The Twelve Days of Christmas - Day 8

The Twelve Days of Christmas By Tiffany B. Quinn As we fall asleep in each other’s arms later that evening, I think of how good it is to have friends.

Monday Jan 2, Day 8

It is Game Day.

I expect my first guests to arrive shortly after 8:30 AM in anticipation of the 9 o’clock kick off of the Reliaquest Bowl in Florida.

The alarm goes off at 6:00 AM, just like a workday. It is doubly hard to get up this morning after a long weekend with short nights.

We only have time for sex once in the shower as we get ready for the day. Anita seems genuinely disappointed that there is not time for more.

As we playfully dry each other off, Anita takes another close look at my body.

“You know, Karl,” she informs me, “I think that you are now more female than male. Your voice is now about the same pitch as mine. You sound 100% female. I think that we can also safely say that your face is pretty much there too. You look like a female version of your old self from the shoulders up with a really cute, upturned nose and beautiful almond shaped eyes that are to die for. I can’t wait to see what they look like with mascara and eyeliner. Your lips are a little plumper too - I think guys refer to lips like yours as being kissable. I am sure that your shoulders and chest are not as broad as they used to be. Your torso may be a bit shorter too and you have lost a lot of weight. Also, I think that your hair growth has slowed. It is only grown a half inch or so since I arrived yesterday. It is now down to the small of your back - a good length for a woman who likes long hair.

“Have you ever heard the term ‘Shemale’?”

“Yes,” I sigh, “when I look in the mirror that is what I see. It is pretty weird. A woman with a penis, no shape, and no breasts. It must be difficult for you when we are making love.”

“It is,” she admits, “a truly unique experience. When I see your face or hear your voice, I think woman, but when I feel your wonderful cock thrusting into me, all I can think is: here is a man who really knows how to use his equipment. I think that that is why I like doggy position best; I feel you but don’t see the woman behind me.”

She takes another long thoughtful look at me, “I bet that if we put you in a loose gown and a bra with something to fill the cups out, that everyone would think that you are just a tall woman. I would guess that you are about 5’ 9”, not an unreasonable height, just taller than most women.”

“Interesting assessment,” I relent with a sigh.

Looking in the mirror, I have to agree with her.

“Do you want to try it?” she asks hopefully.

“Not today,” I try to dampen her enthusiasm. “It is game day. It is time for comfortable clothes to lounge in front of the TV with.”

She pouts at me then changes the subject, “Where will we find your note today?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” I shrug.

Pulling on our nightgowns, we go searching for the today's note.

We soon find two notes in my old bedroom just as Joanna and I had yesterday.

Mine is accompanied by a pair of women’s Sketchers walking shoe sneakers, a pair of multicolor feminine athletic knee socks, my pink boy short panties, a light grey pair of femininely tailored sweatpants, and an oversized football jersey from my alma mater.

“It looks like your mother has chosen your clothes for today,” Anita observes. “This is so cool. It would be nice to have my own supernatural assistant to make sure that I have what I need each day!”

“What does your note say?” she asks curiously.

Dear Karl,

Give Anita a hug for us. She is another very special woman. We appreciate her efforts to help you with your adjustment. There is still a lot more that she can teach you about being a woman since I won’t be there to guide you.

You will find the clothes that I laid out for you to be very comfortable as you and your friends binge on football today.

Love, Mom

A package similar to the one Joanna received yesterday is sitting with Anita’s note.

Dear Anita,

Thank you for being such a wonderful friend to our child. You are a very special lady with a big heart, which is why you are such a great teacher.

Please wear our gift to you often and good things will happen soon.

With Love, Karl’s mother

Anita’s present turns out to be a topaz necklace, almost identical to Joanna’s.

The topaz sparkles as Anita holds it up to the light for inspection. “Very pretty,” she admires the necklace.

“Joanna got one too,” I mention. “She is leery of wearing hers, afraid of what it might do to her.”

