CHAPTER 24 - First she crawled, then she walked, now today she has learned to fly.

Heather, under Ellen’s direction, checked his makeup one last time and took the time to fill his handbag with the feminine essentials that Ellen had laid out for him; a cherry red lipstick, his new Estée Lauder's powder compact, a brush and comb combination, a miniature glass bottle of Heather’s favorite perfume and a lacy handkerchief Ellen’s mother had given her. When he had everything in there, just to tweak Ellen’s nose, he made a quick trip to the bathroom and returned with a pack of condoms and a tampon. He made a major production of putting them is his purse.

Ellen looked at him with curiosity, eyes ablaze. "George, what’s the idea? Is there something you aren’t telling me?"

Heather smiled mischievously and replied, "Relax, I don't anticipate using these items but a girl has to be ready for all contingencies. Isn’t that what you told me when I ask why you always have a box of Trojan condoms along with your feminine hygiene products in your purse. Besides if my purse is searched, they will provide an air authenticity."

Ellen realized when she was being had and gave her husband a playful sock to his shoulder. Playing the game of one-upmanship and to get back at him, she hurried to the bathroom and came back with something in her closed hand.

She said, "Open up". She popped a small white pill in his month and told him, "Swallow!"

"Ellen, what the hell was that?"

It really was an aspirin, but that’s not what she told her husband. "It’s a birth control pill silly, you know condoms are not 100% effective, it’s better to be safe than sorry. If that doesn’t make you feel girly nothing will."

Then Heather's cheeks turned deep red as he blushed.

This was one of her husband’s tells so Ellen asked, "What else are you hiding dear?"

Heather took a deep breath and braced himself as he confessed. "I am mortified to admit this, when I have them with me, I feel feminine, like a real girl and not a man pretending to be one. I thought that was the objective of this dressing exercise."

She drove. Heather sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted his nerves were stretched taut. They dropped Ariel off at the babysitter and then they proceeded to the courthouse at high speed. Ellen, as a driver, treated the posted speed limits as mere suggestions.

At the courthouse, they circled the parking lot twice and before Ellen gave up finding a space up close. She dropped Heather off at the front and went to park the car. Heather walked inside past the throngs of people milling about the front steps and halls. His heart was racing and he was conscious of the swishing of the pantyhose underneath his jeans. It wasn't a long walk to his destination, yet he felt flushed as if he had run the entire way.

He was there only a few minutes, but felt like but an eternity to George as he was sure everyone was staring at him in his skin-tight attire. When Ellen finally arrived at his side, she took his hand into hers to reassure him everything was going to be alright. About the time Heather had started to calm down, the bailiff stuck his head out the door and announced they were ready for Mr. Trousdale.

Ellen gave him a few last words of encouragement. "You'll make a kick-ass impression just remember the mantra I taught you. Stand up straight and push your bra encased hooters out as far as they will go. Keep thinking, shoulders, hips, and heels."

Ellen gave him a peck on the cheek for luck and quickly slipped into the courtroom to take a seat in the gallery section while her husband was collecting himself.

He pushed his way through the crowd and paused at the heavy oak doors. He was emotionally invested and totally committed to this now. Leon was going down no matter the cost to his manly self-image.

If he was going to come out to the world as a female, he was going to do it to the best he could. He was going to march in there as a woman, not a man dressed as one. His cheeks felt warm as he took a deep breath. Knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer, he clutched his purse tightly and struggled to open the courthouse door. It took all his strength to open one door. With a sense of dread, he headed into the courtroom. Ellen, along with everyone in the court room, turned to watch Mr. Trousdale make an entrance. He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. He paused briefly to calm his nerves. He briefly locked eyes with Ellen who gave him an encouraging nod.

There was an audible gasp as the room full of people didn’t see a man in the doorway as they expected, but rather a slim woman looking like she had just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine. A hushed silence fell over the room as George strode to the witness stand. He walked with his head held high and with as much dignity as he could muster. It took his full concentration to duplicate last night's rehearsed walk. As his muscle memory kicked in, he recreated a truly female gait. He projected a man-melting version of the runway model strut. His posture was up and confident, butt cheeks moving sexily with every step. With his head up and shoulders back, he led with his boobs. His arms swung loosely back and forth while his hips swiveled from side-to-side. Just like he had practiced ad nauseum.

