Chapter 9 – A Proposition
Helen Comstock and Corey talked on the phone again in early April, after spring break. She described the week with Lionel’s family in Philadelphia; she said she enjoyed the family immensely, particularly Lionel’s mother, who was a public school teacher.

“Besides being a teacher, she’s an incredible cook and mother,” Helen said. “Lionel has two younger brothers and a sister. The boys don’t seem to care about my color, but his sister who’s a senior, she’s resentful. Seems she feels he should have a black girlfriend and that he’s wasting his time on me who’ll just dump him for some Princeton grad. ‘A honky dude,’ she said.”

“That must have been difficult,” Corey commiserated.

“To make matters worse, they gave me her room to stay in, forcing her to sleep on a fold out couch. I felt terrible but they insisted.”

“But you liked them otherwise?”

“Oh yes, they were great people. They don’t have much money; his dad’s a busdriver, but he’s also a leader of their union and is sharp as a tack. I like him a lot.”

Helen announced she would be interning in Milwaukee that summer, working for the local ACLU. Lionel would visit at least once during the summer, she said, and she hoped she could press her parents to allow the boy to stay in their home. Before the conversation ended, Corey suggested, “Maybe we could double-date.”

“Great,” Helen said, again each giving with air kisses as they said good-bye.

*****

In the six weeks before the summer break, Maureen Penney often joined Corrine and Amy for lunch or coffee at the campus. Because many of Amy’s free hours were being occupied with Josh, her new male companion, Maureen and Corrine often met without their friend. Neither had a boy in the city to otherwise distract them, since Adam was more than 300 miles away and Maureen had no boyfriend.

Corrine continued to wear male clothes to the University and to attempt to pass herself off as a male, often without much success. Her natural femininity was far too apparent, as were her own sense that she was indeed female, and she couldn’t wait until school ends for the time when she could begin living fulltime as Corrine Sullivan.

“How did Mr. Brooks like your essay, Corrine?” Maureen asked when the two met at a nearby coffee shop.

“I got a ‘A’, and he attached a note saying, ‘Follow your heart.’”

“That’s great,” Maureen said. “I told you he’d be impressed, and besides you’re quite a writer, Corrine.”

“I was worried about writing something so personal,” Corrine said.

“I know you were, but I thought you wrote it from your heart, dear.”

Corrine smiled, realizing how easy the essay had been to write; once she got started, the computer keys just seemed to fly as she reflected on how she had always enjoyed doing girl activities, how comfortable she felt in dresses, skirts and nightgowns and how out-of-place she felt among boys.

“You know, I think it helped me to confirm what I’ve known all my life, that I am a girl,” she said. “Writing that essay forced me to think through my whole life.”

Maureen smiled, “It must have been therapeutic for you.”

Corrine looked at her friend, realizing what a warm-hearted lovely girl Maureen was. Even though the girl had everything she might have wanted and that she lived a life of leisure available to few people, Maureen had a marvelously generous nature and an openness not often found from people who may have been raised in such a comfortable environment. Corrine was aware, too, that their conversation that day had been focused only upon herself and that Maureen had been ignored.

“Did you hear again from Grant?” Corrine asked, referring to Maureen’s recent encounter with a former high school classmate.

“You mean since we bumped into each other at Colectivo’s coffee joint?” Maureen queried.

“Yes. That was last week, right?”

“No, he hasn’t called or texted or anything.”

Corrine reached over and affectionately touched her friend’s arm. “I’m sure he’s busy, Maureen.”

“He won’t contact me I just know it. Besides I don’t much like him.”

“Grant really seemed interested in you, Maureen, asking for your number and everything,” Corrine said.

“I wish I was pretty like you, Corrine,” Maureen said, shaking her head in despair.

Corrine tapped her friend’s arms and reassured Maureen that her own cheerful, open nature would soon lure the right young man into her arms.

“I really appreciate how much you’ve done to pretty me up, Corrine, fixing my hair and advising me on my outfits but even you can’t turn an ugly duckling into a swan,” Maureen said.

Corrine turned on a façade of anger, turning to her friend and said, “Enough talk like that. Dammit, Maureen, you are a lovely girl and any man would be lucky to have you.”

Maureen began to tear up. “You’re just saying that because you’re my friend, but I’m too short and fat.”

