Chapter 2

The next few weeks were the hardest of my life. I had to be careful not to let Jeff or mom know the truth about me. You'd think that after fifteen years of being a boy it would be easy to keep up the pretense. But, like the genie, once Jasmine was set free, there was no bottling her back up. Despite my best efforts, the change was noticeable. I followed Ginny's plan and told Jeff the story about my parents going away and me having to stay with my grandparents. When he wanted to know why I was acting weird, I blamed it on my disappointment at not being able to party with him. Mom was harder to convince that my change in behavior was because I would be on my own. At least I was telling her the truth, although not in the way she thought.

Ginny started to prepare me for my date with Jeff. I had a lot to learn. Mom was out shopping for her trip, so we had uninterrupted girl time after school. "What are you going to tell Jeff about yourself?" she questioned me.

"About me? He's supposed to believe I'm Jasmine. You said he would," I replied worriedly. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all."

"We can forget it and go back to Plan B. I can get the shoebox."

"Ginny, no."

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then calm down. Everything's going to be fine," she reassured me. "I'll ask it differently. What's your last name?"

"You know my last name."

"Doh. What's Jasmine's last name?"

"Delaney?"

"Uh huh. So, Jeff, this is Jasmine Delaney," she pretended to introduced me. "Oh, she has the same last name as you and Bobby," she switched roles. "Hi, Jasmine. Where do you go to school? Ginny says you're my age, when's your birthday? Do you have any brothers or sisters? How come you're staying with Ginny? Maybe we can get an ice cream or something after the movie. What's your favorite flavor. Mine's rocky road. Chocolate chip. Wow, that's Bobby's favorite too." She gave me a patronizing look. "You did expect to talk to him didn't you? Or were you planning on skipping the conversation and going right to the kissing?"

"Oh."

"Yes, little sister, Oh. You need a cover story. You could be a Delaney. Jasmine having the same last name as us is one less thing to confuse. That would make you Dad's brother Frank's daughter, Mom and Dad's niece and our cousin. Adding you to their family, Barry and Lenny are your brothers and Judy is your mother. You live on Maple Street in Chesterton and you go to St. Katherine's, St. Kitty's. I'm not sure what school they really go to. I made it up, but Jeff won't know that. Whose birthday do you remember besides yours and probably his.

"Yours."

"I'm flattered. Just remember to use the month and day, not the year." She paused and nodded her head in agreement with herself.

"What?"

"We're going to have to tell Mom."

"Ginny, no, that would ruin everything. She'd never let me go out with Jeff."

"I didn't mean now, but what happens when Jeff tells her about going out with our cousin Jasmine while she was away. And does she know when Jasmine's going to come back, because he really likes her. Mom knows we don't have a cousin Jasmine and that we didn't have anyone staying here while she was away. How are we going to explain that?"

I gave it some thought. "I know. How about we tell Jeff that Jasmin's parents are very strict and she's not allowed to date, after all, she goes to Catholic school, so he has to keep it a secret or she and you will get in big trouble? If he wants to know when she'll be back, he can ask me. You aren't the only one who can be creative."

"Yes, that works. There's hope for Jasmine yet."

"Now here's a tip. Boy's like to talk about themselves. They think we're impressed. "Oh, Jeff," she smiled and batted her eyes , "do you play any sports? Baseball! That's sooo cool. I wanted to play field hockey, but my parents thought it was too rough. They didn't want me getting hurt. I just go right home after school and do my homework. Right field? That's important, isn't it? Do tell me more. The more you keep the conversation about him, the less you have to talk about yourself. You try."

Ginny pretended to be Jeff. I asked about school and his hobbies. I knew what courses he took and his interests, so it was easy. "We need to do something about your voice," Ginny cautioned me. "Try talking slower and softer. See if you can raise it a little higher. And you need to use more girl words, like 'sweet' and "nice' and 'lovely'. These seats are lovely. How nice, you're such a gentleman. Popcorn, why thank you, that's so sweet."

"I never knew that there was so much more to being a girl than being a girl."

"Well, we have a lifetime and you have three weeks. You're doing fine."

Once Ginny was satisfied with my skill as an actress, she began on my appearance. We had to be doubly cautious, in case Mom came back too soon. All of the clothes that I dreamed about, but never dared to try on, were now mine. Well, to borrow. Ginny brought me over to her dresser and opened the second drawer. I knew from my forays into her once forbidden world of nylon and lace that it was full of panties.