Ellen, her heart filled with admiration, tracked his movements with her eyes as he sauntered to the witness stand. He sat and crossed his legs in a feminine manner and gracefully placed his handbag on the floor then rested his hands in his lap. Ellen marveled at how smoothly he moved in those stilettos and how he crossed those incredibly long legs as he sat. If she didn’t know better, she would swear she was watching a fashion model. She mentally patted herself on the back for the great job she had training him for this moment.

A confused looking bailiff asked, "Are you Mr. Trousdale, George Trousdale?"

In his best feminine voice, with just a hint of a Hispanic accent, he answered, "Si senor, I am."

Ellen could feel the air being sucked from the room.

Leon turned to his lawyer, and muttered loud enough for everyone to hear, "That is not George Trousdale! Make her prove it. What kind of a game is the government playing?"

The judge banged his gavel and called for silence.

The bailiff swore George in and the judge turned things over to the government to present their case.

The prosecutor jumped up and asked George. "Sir, can you identify the man who hid the drugs in your bag?

"Most certainly, he is sitting at the table next to my old boss Mr. Carlson."

"Mr. Trousdale, do you have any aliases?"

"Yes Sir. For the last year or so, I have been living under the name of Heather Trousdale."

The defense attorney interrupted hoping to show he was simply a transvestite running away from his male life, "Isn’t it true you tried to hide your true male identity because you wanted to look like a woman to attract men?"

The prosecution objected saying that, the witness’s sexual orientation was irrelevant. The judge concurred and allowed George to go ahead with his testimony.

George was insulted and was tempted to answer the question anyway, but resisted and said, "I lived this way only to avoid being identified and arrested, for something I was framed for. I didn’t do it."

George’s testimony went on to show he was living as a female under duress. It was only a disguise, not a life choice. He won over the jury, coming across as completely credible.

The defense’s plan of making him unbelievable as a pervert pretending to be a woman fell apart quickly. Instead, his story of being forced into skirts to stay out of jail had the courtrooms rapt attention. As he explained, he was forced by circumstances to suppress his male ego and live as a woman.

His lawyer interrupted his testimony, "Excuse me Mr. Trousdale. As everyone can see, you don’t look like anything like a man. I would think no one meeting you for the first time would question your true gender."

"Why thank you, I was under close scrutiny the entire time so I was forced to mimic female mannerisms to be as authentic as possible to escape detection."

You could see the men on the jury feeling sorry for what he had to endure. The women respected him for how completely and realistically he had embraced his feminine persona.

By freely admitting his lifestyle, he demonstrated he was a man of integrity and had a spine of steel. Willing to do whatever was required even giving up his manhood to ensure there wasn’t a miscarriage of justice.

The defense could see they were in deep kimchi, so Leon's attorney asked for a brief recess.

When the trial reconvened, it was announced that Leon and the government had come to a plea deal. He would plead guilty and provide information on his drug contacts and suppliers, in exchange for no more than 15 years in jail with a chance of parole after 10.

After court was adjourned, Ellen pushed her way through the crowd to congratulate her husband. She caught up to him in the crowded hall. She ran to embrace him, her momentum almost knocking him over. Her arms encircled him to keep him from toppling over and ended up holding him off his feet by several inches. She spun him around to where they were face to face and gave him a full-bodied smack on the kisser. They smooched with a fervor normally reserved for the bedroom. As they stood playing tonsil hockey, everyone nearby in the corridor became curious, much like the looky-loos at a traffic accident, about the two lesbians necking in the courthouse halls.

After a time, the curiosity of the spectators turned to aversion. Despite the liberal bent of California, the passion displayed in the public setting by the same sex couple was a bit disconcerting to the general public. Lesbianism was not looked upon favorably in this town.

After a few polite coughs, the love birds finally got the hint. Ellen let him down and they found their way outside holding hands and headed to the car. They were going to lunch to celebrate. Heather felt he was walking on air. Just as they arrived at the car, Ellen's phone rang. George watched her face change from euphoric to troubled.