“She just likes to worry,” Anita dismisses Joanna’s concern as she puts on her new necklace.

“Oh, look at the time!” I exclaim.

I quickly photograph the notes and my pile of clothing and send the daily text out to Joanna and Jane.

Jane: It looks as if our newest sorority member is going to be comfortable today.

Joanna: See you soon.

----<0>----

We spend the next hour getting dressed, changing the sheets on the bed, and generally clearing all the evidence of our debauchery. Today, Anita takes my daily images for me. They are much better than the selfies that I have been taking.

As she is emptying the bathroom waste basket, she points to the small pile of used condoms.

“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “If you deposit some of your sperm in a sperm bank, then later you could use it to become the mother of your own child.”

“That is assuming that I become a fully functional woman,” I point out.

“I think that your mother wants grandkids,” Anita informs me with a grin. “I am pretty sure that you will be worrying about falling pregnant before too long.”

"Well," I tell her, "IF I ever fall pregnant, the baby will have two loving parents, not one. There is no need to save the sperm, though it is an interesting idea."

----<0>----

It is when we peek in the master bedroom walk-in closet that we find the rest of today’s gifts. The previously empty shoe rack is filled with various styles of footwear. I am not looking forward to learning to walk in the heeled shoes, even though Anita assures me that none of them are all that tall.

"There isn't anything over three inches here," she points out. “Being a tall woman, you don’t need anything bigger.”

There is also a box on a shelf containing an array of nylon hosiery.

Looking in the underwear drawer, we find a couple of garter belts.

“Sexy,” Anita smiles as she holds one up for inspection. “And look, there are coordinated bikini panties and bras to go with them. And a thong too.”

Further investigation shows that my old male socks and shoes are all gone. Oh well, I think, the shoes have been getting looser every day. I’m sure that they would no longer fit my newly femininized feet.

----<0>----

Under Anita’s supervision, I work at braiding my hair. She braided her hair in less than a minute. She patiently works with me as I struggle with mine. I get it close enough to right on the fourth try.

“It will get easier the more you do it,” she assures me. “When you get the basics down, I can show you how to French braid your own hair. It looks much more sophisticated.”

I sigh as I think about all the new skills that I’ll be learning over the next while.

We are just finishing up my hair lesson when the doorbell rings announcing my first guest. It turns out to be Joanna.

“Hey there lover boy,” She winks at me, “or should I say girl? You are looking a lot more feminine today.”

Turning to Anita, she asks with a grin, “Did you have a good night?”

“It was amazing,” Anita confirms with a very satisfied smile.

I just blush.

Hugs are shared all around, and the girls head into the kitchen to check on the snacks or, more likely, to compare notes on their recent sexual experiences. Women are like that, I hear.

I can hear giggling from the kitchen.

The next guests are a guy from work with a date. He is about four years out of school, like me, and should be sitting for his professional licensing exam with me in April.

It turns out that the woman accompanying him is not his date after all.

“Is this Karl Bronson’s house?” my coworker/employee asks when I answer the door. He is holding some kind of casserole dish.

“Come in George,” I sigh and hold the door open and take the food from him, “Who is your friend?”

“This is my sister Diana,” looking confused, he introduces his companion. “Are you Karl’s sister? You look a lot like him.”

“Nice to meet you Diana,” I greet the pretty brunette and introduce myself. “I am Karl Bronson, and no, I don’t have a sister. I’ve been undergoing a supernatural transformation over the past week.”

“No way,” George exclaims. “I was with you in a meeting last Tuesday and you were definitely male then. What happened? Are you on hormones or something?”

Diana looks me over thoughtful, “There is no way that hormones can change a guy into a girl in less than a week, George."

Addressing me, she says, "Karl, I am a nurse and everything I know about hormones says that there is no way that you can create such a feminine facial appearance with just hormone treatment. It takes surgery. Lots of surgery. And there is no way that you would be recovered if you had had surgery since your meeting on Tuesday. You have to be Karl’s sister.”

