Chapter 5 – The Snowstorm
Corey fell in love with the gown he was creating for Emily Penney. The pattern he had located was long-sleeved, with an asymmetrical length ending at just about the ankles. The upper portion was of a lace-designed opaque material that offered teasing look at Emily’s attractive arms and shoulders, with a form-fitted waist and a flowing satiny skirt. He felt the gown would be perfect for a wintertime event when bare shoulders were hardly practical.

Rather than black, as suggested by the designer, Corey felt the gown should be in a more exciting violet tone, and he was fortunate to find material close to his needs after a long search in several fabric outlets.

What excited him most was the fact that his own body dimensions almost matched Emily Penney’s. Corey was no more than a half-inch taller than the woman; his waist, hips and leg and torso lengths were identical. Both had chest sizes of 36 inches, though she needed a b-cup bra. He knew, as well, that his slender arms were no huskier than Emily’s.

He smiled at the prospect of trying the dress on, imaging how feminine and lovely he’d look. He also remembered Emily’s suggestion that he’d have to model it for her. He hoped she was serious about the idea.

*****
Corey waited anxiously at the Transit station for Amy’s bus to arrive, eying the TV screen that displayed “arrivals” for the progress of the Greyhound from Eau Claire, the transfer point for her bus from Spooner. A snow storm had caused havoc with the Interstate, and the screen periodically updated the arrival time, adding minutes. The bus was already nearly two hours

behind schedule.

The storm that had seemed to follow the bus’s trip from Western Wisconsin was beginning to hit Milwaukee and already the police and sheriff’s departments were warning against unnecessary travel in the area. Corey had driven his mother’s car to the terminal, with plans to drive Amy up to her dorm, drop her off and then return home, but he was worried that he might get stuck somewhere if he made the two-way trip. The University campus was five miles north of the terminal, and Corey’s home in Bay View was about three miles south. His mother’s old Ford Focus had worn tires that wouldn’t track easily in the snow, he knew.

As he waited, Amy had called his cell phone several times telling of the troubles the bus experienced with the snowstorm. “But the driver assured us we’ll make Milwaukee,” she said. “He seems like a very experienced driver.”

“I’ll be here for you, Amy. I can hardly wait to see you,” he said, cupping his hands over the phone so that the older woman traveler who sat next to him couldn’t hear.

“Corey, don’t wait for me. I hear the snow has hit Milwaukee now. Go home while you can. I’ll take a bus to the dorm.”

“Amy, I’ll be here for you. Don’t worry, besides I’m not sure how long the busses will be running.”

He hung up trying discreetly to make a kissing sound, as the two lovers typically did upon ending their calls. He feared the woman with whom he shared the bench at the bus terminal must have heard the verbal smooch; she had smiled sweetly at him when he hung up. She had been trying to work up a conversation with Corey, but he only wished she would mind her own business.

“Bet that was your boyfriend, right miss?” the woman asked.

“My what?” he asked shocked, answering before he realized she must have though he was a young lady awaiting her boyfriend.

“Your boyfriend. I bet he can’t wait to get here. You’re such a pretty girl,” the woman persisted.

Corey had no idea what to say; he knew he’d never see the lady again. She had informed him she was from Cleveland and was returning home after visiting her son in Madison. He realized how the woman could make such a mistake; his long hair and apparently pretty face with its high cheekbones often caused such confusion. Also, he had worn his mother’s winter boots that fashion short heels and pointed toes since his boots had been torn and would be unusable in the mounting snow.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Corey finally said, accepting the well-meaning but misguided compliment. He decided he’d go along with the woman’s misconception and play the role of a young lady. Then, if she saw them kiss and hug passionately as Amy got off the bus, she’d likely assume the two were lesbians. The image brought an impish smile to his face.

Corey turned back to the book he brought to read, since he was aware the wait would be a long one. He was fascinated by the book, “The Great Migration,” concerning the route that so many African-Americans took from the Jim Crow South in the mid-20th Century to good industrial jobs in cities like Chicago, Detroit, Cleveland and Milwaukee. It helped to bring perspective on the current fate of these cities that had seen their industries flee, leaving so many without good-paying jobs and creating large pockets of poverty. The prejudice and rejection that so many of these families faced offered a lesson to everyone who felt their difference made them pariahs in society; certainly girlish boys like himself could relate, he thought. Yet, he knew his experiences could never have been as devastating as those faced by many of the black and Latino fellow college students he was meeting.

The woman thereafter seemed to have gotten the hint that he wasn’t interested in a conversation; he had become so absorbed that he had not noticed her departure when the bus to Chicago was announced.

