Merritt loves dolls and pretty dresses, but soon he will begin school. A story about a lovely boy and his mother, and his upbringing as a little girl

(The Story Thus Far: It’s the summer of 1935 and Merritt is turning 5 years old and about to enter school; his mother, Evelyn, loves her son immensely, and finds his growing girlishness both enchanting and troubling: how would he survive in the world of boys as such a pretty child? The boy has known only a feminine upbringing, due to the fact that his mother is a live-in maid and nanny for a wealthy young widow and her two daughters. In the meantime, Evelyn thinks she has found a young man who may be interested in her, but all sorts of obstacles may stand in her way to romance.

(This segment contains both Chapter 5 and 6 of this continuing story. Readers are warned that Chapter 5 involves mainly the story of Evelyn, with only passing reference to Merritt. Later in Chapter 6, it resumes the story of Merritt.)

Chapter 5: Time for a Decision

The next afternoon, when she had planned to take the streetcar again to the downtown library and perhaps meet her new friend, Bob Casey, Evelyn stayed at home, looking over the three children in the house. She was angry at Viola for interfering with her chances at furthering her friendship with Bob; he had seemed so nice and unthreatening.

The day itself was sunny, with a cool breeze off the Lake, making it a bit too chilly to sit outside; the two girls were engaged in some sort of hide-and-seek game with Merritt, who seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. They were all giggling, and Evelyn couldn’t help but think that her son looked just like a little girl as he pranced about.

He was always unable to catch the girls, both being older and faster, but they always faked a stumble or something to permit him to tag them. Evelyn looked out the kitchen window, saying outloud to no one in particular, “It’s a lovely scene.”

“Yes, it is,” Mary O’Hara replied, having entered the room so quietly Evelyn didn’t know she was there.

“Hi Mary.”

“I guess Mike took Mrs. Buckner downtown for shopping,” Mary O’Hara said, referring to her husband, Mike, who was the family’s gardener and chauffeur.

“Yes, and I guess she’ll stop at the library, too. I had a book to return.”

“Yes, I know. I thought you liked to take Wednesday’s off, Evelyn.”

“I did, but Viola asked me to stay home today, so she could go out.”

Mary walked over to the sink, and began to fill a coffee pot with water.

“Care to join me for coffee, Evelyn?”

“I’d love it.”

Later on, while they were sitting at the table, Mary raised a question: “Are you all right, Evelyn? You seem a bit down today.”

“Oh I guess I am OK, Mary. I’m not sick or anything.”

“Something’s bothering you, I can tell. I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here anytime you want to.”

Evelyn smiled at the Mary, who retained a cherubic warm face that made her look younger than her age of 45.

“It’s just that I like to get away from here sometimes, Mary. Oh I like Viola and she’s been more than kind to me, but I’d like to find some friends of my own.”

“I know what you mean,” Mary said. “I’ve been here 25 years, hired as a maid right out of high school by the old Mrs. Buckner, and kept on here when her son married Viola.”

“But you have Mike.”

“Yes, and he’s sweet, but I have no other friends,” Mary said. “And we never could have children.”

Evelyn looked at her table mate; there were tears rolling down Mary’s face now. It shocked her, seeing this always cheerful woman crying, wondering whether she had prompted this moment of sadness. Evelyn said nothing.

Mary soon gathered her emotions, looked at Evelyn, her eyes now hard and piercing. She said directly, but almost in a whisper: “I know what you and Viola are doing at night.”

Evelyn was shocked: “What?”

“I know what you and Viola do at night after we’re all asleep.”

Evelyn reddened immediately. She remained silent.

“I’m not spying on you, Evelyn, I assure you, but I know Viola, and I was up the other night, going to the bathroom when I noticed lights go on in Viola’s bedroom, and then yours. It was about 2 a.m. I knew what she was doing.”

Evelyn looked directly at Mary: “You don’t know anything. You got a filthy mind.”

“Oh honey,” Mary said, patting Evelyn’s hand. “I know, because I have been there. Many years ago, just after I married Mike, she moved into the house as the new young wife of Thomas Buckner, Jr., and she soon tired of his affections.”