Joanna and Anita show up while Diana is talking.

“We can certify that this is Karl,” Joanna grins a mischievous grin, “Anita and I have been seeing him almost every day for the past week, watching the transformation take place. We have checked him out thoroughly.”

“Very thoroughly,” Anita says with a sly grin.

Joanna pats me on the butt and points out, “No woman has a bum this small.”

Anita runs her hand over my chest, “No woman has a chest this flat.”

Joanna gets a questioning look on her face and runs her hand over my butt again. “Karl, I think it is growing!”

I blush and swat their hands away, difficult to do when balancing a casserole dish on one hand. I make it work particularly when Joanna starts to reach for my crotch. “Down ladies. Why don’t you two take this into the kitchen?”

They both pout for a moment before breaking out in giggles as I hand them the casserole. “Spoil sport.”

“Anyway, don’t mind the two psychopaths,” I finish the greeting. “Make yourselves comfortable. We have a snack buffet in the kitchen, beers and sodas in the refrigerator, with more on the deck in a cooler. We have two TVs going and you have your choice of seats since you beat everyone else here. The bathroom is down the hall there on the right.”

The guests filter in as the first kick off time approaches. I go through variations of the same explanation which each new arrival. Some of my guests were at the New Year’s party so they aren’t quite so surprised by my appearance, though they are surprised to see how much I've changed in just over of a day and to see me completely decked out in women’s clothing.

I endure the comments and inquiries, all the while hoping that the novelty wears off soon and that we can just focus on the games.

I am in the kitchen working with several of the women arranging the snack buffet, when Diana says, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t call you Karl. You don’t look like a Karl. Do you have feminine name?”

“Ah, no?” I reply slightly taken aback. I should have thought of this.

Another of the women eagerly suggests, “I think that you look like a Heidi. You kind of look like a Heidi that I once knew.”

I scrunch up my nose at that suggestion. I knew a Heidi in grade school, and she was a prissy little drama queen. Nope. Heidi won’t work.

Just before Mississippi State and Illinois lineup for the kickoff of the ReliaQuest Bowl, the snack buffet is ready to go, and we have a list of five names that might just work. Diana suggests that we have a poll at the end of the day to suggest the winning name, giving us all day to see how each name fits.

I slip off to the office and quickly print off ballots with the five names. When people are ready to vote, they can check their preferred name and drop their ballot in a crystal bowl by the buffet.

This should be interesting.

----<0>----

The last to arrive, just after the opening kickoff, is Anita’s brother Sam. I hadn’t paid much attention to him while growing up because he was a couple of years older than me. But what I do remember of him was that he was also some kind of science geek. I don’t remember him being anybody outstanding. He wasn’t an athletic star. he wasn’t in student government. For the most part it seems to me that he was just an average sort of guy. I do remember that Anita always looked up to him. I doubt that he remembers me even though I took his sister on a couple of dates.

When I open the door, I can’t help but think that the guy standing on my doorstep with a case of beer is really handsome, not that I am into that sort of thing. He must be six foot plus and seems to be in really good shape. He has a short military haircut that seems to suit him.

“Welcome,” I greet him with a smile, “You must be Anita's brother, Sam the dentist.”

He gives me a funny look. “Yes, I am. You must be Karl. Anita has been talking about you for days now. You know, you don't look much like the guy that she dated a couple of times in high school. You are a guy right?”

“Yes, I’m a guy,” I assure him with a frown, “but not for much longer, or so I’m told.”

“Or so you’re told?” He looks confused. “Don’t the doctors know when they will be done with you?”

“The transition should be complete by Friday,” I inform him, “according to my deceased mother. And, no, this is not a medically supervised transition. It is just happening all by itself, whether I like it or not.”

“Anita said something about supernatural forces at work,” he says, “but she is always going on about supernatural phenomena. It is not something I can believe.”

