Chapter 3 – First Dances

Debbie Sullivan was pleased that her son had found a friend at the University; he had been so friendless through much of high school and she worried that he had never dated a girl. She was fully aware of his effeminate mannerisms and his enjoyment at dressing as a girl, but thought that was a passing phase in his life. She admitted enjoying having a son with whom she could share so many feminine activities. Yet, she hoped he'd eventually find a girlfriend and perhaps even a wife who might eventually provide her with grandchildren.

"Are you dating her, dear?" She asked on the second Sunday after Thanksgiving. The two had finished watching their usual Sunday night program, and she had asked her son for more details. Earlier he had told her he was meeting a girl he met at the University, but had been reticent about the details.

"I don't know if you'd call it that, but we did go shopping together and we meet at least once a week for lunch in the Union."

Corey hoped he had underplayed his feelings for Amy; in truth, he felt he'd never be able to have a real girlfriend. Wouldn't most girls want someone more manly? He was particularly scared about his inexperience about sexual practices. No, he often argued with himself: Amy would want a real man.

"But you like her?"

"Yes, mother, I do. Lots, and I think she likes me."

"Then ask her out to a real date, honey. You know you can always use my car and you could take her out to a nice dinner or maybe a movie or a concert. There are some good concerts coming to the Riverside and the Pabst these days."

"Well, we kind of have a date planned," Corey volunteered. "She wants me to accompany her to the dorm's Holiday Dance on the twelfth."

"Good, and I hope you're going with her," his mother encouraged.

"Yes, and I wonder could she come down to your salon to have her hair done, mom?"

"Of course. I'd love to meet her."

"Thanks, mom. She's a rather plain girl, but I'm sure you can do marvels, mom," he said, hoping to dash his mother's hopes that her son's first date would be with a beauty queen.

"I'm sure she's lovely, Corey, from the way you talk about her," she said.

"Thanks, mom, I think she'll be thrilled."

Debbie Sullivan rose to take away the remains of the popcorn and the empty glasses. She stopped just as she approached the kitchen.

"I think you ought to do her hair, honey," she said. "You know how well you do the hair of the younger customers. They all want you."

"You think so? I'd be so nervous. Besides what would she think? Having her so called boyfriend fix her hair?"

"She'd be thrilled, I'm sure. Most girls would love their boyfriends give them that kind of attention."

"I'll think about it," he said finally.

Corey had often looked at Amy, thinking about various hairstyles that would bring out the beauty of her round, almost cherubic face. It was not the face of a fat girl, but rather that of a strong person, a firm jaw that betrayed no hint of developing a double chin. The girl's sparkling eyes were her most charming feature, and he often considered finding ways to best bring out their captivating qualities. He had already considered several ways to fix her hair that would flatter her.

*****
"Mom would love to have her salon do your hair for the dance," Corey announced to Amy at their usual Wednesday luncheon date.

"Really, I'd love that, Corey. Then I can meet your mom," she replied enthusiastically.

He was frankly shocked at the girl's eager response, suspecting that she might be shy about doing something involving Corey's family.

"There's only one thing, though," he said, hesitating to complete the sentence.

She looked at him quizzically.

"Mom thinks I should do your hair," he said. "She says I do the best job with younger women in the salon."

"You're a hairdresser? You never told me that. You just said you helped out in the shop."

"Well, I was afraid you'd think I was weird or something."

She smiled: "Like maybe you're gay?"

"I suppose. It's not exactly a macho thing to do."

Amy giggled, putting a hand on top his hand as they sat at the table in the Union. "No, it's not, and my brothers would be appalled at me going to a dance with a hairdresser, but screw them."

"You don't care, Amy?"

"Not at all. Yes, you're different, but that makes you special for me. Right now we're good friends, that's all."

"Amy, I just want to make you the prettiest girl at the dance," he said, pleased with her reaction.

She giggled. "You'll have to be a magician for that Corey. I'm no Beyonce, I know."

"No, you're Amy and you're special to me."

*****
Debbie Sullivan's salon was in a building that once housed a local hardware store that had been a landmark for nearly 100 years until being forced out of business by the emergence of the big box stores in recent years. The store was located in an area of two-story 19th Century storefront buildings that lined a commercial street in Bay View, a once decaying area that was slowly being gentrified as young professionals in their twenties and thirties moved in. The sagging wood floors had been sanded and polished, preserving the atmosphere of the old structure. The shop provided room enough for a waiting area with comfortable seating and a work area for three hairdressers. It was tastefully decorated with pastel colors and light drawings of nature adorning the walls. Corey had a hand in its decorations and one of the older hairdressers praised him for capturing its feminine sprit. The outside was adorned by a small, chrome plated, engraved sign with the salon's name, "Specially for You."