“Just be patient, Maureen. I love you as you are and I’m sure someday some guy will as well.”

Maureen excused herself to go to the bathroom; Corrine was certain it was to compose herself and perhaps to touch up her makeup. Like Corrine, she did not wear heavy makeup, but still her brief sobbing had moistened her face and made her modest eyeliner run a bit.

“I just remembered,” Maureen said upon returning from the ladies’ room. “My dad has some ideas for you, Corrine. I think it’s about your dress designing work.”

“Oh? What?”

“I’m not sure, but you know he’s always one to look for new opportunities and he may think you’re worth investing in.”

“Me? My gosh, what can I say?”

Maureen said her father wanted Maureen to ask Corrine to contact him so that the two could set up a meeting. She gave Corrine her father’s personal cell phone number. “Call him anytime, Corrine. He really wants to talk to you.”

“Anytime?”

“Yes, and if he doesn’t answer, he wants you to leave a number and give a time to best call you back. And he wants you to identify yourself as Corrine, not Corey.”

“But I’d better warn you about all this,” Maureen said, growing serious.

“Warn me about what?”

“My dad. I hate to say it, since he’s my dad and all,” Maureen began, growing hesitant. “He has sometimes cheated on mom . . . ah . . . with . . . young women.”

“But, Maureen, I’m not a woman, yet, and he knows that.”

“Just the same, Corrine, be careful,” the girl said. “I hope I’m wrong since I’m certain he could help you in the business.”

Corrine grew curious, wondering why Emily Penney continued to put up with her husband’s philandering. Maureen replied by saying her parents give each other lots of freedom.

“They love each other, Corrine, but I guess they know each other’s weaknesses,” Maureen added.

“OK, I’ll be careful. Thanks..”

Corrine agreed she’d give him a call later in the day and the two left the coffee shop to return to their final classes for the day. That Maureen’s father, a wealthy businessman, wanted to talk with her both excited and concerned her. What really was his motive? Why did he want her to use the name Corrine at a time when she was still trying to pass as a boy? It sounded as if he wanted to invest in putting Corrine in the dress-designing business; yet, was that what she really wanted to do in her life? Or, might the handsome middle-aged man have other designs on her, designs of a more personal nature?

Corrine called him that afternoon and he picked up on the second ring. It was clear Jason Penney was enthused about meeting Corrine, suggesting that his car would pick her up at Friday noon, after her last class for the day, in front of the Student Union.

“I’d like you to be my guest for lunch at the Portside House. Would that be OK with you, Corrine?” he asked.

Corrine almost gagged at the suggestion; the Portside House was an expensive first class restaurant located on a prime piece of land that jutted out onto Lake Michigan and overlooked the famed and exciting Calatrava-designed Milwaukee Art Museum. She almost objected, saying it was too expensive, but held back, realizing that for a man of Jason Penny’s wealth, it was an insignificant issue.

“No that would be fine, but I don’t need to go anywhere that fancy, sir,” she said.

“Don’t worry about that, Corrine, and please come as Corrine wearing something classy, as I know you would anyway.”

Corrine accepted the offer, but worried how she could go to classes that Friday morning dressed as a boy and somehow find a way to dress up stylishly as Corrine. Perhaps she could arrange to change in Maureen or Amy’s rooms at their dorm at the end of her morning classes.

*****
Adam called her about 10 p.m. that night, just as she was becoming a bit spacey; she had been trying to focus on a chemistry textbook and had grown frustrated with the mathematics formulas that were involved. She was getting “A’s” in all her papers, but she was spending more time on that course than any others.

She smiled when the cell phone rang and the screen showed “Adam.”

“Hi, Adam,” she said cheerfully.

“Sweetie, it’s so nice to hear your voice,” he said, using the term he had begun using in addressing her.

“Me too. We haven’t heard each other’s voice for all of 24 hours,” she said with a giggle.

He laughed back. “That’s a long time for me, sweetie.”

“That’s so sweet to hear, Adam.”

“What’s going on down there?”

Corrine told him about her invitation to lunch on Friday at a fancy restaurant on the lakefront; she also told him how Mr. Penney had wanted her to wear something “classy,” and her concerns about the request. “If this is supposed to be a business lunch, why would it have to be at such a fancy place and why should I be dressed classy?”