“What are you telling me, Mary?” Evelyn asked, looking at the woman who had grown soft and a bit pudgy in middle-age; her dark hair was pulled straight into a bun, but her eyes retained a bright sparkle that made her look warm and affectionate.

“Oh Evelyn,” she said. “Don’t you get it? I was her lover for several years, and then I grew fat, as you can see.”

Evelyn couldn’t hide her shock at this disclosure. The surprise registered clearly on her face.

“You’re not the only lover she’s had, dear,” the cook said. “Even before she married Buckner, I’m told she was the darling of the woman’s tennis club.”

“Oh? But they had two children before he died,” Evelyn said.

“That don’t mean nothing, dear. Viola got no joy out of sex with Tom, but she did with me. I was just like you once, cute and pretty, and too weak to resist her advances. She’s so strong.”

“Oh gosh.”

Mary continued: “She still draws me to her bed whenever Mike is gone. That is, she did, until you moved here.”

“Oh Mary,” Evelyn said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I’m not very smart about all this stuff.”

“I’m not mad at you, dear Evelyn. If it’s not you, it’ll be someone else. I’m sure she’s had lots of girl friends in her life.”

“Oh Mary, I’m still sorry about all this. I didn’t know, and she seemed so affectionate. I needed her, I guess.”

“Evelyn, my word to you is to try to figure a way to get out of this house, before she hooks you in. She can be very persuasive and demanding, and then you’ll be here like I am, lonely and without friends, except of course for Mike. I dearly love him and he’s so sweet.”

Evelyn nodded, beginning to recognize how comfortable she could be if she stayed. Everything was taken care of; Viola even wanted to pay Merritt’s private school tuition, and the whole family enjoyed Merritt so much. Yet, she felt, they wanted to make Merritt a girl, to keep him from being a normal boy, and that scared her.

Yes, in a way, she felt like she was in a prison, although a very pleasant and comfortable prison. She noticed how mad Viola got when she mentioned Bob Casey and how she seemed to bristle at any suggestion that young Evelyn might be developing a relationship with a young man. The older woman, she realized, is jealous of her possible budding romance.

“Let’s keep this between ourselves, OK, Evelyn,” Mary said as she rose from the kitchen table.

“By all means I will, Mary.”

“I’m just trying to help you dear, to warn about getting too involved here.”

Evelyn nodded in affirmation, now realizing her life may be facing new complications.

*****
When Evelyn heard the huge 12-cylinder Packard automobile pull into the drive, meaning Viola was home from her visit into the city, Evelyn hurried into her room, not wishing to greet her employer following the revelations she learned from Mary.

She was shocked, having felt a real affection from Viola, the first intimate relationship she had experienced in her life, not counting the brief encounter with Drake. Now, she realized, she was not really as special a love to the trim, tall, muscular employer as she had felt she was.

Was Viola only interested in sex? Was there no love between them? Were the kisses and the expressions of love mere window-dressing? The thoughts brought tears, and she lay back on her bed, quickly curling into a fetal position, letting the tears flow.

She hadn’t been there long before she heard footsteps outside her door, following by a tentative knock. A voice, almost a whisper, said, “Evelyn, are you there honey?”

Evelyn held her breath, hoping Viola would leave and not bother her.

“Evelyn, I know you’re there and I’m coming in.”

Evelyn stayed silent, awaiting the opening of the door. Finally, the door opened; Evelyn could hear it, but she buried her head in her arms.

“Evelyn, honey,” Viola said, sitting down on the bed, facing the Evelyn’s back. She put a gentle hand on Evelyn’s side, patting lightly.

Evelyn couldn’t hold back, and burst into a loud cry which startled the older woman, who rushed to the other side of the bed, crabbing Evelyn and hugging her tightly, as the younger woman sobbed profusely.

“That’s OK, my dear Evelyn. Let yourself go.”

The crying finally subsided and Viola found a handkerchief to dry Evelyn’s face, lightly daubing the tears, and drying her face. The two were linked in a firm hug.

“Oh Viola,” Evelyn said finally. “I’m sorry, so sorry. I didn’t mean this. You’re so good to me.”

“That’s OK, darling. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I’m just . . . ah . . . so confused, Viola. What’s right and what’s wrong?”

Viola looked at her companion. “Is that what bothers you?”