When Amy finally disembarked from the bus, which was nearly three hours late, Corey could tell she was exhausted. She perked up immediately upon seeing Corey and the two broke into a passionate hug, as passengers brushed by them, ignoring the two young lovers. Their embrace was broken up when the bus driver yelled at her: “Miss, you better grab your bag. I’m moving the bus.”

“I’m going to have to take you to our house to spend the night because of the storm, Amy,” he said. “Our place is closer than the dorm.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be an imposition,” she said. “I can take the bus to the dorm.”

“I’m not sure you’ll get there. Just come with me. I’m pretty sure I can get you to our house. The streets are pretty easy to navigate to Bay View.”

Amy looked at him quizzically, not certain she heard correctly what he had proposed. She wondered if such an arrangement would mean they’d be sleeping together. It was an exciting thought, but she wasn’t certain she was ready for that, yet.

He smiled at her: “Don’t worry, Amy. We won’t be sleeping together, if that’s what you’re worried about. We have an extra bedroom and you can have it all to yourself. And yes, I called mom and she’d be happy to have you. Really, just stay at our place as long as you want and I’ll take you to the dorm when the storm eases.”

She agreed that might be the best – and, in fact, only option – since she had noticed several bus trips had already been cancelled. In the bustle of the station, they could hear travelers discussing options and several had already begun to plunge through the snow to several nearby hotels to spend the night. A Red Cross worker had come into the station waiting room and was working with folks whose resources were too limited to afford staying in a downtown hotel.

Corey had also considered the possibility of the two sharing a bed; he knew of Amy’s reluctance for sex and he had his own fears that he’d prove to be an adequate male partner. He could imagine the tears that might engulf Amy if he couldn’t grow hard enough to penetrate her. And what a humiliation it might be to him! His mother had encouraged him to pursue a sexual encounter with a girl, worried that her son might never in his lifetime consummate with a woman and never know the ecstatic high he’d likely experience.

“You know, Corey, that I won’t object if Amy and you want to sleep together,” she told him when he called earlier to suggest Amy staying overnight.

“Oh mother,” he said both embarrassed and exasperated at the suggestion.

“Just so you use protection,” she said.

“Mom, that won’t be necessary. We’re just friends.”

“Well, just in case, I have some condoms you can have,” she offered.

“You what?”

“Dammit, Corey, don’t be so naïve. You don’t think all those nights with Tommy have been spent watching movies, do you?” She referred to her newest boyfriend.

“Mother, that’s gross,” he said.

“Corey, dear. It’s just nature and I hope you’ll experience it someday,” she said, as they completed the phone call.

*****
Any thoughts of sex with Amy were erased from his mind as Corey concentrated on navigating through fresh snow. It was falling heavily now and the windshield wipers had trouble keeping the snow cleared. Corey had to peer through a streaked windshield as the snow – whipped by a high wind – was causing the roadway to seemingly disappear before his eyes.

Finally, at about eight-thirty at night – nearly forty-five minutes of driving in a trip that normally took one-third the time – Corey felt a sense of accomplishment, having been able to reach Dover Street without sliding into a telephone pole or another car. He spun his wheels, however, in climbing the moderate hill to his home, causing Amy to say gently, “I’d just ease off a bit and not try to put on the gas until you feel your tires have gained traction, Corey.”

Corey welcomed the suggestion, not falling into the pattern of so many men who like to display their macho selves by refusing driving hints, especially from a girl. Corey was never as confident about his driving as other boys seemed to be and he always drove with a mind-numbing caution, prompting one of his few friends to comment that he drove “like my sister.” He was pleased to find that there were two adjacent spots open, meaning he wouldn’t have to execute the parallel parking maneuver he had nearly failed during his drivers’ test.

“My hero,” Amy said, leaning over to kiss Corey on the cheek. The boy wondered: was she being sarcastic? No, he satisfied himself that she sounded sincere.

Debbie Sullivan greeted the pair with hugs. “I should never have let you do this, Corey. I was worried sick that you’d get stuck.”

“He did fine, Mrs. Sullivan,” Amy said.

Corey beamed at her; at the beginning of the drive Amy had sensed Corey’s fear of driving and offered to drive the car herself. “I have lots of more experience driving in snow, Corey,” she said, hoping to take the curse off the suggestion that a girl might be a better driver than he was. She had become sensitive to the boy’s feelings; besides, the truth was that snow in her logging town is a way of life from mid-November to mid-April.

