you is that you will always like me. There will be times when I really have to be your mother and tell you to do things you might not like. But if that ever happens, be assured that I am doing it because your father and I feel what I’m doing is best for you. We both want you three to grow up to be the best possible young ladies you can be. Even if we do have any conflicts, and I’m sure we will, I promise to have your best interests at heart. And I promise that I will always love you with all my heart. I am so, very, very proud to become your mother.”
That said, I turned back to Ken. Deanna handed us the rings that we placed on each other’s fingers and we were husband and wife.
What followed and the reception were a blur of activity. I know there were photos taken, because I saw them later. I talked with everyone and danced. A cake was cut, but neither Ken nor I were juvenile enough to smash cake into the other’s face. Finally it was time to leave on our honeymoon. Karen was taking the girls while we went to the docks for our cruise to Alaska.
After we cast off, Ken carried me across the threshold of our cabin. I adjourned to the bathroom to slip into my completely transparent baby doll. One glance would tell Ken that I was a true redhead. I walked back to my waiting husband.
The new equipment worked great. It was wonderful!
Still to come: Epilogue.
© 2012, by Susan J. Charles. All rights reserved
Edited by Holly H. Hart
I don’t have to dilate anymore. Ken does it for me. And he does it better than I ever did as a man or as a woman. I’m one of the 90% advertised by my surgeon and I love it. I can’t imagine being anything else than the eager-to-please wife making love with her attentive, loving husband. I’m grateful every day for the way my life has turned out.
I have started to take a few weeks every year to record some songs. I got the idea when watching a movie about Elvis Presley. It seems when he knew he was going to go into the Army, he recorded a bunch of songs that were released periodically during the two years he was in the service. That way, he kept his celebrity status in the public’s eye while he was off being a soldier in Germany.
I’ve found out that being a celebrity can be a means to and end. In my case, it makes people pay attention to me when I ask them to contribute money to the Children’s Hospitals around the country. I know what great work the hospitals do and want to encourage support for them in any way I can.
So, while I don’t tour except to do benefits, I release a song every so often to keep myself visible. I’ve got some people in the music industry who manage this for me. And I do TV spots for the hospitals.
It doesn’t hurt that my poster in my Sea Gals uniform is a best seller across the country either. In fact, Playboy offered me a ridiculous amount of money to do a nude spread for them. I turned them down. It’s not that I don’t like showing off my body. I’m very proud of how I look now and like for people to see me in my cheerleader uniform. But a spread in Playboy would send the wrong message to the people I’m trying to reach.
Besides, I’m a wife and a mother now and have to think of what my behavior would affect my family.
I’m going to be in yet another wedding soon. Karen met someone at my wedding. Joe is a great guy and just right for her. I’m going to be her matron of honor.
And I love so much being a mother to my three girls. It isn’t easy all the time. Sometimes I have to be the adult and come down on them. I worried about that the first few times. But a mother has to watch after and protect her children, even if that comes between being friends with those children.
Besides, Deanna told me they all feel good about having a mother who keeps them in line. It makes them feel loved and secure.
Deanna is now fully recovered and into girl’s sports. The way she moves now, you’d never know she’d been in a terrible accident. She’s also starting to notice boys. While I have a little experience being a girl around boys, I’ve already told Karen I’m going to be drawing a lot on her expertise.
Would I change anything in my life to date? If I thought about it long and hard, I might be able to come up with something. But I don’t think so. Except, I do wish I’d have been born with the right equipment so that Ken and I could have a child of our own. But every time I think that, I remind myself that we do have three daughters of our own. And they are the most beautiful girls in the world.
I guess if there were one thing I’d change, I would have gotten out into the world sooner.. I am glad that I found out about all the possibilities the world has to offer. I’m living proof that you can do and be anything you put your mind to, if you only reach out in hope.
As an example, this year I’m also going to be co-captain of the Sea Gals. And the season is coming up. And Shaundra is more pissed at me than usual.
Thank you all so much for reading my story!