The captain of the cheerleaders and the most popular girl in the drama class revolts. After working to win the part, she refuses to play Maria in the school play The Sound of Music. Ryan is deeply in love with their teacher/director. Will the beautiful Miss Recudes persuade him to save the play? This was written as a premium story twelve years ago. It has been updated and edited.

Miss Recudes
by Angela Rasch

The numbers spun in my head. I’m fifteen and she must be about at least thirty because she was a first-year teacher when my sister was thirteen; and my sister just turned twenty-one. When I’m twenty-two she’ll be thirty-seven. We can get married then!

The sound of an argument pulled me out of my steamy daydream. “Are you going to do what we asked, Miss Recudes?” Brianna stood with her feet apart, defying the woman I loved.

My thoughts of marriage were always “steamy” because I really didn’t think about marital life much beyond the “bedded bliss” part.

Although I had never seen Miss Recudes lose her temper, she appeared to be headed in that direction. Her face was a shade that clashed with her always-perfect lipstick. Dark red lips were one of the many things I loved about my drama teacher and the director of our play.

Our other women teachers wore lipstick, but not with the sophistication of Miss Recudes. Mrs. Grant made her mouth into a repulsive gash. Ms. Anno actually wore pink lipstick like those women out of the sixties, in those old Austin Powers movies. Pink lipstick is supposed to make you look younger -- but failed to do anything for the prehistoric Ms. Anno.

Miss Recudes turned to the portable blackboard she used to block out each scene, and then wrote in big, sweeping letters, “The Show Must Go On.” She turned toward us, her face once again the gorgeous, natural color of sand on the beach at the lake — a wonderful shade of light brown that girls call “beige.”

I would love to use the word “beige” all the time, because it sounds so neat, but guys never use a word like that.

My eyes swiveled from the blackboard to Miss Recudes. She stood tall, about six feet in her heels but I would have looked up to her -- even if I wasn’t a few inches shorter. When she moved from place to place on the stage she would glide, in contrast to other women teachers who walked like they were looking for a fight.

Miss Recudes stuck out her jaw. “We are going to do The Sound of Music for our spring musical. If our soprano leaders don’t want to follow the rules, we’ll find a way to put on our play without them.”

Brianna, Melissa, and Courtney looked crestfallen and shook their heads.

“You’re leaving us little choice,” Brianna said, in a voice that sounded strangely empty and disillusioned for a cheerleader.

How rude! Who are they to tell Miss Recudes what to do?

She always dressed so perfectly, almost always wearing either a turtleneck under a jacket with a double strand of pearls or a blouse closed at its ruffled neck with a cameo brooch. She was simply wonderful in every way; and I would never challenge her.

Miss Recudes had posted the parts for the girls two days ago, a week after the boys’ parts had been handed out. I had a non-speaking role as a dancer at the ball. Brianna was cast as Maria, Melissa was Liesl, and Courtney was going to play Baroness Elsa Schrader. All of them were absolutely perfect for their roles.

Brianna was so sweet all the time; you couldn’t imagine a better Maria. Melissa was even prettier than the girl who played Liesl in the movie, and Courtney had the regal bearing required for the Baroness, yet she too was a delightful person to be around.

I suppose the three had a strong bargaining position. Especially Brianna, as there really was no other girl in the school who could sing the part of Maria half as well as her. Besides, given Brianna’s social position it was doubtful any girl would dare accept the role after she had rejected it.

The problem had started when Miss Recudes refused to acquiesce to their demands. The three girls had told her they would only be in the play if she allowed them to:

1.) Update the musical, so they could wear modern clothing, and
2.) Pick the male leads, and
3.) Have every Tuesdays and Thursdays off for cheerleading practice.

It was odd that they hadn’t presented their list in private where they and Miss Recudes could have discussed the issues in a civilized manner. They had done everything publicly, at the start of the first practice.

Even though between them they ran everything in the school, they did it in a nice, almost democratic way. All of them seemed to be friends with nearly everyone in school and worked to help everyone be positive and cooperative — until now.

I wouldn’t be hasty condemning them, but if it came to choosing sides, I would definitely line up as close to Miss Recudes as I could.