"What is it Ellen?"

"It’s a disaster. My corporate accountant has just been in a serious auto accident.

The first word from the hospital is he is in critical condition. It’s the middle of tax season. I’m so screwed he won’t be able to get my taxes in on time."

George offered his professional opinion. "Ellen, it is no big deal. I can help you file for an extension."

"You don’t understand. I was counting on the tax return to keep the business afloat. We have been doing very well. The loan I took out to start the business is coming due next month. That will wipe out all my cash reserves. With all my business improvements and new hires, I am over extended."

She apologized to her husband; they would have to postpone their celebration until later in the evening. She had to go in to the office. She didn’t have time to drop George off at home, he could take a taxi or go with her to work.

George was shaken, "I don’t feel comfortable going out on my own dressed like this. If I go with you, can I just stay in the car?"

"Of course, honey. I wouldn’t really recommend it though. This may take hours. Why don’t you come in and relax in our waiting room while I see what needs to be done?"

"What will the girls at work think?"

"They’ll think I have a sexy girlfriend. Seriously, it will be alright. There are usually a number of clients in the waiting room. Just sit among them and try to not stand out. We always have a pot of coffee on. You’ll get by. It’s certainly better than sitting in the stuffy car for hours."

Ellen wouldn’t take no for an answer. She insisted that Heather accompany her. Arriving at her office after going Mach three to get there, Ellen practically leapt from her car and hurried into the building. Heather's skyscraper heels wouldn’t let her keep up. He followed several paces behind as Ellen quickly disappeared behind the two large front doors. His shaking hand reached for the door and pushed it open. He forced a smile at the serious faces that stopped talking as he walked in. He felt unsteady and quickly went to the nearest chair, happy to be off his feet. Posture prefect - maybe a little too rigid. His hands were in his lap, fingers clenched so tight his knuckles were white.

When Ellen realized her husband wasn’t behind her she was sure he eventually would catch up. Now she had more important things to worry about. She found Nancy to get a briefing on where they stood. Ellen and Nancy left him sitting in the lobby and went into what George assumed was his wife’s office.

George tried to relax and wait. After getting himself a cup of cappuccino, he scanned the end tables for something to read. The only thing there were past issues of Vogue, Elle, Southern Living, and In Style. George would have killed for a sports magazine, but no such luck. He returned to his seat and waited and waited.

A long-time later Ellen came out, her eyes red as if she had been crying. Heather thinking fast, ad-libbed. "Mrs. Trousdale, it looks like somebody needs a happy meal. What’s the problem?"

She took him aside where they could talk privately. She explained they had just heard from the hospital. Their accountant had died and she had called around to find someone to help out. Being the tax season every CPA in town was tied up with other accounts. She gave George her patented sad puppy dog look and asked if he could take a quick look at the books to see where they stood. As he stood, he noticed the other woman in the office had congregated around him and Ellen, wanting to know what was going on.

Ellen had to explain something to them so she said, "This is my friend Chantelle. She is a senior accounting student at San Diego State, before we all panic let’s see what she thinks." That placated the women, hoping this stranger would be their savior.

George closed the door and was isolated in the accountant’s office. He spent the better part of an hour scanning what was there. He found at first glance that everything needed was there, it just needed to be organized. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Ellen wanted. He stuck his head out the door and asked Mrs. Trousdale to come in and he showed her what he had found. Ellen asked if he could help. Without thinking of the consequences, George folded like a cheap suit and volunteered to take over the job. He was a bit out of touch but was sure he could fill in until Ellen could find someone else. They walked out to where the others waited and they found themselves surrounded by the office staff.

Ellen hushed the crowd and proclaimed, "The good news is that Chantelle thinks everything needed is there. I can assure you everyone’s job is secure." Ellen went on, "Chantelle’s older sister Heather is an experienced accountant and is currently unemployed and looking for work. Chantelle called her and she immediately volunteered to join us. She will be here tomorrow. I hope you will all give her a warm welcome."

Before George could ponder the ramifications of what Ellen had promised, there was a celebratory cheer. Chantelle was mobbed and basked in the glow of a round of applause and more than a few pats on the back.