"Come over here. Seriously, Jasmine. Girls don't get all dopey about their underwear. Look, she pulled out a pair of plain white briefs from the back. These are cotton. They're comfortable and full coverage. Good for sports, because they stay up and are more absorbent, and for when you have your monthlies."

"Monthlies?"

"Period, dummy." She shook her head. "Right, never mind. Moving on, these are thongs. I hate having a sting up my butt, although they do avoid a panty line. Betsy talked me into buying them when were at Pink.

"What's a pink panty line."

"OMG. We have so much work to do. A panty line is the outline of your panties showing through tight pants or a butt hugging skirt and Pink is a store with sexy lingerie." She picked out a pair a pair of white ones with narrow sides and a lace front. "These are bikini's. I like them because they're practical, they cover what needs to be covered, and sexy. I'm wearing them now." She put them down and started to unbutton her jeans."

"Ginny, stop."

"What's the problem. Are we sisters or not?"

"Yes."

"Then get used to seeing me in my underwear. Geez." She pulled down her jeans and stepped out of them. "See," she modeled them, putting her thumbs in the waistband and snugging them up.

"They're adorable and I love the lace," I practiced my girl words.

Ginny nodded her approval. "That's my girl," she complimented me. I smiled back at her. She handed them to me. "Here. They're probably too skimpy, but try them on for me." She gave me a silly grin.

I took them and turned to the door. "Where are you going, little sister?"

"To my room?"

"Why?"

"To put them on?"

"Sisters, remember."

""Yes, but I have to get undressed. You'll see me naked."

"So?"

"I didn't want to embarrass you."

"I won't be embarrassed. Will you?"

"Yes."

"Get over it. I can't have you running out every time you need to try on clothes. Now strip, or do you need help?" She started towards me.

"No, I'm good." I took off my jeans and looked at her for confirmation. "Should I turn around?"

"If you've seen one wiener you've seen them all, and I've seen a wiener. Do you want to discuss my experience with wieners or are you going to stop wasting our time?"

"I'd like to hear about you experience with wieners, please.

"I'll bet. It was a rhetorical question. When you can tell me about your familiarity with other boy's wieners, I'll share mine."

"I can tell you all about them. Do you want to hear about Jeff's? We take gym and shower together. It's a very nice one."

"Thank you for sharing, but for now lets work on getting yours into my panties, figuratively speaking."

I shrugged and pulled down my underpants. Ginny handed me the panties. I stepped into them and pulled them up. They nylon felt wonderful. I walked over to the door mirror and admired them, front and back."

"You're sticking out of the waist," Ginny observed. "Try tucking it under." I reached down and adjusted myself. "Now your whole package is hanging out of the crotch. Hang on, let me get a pair of scissors and make some anatomical adjustments."

"Ginny!"

"Just kidding. Like I thought, bikini's are too skimpy." She went back to her panty drawer and pulled out a pair of shiny black ones with a lace waist band. "Here," she handed them to me. "They're hip huggers."

I pulled off the bikinis without any thought about modesty and stepped into them. They covered more and it seemed like they had a wider crotch, which held me in better. I tucked myself under.

"Turn around." Ginny inspected me. "Much better," she nodded her approval. Okay, keep those on. Come over here. Look," she pointed to the panties, "you're welcome to take whatever you want, but make sure you put them in my laundry basket when you take them off."

"Wow. Thanks, but I don't see much opportunity to wear them until Jasmine comes to visit. I can't wear them to school. We have gym on Tuesdays and Thursdays and they don't have an opening in front, so I would have to pull down my pants when I peed."

"Of course, which brings us to lesson two. Bathroom etiquette."

"Huh?"

"When you're on your date with Jeff and nature calls, which bathroom do you use?"

"I suppose I just wait until I get home."

"Girls do a lot more in the bathroom then pee. Mirrors are our best friend. We can't resist primping. Compacts are okay for touch ups, but for serious repairs we use the powder room. Get it? Powder room, as in makeup. If you want to be convincing, then you should go into the ladies room and make him wait for you."

"What if there are women in there?"