“Well partly, Viola. It’s a sin, you know.”

“We’re hurting no one, Evie. And the church is so uptight on this.”

“I guess,” Evelyn replied, starting to cry again.

Viola looked puzzled: ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?”

Evelyn mumbled an almost inaudible “no.” She was embarrassed to tell Viola about Mary’s comments, and to question her about a relationship Viola may have had with the cook. Mary’s confessions had been in confidence and ostensibly to warn Evelyn about getting too close to her employer. She feared getting Mary fired if she told.

“Tell me, Evie, I’ll understand.”

“It’s nothing really. I just get emotional.”

“I love you, Evie,” the older woman said, kissing Evelyn on the mouth, tasting the salt from the tears.

“Oh I’m so worried about Merritt,” Evelyn finally said, realizing it was a topic the two had discussed before.

“I know, honey, but we’ll work to make it easy for him in school. I promise.”

“But he so loves being with your girls and really to become one of them. Maybe I should move out where he’ll have some boys to play with.”

Viola looked shocked. “Move out? Where would you go?”

“Maybe I’ll move in with mom and dad, if they’ll accept me.”

“You can’t go, Evie. I need you,” Viola said, with almost a panic in her voice. “I love you, dear. So much. You’re so good for me.”

She held the younger woman more and more tightly, and the two began kissing, their kisses passionate and their lips pressing hard. Their tongues met, intermingled and they were soon laying together on the bed, the older woman showering kisses on Evelyn, running her hands up under Evelyn’s skirt and running them up her soft inner thighs.

Their breathing became hard, followed by moans out of both women. “I love you Evie, I love you,” the older woman repeated.

When they were done, both rose from the bed; they were disheveled, hair was mussed and their faces red with exhaustion from their love-making. One at a time, they went to clean up in the bathroom, hoping not to run into Mary, who was supposed to be in the kitchen. Evelyn worried, however, that Mary might be spying upon them, after the cook’s earlier revelation. Merritt was playing with the Elizabeth in the yard.

“Oh, I got you a book, Evelyn,” Viola said when the two joined up again after they were cleaned up.

She handed a new book to Evelyn.

“Oh I always wanted to read this. Thank you, Viola,” she said. It was Somerset Maughn’s best seller, “Of Human Bondage.”

“You’re welcome, I know you wanted to,” Viola smiled. “Remember we talked about it when we heard there’s going to be a movie coming out from the book.”

“Oh thank you, but I didn’t want to buy it. I thought you could get it at the library.”

Viola laughed: “Oh you don’t want those dirty books that have been read by others. By the way, I met your Mr. Casey when I returned the books.”

Evelyn brightened. “You did? What did he say?”

“Oh he was OK. He just took the books and didn’t say anything?”

“Nothing. Not about me?”

“No honey,” Viola said, but Evelyn wondered if her employer was lying. Bob Casey had been so interested in their first meetingj she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t wonder why Evelyn hadn’t returned the books herself.

“Oh, Evie, my dear,” the older woman said, seeing the disappointment in Evelyn’s face. “If you’re interested in a man, well, he’s not much of a man. Clerking in a library.”

The directness of Viola’s comments shocked Evelyn, but she recovered nicely, quickly saying: “Bob was very nice to me, Viola, and I knew him from school. Besides, I don’t see anything wrong with a man working in a library. At least he’s got a job these days.”

“Well, he didn’t ask about you, if that’s what’s bothering you, Evie,” Viola said sharply, so sharply that Evelyn’s suspicions rose over whether her employer was telling the truth.

Viola took Evelyn in her arms again, and kissed her firmly, but she soon sensed that Evelyn’s response was cold and unforgiving. The older woman released her hold on Evelyn, arose from the bed and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

*****
Bob Casey made sure he’d be on the desk at the Library on the Wednesday afternoon when Evelyn said she’d be returning the book. It was nearing 2:30 p.m., when he’d be relieved for his break and he was hopeful that Evelyn would arrive before that; after his break he’d be assigned to stack books in the library, and may not be near the main desk.

Shortly before his break, Casey waited on a tall, stylish woman who wore a brown suit, with her hair combed back. The wore a 1930’s style hairdo, the dark hair plastered to her head, topped by a beret, tipped in a rakish manner. She had mischievous eyes.