“Maybe he’ll have some others there, and he wants you looking your best,” Adam ventured.

“I don’t know. I trust Maureen and her mother, but Mr. Penney is kind of weird, especially since he saw me modeling that dress for his wife. He said he likes to see me dressed up pretty and he does seem to have a special interest in me.”

Adam merely answered “I see,” letting her continue.

“Besides, I’m not sure that marriage is a particular happy one and perhaps explains why Maureen chose to live in the dorm as opposed to living at home, which is an easy commute.”

“Can’t you wear something classy, but is also modest?” he asked.

“That’s a good idea,” she said.

“Oh Corrine, I so wish I could be down there with you, but the trails have dried up and we’re working overtime to get the logs out to the pulp yards. We’re going six days a week and sometimes on Sundays, too.”

The two continued their conversation, talking about minor events of the day, Corrine’s homework, a couple of her clients with requests for crazy hairdos, about the troubles with a certain worker in Adam’s crews and about his feelings about his sister’s boyfriend, Josh. “I think Amy can do better than Josh,” he said.

The two got into a mild argument, with Corrine saying that Amy has to make her own decisions on friends. “She really likes him, Adam,” she said.

“But she’s so inexperienced with boys, you know? She’s probably jumping at the first guy that has shown any attention to her, and she’s so lovely now, thanks to you, sweetie.”

They ended the argument with both of them saying, almost simultaneously, “Well maybe you’re right.”

They both laughed and he said, “It’s getting late. Good night. I love you Corrine.”

“Oh Adam, I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s easy, just say you love me too.”

“I do, I do, but really, I’m still not a total girl.”

“Sweetie, I love you.”

They exchanged noisy kisses and hung up. Corrine said stunned, hearing the “I love you” for the first time from his lips. She felt flushed and hot and noticed her panties were moist.

*****
Corrine used Maureen’s room at the dorm; she had barely a half hour to change after her last morning class ended. She had a five-minute walk to the dorm, where she would change her outfit and walk back to the student union by noon to meet Jason Penney’s car, presumably driven by a chauffeur. Fortunately, she found a nice navy blue knee-length pencil skirt and jacket in her closet that would go well with a loose hanging lavender blouse with a cowl neckline and three-quarter length sleeves.

Under the jeans she had worn to class that morning, she had put on sheer coffee colored pantyhose so that she wouldn’t have to change her stockings in the short time she had. She would exchange her peach colored running shoes with four-inch heels. It didn’t take her long to untie the ponytail into which she wore her hair while in her boy mode and brush the hair out to hang straight and loose. All in all, she felt she had an outfit suited for a young professional, businesswoman; she did not want to be perceived as a sex symbol.

While she believed Jason Penney might have hoped for something more revealing, she felt she looked classy enough for the occasion. She put on modest tear drop earrings and wore a simple silver chain about her neck with a dangling peace symbol.

Maureen walked her back and helped her change. When they finished, she said, “You’re look like a nice, well-dressed woman, dear.”

“Will your dad like it, do you think?”

“No,” she laughed. “I think he wanted you in a mini-skirt with a skimpy top and six-inch heels.”

“I guessed he might, but I don’t think I should dress that way.”

“You shouldn’t dear. Don’t let it bother you and don’t let him bother you. He can be a bit forceful at times.”

The two kissed and then Corrine left for the student union to await her pickup; she was suddenly frightened of the coming encounter.

*****
Corrine was pleased that she didn’t have to wait long before Jason Penney’s car arrived; in the few minutes she stood in springtime sun, she noticed she received a few looks, including several long gazes from the young male students entering the doors of the Student Union. There were even studied gazes and a warm smile from a tall handsome older man with graying hair; she presumed he was a professor at the school.

She was pleased to realize that the stares and looks were not because of any confusion over her gender, but rather that she was a strikingly attractive young woman. Corrine wondered what it was that gave off such a feminine aura, even when she was dressed relatively modestly. She remembered responding to the older man’s warm smile with an equally warm smile of her own. She had hoped her own smile, while warm and friendly, was not interpreted as a come-on by the man.