Corey led Amy to the extra bedroom; it was a bit small, large enough for a twin bed, a dresser, a vanity and a sewing machine. There was a large closet at one end with sliding doors. Peach-colored walls and white lace curtains gave the room a daintily feminine aura. Corey was pleased that his mother had tidied up the room after his call and apparently changed the bed clothing as well. She had thoughtfully hung portable racks upon which Amy could hang her clothes.

“You’ll have to hang your clothes on these,” Corey pointed to the racks. “The closet is packed with clothes.

“I don’t have that much, you know, so I’ll be fine here,” she said.

“I’ll let you unpack and get comfortable, Amy, and then mom’s got something for us to eat,” he said.

Amy kissed him on the cheek, the two hugged briefly and Corey left the room, hoping that Amy would not explore the room too closely. It was the room he used when he dressed into women’s outfits and virtually all the dresses and skirts in the large closet were his, as were the nearly dozen shoes. The dresser was packed with lingerie, including two sets of breast forms, while the vanity contained all his cosmetics.

“Mom, I’m not sure we should have put her in my girl’s room,” he said as the two sat at the kitchen table, awaiting Amy’s arrival.

“I’m worried about that, too, Corey, but the fact is that it’s time to share with Amy your real self. She deserves to know everything about you now that you guys are getting so close,” she said.

“You’re right, mom,” he said, scared about admitting his girlish desires to Amy.

“She’s such a sweet girl and so smart, Corey.”

“Mother, I know that. I’ll do the right thing.”

Corey knew that before the night was over he’d reveal the female Corey – a girl his mother chose to call Corrine – to Amy Hartmann.

*****
Debbie Sullivan excused herself right after she finished cleaning up the dishes from the late meal she served to Corey and Amy. She refused Amy and Corey’s offer to assist her.

“No, you kids go do what you want. I’ll leave you two alone,” she said.

Corey believed he saw a faint wink from his mother, as if she was signaling the boy to lead Amy into a bedroom for a night of love-making.

“Your mother’s a sweetie, Corey,” Amy said as the two snuggled together on the couch in the living room.

“I love her very much,” he said.

“You must have gotten your pretty face from your mom,” she said, reaching over and caressing his cheek and then brushing a strand of his blondish hair aside.

Corey blushed at the remark; he loved to think of himself as pretty and it never embarrassed him any more as being called pretty did in the past. So often, other boys called him “pretty” or “girl” in their constant bullying. Once he entered college, such bullying seemed to recede; now it was often women or college girls who recognized his prettiness. For some reason, most women and girls seemed not think less of him because of it.

“Do you mind if I’m not a big, strong guy who you’d call handsome?” he probed.

“I love you for it, Corey. Really.”

Her acceptance of his feminine prettiness helped to fuel his desire to tell her of his crossdressing habits; maybe he’d even share with her his thoughts of being a girl. But, his determination to confess his habit was stifled by Amy’s next words.

“Corey,” she began hesitatingly. “It seems your mother wants us to go to bed together. She told me while you were at the bathroom that she understands that young people need to be alone and may want to sleep together. ‘It’s perfectly OK with me, Amy,’ she told me.”

“I guess.”

“I hope you don’t mind if we don’t, but I’m not ready for it,” she said.

Corey almost breathed a sigh of relief. Truth be told, he was frightened about the whole idea of sex, particularly about whether he could perform the male role. Yet, he desired to be with her, to place his body next to hers, touching each other all over and kissing. He imagined her arms surrounding his slender, smooth body, caressing him. He loved the firmness of her strong arms and the softness of her undersized breasts and fleshy tummy. But, the image of him entering her seemed to foreign to him, as if it would not be within his nature to do such an act.

“That’s OK, Amy,” he said.

“Corey, I feel so selfish. I know what boys all want, and I’m not ready to give it to you.”

“I said it was OK, Amy.”

“No, no. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, because I’ve never felt for a boy like I do for you, dear Corey, and you deserve an explanation for my feelings. It’s my secret, but you deserve to know.”

“I don’t need to know, dear, ‘cause I have to tell you my secret first,” he said.

“No,” she protested. “I’m going to tell you first, and then maybe you don’t need to tell yours, ‘cause after you hear my story, you won’t want me anymore.”

“Amy, I can’t imagine anything that would change my feelings toward you,” he protested.

Corey reached over, taking Amy’s large hands into his. He said nothing further and the two looked directly into each other’s eyes, and Amy began her story. Corey listened as she told of the night of her brutal assault and near-rape by Lance when she was fifteen. In took her 15 minutes to relate the incident, with tears interrupting her narrative, followed by hugs and reassurances from Corey. Amy, however, did not tell of the most recent attack by Lance over the Christmas vacation.