“May I help you?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m returning this book for a friend,” the woman said, thrusting the book, a copy of The Good Earth, that he recognized as having be taken out by Evelyn.

“Oh?” he said. “Is this from Miss McGraw?”

“Yes, how did you know that? You must check out hundreds of books a day.” The question was pointed and direct.

“Well,” he stammered, his face growing red. “Well . . . Miss McGraw and I were in high school together and it was nice seeing her after all these years. Is she all right?”

Viola stiffened, sensing the boy’s intense interest in Evelyn as evidenced by his reddening face. “Oh yes, she’s fine, she didn’t feel like making the trip in today, so I said I’d drop it off. Is that OK?”

“Oh yes, that’s fine. It doesn’t matter who drops it off. I was just wondering how she is. Say Hi to her for me.”

“I certainly will, thank you,” Viola replied, turning on her heel and marching briskly out of the library, knowing full well that she’d not transmit the boy’s message to Evelyn.

The young man watched the woman stalk out of the library, wondering what had happened that Evelyn chose not to return the book in person. She had seemed so genuinely interested in meeting him again, and his nights in bed were consumed with desires to be with her, to find her in his arms, to feel her sweet full lips upon his and to caress her smooth flesh. Evelyn captivated his imagination, and the recent meeting with her had rekindled desires in him for her that had lain dormant since high school years. Indeed, the fun they had on the school project, the great conversations they had and her desirability had excited him. Yet, he failed to act to ask her for a date, his own basic shyness and lack of confidence stifling his desires.

Bob Casey hated himself for his shyness and his pathetic body, so slender and unmuscular. No girl would be happy to be seen with him, and this perception of himself stifled him from making any advances to girls. Therefore at 24 years old, he was still a virgin, and in his own mind would remain so throughout is life.

In truth, Bob was quite handsome and well-groomed; even in his slenderness he looked fit and trim. Such was one’s own perception of himself.

His expectations of renewing a friendship with Evelyn had brightened his spirits immensely, and now she apparently had nixed a chance to rekindle their relationship. He was devastated.

He dreaded returning to his single room that he rented from an older couple. Jim Hutchins, a husky middle-aged man, who worked on the railroad, also lived in the house in the other single room on the second floor. That night, Hutchins rescued Bob from his doldrums by inviting him for a beer at the nearby tavern. Though the two had hardly anything in common, they both found nights in their single rooms to be deadly and gained a bond in sharing a few beers and conversations together.

Bob shared his frustrations about Evelyn to Jim that night, almost crying in his beer.

“Go for it, kid,” the older man advised after hearing Bob’s story. Casey didn’t relinquish the details easily, but Jim, having grown fond of his naíve young friend, gently urged Casey to tell the full story.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be shy, Bob. You know she works for that rich bitch Buckner. Call the Buckner house and ask for her.”

“I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not? You like her and you thought she liked you, right?”

“I guess.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask. Maybe she had an important job to do, or she was sick. You know women do have those times of the month?

“What if she’s not there?”

It was apparent Bob was finding all sorts of excuses to shy away from moving ahead with the relationship.

“Oh you’re such a . . . ah . . .I don’t know. I guess a coward.”

Bob nodded in agreement. He guessed “coward” described him.

“Besides,” Jim continued. “If she’s not there leave Mrs. Polansky’s phone number. We don’t get many calls, and she likes you, Bob. She’ll get you to the phone.”

After his third beer, and he had spent 45 cents, nearly draining his cash for the week, he and Jim left the tavern. In the mellowness of the summer evening, Bob Casey figured he’d try to call Evelyn the next day.

Chapter 6: The Boy Friend Acts

The next day, during his 2:30 break at work, he located the Buckner phone number from the phone book and went to the nearest phone booth.

Depositing his nickel, he dialed the Buckner home number, his fingers shaking as he turned the dial. He was early breathless when the phone was answered after three rings. “Buckner household,” came the reply.

“May I . . .ah . . . speak to Evelyn . . .ah . . .Miss Evelyn McGraw. Please.”

The voice answered. “Evelyn’s not here right now. Can I take a message.”