After a few minutes of waiting and of feeling somewhat wary of the attention she was receiving, she saw a shining black Mercedes pull into the entry circle. A young man in a dark suit, hopped over and raced around the car, addressing her, “Miss Sullivan?”

“Yes,” Corrine nodded, pleased to be addressed as “miss.”

“Let me help you, miss,” said the young man in a dark suit, who stood erect and opened the rear door of the sedan.

Corrine welcomed his hand as she stepped into the car, hoping her skirt didn’t rise too far above her knees. Several bystanders who were waiting for a city bus, watched the procedure and Corrine wondered what was going on in their minds, whether they puzzled over whether the fancy car was picking up some sort of a celebrity, maybe a singer or actress or performer. It was a tantalizing thought.

She was treated with the same attention when she arrived at Portside House, being shown to a window-side table in a discreet location, semi set off from the rest of the restaurant by waist-high partitions with aquariums on each side where colorful tiny fish swam.

“Mr. Penney sends his regrets and says he’ll be a little late and asked us to make sure you’re comfortable, Miss Sullivan,” an elegantly dressed maître’ d said, as he led her to the table.

Several eyes followed her as she was led to the table. The attention she gained was new to her. She was aware that the stares she got were likely admiring, but she still felt violated in some way to feel she was being examined so closely. Also, she was convinced that many of the looks were full of lust and that was even more disquieting. Corrine wondered what kind of looks she’d have received if she was dressed more skimpily and sexily.

“Is there anything we can get you while you wait, miss?” a waiter approached, having identified himself as Manuel. “Something to drink, perhaps?”

“Just water is fine, Manuel,” she said, her voice taking on a friendly tone.

Corrine looked out upon the harbor, seeing her hometown from an angle she’d never seen before. It was a spectacular view that even showed Milwaukee with its rather low-key, modest skyline to be more exciting. The view from her window stretched from the winged roof of the Art Museum north to the high-rise apartments along the shore to the tree-lined bluffs to the north.

She was still taking it all in when she felt a hand lightly touch her shoulder and a voice say softly, “I’m so sorry I kept you waiting, Corrine.”

She was startled and stiffened with the touch, looking up to see Jason Penney leaning over her, his face close to hers, as if he was about to hug and kiss her. Thankfully he pulled away and took the chair on the other side of the table.

“That’s OK, sir, I was enjoying the view. Besides I’ve only been here a few minutes,” she said, having composed herself from the shock of his touch.

“And, please, Corrine. Call me Jason,” he said.

She merely nodded in response, wondering if she should take up his request. The invitation bothered her; in her mind he was still “Mr. Penney,” the father of one of her best friends. She hardly knew him, having talked with him briefly at the dance while she was still in a male mode and then when she modeled the dress for his wife.

Jason Penney was indeed a handsome forty-something man. He was of medium height with a wide, muscular, well-proportioned body and a full head of dark hair, with attractive graying at the temples. He had large hands with well-manicured nails. He had a faint scent of cologne that appealed to Corrine.

“Didn’t they serve anything from the bar?” he asked.

“No sir. You know I’m underage.”

“Please, it’s Jason and you don’t have to worry about that. You’re at my table now. They’ll serve you.”

“No, water’s fine, Mr. Penney. I have to work this afternoon at the salon,” Corrine replied, pointedly refusing to call him “Jason.”

“OK, I understand,” he said, a disappointed look on his face.

“Thank you, sir. But if you want to have a drink, don’t let me stop you.”

“No thanks. I have a busy afternoon ahead as well,” he said, smiling, apparently hoping to hide any thoughts he might have had that would involve a more stimulating afternoon with Corrine.

“Let’s order first, and then after we eat, I tell you why I want to talk to you,” he said. “I think you’ll find it both interesting and perhaps exciting.”

“Can you give me a hint, Mr. Penney?”

“I can see you’re uneasy about all this,” he said, his smile showing either deep sincerity or a phoniness that was masked by superb acting on his part. “I’ll tell you it’s strictly business.”

“And not monkey business?” she asked, her eye dancing with mischievousness.

He laughed. “No monkey business I assure you. And you know you’re quite cute when you laugh like that.”

“Thank you sir,” she said and quickly changed the subject to ask, “What do you recommend for lunch, sir?”