Hmmmmmmm. Close to Miss Recudes. Now that was a positive thought -- and a powerful one at that. I wouldn’t be standing up anytime soon, or I would be embarrassed by the small lump in my pants. Once my voice dropped that “lump” would grow considerably larger, like it had for other boys in my class.

“I’m sorry, girls,” Miss Recudes said. “The play is based around the takeover of Austria by the Nazis; to modernize it would be impossible without rewriting most of the songs and dialogue. We have a well-defined system of tryouts; and the boys I picked are the best students for the parts. Drama is part of the English curriculum and is an actual school subject, for which you receive a grade. Cheerleading is an extra-curricular activity. I can’t allow an extra-curricular activity to overshadow an actual course.”

If I were any one of those three, the smile Miss Recudes just gave them would make me melt. Well then. . .that would make me a lesbian, if I were one of them -- but I’m heterosexual. At least I’m heterosexual in theory. At some point shortly, I hope to confirm that hazy status.

Melissa shrugged. “Then the three of us can’t be in the play.” From the way they pivoted in unison and stomped out of the gym, you could tell they had planned their rebellion down to the last detail. We all turned toward Miss Recudes, expecting her to work her regular magic.

She picked up her pointer like a wand, and then tapped under each word. “The Show Must Go On,” she reminded us. She then quickly cast Ava as Liesl and Grace as the Baroness.

“Please everyone,” she said, “now comes the tricky part. Finding a new Maria will be a chore, but we shall persevere. I need all the girls in the drama club, who don’t have a part, to come to the stage one-by-one.” She instructed each of them to sing a verse of a song. By the time they finished, what I already knew had become obvious to everyone; none of them could adequately play Maria.

A great teacher, Miss Recudes was always open to a discussion of how we felt about things. We spent about fifteen minutes debating the option of giving in to the girls’ demands. In the end, it was unanimous that the school and the drama club couldn’t be pushed around by anyone flexing their muscles, even though these particular queen bees were normally sweeter than honey.

What makes it confusing is they aren’t typical alpha “mean” girls -- at all.

We then talked about the option of finding a different play. Everyone agreed again, we had spent weeks picking The Sound of Music and our second choice hadn’t even been close in our vote.

Besides, if we change the play, that will be like giving in.

Things had reached the point of no answers when one of the girls suggested as a lame joke that one of the boy sopranos play Maria.

For some reason, Miss Recudes grabbed the idea and ran with it.

One of the bass singers said it would serve Brianna right, if a guy replaced her.

Almost everyone got on the bandwagon at that point; they wanted to stick it in Brianna’s face.

I was amazed at how quickly everyone had changed from being her friend, to making her a common enemy. It was obvious that everyone was living in the moment, and our reputations were subject to instantaneous transformation.

Four of us weren’t agreeing at all with the others about a boy playing Maria -- the four boys who sang in the soprano section. None of us wanted to risk saying something that might cause Miss Recudes to pick us out of spite, if a person like her could ever be spiteful -- which I doubt.

I felt safe because of the four I was the least likely choice. Sure, I was the skinniest, but the other three were four to six inches shorter than me. On the basketball court, I was a midget -- but in drama club, I towered over the other potential Maria candidates.

In truth, I was the manliest of the four. I had two goals in life: to marry Miss Recudes and to play for the New York Giants football team. I say “manly” with some reservation as all four of us sopranos were still obviously waiting for the puberty fairy.

One of these days my voice will crack and all hair will break loose. It had happened to most of my buddies, but my legs and arms were still baby-butt bare except for a little fuzz.

No one wanted to be the one who wasn’t being a good sport, so all four of us agreed to the auditions. I was the last to sing, the other guys obviously hadn’t tried their best, which I thought was just wrong. Besides, I didn’t think it would matter, given my size, so I did my best with My Favorite Things. As far as Broadway music goes, that song is one of my favorite things.

. . .bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings,
These are a few of my favorite things.

As long as I wasn’t going to get the part I decided to play it up and do the song just like Julie Andrews had done it. I moved my arms as she had and danced amongst invisible little kids and a huge feather bed.

Cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels
Doorbells and sleighbells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things. . ..
When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things, and then I don't feel so bad.

When I finished everyone cheered and loudly proclaimed me to be by far the best.

I got caught up in their high spirit and did a curtsey for laughs. My bet’s on the tiny one, Greg, getting the part.

