They have to call Mom to make sure it is OK for me to use the credit card for the amount of the meal, since it is in her name; I flush in embarrassment. Vicki is insisting they use her credit card when they finally get ahold of Mom and she lets them know that ‘of course’ it is OK.

Once we leave the restaurant and are back in the mall, I profusely apologize to Vicki, “Well that was embarrassing! I won’t blame you if you want to forget you ever met me after that!” I was fully expecting her to leave me to my own devices and to never see her again.

She smiles at me and says, “Well, I am certainly not embarrassed and I really enjoyed the meal and the company. I think you are really sweet. Would you mind helping me carry this stuff to my car? I could give you a lift home…”

I take her load as I say, “Of course I will help you, but I am happy to take the bus. I don’t want to bother you with taking me home…”

She smiles as she hands me her bags and says, “Nonsense! It is no trouble.”

I follow her out to the parking lot and to a beautiful Audi S4. I find myself drooling over the car almost as much as I am trying not to drool over her. I carefully place her bags into the trunk and climb into the passenger’s seat. I would love to drive this car…but am happy to even just get to ride in it.

Ten minutes later, she pulls into our driveway and puts the car into park. Before I can thank her or get out, she leans over and, in what seems like slow-motion, pulls my head towards hers…my lips to hers… My heart nearly stops and I shyly let her kiss me. She looks at me and smiles, then leans in again. This time I respond back and I feel her tongue enter and explore my mouth. She obviously has much more experience than I do in matters such as these—especially, since I have exactly none… After several minutes of kissing, she leans back and hands me a Kleenex from her purse. She says, “You may want to wipe the lipstick off of your lips.” She smiles and says, “Although, it does look delicious on you!”

I blush and wipe my mouth clean, looking in the little mirror on the back of the visor. I start to say something and she just puts a finger on my lips and says, “Thank you for a lovely date. Would you consider going out with me tomorrow night? My treat. Dress nicely; I will pick you up at five thirty.”

She has her finger still on my lip, so I just nod yes…still totally shocked. She smiles and gives me a final kiss before I get out with a whispered, “good night”.

I dreamily watch her drive off and walk up to the door in a daze. I open the door and see Mom sitting on the couch. She smiles and asks, “Hi, Honey. I am so sorry I could not make it tonight. Did you and Dan have fun, though?”

I shake my head and say, “Dan couldn’t make it either. He is sick.”

Mom gives me a confused look and asks, “But you were at the restaurant and the bill was obviously for more than one?”

I smile and tell Mom about my chance encounter. She smiles back and asks, “Langdon? Any relation to Dr. Sherri Langdon?”

I shrug and say, “She is her daughter. Does that mean anything?”

Mom laughs and says, “Well, Hon, she is one of the most renowned plastic surgeons in the country. I guess it doesn’t surprise me that you have not heard of her; although, I can’t believe you haven’t seen the advertisements. Lovely Bodies Clinic?”

I slap my forehead and say, “She is that doctor? Wow… And she asked me out again tomorrow…”

I sit on the couch, stunned. Mom smiles at the news. I shrug and say, “Mom, she is gorgeous…why would she be interested in me?”

The next day, I get home from class around four. I am a senior in highschool and it happens to be my light day. I am surprised to find Mom at home already. She smiles when she sees me come in and says, “Well, yesterday, I had to stay late; so I was able to leave early today…”

I sigh and say, “I need to get ready, but I don’t know what to wear. Vicki said to dress ‘nice’…”

Mom looks at me and asks, “Does your suit still fit? I don’t think we have much time to get you anything else, but we can try if we have to.”

I sigh deeper and say, “I am not sure. I have not really had a need to wear it since Julie’s wedding last year…” My cousin had gotten married a little over a year ago and I have put on some weight since then.

Mom says, “Go try it on, Hon, and let me see.”

I go to my room and pull out the suit. It is not a really expensive one, but it is in good shape. I put on my best dress shirt and tie; then the light grey suit. It is snug, but I can stand it. I go out to let Mom inspect me.

She giggles and says, “Well, I think it is time we get you a new suit, Sweetie. But, it will do for now. Can you breathe?”

I smile wanly and say, “Mother! Yes, it is a bit tight, but not terrible. Does it look OK?”

She laughs and says, “Yes, it looks fine. Under better circumstances, I would prefer a better fit, but it will have to do. You need to polish your shoes, though. There is some black polish in my closet upstairs.”

I quickly get the polish from Mom’s closet and laugh at the fact that she has so many business suits and I only have the one. I make short work of shining my shoes and look at the clock. It is five and I am feeling pretty good, although I am very nervous. Mom had changed out of her suit and into something more comfortable while I polished my shoes. She is now pouring herself a glass of red wine and getting ready to relax.

She sets her glass on the bar between us and puts the stopper in the bottle. Right at that moment, the dog barks loudly at someone he sees out the window—and scares our cat. The cat jumps up onto the bar in a panic and knocks over the glass of wine—straight onto me. I instinctively bend down to catch the glass and feel my pants rip up the back seam!