“Well until this last week, I didn’t either,” I assure him. “However, the evidence is that I have gone from being a normal male to this,” I wave my hands over my body, “in just a week with no medical intervention. Along with the physical changes, there have been a lot of other events that cannot be rationally explained. Being the center of all this change, I now find it hard to believe otherwise.”

“At least the fates have been kind to you,” he compliments me with a wink and a smile. “You have a very lovely face.”

Now that is something that I have never heard before! I’m not sure how to take it. I just blush and direct him to the game and food.

Anita sits down next to me during the first quarter of the game. When there is a break in the action, she whispers to me: “What did you say to Sam? I haven’t seen him smile since Karen died. He smiled at you at the door. I saw it.”

“I’m not sure,” I admit quietly. “We talked a little about trying to believe, or not believe, in supernatural phenomena. I told him that I didn’t believe until all this happened to me. He said that the fates have kindly blessed me with a lovely face.”

“OMG,” Anita gasps, “he was flirting with you!”

“No, he wasn’t,” I hiss at her, “He was just being nice.”

“To quote the teen girls in my class,” Anita whispers back, looking excited, “He SO did!”

“Keep it down ladies,” Jake grumbles. “They’re going for a long field goal.”

Anita pokes me in the ribs and grins.

----<0>----

USC takes on Tulane in the Cotton Bowl on the living room TV an hour after the start of the ReliaQuest Bowl, resulting in a division amongst my guests. A few wander back and forth between the rooms, trying to keep up with the developments in both games.

There is a rush to the bathrooms at half-time for the first game. I allow the women to use the upstairs bathrooms and the men are relegated to the downstairs powder room.

When the women don’t reappear, I head upstairs to find out what is going on.

I find Joanna and Anita holding court in the master bedroom, regaling the other women with tales from the past week. I don’t think that they’ve got to the part of the sleepovers. I really hope that they skip that part.

“Can we show the ladies what your mother has left you?” Anita almost begs.

The underclothes, jewelry, personal hygiene products, shoes, exercise clothes, nightwear, swimwear all get examined in detail by the local fashion experts.

“Where are the bras?” One woman asks.

“I don’t see any makeup either,” someone else observes.

“And there is no outerwear here,” Another woman who actually works in our office observes. She came as a date of one of my long-time guy friends. “Karl, you really don’t have anything to wear. No slacks, blouses, skirts, or dresses. What are you going to wear to work tomorrow? With your face, hair, and now slender build, there is no way you can go to work as a man.”

I just shrug, “Jamie, I was thinking about working from home until all the changes are complete. You know, just hide away this week. I may use some vacation time. Most of the office took last week off so it must be my turn now.”

My home office is actually as functional as my office at the firm. Dad set it up with all the latest communications equipment when the pandemic started. I have full access to the servers in the office and the teleconferencing set up is state-of-the-art. I can easily work from home to avoid being a mid-gender freak in the office for the week.

“That could work,” she admitted. "but you’d miss out on all the office gossip and we couldn’t help you adjust to your new reality. I think that you will find that being a woman engineer in any firm, including ours, is an uphill battle.”

“Not that our firm is bad,” she quickly clarifies her statement. “The management is actually quite supportive, but let’s face it: the construction industry is still controlled by misogynist Neanderthals. You will discover this rather quickly when your transition is complete. As a matter of fact, you will have it worse as the assholes treat transgender women even worse than natural born women. They won’t be comfortable around you. Just you wait and see.”

Joanna gets a gleam in her eye, “That’s just it, Karl is not actually transsexual. He is not voluntarily making the transition and we expect that he will become a fully functional she by the end of the process. I can hardly wait to defend her in her first discrimination suit.”

“That’s just it,” Jamie huffs, “The most dangerous assholes know the rules and are very good at finding ways around them. If you complain, it comes back to bite you. They paint you as either incompetent or militant. You can’t win.”

“Ladies, Ladies,” I interrupt the developing argument. “I think the second half is starting. We can continue this later.”