"Welcome, Miss Hartmann," a stylishly dressed woman addressed Amy as she entered. "You're a bit early. Your hairdresser will be Mr. Corey, and he's finishing up with a girl now."

Amy nodded, looking into the salon to see Corey -- the "Mister Corey" tickled her for some reason -- working on what looked like a sixteen-year-old girl. She took a seat in a contoured plastic chair that was surprisingly comfortable. She looked around the salon, noticing that it had few adornments, but was cheerful and tasteful. She was nervous; she had only once before been in a hair salon; that was when she had her hair done when she was a bridesmaid in her brother's wedding party.

She was pleased the person who greeted her made no fuss over her. It was obvious that she was Corey's mother; she had the same slender, almost dainty body as her son and they both had lovely faces. She mused for a moment that the two could have been mother and daughter. Though she had been treated like any other customer, she could see the customers in the chairs as well as the older woman working in the middle chair examining her closely. Most likely, she reasoned, they were aware that the young lady who had just entered the salon was Corey's "girlfriend."

She watched as Corey finished up with the young woman, a blonde with short hair, who gushed as she looked into the mirror: "Corey you've done your magic again! Robert will be pleased."

"Thank you, Carrie, and best of luck with meeting his family tonight," he said, assisting her from the chair.

The girl leaned and kissed him with a quick, friendly peck on his cheek.

“Mr. Corey is ready for you know, Miss Hartmann,” Corey’s mother announced as the boy finished up the cash transaction with his previous customer. Amy hesitated a bit before getting into his chair, but he soon put her at ease. She was impressed with the professionalism that Corey exhibited while working on her; to all appearances he treated her just like any other customer, resorting to small talk about the weather and the University and the rejuvenation of the Bay View area.

When he had finished, and Amy looked at what he had done, she was ecstatic; she felt like hugging him and giving him an even more passionate kiss than the young girl had done before. "You've done magic," she said, echoing the gushes of his earlier customer.

"I only worked with what you had, Amy. The subject was a beautiful woman to begin with," he said.

The room filled with applause; obviously everyone had been watching Corey work his skills. He had matched the neat flip style hairdo shown in a picture of Actress Laura Linney. Amy had chosen it out of several samples he had shown her on the salon's computer; they both agreed it fit her natural, unpretentious features. He had trimmed her eyebrows, and Amy watched in admiration as his slender fingers wound their magic.

"Amy, I'd like to introduce you to my mother, Debbie," he said leading her to the front chair where his mother was working.

"Mother, this is my date for tonight, Amy Hartmann," he announced.

"Nice meeting you, Amy, and thank you for choosing our salon," she said politely, after excusing herself from the elderly, gray-haired woman that she was working on.

"You have a nice place here, Mrs. Sullivan," Amy said.

"Call me, Debbie, please."

"We hope to see more of you, dear," Debbie Sullivan said.

"I do too."

*****
"Corey, you're so handsome," his mother gushed as the boy emerged from his bedroom, dressed in the same dark suit he had purchased for attendance at an honors banquet held in his last days as a high school student. Corey had been honored with receiving the Harriet Garner Award for achievement and originality in design, the first boy to have ever won the honor named for a prominent area fashion designer who upon her death had provided for modest scholarships for students excelling in dress designing.

"Oh mother, but I don't feel too handsome. This suit feels so weird on me," he said.

"Well you look great," Debbie Sullivan continued.

"What should I do with my hair, mom?" He asked, moving in front of the mirror that hung over the family's piano. He ran his fingers through his light brown hair that hung neatly down to his collar.

"Why not just leave it as it is? I'm sure there'll be other guys with long hair at the dance," his mother said.

"I suppose so," he agreed. "Don't I look too girly, though?"

"Hmm. Maybe. Let me tie it in a tight ponytail, dear.”

When she was finished, Corey felt it helped a bit, but felt it failed to truly create much of a masculine image. Even though he told his mother that he was happy with the change, Corey couldn’t get over the feeling that he looked more like a girl wearing a male suit than a boy.

*****
Since this was Amy Hartmann’s first time going to a school dance (or any dance for that matter), she was both frightened and excited. Though she was an athletic girl, she was worried as to how she’d do on the dance floor, how she’d looked trying to follow the steps of her partner. Mostly, she wondered how she’d relate to the other girls and their dates. In truth, Amy often felt awkward and clumsy in social situations; perhaps that’s why she and Corey got along so well, since neither one was seeking to dazzle the other in any way.