“I’m going to think about it,” Miss Recudes said. “Tomorrow is Friday. We’ll practice those scenes that don’t include Maria, until I make a firm decision. I’ll let everyone know on Monday, but I agree with everyone. I think Ryan is perfect for the part.”

I closed my eyes hoping that when I opened them that I would either die immediately or wake up from my nightmare.

“Ryan?”

The voice my heart loved best forced me to open my eyes.

“Ryan, please stay after practice. We need to have a talk.”

When we were alone she touched my hand lightly, sending electrical shocks through my body.

“Ryan, I was surprised by the way you took to the part of Maria,” she breathed. Her eyes seemed different, more alive than ever, if that was possible.

“Uhm. . .I guess I did okay.”

“Have you ever thought about being a girl?”

Boy, she doesn’t miss a thing!

I want to be completely honest about my method-acting. I had wanted to do a good job in the audition to impress her -- even though I was too big for the role. Before I sang I had visualized Julie Andrews spinning in an Alpine meadow, and then I had danced around the stage as lightly as I could. “Uh-huh,” I answered truthfully.

“I thought so,” she said rather excitedly. “Don’t worry. I have some experience in these matters. We’ll work things out so you can do what you want. Would you like that? Would you like to finally be able to do what you want?”

At that moment there were only two things on my mind. There was that teeny, tiny matter of getting out of the role of Maria, and that gigantic issue of finding a way to make love to Miss Recudes.

Would I like to finally be able to do what I want? “More than anything,” I gushed romantically.

She smiled. “I know exactly how you feel.” Her hand grazed mine again causing me to sprout another of those mini-tents in my pants.

I quickly turned slightly away from her as she went on about how much time the two of us would spend together that weekend. Even though her plan sounded too fantastic to be true, I had to get out of there, before she could notice my excitement.

***

“Miss Recudes called,” Mom said when I walked into our house. “She said you and I need to talk.”

My face burned, while I struggled to explain what had gone on at practice.

It was obvious from Mom’s face that she and Miss Recudes had talked for more than a few minutes. She seemed to know what I was going to say, before I said it.

Has Mom guessed that I love Miss Recudes?

“I’m not going to do it,” I said as I finished recapping our rehearsal.

Mom sighed. “I thought you liked Miss Recudes?”

Liked? I adore Miss Recudes! I shrugged.

Mom frowned. “If someone doesn’t help her out, she’s going to have a real problem on her hands. That Melissa Jenkins, I’ll bet she’s the ringleader. When I coached you in soccer she was nothing but a little troublemaker.”

I stuck my head in the refrigerator -- hoping to find something in one of Mom’s plastic saver bowls that had turned black enough to be lethal if eaten. When I came out empty-handed, Mom was still there and waiting for me to respond.

“You coached us way back in the second grade,” I reminded her.

She cocked her head. “Really? Oh -- I suppose it was. But, she was a stinker; and it sounds like she still is.”

“I’m not going to do it,” I said again, “and Melissa changed over the years. She’s not so bad.”

“Hmmmm.”

Melissa’s recent behavior hadn’t scored her any points with Mom.

“Nobody says you have to be Maria,” Mom said, in that voice-of-reason tone designed to make me feel like a two-year-old. “Miss Recudes hasn’t even made up her mind, if it’s workable.”

“I know. She told me she wants me to come over to her house tomorrow night to work on the part. She said we’d try some things to help her make a decision.” In a way, I wanted to give it a try. At least, I wanted to go over to her house and spend a few hours alone with the love of my life. That sounded almost like heaven to me.

“Miss Recudes said you might have gender issues.”

I looked at Mom in amazement. How can Mom get things so screwed-up? Miss Recudes was thinking about casting me in a play, she wasn’t a psychology teacher or anything. People outside the theatre just don’t understand, sometimes.

Mom smiled. “Stand up. Whatever is. . .is. I love you.”

I looked at her; she could be really strange without even trying. She grabbed her sewing basket from the shelf and found a cloth measuring tape.

“Stand up,” she repeated. “Miss Recudes asked me to take a few measurements.”

“For what? I’m not going to play the part, and that’s final.” I remained in my chair.
I could see my defiance reflected in clouds on my mother’s face.