"Then you'll fit right in. We have separate stalls for privacy, so you're not going to see anything you shouldn't see and, if you do have to pee, then you do it sitting down. Actually, we don't sit. We straddle and hover."

"Why?"

"It's a girl thing. Literally. We have a girl thing that we need to keep sanitary. Feel free to do you own thing, since you are lacking in the girl thing department. Actually, come to think of it, if nobody ever sits down, then the seat is clean." She shook her head at the revelation. "I suppose better safe than a yeast infection. Not your problem. Just remember that you use the bathroom with the figure in a dress on the sign and sit to pee."

"Okay, got it. Figure in dress. Sit to pee. Make Jeff wait. Umm, how long do I make him wait?"

"Girls take longer to do their business, usually it's crowded, especially at the movies, because everyone gets out at the same time, so we have to wait for a stall, and another few minutes for doing our makeup. I'd give him a good five minutes."

"Got it."

"Okay, so we're good on panties. Next, you need a bra." She gave me a sappy look. "Aww," she gushed, "little sister's first bra and big sister is taking her shopping for it. Well, in a manner of speaking." She laughed. "Seriously, Jasmine, a girl's first bra is a big deal. It's our graduation from children to adults. Ask any of us."

"I'll take your word for it. When do I graduate?"

"Hah, funny." She opened the top drawer and studied its contents. "I don't think that any of these will work. I'm a full B cup. That's a little busty for a fifteen year old. Hmm, I wonder if Mom saved any of my stuff from when I was younger. Maybe. She took my hand. Come with me."

"I'm just wearing panties," I reminded her."

"Oh, right. Put on your jeans and meet me in the guest bedroom." She hurried out.

When I came in, she was in the closet rummaging though boxes. "Nope, nope, uh uh, nope, wait, ah hah. She pulled out a box labeled 'underwear'. Ginny opened it and started to empty it on the floor. "Bingo." She held up a white bra with pink polka dots. "This was one of my first bras. It's stretchy and pulls on, so you don't have to fuss with hooking it behind your back, and it has just a little padding to give you some shape. Perfect," she complimented herself."

"Shouldn't we put the stuff back in the box? What if Mom comes home. Won't she wonder what's going on?"

"Nah," Ginny dismissed my concern, "I'll just tell her I was nostalgic and wanted to reminisce about my childhood. Come on, we don't have all day. Seriously, we don't have all day." We headed back to her bedroom.

"Here, pull this over your head and adjust it so the cups are centered over your nipples. It's probably going to be tight. Your chest is bigger than mine when I was your age."

"I struggled into it and adjusted it the way she directed."

"Nope, too small. I think a 34 would do the trick. Actually, hold on. She went to her dresser and took out one of her bras. I'm a 34. Put your arms through the straps." She pulled it over the bra I was wearing and fastened it in back. "Definitely a 34A," she agreed with herself, inserting her fingers under the band and tugging on it. "When we go shopping, that's the size."

"We're going shopping?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, of course. You need your own clothes."

"I thought I would just borrow yours."

"Nope. Every girl needs her signature look. Something that makes her feel confident about herself. Skirts, dresses, pants, leggings, tights, pantyhose, shoes, its up to you to pick out an outfit for your date with Jeff."

"When?"

"As soon as Mom and Dad leave."

"What do you plan on using for money?"

"Mom's leaving me her credit card for emergencies."

"And what will she say when she sees the charges for my clothes?"

"It depends on your date. If it works out, then we're going to have to tell Mom and Dad the truth. You can't be dating Jeff behind their back. If not, then I will just return them for a credit. If Mom sees the charges on the statement, I'll tell her I was bored and went shopping for fun. She won't be able to tell from the charges what sizes I bought. It'll just say lingerie or juniors sportswear."

"You are very smart."

"That's what big sisters are for."

"Okay, moving on, you need to try on some skirts and tops for size too." We spent the next few hours with me putting on a fashion show. At four thirty we heard the kitchen door open. "Quick, take off your bra and panties, then scoot into your room and get dressed. I'll put the panties in the hamper and the stuff back in the closet."

"I love you."

"I love you too. Get." She swatted me on the butt. "Wait, silly." She handed me my jeans and shirt. "I grabbed the clothes, hurried into my room and closed the door, none too soon.

"Ginny, Bobby, I'm home," Mom called up the stairs. "Are you up there?"