Maureen Penney, one of the girls on Amy’s floor in the dorm, was hosting a pre-dance party at Hubbard Lodge, a nearby park site nestled at a scenic spot along the Milwaukee River. The girl had invited most of the others on the dorm floor along with other friends to the alcohol-free reception paid for by her wealthy suburban parents, who worried that their daughter needed protection from the suspected evils of an urban university. They had been shocked when their youngest child had refused the chance to enroll at a prestigious eastern college in order to attend the university in the middle of a city with a high murder rate. “Mom and dad,” she had explained. “I want to go to college with real people of all types.”

Amy had gratefully accepted Maureen’s invitation, since it might help break the ice for the forthcoming dance, permitting Corey and herself to meet up with others with whom to converse during the evening.

The comfort Amy had hoped to find at the reception evaporated when she and Corey ran face-to-face with Francine Abbott, who took one look at Corey, and then turned to Amy and said, with a smirk, “How courageous of you two girls to come as lesbians together.”

Amy reddened and quickly pulled Corey away from the Abbott girl, who had quickly gained a reputation in the dorm for being a nasty, catty girl. As they moved in the crowd toward the punch bowl setup, Amy could hear Francine’s high giggle as she conferred with friends.

“I’m sorry if I’m causing you embarrassment,” Corey whispered to Amy. “Do you want to go?”

He had feared he might get some second looks, knowing how feminine he looked, even when he wore his dark suit; also the manner in which he carried himself, walking with short steps, his feet held straight forward adding to his female image.

“No, we’re staying right here. She’s just an ugly gossip. I’m happy you’re with me, Corey,” Amy said.

She knew she said it with more conviction than she felt; she was indeed fearful that his appearance might bring about similar reactions. She felt Corey didn’t deserve such treatment; hadn’t he proven to be a kind, thoughtful person? Didn’t she find him fun to be with and interesting to talk to?

“I didn’t think we’d find such attitudes on this campus,” Corey said, speaking of the catty remark from Francine.

“Me either,” Amy agreed. “I always thought this campus was quite open-minded and, besides, there are lots of openly gay students and professors.”

At that point, the reception’s host, Maureen, approached and grabbed Amy. “Come, meet my parents, you two.”

She pulled the two to meet a tall, handsome man with a full head of neatly combed hair (a few gray streaks at the temples) and an almost as tall, stately woman. Maureen introduced them as her parents, Jason and Emily Penney; they were the very picture of affluence in their manicured demeanor.

“What a handsome couple, you two are,” Mrs. Penney said.

Corey shook Jason Penney’s hand, finding it large and powerful; the man’s grip was gentle, yet firm. His smile was friendly, and Corey felt comforted with the Penney family.

"Maureen tells me you're studying fashions," Jason Penney said.

"Yes sir, I am," Corey answered, his voice cautious and wary.

"And he's quite talented, judging from Amy's outfit tonight," Maureen said.

"Why it's beautiful, Corey," Emily Penney replied. "Maybe I'll have to employ you to do my outfit for the next Country Club ball."

Corey reddened at the praise, still wondering if Maureen’s parents were surreptitiously laughing at him for being so inclined toward feminine fashions. He was at a loss for words, but thankfully Maureen interceded. “I’m sure he’d be happy too, mom, for the right price.”

Corey was aghast at the suggestion; he had never for once considered that dress-making might be a way to earn money. He had done it merely as a hobby to please his mother and his own desire to create dresses for himself when he dressed at home.

“Oh, I wouldn’t charge for designing one for a friend,” Corey said, hoping to show his generosity. In fact, he was enamored by the idea of creating a gown for a woman as fashion-conscious and as shapely as Emily Penney.

“Nonsense, young man,” Jason Penney, his voice hearty and jovial. “You have great talent and there’s nothing wrong in making a few bucks with it.”

“Yes, he should, daddy,” Maureen said to her father. “Look at how lovely Amy’s outfit is and how well he seemed to complement her personality.”

Amy blushed. She was unused to people praising her for looking pretty; in fact, until Corey took an interest in assisting her in doing makeup, in fixing her hair and designing her clothes, she had never thought she could ever be anything more than a plain, almost dowdy girl from the woods.

“I had a lot of natural beauty to work with,” Corey said, looking admiringly at Amy.

“Isn’t he a sweetie?” Amy said.