I feel like crying. Vicki is going to be here in less than thirty minutes and I am a wreck. I quickly help Mom clean up the wine and say, “I would call or text Vicki to call off our date, but I don’t even have her number…”

Mom looks at me and says, “I may have a solution…although, you may not like it… Come with me.” I follow her to her room and wonder what she has planned. She goes to her closet and says, “Get out of those ruined clothes.” She pulls out a white blouse and a dark blue suit and says, “I think this will actually fit you pretty well.”

I blush and say, “MOM! I can’t wear one of your suits!”

She says, “Just put it on and let me see. It is my most masculine one. I don’t wear it anymore because that is not the style anymore… Well, and I lost that weight. Anyway, here. Put on this…shirt…”

Numbly, I take the ‘shirt’ and put it on. I struggle with the buttons, which are on the wrong side. I groan and say, “This isn’t going to work, Mom! People will see right away!”

She comes over and helps me button up the small buttons. Once it is buttoned, I have to admit to myself that it really does not look all that different from the shirt that just had red wine spilled all over it. It feels different, though; it is really soft. Mom then hands me the pants. I sigh and pull them on. They feel really different, too. They are softer than my suit pants—and sort of stretchy. Again, the hook is on the wrong side…and there is this flap under the really short zipper that buttons up and completely obscures the zipper. If I wind up wearing these, there will be no easy way to pee. I fiddle and get the flap buttoned and the hook closed and marvel that the waist actually fits perfectly. I put my belt through the loops and buckle it.

Mom smiles and says, “See, they look very nice. You don’t have another tie, though, do you?” She rummages in her closet and comes out with a burgundy silk scarf that she ties around my neck in a loose Windsor knot, like a tie. She has me put on the jacket, again with the buttons on the wrong side and says, “This is the style in some circles. It looks nice on you. Now we just need to figure out what to do about your shoes. You can’t wear those, they smell like wine. Get a new pair of socks.

I hurry to my room and get a new pair of socks and put them on. I hurry back to Mom’s room. It is already eighteen after. Mom hands me a pair of shiny black shoes. They are obviously hers, although, they are not particularly feminine, other than a slightly higher heel than a guy would normally wear. I give her a curious look and she says, “Try them on. I am not sure about the size, but you don’t have overly large feet… These are a women’s seven…we can only hope…”

I sit down, again marveling at the feel of the pants, and slip on the right shoe. It fits, but is really tight. I say, “I don’t think I can do this, Mom. They are too tight.”

Mom goes to her closet again and says, “Take off your socks. They are too thick for those shoes.” She comes out with a pair of black knee high hose and hands them to me. She says, “Put these on. No one will be able to tell they are not black socks.”

I groan, but look at the clock. Twenty-two after. I carefully pull on the hose and would never admit to her that they feel really…nice. I then slip on the right shoe and it fits perfectly. I tie it and put on the other. I stand up and my feet are at a slightly strange angle because of the heel, but they feel fine.

Mom has me stand back and looks at me with a smile. She gestures at the full length mirror in the corner. I go look at myself and have to say that I look really nice. Unless someone specifically looks to see if the buttons are on the wrong side, no one should notice.

At that moment, the doorbell rings. I pale and feel huge butterflies in my stomach. I hurry down the stairs and open the door to a radiant Vicki. She looks even better than yesterday. She smiles brightly at me and says, “Hi Gerry, you look really nice!”

I invite her in and say, “Vicki, this is my Mom, Claudia McIntosh. Mom, meet Vicki Langdon.”

The two of them exchange pleasantries for a few minutes and then Vicki asks if I am ready. I smile and say, “If you are.”

I hug Mom and she wishes us a fun night. I follow Vicki out to her car and we get in. She takes off and we are headed north towards the really upscale part of town. The mall we met at last night is on the border of the older more established part of town, that we live in, and the newer high society’s realm. She pulls into the parking lot of an expensive looking French restaurant and we go in. We are immediately seated; they seem to know Vicki well here.

We are in a private area at a table overlooking a large scenic lake. We order our drinks and Vicki looks at me and says, “Gerry, I think you are really brave to show your feminine side like you are. I admire that.”

I feel my heart fall into my stomach. I start to stammer, “It…it... You can tell? And you still went out with me?”

She takes my hand and says, “I am a fashion major. Of course I can tell. Five years ago, that particular style of woman’s power suit was all the rage. It is of very good quality and not cheap. I assume it was your mother’s? That is obviously a size twelve and she is no more than a six or eight…”

My face falls and I just nod…totally deflated.

She continues, “Gerry, I wasn’t kidding when I said I admire you for your bravery. I have dated a number of ‘macho’ guys, all full of themselves. I have always been bisexual, but their attitudes…and lewd behavior completely turned me off. They mostly wanted me as a trophy. I turned completely to my lesbian side for the last couple of flings, but they were mostly after my ‘family discount’ with Mom. I can’t lie to you, Gerry. I am mostly a lesbian, now…I really enjoy female company. But, last night I felt a connection with you that was just sort of…right…”

She stops as the waiter brings our drinks and some appetizers.