“Oh, Amy, that must have been so terrible,” he said when she finished. He was crying along with her, feeling every ugly touch of the brute Lance. He wanted to say that he would beat the shit out of that monster, but of course he could do little but, as he admitted to himself, just flail out his weak arms that would hardly even sting the monster.

“Honey, it was so horrible, that I still have nightmares,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m ready for sex; it might rekindle terrible memories. I’m not sure I can trust a man.”

“Poor Amy,” he said, reaching up a wiping a tear from the girl’s face.

“I didn’t mean I couldn’t trust you, Corey. Oh that must have sounded so bad.” She reached over to kiss him, their lips meeting and soon engaging in a long, wet kiss.

Corey felt so badly for Amy; in his mind’s eye, he was picturing the beer-soaked lout putting his dirty hands upon his sweet Amy. It took his mind off of his determination to reveal his own secret. He wondered if he had the same courage to tell of his girlish desires as she did to reveal the awful assault.

******
Their long embrace comforted both of them and they soon were laying tightly pressed against each other, prone on the couch.

“This is so delicious, Corey,” Amy said after a few minutes.

“I love you, Amy,” he said, adjusting his right arm which had fallen asleep while pinned under the girl.

They both moved more tightly together, and Corey felt his small penis begin to harden. The room that had felt a bit chilly when they first entered now felt hot and steamy. They kissed gently now, and their hands moved under each other’s clothes, each caressing the other’s smooth skin.

“I’ve never felt closer to anyone than you, Corey.”

“It’s like we’re one being, the two of us molded together to make a single lovely person.”

“That’s a wonderful thought. I can just picture us as one, can you?”

Corey considered the image; it was a captivating thought. In his image the single resulting person was a lovely young woman, a bit huskier than he was, but not as heavy-boned as Amy. The person had sparkling eyes and warm, roundish face; it wasn’t a face that would win any beauty contests, but it was a face with bright, sparkling blue eyes, a smallish nose, full checks and full, kissable lips.

Amy was also imagining what the composite person would look like.

“Is our person a boy or a girl?” she asked, finally.

“A girl,” Corey answered, but quickly wishing he could take back the answer. He feared that Amy would detect his own proclivities, his own desire to be a girl.

“I love you for saying that, Corey,” she said.

“Really?”

Suddenly she asked the question that had been haunting her since their first meeting at the Student Union’s Food Court: “Do you wish you were a girl, Corey?”

Corey wanted to answer “yes, yes, yes” with great enthusiasm, but found he couldn’t speak. He was afraid to say the words out loud, to tell Amy the truth, to tell her that he wanted to be a woman, a warm, soft, lovely woman. Instead he found himself staring, almost without seeing, at the snow falling outside the window, already beginning to dot the window with flakes. The street light turned the fresh snow to a sparkling mass.

“I think you do Corey,” she answered for him. “You’re like no other boy I’ve ever known and I love you for it.”

“I guess I’ve thought about it. Being a girl sounds nice,” he answered, knowing it was still not the whole truth.

Amy hugged more tightly now, their legs intermingling. She felt her nipples tingle and she sensed her panties growing moist as the two ground their bodies together. They were still clothed and Amy yearned for their two bodies to be in an embrace, totally nude as they caressed each other’s soft, smooth skin. She smelled the light feminine scent of Corey’s body, most likely from his use of body lotion and light perfumed spray. Amy had long before recognized his lovely scent and she believed he used the same soaps, lotions and scents that he had recommended to her.

“Mom won’t mind if we go to bed together,” Corey said; he was already nearly breathless with passion.

Amy wasn’t sure how to respond; she wanted so much to spend the night with Corey, but she was fearful of him penetrating her. Ever since her encounter with Lance, she had rejected the idea of receiving a penis in her vagina; men frightened her in these settings. Corey was different; he seemed hardly to be a man.

“Can we just lay together, under the covers, Corey?” she asked.

“Of course. Whatever you’d like, dear,” he answered, pleased that she didn’t want him to prove his manhood and make love to her. He wasn’t certain he was capable and he didn’t want to show her how inadequate he might be.

The two quickly moved to the bedroom, which had been readied by Debbie Sullivan for Amy. The bed was made and the covers turned down, as a welcome for the girl.

They began to undress, helping each other and kissing and caressing as they did so; Corey’s erection was growing more noticeable, which happened only during his masturbation sessions and only when he was imagining himself as a woman.

She soon stood before him in bra and panties, husky, roundish with a wide waist and breasts too small for her sweet, healthy body; Corey thought she was lovely. Her body exuded strength and it made him want to submit totally to her. He stood in only his male briefs, slender with smooth, narrow shoulders and lovely arms, unblemished by muscular sinews. Amy was similarly enthralled; this was not a man before her, but a lovely girl.