“Oh,” Bob said, almost ready to hang up. “But . . . ah . . . yes . . . please ask her to call Mr. Casey at Lapham 2355.”

“What are you calling about, young man?” The voice was stern, direct. It was obviously the voice of the woman who had returned the book.

“Well . . . ah . . . I just wanted to talk to her.”

“Talk to her? About what?”

“We’re old classmates at school,” he finally blurted out.

“OK,” the voice said. Suddenly the phone was hung up without further comment, the noise of the hang-up ringing in his ear.

Though he told his landlady to be alert for the call from Evelyn, he felt he’d never get the call. He seemed certain the woman would not relate the message. She seemed to resent his very existence, Bob felt.

*****
Even so, Bob Casey waited patiently for the call which never came. Another session at the tavern with Jim convinced Bob Casey to consider taking the streetcar to the Buckner house neighborhood and ringing the doorbell directly.

Somehow, the young man was gaining the courage he felt he lacked. His desire to see Evelyn again and his curiosity about what caused Evelyn not to return his call overwhelmed his natural reluctance to confront matters head-on.

On his next off day, the following Monday, Bob Casey did just that. He took the No. 15 car out to the Buckner place and with headlong purpose march directly up the long drive to the front door of the Buckner estate. He had convinced himself, like taking a bad tasting medicine, the best thing to do was to act with haste, without procrastination, since if he stopped for a second, he was afraid his courage would give out.

The door was a dark walnut with elaborate carvings, and a leaded stained glass window at eye level. He rang the doorbell, and thankfully the door opened almost immediately.

A chubby middle-aged woman, obviously the family’s cook, opened the door. She had a round, cheerful face, and asked: “Can I help you?”

“Ah . . .yes. Does Evelyn McGraw live here?”

“Yes, she does, and what is your business with her?” The question was asked softly, almost kindly.

“Well, we’re old schoolmates and I wanted to see her.”

“Oh,” the woman brightened. “You must be Bob Casey. She told me about you.”

“Yes, I am Bob,” he said. His face showed joy and relief.

The woman smiled. “Evelyn’s not here now; she’s gone with the chauffeur to take the girls swimming. Does she know how to get in touch with you?”

He gave the woman his landlady’s phone number and she scribbled it on a scrap of paper she had in her pocket.

“Mary, who’s there?” boomed a voice from within the house.

Bob froze; it was the same woman who dropped the book off. He could tell from her voice.

“Just a peddler. I’m getting rid of him,” the woman responded loudly, winking to Bob.

“Now, scoot, young man,” she said. “I’ll make sure Evelyn gets your message.”

“Thank you.”

He literally skipped down the long drive, knowing the streetcar ride back into town would be full of happy expectation.

*****
The phone call came that very evening. “There’s a young lady on the phone for you, Bob,” his landlady yelled from the foot of the stairs.

The young man almost skipped down the stairs to the phone, which sat on a small table in the entrance hall of the house. His landlady winked as she handed the phone to Bob, as if to encourage him in his heretofore empty love life. Bob knew she worried about her young roomer, always finding extra cookies and sweets as if to fatten the slender boy and even worrying about his hope to find a wife. She even hinted a niece she had that might be available.

“I can’t talk long, Bob. Mrs. Buckner would be mad if she knew I called you.”

“That’s OK. When can we meet again?”

“I don’t know, but sometimes I get off Monday afternoons.”

“We’re in luck. That’s my off day.”

“Look,” Evelyn said. “Mary gave me your number and said you dropped by today.”

“I did, but I called last week, and someone took my number. Didn’t she give it to you?”

“No, I never got it. It must have been my employer. She hates us to have a personal life.”

“How can you stand that?”

“I’m kinda stuck here, but I can’t explain now. I’ll tell you when we meet.”

“OK, How can we tell each other when we can meet?” he asked.

“I’ll get you messages through Mary, our cook, or Mike, her husband. And, give me your address. I might mail you a note.”

“OK, I can’t wait Evelyn.”

“I can’t either, Bob, but I gotta hang up now. She just drove up the drive.”

The phone went dead.

Bob Casey bounded up the stairs to his room, elated that Evelyn still cared for him. Somehow, he knew, the two of them would make it work together.