“Ryan, I won’t make you be in that play, but I will demand that you give this idea a full hearing before turning down the part. Your father played Juliet in our senior class play. That’s how we met. Romeo and Juliet was cast with all male performers, because that’s how they did it in Shakespeare’s day. I was the stage manager.”

Dad had died when I was five, and when Mom brought him into the conversation it was game over. I stood.

“That’s better,” she said, smiling. “Miss Recudes wants you to stay with her the entire weekend. She said this will be an opportunity for you to learn more about yourself in a safe situation.”

The “entire” weekend!

“She thought it would be best if you stayed overnight Friday and Saturday so you two could give this thing a real shot.”

Overnight? I floated six inches above our living room floor, in a fury of sexual animation.

As Mom ran the tape over my body and jotted down numbers, I thought back to that old film I’d seen on the Classic Films channel. It was called The Graduate and starred Dustin Hoffman as a boy who was seduced by an older woman.

Does Miss Recudes feel about me like I feel about her? Is that what Mom means by learning more about myself?

“Staying overnight sounds okay,” I croaked.

Mom gave me a much-satisfied grin as she finished her measuring. “By Sunday evening everyone will be able to make an informed decision whether or not you can do the part. She has made up her mind to change the play to Grease if you don’t work out. She said she had the casting for Grease all worked out; and she wouldn’t have to use any of those three little stinkers.”

Reality invaded my lustful thoughts of Miss Recudes. “I’m not going to do it.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Mom said with a wink. “Miss Recudes can be pretty persuasive. By Sunday night, you might be begging her to allow you to wear a dress like Maria wore when she danced with the Baron Von Trapp. You don’t have to hide how you feel about those things from me, or Miss Recudes. Neither of us is going to be judgmental.”

I shuddered. I had watched that movie with Mom several times and could vaguely remember which dress she meant. It was blue; and the kind a pretty girl might wear. It wasn’t at all what a boy like me would ever go near. I like girls. I play sports. I don’t wear dresses -- and I never, ever will.

***

“Come in, Ryan,” Miss Recudes said, as she opened the door to her home.

I had been a little let down when I first saw her house from the street where Mom had dropped me off with my small suitcase; a suitcase stuffed with enough clothes for two days and TWO NIGHTS.

Instead of the magical castle I thought someone like Miss Recudes would live in, her house was strangely average.

It only took one look into her eyes to bring the weakness back into my knees, as I thought about the heavy sex that could be in store for me, in my near future.

“First things first.” Miss Recudes’s hand brushed mine when she took my suitcase. “You won’t need this. I’ve got everything for the weekend, in your bedroom.”

Your bedroom? A bit of air escaped from my balloon.

“I’ve run a bath for you,” she said, turning her back and walking away, obviously expecting me to follow.

“A b-b-bath,” I stammered. “That’s okay. I took a shower before I came.” Actually, I had scrubbed myself pink, not wanting body odor to offend her should she attack me — in a sexual way. I could feel myself blush as I realized how stupid my stammering had just sounded.

She turned and fixed me in her gaze. “Do you have a girl’s name?”

“Huh?” Had I heard her right?

She looked at me with a kind stare that made me feel excited again. I was mesmerized by the perfection of her face when she spoke.

“When you think of yourself as a girl, what do you call yourself?”

I shook my head. “I. . .ah. . .I don’t think of myself as a girl.” I shook my head again.

She put down my suitcase and came toward me. She reached out. . .and I jumped back.

“Oh, Ryan,” she giggled. “Don’t be so skittish. I’m not going to hurt you.”

When she reached again I forced myself to stand still and allow her to take my hand. Her hands were incredibly soft. She wore several rings, which made her hands look larger than most women’s.

“Okay, we’ll play it your way. After you marry and have children,” she asked, “what will you name your daughter?”

I’d never given that any thought whatsoever, but I didn’t want to seem like an insensitive thug so I blurted out the first girl’s name I could think of. “Sally.” I could have said Jane. I’m such a Dick.

“Sally’s a sweet name,” she gushed. “It’s a little dated, but that doesn’t really matter, if it’s the one you’ve picked. Now, we aren’t going to do anything that will make you feel anything but special. You needn’t be alarmed or afraid . . . Sally.”