“It is only football,” Diana snorts waving off my attempt to change the topic. “This is real life.”

“Well,” I inform the group, “I want to see the game. You are all welcome to hang out here if you like. I am going downstairs.”

As I am walking out the door someone mutters, “She’s still a guy inside.”

----<0>----

A little way into the third quarter, the women come downstairs and join the revelry around the game.

As the end of the first game nears, I sneak off to the kitchen to put casseroles in the oven to warm. Anita follows me out to help. Or so she says. What I think what she really wants is to talk about her brother.

I am down on my hands and knees to retrieve some pans from the bottom cabinet when I hear a gasp behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Anita.

“I don’t think that Joanna was joking when she said that your bum was filling out,” She informs me. When I stand up, she runs her hands down my sides and over my bum. Finally, she looks around and finds us alone, before feeling my crotch.

“Well, doctor,” I say dryly. “What is your conclusion.”

“You are definitely changing again,” she tells me. “It’s not much but you are getting some shape. I’ll bet that your hips have expanded at least an inch and your waist has shrunk about as much just this morning. Having spent time with your bottom last night, I can say that it is not quite the flat men’s bottom that I enjoyed so much in the shower this morning. You still seem to have your male equipment, but I don’t think that it is what it was earlier. We need to check it out.”

I feel myself up and come to the same conclusion. “You are probably right. However, in case you haven’t noticed, I have a house full of guests and they are finding their way into every nook and cranny.”

“Everyone is downstairs now,” she observes, “Let me grab Joanna and we take a quick run up to your room. The women are more interested in the master bedroom than your bedroom. We can find some privacy there. This won’t take but a minute.”

I finish filling the ovens, then head upstairs to soon be joined by my two girl friends.

“Drop ‘em,” Joanna insists, “We can’t be gone long.”

I pull down my sweats and pull up my shirt.

“The panties too,” Anita directs.

Oh well, they both have intimate experience with every inch of my body, so I pull down the panties too.

“He’s definitely has a hint of curves,” Joanna critically observes. “Not much yet, but it is coming.”

Anita and Joanna both run their hands over my naked bottom.

“Definitely a little fuller,” Joanna observes.

“Definitely,” Anita agrees. “It was smaller when I was pulling him closer to me last night.”

Joanna starts to fondle my penis and balls, getting the expected reaction.

“Well at least that still works,” she sighs.

“Yes,” Anita smiles at the memory of last night. “But I think that it has shrunk a smidgin.”

Joanna stokes my penis as she observes, “I am pretty sure that you are right.”

“Joanna,” I say uncomfortably, “If you keep that up, I am going to come.”

She grins as she gives it one last light squeeze. “That would be a waste.”

The two women, finally leave to head downstairs as I breathe deeply to come back from the edge. Eventually, little Karl deflates and I can tuck myself back into my underwear.

No one seems to notice that we were gone during the final minutes of the game.

----<0>----

When the first game ends, there is another mass exodus to the toilet facilities, then people start to fill plates in the kitchen. There is still a bit of time before the start of the next game and small conversation groups spring up around the house.

One of the things that I notice is that my buddies are drinking a lot less beer that I expected. I suspect that the presence of the women might have something to do with. I also noticed that there were a lot less observations about cheerleaders than last time I watched a game with just the guys. I can’t say that I am disappointed with the change in the general demeanor. When you get a bunch of guys alone at one of these events, there is a lot more macho behavior than what I am seeing today. In a male only gathering, a lot more beer disappears and there is a sprinkling of lewd comments about the cheerleaders. The presence of women in our midst is definitely having a civilizing influence.

After the crowd has filled their plates, I take a moment to sit by myself at the breakfast table. Just as I am sitting down, Sam wanders in and fills his plate then joins me at the table.

“I don’t get it,” he says as he takes a bite.

“You don’t get what?” I ask, though I am pretty sure that I know what he doesn’t get.