*****
Both Mike and Mary O’Hara were happy to compromise their long time loyalty to Viola Buckner to support Evelyn in her potential love-making adventure. They knew their employer, known both for her generosity as well as her temper when faced with perceived disloyalty, would likely get violent if she heard of their support for the young woman’s hoped-for friendship with Bob Casey.

Evelyn asked them to post a letter to Casey, announcing that she would be at Child’s Restaurant (where the two had their first meeting) at 2 p.m. on the following Monday. Her letter was brief, but she hoped that Bob would find it heart-warming:

Dear Bob,

I loved meeting you recently. I’ve thought about you often since then. I will be stopping by Child’s at 2 p.m., Monday. But, Bob, if for some reason I don’t show up, it’s because something happened with Mrs. Buckner and she might make it difficult for me to get there.

Don’t call at the house. I’ll try to keep in touch with you. That’s if you want me to. You do, don’t you?

Yours, Evelyn (remember our English project?)

*****
Bob Casey got to Child’s the following Monday at 1:45 p.m., trying to make sure he’d not miss Evelyn. He glanced inside and walked among the tables and booths to see if she might have beaten him to the restaurant, but she was not there. He stood outside in the warm afternoon sun, a cool breeze off Lake Michigan acting as a periodic waft of natural air conditioning. His heart was beating in expectation of seeing Evelyn, both excited and wary about where this budding friendship was headed. He cursed his shyness and inexperience with women, wishing he could show the bravado that so many boys seemed to display.

It was about three minutes after 2 p.m., just as Bob was wondering if Evelyn would actually arrive, when a man in a chauffeur’s cap walked up to him, and asked: “Are you Bob?”

“Yes, I am Bob Casey.”

“I’m Mike, and I work with Evelyn,” the man began. He was shorter than Bob, with a weathered face making him look far older than his 41 years. His eyes were dull blue and he spoke with a slight Irish brogue.

“Can’t she come?”

“No, I’m afraid not,” Mike said. “Mrs. Buckner cancelled her day off. Evelyn was very sorry, and she asked me to give you this.”

He handed the young man a light blue envelop, the kind that often contain greeting cards. The cover, in Evelyn’s careful, neat hand-writing, said merely: “Bob.”

The chauffeur seemed reluctant to leave, as if he wished to say something further. Casey looked at the man, eager to read the letter, but not wishing to do so until he was alone. Finally, the chauffeur spoke:

“Bob, I want you to know that you shouldn’t try contacting Evelyn just yet, but I’m giving you my personal address, and you can write whatever you want to Evelyn, and I’ll see you get it.”

He handed the young man a slip of paper containing his name and address.

“What’s this?”

“Mrs. Buckner doesn’t want Evelyn to have contact with any young men now,” Mike started. “She’s very protective of her.”

“But, I’m not going to hurt her.”

“We know that, but Mrs. Buckner has her ways, and you know how difficult jobs are to come by.”

“I should write to you? Not Evelyn directly.”

“Right. Put you’re message in an envelop inside the envelop you address to me. I promise I won’t read it.”

“Oh? Can’t I call?”

“No, Mrs. Buckner might answer.”

“She must be a witch, this Mrs. Buckner.”

“In some ways, young man, but she’s otherwise good to us and to Evelyn.”

The chauffeur put his hand on the young man’s slender arm, as if to commiserate with him. Casey wondered what he was getting into, and the two parted. Yet, his desire to see Evelyn again heightened. Could it be the mysterious situation? Or his affection for the sweet looking Evelyn?

*****
Viola Buckner couldn’t have been more solicitous of Evelyn in the days that followed Bob Casey’s aborted phone call to the house. She brought home gifts for Evelyn, almost on a daily basis: the newest and laciest of lingerie, several lovely blouses, a summer dress and a makeup kit, all from the city’s most prestigious department store, C. A. Goldwyn’s.

During the night time visits, she introduced Evelyn to more and more examples of female love, often positioning the two into positions in which both placed their heads between the thighs of the other, tasting the vaginas of each other. Viola found the softness of the younger woman’s thighs exciting as she licked them on her way to Evelyn’s vagina.