Sally! I blinked several times -- as if a bug or something just as foreign had flown into my eyes.

Miss Recudes squeezed my hand. “It’s okay, Sally. What did your mother tell you about what I have planned for our weekend?”

Mom hadn’t told me anything, really. A man doesn’t need his mother’s help at a time like this. I had studied a book about sex, for an hour before coming to her house. I’m not exactly sure how everything works -- but when the time comes, I’ll just put my body on autopilot and hope for the best.

“Why are you calling me. . .ah? I’m not. . .. She didn’t. . ..”

“Okay --- I see. I thought your mom would talk everything over with you, but that’s okay. Let’s sit on the couch for a moment and have a chat.”

Miss Recudes still had my hand in hers and used it to drag me toward the couch.

Will that be where I’ll lose my virginity? How much does Mom know?

She sat first, and then patted the cushion next to her. After I took a seat where she had indicated, she caught my hand again.

Evidently, hand-holding is a big part of having sex. Maybe I should touch her breasts. They lose all of their ability to say “no” when you touch their breasts.

“Sally,” she said, “your mother and I thought it would be best if you had the chance to experience life as a girl for a few days. That way you could decide, if you could handle playing the role of Maria.”

Sally? A few days playing?

Also evidently, she had decided I should be called “Sally.” If that kept me next to her on her couch long enough to have sex, it was okay by me. Her perfume smells like sex, at least what I think sex smells like. Maybe she isn’t wearing perfume? Maybe that’s what a woman smells like before she “does it?”

She held my hand between hers and rubbed it gently. “Your mother gave me your measurements; and I was able to shop today during the fourth and fifth period. I’ve got everything you’ll need for the weekend. Don’t worry about a thing.” One of her hands brushed a strand of my hair off my face. “The first thing is for you to take a nice bath before your water gets cold.”

Bath? I was only hearing every tenth word or so. Whatever. If she’s a clean freak, I’ll take a bath. No big deal. I’m not one of those guys who doesn’t understand what fore-playing is. Obviously, by her rules I’m supposed to “play” in the tub, “fore” we have sex.

She tugged me by the hand to a bedroom suite on the second floor and on into its adjoining private bathroom. When she opened the door, I could see the tub was filled with bubbles. The room smelled like I would have thought her bathroom would smell -- lemony and fresh.

“Take your clothes off and place them outside the door. When you’re done soaking, wash your hair with the hand shower and make sure to use conditioner. Everything you’ll need is in the caddy. Be sure to use the mitt, it has a loofah side you’ll just love.”

Darn! Why doesn’t she stay to scrub my back - or my front — or whatever it is she wants clean?

She shut the door behind her -- but kept on talking. “I’ve laid out towels for you. Use two of them to dry yourself and one to wrap around your head. Your clothing will be waiting for you on your bed.”

I could hear her moving around in the bedroom, while I took off my clothes. Once naked, I opened the door just wide enough to slide them out. I didn’t want to ruin her surprise -- in case she had already stripped and was getting into my bed.

“Clothing,” I said whispering to myself. “Who’s kidding who? She’s hot for me and clothing would just get in our way.” I expected the entire weekend would be spent making love until we finally climaxed on Sunday afternoon, before I went home. I just hope she has protection for both of us so she won’t get pregnant . . . although I won’t mind being a dad, if that means we can get married all the sooner.

I washed with the loofah, being very careful around my private parts. The book said I would get hairy there when all those other things happened. At times, I got hard and felt funny, but that happened mostly at strange and embarrassing times in school, or late at night in bed.

The warm water and sweet lemon scent caused me to relax. Things are pretty darn good. If everything goes well we’ll be kissing in no time. I hope I’m a good kisser.

Once my fingers got wrinkly, I figured it was okay to get out. I did a quick wash of my hair and used the conditioner according to the instructions, on the bottle. The shampoo and conditioner were both scented, in a very nice way, but nothing like Mom had ever bought for me. I tried to wrap the towel around my head, but it kept falling off -- so I just sort of tied it in back.

When I opened the door I was surprised and saddened by the sight of my empty bed . . . and then shocked by a small stack of clothing she’d left.