Corey felt it was time to break up the discussion with Maureen’s parents and turned to Mr. Penney, held out his hand, “It was nice meeting you and Mrs. Penney, but I think it’s time to ask Amy for a dance.”

“Not so fast,” Emily Penney said, grabbing Corey’s arm. “I’m serious about you creating an outfit for me, Corey, and of course we’ll pay you. Won’t we, darling?”

She turned to her husband, who nodded, resigned to meeting his wife’s request. “Naturally, Corey, we don’t want you working for nothing, besides my darling wife can be hard to please. Believe me, working with her won’t be any kind of picnic.”

“Jason,” Emily scolded.

“Just kidding, dear,” he said, giving Corey a conspiratorial wink, seeming to accept Corey into his world of masculine chauvinism. The action seemed to stun Corey; rarely had any other man or boy recognized him as “one of the boys,” always treating him as some lower form of manhood typical of those being tagged as “sissies” or “fags.”

Corey liked both of Maureen’s parents; despite an outer demeanor that might have tagged them as the epitome of suburban shallowness, Mr. and Mrs. Penney seemed intelligent and generous. Both were exceedingly handsome, having grown into early middle-age years gracefully. He was confident he could make Emily Penney look positively radiant when he was done; he hoped he could also do her hair. He accepted the Penneys’ offer to visit their home the following Wednesday night to go over possible ideas for the woman’s gown and for Corey to take the appropriate measurements.

*****
“You like her, don’t you?” Amy said to him as they danced to a slow ballad. The "Freshmen's Welcome Dance" was held in the Ballroom of the Student Union and the school's jazz band provided the music, sharing the musical stage with a more contemporary group of hired musicians that blasted out all forms of rock, funk and various covers.

“Who? Maureen?”

“No, you know who I mean. Mrs. Penney. You like her?”

“She’s nice,” Corey said, noncommittally.

The dance was their first together; they were awkward, but as the music continued the two began to grow more at ease with each other.

“I bet you’re eager to design for such a pretty woman, Corey,” Amy continued pressing him.

“I already designed for a pretty woman, Amy, and that’s you.”

“I’m not pretty, compared to Maureen or her mother. I’m just a plain fat girl,” she said flatly.

“Oh come on,” he argued.

“Put you in a dress and you’ll be prettier than me.”

Corey looked at her and smiled. Amy felt her remark may have bothered him but the smile seemed to tell her he accepted it as a well-meaning compliment. Amy put her head down onto Corey’s shoulder as they danced to the slow beat of the music. Corey began to wonder what he would look like in one of the pretty gowns that the girls were wearing at the dance. Amy was correct: he might be as pretty as any of the girls.

By the evening's end, Corey and Amy had been on the dance floor for nearly every dance, having begun to dance as if they were one entity, moving easily together. They shared a table with Maureen and a short, darkly handsome young man introduced as Johnny Perez, a Marquette University student who had recently begun dating Maureen. Soon both Corey and Amy were joining in the enjoyment of the night, having found comfort in the friendships they were gaining.

At one point, Maureen suggested that Corey and Amy switch partners with her and her date for one of the slower dances. Though Corey knew both he and Amy were wary of venturing too far afield in their initial dance partners, they accepted.

"You're a very different boy, Corey," Maureen said into his ear.

"Oh?" Was she making fun of him, he wondered.

"No, no, don't take that wrong, Corey," she said quickly, apparently sensing his reaction. "I like you and there's nothing wrong with being different."

"Oh? You think I'm different?" He asked.

"Well, not many boys are into fashions like you are, and also hairdressing."

"Guess so."

"But I like that," Maureen said. "I was always a bit different in my high school. Even if my parents are wealthy, they taught me that there are many types of people in the world, and no one is any better than anyone else, except in what they make of themselves."

"That's a good philosophy," Corey agreed.

"Mom is looking forward to you coming Wednesday, you know," she said, changing the subject.

"I just hope I can please her," the boy said, as the dance ended.

Later, as Corey walked Amy back to her Sandburg Hall dorm room, they said little. The night had become brisk as a chilled wind blew from the northeast off nearby Lake Michigan. She cuddled tightly against him; they felt comforted by each other. It was a lovely end to a marvelous evening; they finished the night with a long, moist kiss. Neither had ever before experienced such passion, a feeling in which they both lost consciousness as to their surroundings. Never before had Corey or Amy ever thrown discretion to the winds.

"Go to the girl's room to do that," a girl who was passing by yelled at them.

They broke apart and looked longingly at each other. With a short kiss, Corey escorted Amy to the elevator and they blew each other kisses as the door closed upon them.