Though the arousal she felt in the more extreme of sexual activity was extreme and breath-taking, Viola found the long times the two were embracing, periodically kissing and caressing to be the most rewarding. She loved it when Evelyn fell asleep in her arms, a soft smooth creature with flawless pale skin.

*****
Evelyn McGraw, however, was finding the evening visits to become more and more tedious. True she found herself usually aroused by sexual activity, often to violent orgasms herself, but she found she was becoming bored as the evening went on; her employer’s constant attention in bed hardly gave her a moment to breathe, and she’d find after reaching an orgasm, and perhaps even another minutes later, she’d soon tire of the other’s attention and begin wishing the older woman would leave.

She loved the firmness of the other woman’s body, and her muscular thighs which often seemed to nearly crush her own head while she was engaged in tasting Viola. In contract, Viola was tanned and still athletically muscular, almost like a male track star, having retained her youthful strength from her tennis playing career by three-times a week tennis matches at the Country Club.

The cook, Mary, hinted that Viola has had lots of sexual experiences with women, and Evelyn even suspected the women’s thrice-weekly tennis matches may have been more than that.

Yet, Evelyn endured these evening trysts, knowing full well that Viola had provided for her and her son a comfortable and safe place to live, when she had few other opportunities for such security as a single mother with an illegitimate son during the 1930s.

Many nights as she lay engulfed in the sinewy arms of her employer, Evelyn wondered what it would be like to be in the arms of Bob Casey. Her experience with men had been limited to the back seat acrobatics with Drake Kosgrove: the onetime affair that had produced her son. She recalled vividly the smell of male sweat mixed with his alcoholic breath, an almost gagging odor that heightened her horror of that night. She recalled his violence, his words calling her “bitch” and “whore” over an over, as she fought off his efforts to enter, and then the outright pain she felt as he finally succeeded, and blood that resulted. She recalled his excitement when he discovered this was Evelyn’s first sexual encounter and when he announced: “You’re a virgin, a whore like you is a virgin.”

As she attempted to clean herself up afterward, using a car blanket all cars kept in those days before modern in-car heaters existed, she heard him announce: “Evelyn, you bitch. You’re number six: the sixth cherry I’ve popped. Wait ‘til I tell the boys that I’m now the champion of the club house.”

It was a night of horror, and it was her last sexual experience with anyone until Viola entered her bedroom one night several weeks earlier. At first, Viola’s love-making had been gentle and caring and Evelyn found it comforting and welcomed the visits; she found herself wondering if she too would ever want a man again, and would find all the gratification she needed with women.

On the evening following the day when Viola refused to let Evelyn off to visit Bob Casey, the two lay after their love-making. Still smarting from the refusal, Evelyn had merely gone through the motions of love-making, even failing to orgasm herself, her coldness eventually siphoning off the older woman’s ardor.

“Men are no good,” Viola said softly. “They can’t love you as I love you, darling.”

Evelyn, trapped in the firm hold of her employer, said nothing.

“I know you wanted to meet that Bob fellow, Evie, but he’s no good for you. He’s hardly a man, as far as I can see.”

Afraid to argue, Evelyn stayed silent. She only knew that Bob Casey appeared to be kind and gentle and caring. She was sure what Viola meant: “He’s hardly a man.”

“Don’t you see, I love you, Evie, my darling. I don’t want anything to come between us.”

Evelyn nodded, but soon she began to sob; her life had become anenslavement, she realized.

“I’m afraid I’m losing you, Evie,” Viola said. “I can’t bear that.”

Soon the older woman began to cry, and the two women adjusted their positions to face each other with Viola holding Evelyn harder than she’d ever held her before, almost crushing the Evelyn’s more tender body with her superior strength.

“Good night, my sweet darling,” Viola said finally, kissing Evelyn, and getting up to pad off to her own room.

*****
The next morning, Evelyn woke early, her thoughts troubling her immensely. She realized she was indeed a slave, a modern-day slave, entrapped by another woman’s fascination for her. Viola said repeatedly the previous night that she “loved” Evelyn, but did she really? Or was it like Evelyn was a mascot, a plaything for the older woman’s sexual proclivities?