The underwear she had supplied for me didn’t have any holes in the front. They were white and cotton, but a lot thinner and softer than what I normally wore. I suspected they might have been made for a girl.

“Miss Recudes,” I yelled, while gawking at everything else, “all this clothing is made for a girl.”

“No need to shout,” she said from the other side of the bedroom door. “Of course they’re for a girl. That’s exactly what you are for this weekend. How else will you know if you want to play Maria? How else will I know, if you’re capable of playing Maria? How else will you find out about yourself?”

I know myself pretty darn well. I can do that role, if I want to, which I don’t, but I’ll play whatever game she wants to play. I bit my lip. “Are you sure I should be doing this?”

“I’m certain. Your mom thought it was a good idea, too. Do you know how to put on a bra?” Her voice sounded exactly as it had in school all year, which was nice.

At least I don’t have to listen to the raspy kind of sexy, voice women always get in the movies before they “do it.”

“I have no idea how to put on a bra,” I answered, loud enough for her to hear. “Why would I?” I whispered in disgust. I shook my head causing my hair to fall out from under the towel. I’d been meaning to get a haircut, but I wanted to have long hair flowing out from under my football helmet when I ran downfield under long passes -- because that looks so cool on TV. Does Miss Recudes know I’m a good football player?

Her voice came from beyond the door. “Put on your panties and let me know once you have them on; and then I’ll come in and help you with your bra and some of the other things.”

There were “things” in the stack on the bed that looked scary. I suppose dressing up is all a part of grown-up lovemaking. Since I couldn’t do it myself, I would need her help. I pulled on the “panties.”

“I’m ready,” I said. Boy, am I ready. My lips ache to be kissed.

She came in and looked me up and down. I suppose she was feasting her eyes on my young body.

After a moment or two of staring, she put the bra on me -- fooling with the straps a bit before stuffing it with some things that looked like soft blobs. How can something so ordinary make girls look so good? How many of my classmates have these things in their bra?

“Let me help you with your towel. Your hair will be a mess, if we don’t treat it right.” She went into the bathroom for a comb; when she came back I noticed it only had a few teeth. She pulled it very gently through my hair, and then she sort-of wound my damp hair on my head and wrapped that towel around me so I resembled someone from India.

“You already look the way you should,” she said. She took me by the shoulders and turned me toward a mirror over a dressing table.

I look pretty much look like I always do -- except I’m wearing a bra stuffed with blobs.

“I remember my first bra,” she whispered. “It’s a special moment for us girls, Sally.”

Miss Recudes is acting mighty peculiar. “Are you sure Mom said I should be doing this?”

“How else would I know your sizes?” She explained.

Good point. I concentrated on the REAL purpose of our evening. I guess Mom thinks I’m old enough to be de-virginized.

“We’ll just start you out with a simple blouse and skirt. How does that sound?”

I nodded, unable to express my thoughts with my mind all sexed up.

Within seconds, she had me in a shirt that buttoned on the wrong side and a short, pink skirt that didn’t seem to cover much of me at all. The socks were like my new underwear -- white, light, and soft. The shoes weighed about as little as my soccer cleats -- only they weren’t as tight. They actually felt okay, sort-of like slippers.

I wonder why Miss Recudes always wears those high-heeled shoes. They make her feet look big.

“We’ll start you with a light amount of make-up. For the play, you’ll need to be a young lady. . .so you’ll have to wear the make-up a young lady would wear. However, your mom and I thought it would be best for this weekend to have you be a young girl tonight, a teenager tomorrow, and a young lady on Sunday. Okay?”

I nodded. If Mom said I should do this, there must be a good reason why. I had seen a movie once where a guy took his son to a whorehouse, for his sixteenth birthday. Miss Recudes isn’t a whore and I’m only fifteen -- but everything else is the same.

After a few minutes of her fooling with my face, with lipstick and other things, she smiled and patted my cheek. “You look adorable.”

She then took the towel off my head and messed around with a hairdryer, brush, and some spray stuff that smelled like old women.

“We’ll just put in a few ribbons, and pigtails, and things tonight. Tomorrow when we give you a big girl hair-do we’ll have to work at it much harder. Believe me; it’s much more fun being a girl than a boy -- but it’s not always easy.”