“I think you might like the Lake Michigan perch, Corrine. The chef does marvelous things with it and besides it’s perfect for girls like you who like to keep a great figure.”

*****
“How did it go with Mr. Penney?” Amy asked that evening during a call she made to Corrine.

“Oh, he was fine, after I sort of set the ground rules,” Corrine replied. “I was glad that Maureen had clued me in on her father.”

“What did you do?”

“Not much actually. I just refused to rising to any of his hints or flirtations, like only calling him ‘Mr. Penney,’ instead of ‘Jason,’ as he first insisted I do.”

Amy laughed. “It looks like you’ve learned to be a girl pretty quick, Corrine.”

“What bothers me is why he would be interested that way in me. He must know I’ve still got my ugly boy thing.”

“But you are prettier than 99 out of 100 women, dear.”

Corrine was growing impatient with Amy for constantly referring to her as being “pretty;” she wasn’t embarrassed by the word, but she felt that Amy was betraying her own looks in comparison. She truly loved Amy and wanted only the best for her; even when the two first met and Amy was dressed most unfashionably and carried herself more like a lumberjack than a young woman, Corrine felt the girl exuded warmth and loveliness that went far deeper than any clothing or makeover could reflect. Now, that Amy had lost weight and began dressing in more feminine styles, she had become, in Corrine’s view, a true beauty. Of course, the girl would always be tall and husky, but she had a firm, strong body that could attract many men, as it had Josh.

“Thanks, Amy, but you don’t need to keep saying that. You are also a most pretty woman, yourself, dear.”

“You’re sweet, Corrine, but I’m still not nearly as pretty as you.”

Amy then asked her what Jason Penney had wanted to talk to her about, if it hadn’t been to woo Corrine into his bed.

“Actually, he wants to invest in me,” Corrine answered.

“What? Invest in you? How?”

“In a dress designing business. He wants to help fund me as a start-up, along with several other partners who might be interested, to set up a small shop to create and manufacture dresses made to order for wealthy customers, at first in this area and Chicago, and perhaps even nationwide.”

“That’s marvelous, but is he serious?” Amy asked.

“He seems to be, and apparently he’s got the money along with others to make it happen.”

“Wow.”

Corrine explained that Jason Penney said, “Of course, you’ll be the centerpiece of the whole operation. You’ll be the symbol of it, meeting the clients and doing the modeling. And, I love putting the name ‘Corrine’ on the clothing label; it’s so French sounding.”

“But aren’t you 100% Irish?” Amy asked.

“Yes,” she giggled in answer. “Besides my grandpa was an active IRA guy and even spent time in a British jail. And mom always says we’re ‘shanty Irish.’”

“You could have fooled me, Corrine. You’ve become such a sophisticate.”

“Forget that. I’m just an ordinary working class girl.”

“Don’t kid me,” Amy said. “Are you going to do it, I mean accept his offer?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Why? ‘Cause you don’t trust Mr. Penney’s motives?”

“No, I think he’s sincere. He’s really a businessman. He may still be wanting to get into my panties, but I think he’s looking at that as only a side benefit of a business deal. He outlined a perfectly reasonable business plan, I think.”

“Then what’s wrong with it?” Amy pressed.
“I still want to do something more positive in my life than designing clothes for wealthy women,” Corrine said. “I still got college to finish and you know I want to either go into social work or politics. Maybe I have some of Grandpa Delaney’s spirit in me.”

“You’ll never get rich that way, dear.”

“I guess not, but I think I’ll sleep better at night.”

The two girls blew an air kiss to each other, before hanging up.

Corrine collapsed onto her bed, still in her bra and panties and fell sound asleep. It was the peaceful sleep of a content, confident young woman.

*****
The remaining weeks of her college year were busy ones. The salon was busy and Corrine, still worked there most days and all day Saturday as “Mr. Corey,” though growing more and more effeminate in mannerisms. Even though she resisted being a flamboyant dandy, her actions were more noticeably feminine; several of her mother’s older clients whispered to Debbie about her “gay son,” usually in shocked terms. In addition, Corrine had agreed to complete two custom orders of dresses by the end of May; and, of course, there were finals to study for and a long essay on Milwaukee’s onetime Socialist government to complete for an independent studies class.