Either way, Evelyn realized she could not live as a slave; she could not raise her son in this overly feminine household where Viola and her daughters encouraged Merritt to be girly. As much as she enjoyed the sex with Viola, she realized that she deserved more, that she deserved her own life, and, most importantly, that Merritt Lane deserved a chance to grow up as a normal boy.

Later, she aroused Merritt, surprised and shocked to see that he was in a little girl’s nightgown, his longish hair up in curlers. He looked so cute and pretty, so like a sweet little girl that she hated to awaken him.

Evelyn’s shock came because she had distinctly remembered putting him to bed the previous evening in boy’s pajamas. How come he was now dressed in a nightie?

“Bethie changed me last night,” he explained.

“She did? When honey?” Evelyn tried not to scold the boy, and she held her anger back.

The boy, sensing his mother’s smoldering anger, said, “Oh mommy, I got up to go to bathroom and Bethie saw me, and I couldn’t sleep, so we played for a while. That’s all.”

Evelyn nodded. “Ok, now let’s get cleaned up and ready for your breakfast, Merritt.”

“OK mommy. Can I wear my new dress?”

“What new dress?” She asked, puzzled.

“Bethie gave me a new dress,” he said, pointing to a yellow and pale blue summer dress that was draped over a chair.

“She did what?”

“It’s a gift, mommy.”

“No you can’t wear it. Now go to the bathroom, I’ll get your clothes out for you.”

Evelyn took out a pair of shorts and light shirt for her son. After she dressed him, she took the new dress off to her own room, anger growing in her. After she had told Viola and her daughters that she was trying to get Merritt away from wearing girl’s clothes, she was shocked to find out that they had disregarded that order. Didn’t they realize she had to prepare her son for school and meeting other children who may not understand his desire for be a girl?

*****
“See this?” she asked Viola later that day, displaying the yellow and pale blue dress.

“Yes, Evie, it’s a pretty dress and it’s a gift to Merry from Bethie,” Viola said cheerily.

“I don’t want Merritt in dresses anymore. I thought I made that plain.”

For the first time in her five years in the Buckner household, she was firm and angry to her employer. In the past, she had always deferred to the older woman. Not today. She had some rights, too, she felt.

“Calm down, Evie dear,” Viola said evenly. “It made Bethie so happy to get a pretty dress for Merry.”

“Don’t call her … I mean … him, Merry. He’s Merritt. And he’s a boy.”

Viola raised her hand, in a “halt” motion, seeking to stop Evelyn in her unexpected tirade. That only made Evelyn more determined to follow through on her comments. She continued to press the point with Viola that Merritt was her son, not a property of the Buckner’s, and that she wanted to raise the boy so that he’d not be teased or bullied in school.

“Look,” Viola said finally. “I agree. The boy is your son and it’s your choice. But don’t make me give this back to Bethie. It’ll break her heart. She wanted it as a gift. She so loves the boy. You just hang onto it dear, and it’s up to you if he wears it.”

Evelyn nodded, feeling defeated, even though she had spoken up to her employer. She took the dress back with her, and hung it in her closet.

She was saddened. It was obvious Viola controlled her life, from making it almost impossible to meet Bob Casey, by her nightly sexual adventures and by continuing to treat her son as a pretty little girl. What could she possibly do to break free of this hold Viola had upon her?

*****
As days went on, Evelyn began to dread the evening encounters with Viola; she tried to be cold to the woman, but each night as she first vowed to reject any further advances of her employer Evelyn found she grew impassioned and welcomed the advances, soon falling into the heat of the moment, relishing how Viola's firm hands caressed her soft flesh. The older woman knew each of Evelyn's erotic zones, the soft upper inner thighs, the light hair around her vagina, the breasts that flopped to the side as she lay on her back and the fullness of her hips.

“No one else will ever love you like this, Evie,” Viola said. “You're so adorable, so soft and sweet to hold.”

Panting, Evelyn replied breathlessly, her words mimicking the passion of the moment, “Oh, you're so marvelous a lover, Vi.”

She awoke in the morning, alone in a mussed-up bed, tangled in sheets and blankets. The sour scent remaining from the previous nights love-making permeated the room. And, Evelyn cried and cried, still realizing she was caught in the web of a lovely, sensuous woman, a web she both seemed to need and reject at the same time.

Evelyn knew she had to leave.