I’ve heard about women that like their sex like this. This week I’ll be the little girl and she’ll be the naughty mama. Next week I’ll be Tarzan and she’ll be Jane. Wow. Married life is going to be great. This whole “Maria” thing is just an excuse; and we both know it.

After she had me dressed, I expected us to go back to my bedroom, or to hers, or maybe -- back to the couch.

Instead, we went back downstairs to her piano and worked on Maria’s songs for two hours. All the while, she complimented me on my “sweet” voice and “adorable” smile. She spent about twenty minutes teaching “Maria” the basics of how to sit, stand, walk, and hold my body.

After a while, the gunky feeling from the lipstick became less annoying; and I was able to really sing like I wanted to. The songs were fun and it would be okay to be Maria, if I didn’t have to play a woman, although the perfume she had sprayed on me did smell wonderful.

While I worked on the songs, I looked around her living room searching for more information about my lover. Everything about her seemed to be about the present or the future. There were no pictures from her past -- before she became a teacher -- no trophies echoing accomplishments from her youth, not even a college diploma. She often spoke in school of the benefits of being forward-thinking; and it appeared her lifestyle reflected her words.

Then we practiced the scene where Baron Von Trapp finally tells Maria he loves her. We sat on the couch, with Miss Recudes reading the Baron’s part.

I started. “Well, I'm sure the Baroness will be able to make things fine for you.”

“Maria. . .. There isn't going to be any Baroness.” She had me convinced in those few words that she was entirely in character. Had I not known better I would have thought she was a middle-aged man.

“There isn't?” I asked with surprise and some expectation, just like Julie Andrews had in the movie.

“No.” She deadpanned.

“I don't understand.” I looked at her and tried my hardest to pretend I was madly in love with her, which didn’t take any acting.

“Well, we've called off our engagement, you see, and. . ..”

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Coquettish is the word she had used when she gave me some advice on how to play this scene. I think it means horny.

“You are?”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

I fluttered my eyelids like Maria. “Well, you can't marry someone when you're. . .”

“. . .in love with someone else. . .can you?”

“The Reverend Mother always says, ‘When the Lord closes a door, somewhere He opens a window.’”

“What else does the Reverend Mother say?”

I thought for a moment. “That you have to look for your life.”

“Is that why you came back? And have you found it. . .Maria?”

“I think I have. I know I have,” I answered with enthusiasm.

“I love you.” With that she swept me into her arms . . . and gave me an unsatisfactory peck on the lips.

After all the dreaming I’d done about her wonderful mouth on mine, our first kiss was a. . .nothing.

“Look at the time,” she said, jumping up from the couch. “You need to get to bed, little lady.”

Yes. Let’s do it. My legs buckled a bit knowing the moment had come.

“Let’s get you a glass of warmed milk,” she said. We went to the kitchen where she prepared a bedtime snack for me.

“Your flirting as Maria seems completely natural,” she said, making me feel warm in places I hadn’t known existed. “You are what they call ‘a little minx.’”

Minx? I suppose that’s a compliment. “What if my voice cracks between now and when we do the play?” I asked.

“I’ve thought of that,” she said immediately. “There are pills you can take that will assure us that won’t happen. In fact, now that I’ve mentioned pills, I think you should take a little something, to help you in bed tonight.”

Viagra! She wants me to take Viagra! I’ll be able to have a hard-on for four hours!

She left the room for a moment and came back with a pill in her hand. I eagerly took it from her, and then downed it with a bit of milk.

For the next few minutes, we talked about normal teacher/student stuff, not knowing what else to do until lift-off.

A plump calico cat made an appearance, circling Miss Recudes three or four times. I envied the cat’s familiarity with her perfect ankles. “Has he been fixed?”

She laughed. “Sally, all calico cats are female. The genes for a calico coat and female gender are tied.”

I could feel a blush rising from my neck and shooting across my face.

“As for her being ‘fixed,’” she continued. “I prefer to think she’s half-fixed. She’s such a warrior; I think she might like it if the veterinarian hadn’t stopped halfway through her sex reassignment surgery.”

I stared at the cat looking for an explanation of what Miss Recudes had just said -- but found none.

“Are you feeling ready for bed?” She asked shyly.

I yawned. All I could do was nod. Someone once told me when you get really excited you yawn a lot. My eyes also feel a little heavy.