“That you are really a man,” he says.

“Well,” I reply, “that’s up for debate. I may be more woman than man at this point. The changes are continuing.”

“Your beautiful face, neck and shoulders are all very much female,” He informs me of something that I have already observed.

He reaches across the table and lifts one of my hands, “Your hands and arms are slender like a woman’s too.”

I look at my hands and arms and find that he is right. If I were a hand model, there would be no doubt that my hands belong to a female. I also doubt that these arms have the muscle to press as much weight at the gym as they did a week ago.

“Doesn’t this freak you out?” he asks. “You seem to be taking the changes calmly in stride.”

I shrug. “You are probably right. I’ve been busy and haven’t taken the time to think deeply about it. But what does it really matter? Gender seems to make a huge difference in our roles in life, but then again, so does our race, nationality, height, weight, personal disabilities, wealth, and a myriad of other factors. Each factor has an impact on our lives and how people perceive and treat us. But is one set of factors preferable to another? I am sure that most people learn to adapt to their particular set and would feel uncomfortable if any one of their factors were changed without their permission.

“So, my gender changes. Sure, that is a major factor in who I am, but I am still a privileged white with a good education and resources to do pretty much anything that I want. I still have a great job and good friends. I am still an only child who has inherited their parents’ wealth on their untimely death. I still like football and other sports. While I am experiencing a major change, there are a lot of things that are still the same.

“My parents tried to teach me that who you really are is not defined by gender, race, nationality, or many of the other factors that people judge us by. My parents told me many times that it is what is in my heart that really matters, none of the other stuff. Is it in my heart to treat other people fairly? Is it in my heart to be concerned for the welfare of my community? Is it in my heart to love and support the good people around me? Is it in my heart to be the best engineer that I can be? Is it in my heart to be an ethical businessman? If not, then it doesn’t matter where you come from, who your parents are, or what your gender is. Being a cheat and a liar is not gender dependent. Being a bully or just an arrogant selfish person is not gender dependent. Being good at engineering, or dentistry for that matter, is not gender dependent.

“So, if the things that really matter are not gender dependent, then why should I be upset by this change that is apparently being driven by a power that probably knows more than I do. I can’t see the future, but based on what I’ve seen this past week, there is someone or some power that can either see our futures or at least predict it accurately. I have to believe that this someone or power is benevolent.

“So, that’s a long answer to your implied question. Yes, I think that I am taking it all in stride. Have I had a deep desire to be female? No, the concept never crossed my mind until last week. I didn’t ask to become female. Do I mind? Yes, but only because I don’t know why this change is happening. I never asked to be male either - it just was.

“While I’m on a roll, there is another thing that influences my reaction to these events. People often complain about how unfair things are and they often wallow in self-pity. Last year at this time, my parents were killed by a drunk driver on their way home from a New Year’s party. Was that fair to me or to them? No. Can I change it? No. No matter how much I want them back, they are gone. There is nothing that I can do about that. I went into a very dark place after they died. My grief counselor helped me realize that there was nothing that I can do to change the past and bring them back. He helped me to see that I need to let my anger go if I am to move forward. I learned to not sweat the things I can’t change, but to find ways to move forward to happiness, often going around the obstacles by doing the things that I can do. He taught me to embrace change.

“In this situation, the changes that are happening to me I have no influence over. Or at least we haven’t found a way to change me back or stop the progress. I can either vainly fight the change and be miserable or I can embrace the change and look for the silver lining.”

When I finally stop, Sam just stares at me with an expression that I cannot interpret.

“Wow,” he finally says. “That’s quite a philosophy. My grief counselor has been trying to get me to move on since my wife’s passing. I don’t think that I have made as much progress as you.”

I reached out across the table and put a comforting hand on his.

“It’s probably a byproduct of my engineering practicality,” I smile at him. “Give it some time. You can do it.”

Tears are forming in his eyes. I must have touched a nerve or memory.