The two eagerly moved onto the bed; they had to squeeze themselves onto the narrow twin bed and embraced, each voraciously caressing and kissing the other, exploring every part of the other’s body. They rocked together in passion, sweating and breathing heavily; Corey penis grew hard and Amy felt herself growing more and more moist.

“Let’s make love like two girls would, Corey,” she said, her pants growing heavier. “Do you want to be my girlfriend, Corey?”

“Oh yes, yes, I’m a girl,” he said, suddenly his erection grew hard.

He wasn’t quite sure how girls made love together, and he felt Amy guiding his hand toward her hole. His fingers entered gently into the moist cave and heard Amy moan loudly and his fingers plunged deeper. Her grip on Corey’s skinny arms crew hard and he was losing control of his own sexual desires. Amy was strong and he was weak in her arms.

As his fingers played, Amy squealed, almost as if in pain and felt his fingers suddenly get wet as she shrieked out in ecstasy. At the same moment, he began to shoot his own fluids on the inner thigh of the girl, and the two collapsed and snuggled together in their afterlove.

*****
Exhausted the two lay in each other’s arms, entangled in the sheets and blankets, the smell of sweaty sex combining with the perfumed scents from Corey’s body and from fresh soap of Amy’s skin. Neither said nothing for a while until Amy whispered, “Are you awake?”

“Yes,” Corey replied, his voice soft and low.

“Wasn’t this wonderful?”

“Yes. I’ve never done this before,” he admitted.

“We’re both such virgin girls,” Amy said. “My first time too.”

“With a girl?” he queried.

“No, silly, with a boy or a girl,” she giggled, the evening’s passion having obliterated the memory of the brutal sexual assault by Lance. That horrible incident could hardly duplicate the love and passion of these moments with Corey.

They positioned their bodies so they were facing each other again and they began kissing each other. “You’re so pretty, Corey,” she said.

Her comment stirred Corey and his penis began hardening; they snuggled more tightly together, and Corey slowly worked his fingers into her vagina, and the two repeated their pseudo love-making. Even in its incompleteness, the ecstasy, the moistness of their orgasms was exciting.

*****
When Corey awakened the next morning, it was still dark outside; the digital alarm clock on the night stand read “6:53,” and the sunrise was still an hour ahead. He pried himself out from Amy’s embrace, moving slowly and gently so as not to awaken her. He was successful, as her breathing, accompanied by a soft grunt every so often, continued without interruption. He looked at her fondly and smiled.

Twenty minutes later he returned to the bedroom, having showered and shaved the light fuzz on his face. He wrapped his head in the towel and was otherwise naked as he rushed through the hall into the bedroom. Amy continued to breathe steadily, apparently undisturbed by his movements. Corey wore a smile as he carefully moved to open one of the dresser drawers and drew out a pair of panties and a bra; he stepped into the panties and then fastened the bra around his barren chest, skillfully connecting the hooks in the back. He then reached into another drawer and pulled out breast forms and stuffed them into the bra.

Returning to the bathroom, he removed the towel from his head, and shook his head in quick circular motions, letting his hair hang straight and flow sexily with his movements; he spent a few moments using the hair dryer, closing the door so as not to awaken Amy. He applied conditioner, fashioned a bang across the forehead and brushed the hair into a slight bob at the back. He examined himself in the mirror, smiling at the slender, pretty girl in the reflection.

Amy stirred a bit as he re-entered to bedroom, but she didn’t seem to waken. He went to the large closet, and slowly pulled the door open, seeking to avoid making even the slightest sound. He wanted to surprise – and he hoped to please – Amy when she awoke. He had a plan.

The morning light begin to brighten the room a bit and the open closet door revealed a closet full of dresses, skirts and blouses, along with a row of women’s shoes lining the bottom. They were all his, of course, and when he originally suggested that Amy stay over and sleep in the room, he was worried that she’d discover the women’s clothes and he’d have to lie and tell her they all belonged to his mother. Now, after last night’s adventures, he was ready to reveal the truth.

Just as Amy began to awaken, Corey snapped the last button on the ruffled, peach-colored blouse he had put on over a knee-length, pleated navy blue skirt. He was about to put on a pair of short-heeled kitten shoes, when she spoke, “Huh. Who? What?”

Corey stood before her, frozen for a moment. He waited until she sat up and cleared her eyes of sleep. By now the morning light had made the room bright.

“Good morning, Amy. I like to introduce myself. I’m Corrine, your girlfriend.”