When he leaves, she continues, “I struggled with those feelings all last night. I really want to explore where this will take us, but I also know that I am strongly drawn to the feminine and am worried that I am not being fair to you… The fact that you are willing to show this side is an absolute positive. How far are you willing to go—or have you gone? Oh! You are not gay are you? Please tell me you are not! That would be such a shame… Transgendered maybe?”

My head is spinning. I take a bite of the bread and a sip of my tea. I am not sure how to respond. The one thing I am sure of is that I am not going to say that this was all a fluke… Finally, I say, “No, I am not gay. Trust me, I am a guy…and I think you are hot!” I blush and continue, “I hope that is not a turn-off to you, that I said that. This is as far as I have ever taken it. I am a nervous wreck as it is. I can’t say I would not take it further, but I am not sure my nerves could handle it.” I figure that was a neutral enough response.

She cocks her head to one side and smiles. She says, “Oh, you are so cute. And, no, you did not turn me off.” She giggles and continues, “Well, we can maybe try things in private until you get more comfortable with them. I take it your Mother knows, since she was there tonight? It is her suit, isn’t it—or was?”

I just say, “She helped me get dressed; and yes, it’s one of her old ones.”

She giggles and says, “That is so delicious. I think I am already in love with your mother! Maurice!”

The waiter comes right over and she says, “Maurice. You already know that I am twenty-one and I am sure that you can guess that Gerry is not. We would still like to have a glass of my favorite Cotes-Du-Rhone, each. We are celebrating. That will not be a problem, right?”

He looks at her and winks and says, “Non, Mademoiselle Langdon. I do not see any problem here!”

A few minutes later, he sets a large round glass about a third full of blood-red wine down in front of me. I watch Vicki pick up the glass, swirl it lightly and breathe in deep with her nose inside the bowl of the glass. Then she takes a sip and smiles. She says, “Wonderful, Maurice. Thank you!”

She reaches out with her glass towards me, obviously wanting to clink glasses with me. I hesitantly pick it up and lightly clink her glass. I take a sip of the wine and nearly choke. It tastes like…moldy dirt to me. She giggles at my face and says, “Don’t worry, Hon. It is an acquired taste. You will get used to it and learn to love it. Trust me!”

I sip on the wine throughout the meal. It is true that, by the end of the meal, I was becoming more accustomed to the taste…and feeling a little light-headed, but I don’t think I would order it again, if given a choice. Something tells me that if I am going to be hanging out with Vicki, though, I will not have much choice. She obviously loves the stuff.

Before tonight, I did not realize that she was twenty-one…barely. Her birthday is just three weeks before mine. During the meal, I learn more about her; she is a fashion design major—a sophomore (she had taken a year off after high school to see the world). She lives alone in an apartment not far from here. She has two best friends. Before tonight, she was not dating anyone.

I blink at that one and take a sip of the wine. I stutter, “So, you really want to date me? That is so awesome…” The wine was speaking a little now—even though I still have half my glass. I timidly say, “And, if it makes you more comfortable with me, I will…experiment…for you. You have to know by now, though, that I am not comfortable in my skin—that I have huge self-image issues…”

She takes my hand and says, “And we will work on those. I promise that you will love yourself when we are done! Just promise me that you won’t go all monster on me and leave me. You think I am beautiful and can have anyone I want. You are right—to a certain extent. I am sensitive, though…I want some someone that is sensitive, too. Someone that wants me for me…someone for which my beauty is just a bonus. I think that could very well be you. Please don’t disappoint me; I don’t know that I can take more disappointment.”

I look at her and say, “Vicki, I promise you with all of my heart that I will never intentionally hurt you. But, that goes both ways. You know that I have issues--major issues with my image…and girls, in general. You have it completely in your hand to totally destroy what little self-confidence I have. Please don’t abuse that power that you have over me.”

We clink our glasses, hers newly refilled, and promise to be there for each other.

An hour later, we are back at the mall. Vicki takes me into one of the high-class jewelry stores and picks out a pair of ‘promise’ rings. They are made of platinum and have several diamonds set in them; one larger one in the center and several smaller ones around the band. They are billed as unisex—they seem plainly on the feminine side of ‘uni’ to me. They are also really expensive.

I look at Vicki and say, “Vicki, these are…lovely… But, they are way too expensive. We don’t even know that this will work out…”

Vicki looks at me and says, “Gerri, I have faith in us.”

I look at her and say, “Vicki, please… I am not comfortable with you spending that much on me. Not now…maybe not ever…”

Vicki smiles and tells the clerk to put the rings away. She looks back at me and asks, “So, are you willing to do something for me? It is along the lines of what we discussed…”

Without asking, I nod my head. Vicki points to some diamond studs. They are not small and not huge, but they are very sparkly. The clerk pulls them out of the case and Vicki inspects them, then says, “Yes, I think I will take them.” She pays and whispers something to the clerk. On our way back out to the car she says, “Gerri, I am going to take you to meet my Dad!”