He starts to say something, but we are interrupted as some of my guests come in looking for snacks before the next game starts.

I give his hand a squeeze before getting up to assist my other friends.

----<0>----

The rest of the day passes without further discussion of my situation, which is fine by me.

I do notice that Joanna and George are in frequent conversation with each other. They really seem to be clicking.

Joanna takes me aside at one point to ask me about him. When I enquired why, she said that he has asked her on a date for Friday night. She wanted to make sure that she wasn’t accepting an invitation from an asshole.

Anita apologetically leaves after the second game. While classes don’t start for another week, she still has teacher stuff to do in the morning. I think that she is mainly feeling a bit worn out by last night’s gymnastics.

----<0>----

When the final whistle is blown, Diana retrieves the voting bowl.

Tapping on a glass with a spoon to get everyone’s attention, she announces, “We all agreed this morning that Karl is no longer a Karl and needs a new name. Karl agreed to five possibilities as long as they all started with the letter K so that she doesn’t have to change her initials. The five names on the short list are: Kali, Karla, Kyla, Katelyn, and Karlene. Joanna, will you help me count the ballots?”

She pulls the ballots out of the bowl and, with Joanna’s help, quickly stacks them by choice.

“And the winning name is…” some idiot does a drum roll on the counter, “Karla!”

“I can live with that,” I accept the selection as everyone cheers.

That’s easy enough, just add an ‘a’. Fortunately, it was my first choice.

Everyone congratulates me on my new name.

Joanna texts the verdict to Jane and Anita.

----<0>----

Several of the guests pitched in to help with cleanup before heading home. It would appear that the party was a success as everyone seems to be in great spirits.

Not unexpectedly, Jake and I never did get around to the promised talk.

By nine o’clock, everyone is gone except Sam who helps me haul trash to the garage and to vacuum the downstairs.

“Thank you, Sam” I say with sincerity. A very tired sincerity. “I really appreciate the help. I wasn’t looking forward to spending tomorrow evening vacuuming.”

“That’s good,” he said with an equally tired smile, “because I have a better plan for tomorrow evening.”

“A long hot soak in a Jacuzzi followed by a massage?” I ask dreamily.

“Well,” he admits, “probably not that good of a plan.”

He nervously shuffles his feet as he asks, “Karla, would you go to dinner with me tomorrow?”

That stops me cold. Dinner with a guy? A date? I’m pretty sure that I am not ready for that.

Seeing my hesitation, he adds, “I really enjoyed our chat earlier and I’d love to continue it. There’s a quiet little restaurant in a quaint old home on the outskirts of town, The Carriage House. Have you heard of it?”

Have I heard of it! You bet I have. It’s just the place couples go for a romantic evening. People dress up to go there.

As the women observed earlier, I have nothing to wear!

“Yes,” I finally say with indecision in my voice, “I know the place. You know that I’m not really a woman?”

“Not yet,” he smiles, “but you will be. I have to head back to my posting in Germany on Wednesday, so this is the only time we have to continue our conversation.”

I still hesitate.

“It would mean a lot to me,” he says hopefully.

“I have nothing to wear,” I point out.

“I am sure that Anita can help you out, if your mother doesn’t,” he counters, acknowledging the supernatural assistant in my life.

I did enjoy his company earlier. And he has been very attentive all day, not to mention extremely helpful this evening.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea,” I finally say with caution in my voice, “but I will tentatively say yes. If I can’t find something appropriate to wear, or I come to my senses by morning, then I will need to cancel.”

“Great!” He smiles like he won the lottery. “I made reservations for seven o’clock. I’ll pick you up a little after six thirty.”

“You what?!” I exclaim. “When did you make reservations?”

“A few of hours ago when I decided to ask you.”

----<0>----

I am exhausted when I finally slip into my new flannel nightgown and fall into my own bed.

As sleep creeps up to me, all that I can think of is: what I can wear for my date with Sam!?!?