"Yes," Ginny answered. "I think Bobby's in his room with the door closed. I was playing my music kinda loud and he wanted to do homework.

"Okay, well, dinner's in a half hour, so finish up please and tell Bobby too."

"Yes, Mom."

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of tutorials. After we got through diction, deportment and dress, we started on makeup. Ginny had already given me instruction on proper personal grooming. "Really, Jasmine, a girl's hair, skin and nails are her most important assets. You need to take better care of them."

"I thought it was her boobs."

She sighed. "Typical. Breast size is a guy thing. Why would we be preoccupied with something which we see and touch every day? No," she gave a little laugh of derision, "truthfully, we're much more vain. We judge each other by our grooming and our accessories. Hair style, makeup, manicure, pocketbook and jewelry. A man will spend a thousand dollars on some dumb jock's signed game jersey. A woman will spend a thousand dollars on a designer handbag or a diamond necklace. One must have proper priorities," she asserted wryly. That led to a lecture on proper washing with a facial scrub and nail care.

One afternoon, while Mom was on a grocery run in furtherance of her dire warning not to have pizza or take-out every night, knowing her children too well, Ginny was explaining the intricacies of cosmetics. "You're too young to wear makeup. Darla will do what she needs to for your date, probably shape your eyebrows a little, maybe a hint of blush, but lipstick is essential. You need to learn to put it on and routinely reapply it." She sat me down at her vanity. "Watch." She outlined my lips with a red pencil. This is lip liner. It defines your mouth." She stood back and studied her application, nodding her approval. She picked up a tube of lipstick and opened it. Placing her hand under my chin, she filled in my lips with a coating of bright red. "Purse you lips together to spread it evenly." I complied. "Again." I complied. She handed me a tissue. "Blot." I applied it to my lips. "No, not like that. Double it over, put it between your lips and press them together to take off the excess. Otherwise, it smears and gets all over everything. Now," she handed me a longer tube, "this is lip gloss. It goes on over your lipstick to set it and make it look moist. Go ahead, try it. It's clear, so you can't make a mistake."

I ran it over my lips. "Thanks. Do I need to blot again?"

"No, lip gloss just stays on." She put her hand on top of my head and turned it up, down and from side to side, finally nodding her satisfaction. "Good job. Okay, now take it off."

"Why? I just put it on."

"You need to practice." She opened up a package and handed me a square. "This is a makeup removing tissue. The lipstick's waxy and gets into the little lines in your lips. If you're not really careful, it's noticeable. Scrub it really well, until no more color comes off. Even so, use a hot washcloth to go over it and check carefully in the mirror. For now, just use the tissue. I followed her instructions. "Okay, now you try." She handed me the lip liner. I was lucky not to poke out my eye. She handed me another tissue and I practiced until I was able to make a reasonably straight line which approximated my lips. When she was satisfied, she handed me the tube of lipstick. I managed to get most of it within the lines. "Not bad for a beginner."

"Should I take it off and do it again?

"No, you can just reapply it. That's what we do all day. To the point where its so automatic we don't even know we're doing it. Sometimes, if we eat or drink and it comes off, we have to put it on again. Otherwise, once you have on a base coat, try just dabbing it and then pursing your lips to spread it out." I followed her instructions. She nodded her approval.

I was studying myself in the mirror when I heard a noise behind me. I turned around and Mom was standing in the door with an armful of Ginny's laundry. She gave me a bemused look. "Umm, hi, I umm."

Realizing that I was about to wet myself, Ginny came to my rescue. "I was just trying to see what Bobby would look like as a girl." Or not.

Mom continued into the room and put Ginny's clothes in her dresser. On her way out she turned to us. "She's too young for red, maybe pink."

After she left, Ginny and I looked at each other, trying to figure out whether she was just playing along with us by referring to me as 'she' or she knew. Finally, we both shrugged. It didn't matter. If she thought we were just fooling around, then no harm done. If she did know, then it would be easier when the time came for Jasmine to come out.

Ginny continued training me in the intricacies of being a girl. I was really pleased, both with my progress and increasing confidence that I might actually pull this off without bodily injury. Even more, by how close Ginny and I had become. The consolation was that, even if things didn't work out with Jeff, although I really wanted them to, I still had my new relationship with her. Whatever else happened, it was worth it.