Jason Penney called her several times, again inviting her for lunch and claiming to want to talk more about the dress business, but she was able to beg off the invitations, claiming truthfully that she was busy. Finally, his persistence paid off and she agreed to meet him for coffee late one afternoon at the Colectivo Coffee shop, located a few blocks south of the University and convenient to the bus line that would take her home.

He was already waiting when she entered the place, dressed more informally than she’d ever seen before; he wore a classy Green Bay Packer jacket and an open collared shirt. Corrine herself was dressed in her male clothes, though a closer examination would show her jeans had a feminine cut. Jason got up quickly when she entered the door and rushed to meet her, giving her a quick hug, the type seen more and more these days between casual friends. He was careful not to make the hug too prolonged and intimate, but Corrine was still shocked by it, having been too surprised to avoid it.

“What can I get you?” he asked quickly.

“No that’s OK, I can get it myself,” she said, eager to pay for her own coffee.

Jason insisted and rather than make a fuss, she accepted, ordering a “skinny vanilla latte.”

Returning to the table where Jason had been awaiting, Corrine realized he had again chosen a location in a dark corner of the shop that would offer greater privacy, perhaps leading to a more intimate conversation as well. She cursed herself now for agreeing to meet him.

“Even in that outfit, you’re lovely, Corrine,” the man said.

“Mr. Penney, I appreciate the compliment, but please let’s keep this all business, OK,” she said.

“You’re a girl who likes to get right to the point, I see, but a lovely girl anyway,” he said, laughing.

“Why were you so eager to see me, sir?”

“I wish you’d call me Jason.”

“No, sir, I won’t. Your daughter is one of my best friends and your wife has always been very nice to me. I don’t think they’d like to know you’re flirting with a faggot like me,” she said, her voice growing stern.

“Slow down, honey, is that what you’re thinking?” he asked, showing a mock shock. “Besides, you’re no faggot. You’re just a very pretty young woman, even when you’re trying to pass yourself off as a guy.”

Corrine took a sip of her latte; she looked around the room, which was filling up with students, most of whom whipped out laptops as they drank their coffee or other costly concoctions.

Jason broke the silence. “Look Corrine, I must confess that you intoxicate me as a woman and I do want to treat you as one. I have wanted to hold you and kiss you since we first met at the dance when you were posing as a young man in a suit.”

“Are you gay or something?” she asked. “Or some kind of pervert?”

He laughed at the question. “Don’t be silly. Just ask Emily or Maureen, they know of my free spirit.”

“Your free spirit? What does that mean? Your freedom to bed down any woman you want to?

“You’re being mean, Corrine,” he said, showing hurt from her questions.

“Not if it’s the truth, sir.”

Jason took a sip of his coffee, saying nothing. Finally, he squared his shoulders, moved back away from their intimacy of their conversation and said, “I can see you’re a girl who knows her mind and I like that.”

“Thank you, sir, and thank you for the latte and the lunch we had last week,” she said, moderating her tone.

“Look, Corrine, I understand you are headed for a gender change, and I’m happy for you, if that’s what you want.”

“It is, sir, once I get the money for the operation,” she said, wondering why she was opening up to him about such a personal affair. “I’m starting hormones in June.”

“OK,” he said. “That’s why I think you should take seriously my offer to join with me and others in the dress business. I’m confident you’d make plenty of money for the operation. I’ve studied it and have gotten some excellent research from an investment firm that specializes in women’s clothing. We can make a go of it, I’m convinced, but we need your obvious talent and charm.”

Corrine nodded. She thanked him for his confidence in her and then said, “Sir, I’m just not comfortable doing this now. I’m not interested.”

“You should at least investigate it, Corrine,” he said, reaching over to touch her arm. She tried to wrest away from his grip, but his large hand easily held the slender forearm. “We believe you would be a most marketable personality. It’s a shame to waste that opportunity.”

“Oh, I’m marketable? Is that it? Why? Because I’m a weirdo and something with two heads? No thank you, sir.”

Jason shook his head. “I mean nothing of the kind. You’re just an extremely attractive young woman with great talent.”

“I said ‘No,’ sir and that’s what I mean,” she said her anger growing.

Despite his pleading to reconsider, she thanked him again and ran off to catch the Green Line bus home, wondering whether she’d regret turning him away.