She took me by the hand again to “my” bathroom where she helped me out of my things and into a nightgown. She must’ve screwed up on the size, because its hem barely hung beyond my waist. She gave me another pair of underwear that looked like it matched the nightgown and asked me to change.

I obediently ducked into the bathroom and swapped out the panties. When I was ready she took me to the bed, and then tucked me in. She leaned down toward my face. . ..

Finally!

. . .and kissed me on the nose. “Goodnight, Sweetiekins.” With that she slipped a “dolly” under my arm, and then walked to the door where she turned out the light. “I’ll leave the hall light on. I know you little girls like a nightlight.”

I’ll pretend to go to sleep. After I’ve given her time to slip into something sexy, I’ll sneak down the hall, crawl into her bed, and cover her body with kisses. I closed my eyes and relaxed waiting for. . ..

***

“Sally, it’s time to get up. Come on down for breakfast.”

I tossed a doll out of my bed wondering what idiot had put it there, and then noticed my tiny nightgown. It had worked its way up so there was about five inches of stomach showing above my underwear. I pushed it back down and headed toward the aroma of eggs and toast.

“Oh. . .,” she said, as I came into the kitchen rubbing my eyes, “don’t you look precious. I almost feel like keeping my little girl around, for the entire weekend.”

A breeze blowing in through the kitchen window kept lifting my nightgown so that I had to eat with one hand holding it down.

Boy did I ever blow it last night. It’s a good thing I’ve got the entire weekend with her all to myself. Right after breakfast, Miss Recudes and I are going to get busy.

“How did you sleep?” She asked.

That’s a loaded question! She really wants to know — how could I sleep? She’s mad at me. She probably stayed up half the night waiting for me. “I’m sorry,” I said, as contritely as I could.

“Sorry?”

“Sorry I went to sleep so fast. That certainly didn’t make it a fun evening for you.”

“Oh, that’s fine. I expected you would be out like a light. I gave you half a Lunesta.”

Lunesta must be a kind of Viagra that makes you tired. . .and stiff.

“After breakfast I want you to take another bath and wash your hair. I’m going to give you a quick set and a few highlights, so you will have some luscious teenage girl curls.”

I nodded. “A bath sounds nice.” Nice . . . and a starter’s gun for lovemaking.

When I came out from the bath there was a new set of things on the bed. Girl things. We went through the same procedure with her helping, after I slipped into the panties. This time the blobs were about twice the size of the other ones. I also had to wear nylon stockings that were held up by something that pulled in my waist. The shoes had a heel that made me seem about an inch taller.

She took me by the hand again after I was dressed and pulled me to the dressing table where a bunch of cosmetics were laid out.

“We can use a bit more make-up today,” she said. “We’ll dress you about a year or two older than what you really are, but you can easily pull that off. Tomorrow scares me a bit. That’s when you have to be a full-fledged woman. Your mother was so smart to have us do this in stages.”

Thanks Mom!

Miss Recudes painted my face with enough gunk to cover a small house. “You’ve been quite the little actress all your life, hiding the real you.”

By “the real you” she must mean the tiger that’s about to devour her in bed.

She hugged me, and a tear trickled down her face. “You have so much natural grace and womanliness in you, by Sunday you will have worked your way up the femininity ladder, to the Maria rung.”

“Are you ready for me?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation around to sex.

She hugged me again, only tighter. “YOU are a wonderful person. You don’t have to wait until the world is ready for you. Just look at yourself.” She positioned me in front of a full-length mirror.

I saw me . . . in a dress — and a tearful Miss Recudes behind me.

Evidently, she wants to do some more “play” -- “fore” we get into bed.

She shaped and then polished my fingernails a bright red. As she had promised, the work on my hair took much longer than the first time. She dabbed perfume on my wrists and behind my ears — really sexy perfume that spoke of what we would be doing. Surprisingly, for the next two hours, we practiced my songs again -- at the piano. This session she had me move a bit in shoes with a bit of a heel. She wasn’t happy until I could “float” around the room. I kept waiting for her to make a move toward her bedroom.

We had just finished “Do-Re-Mi” for what seemed like “a long, long time to” sing when the doorbell rang.

“Would you get that, Sally?” Miss Recudes asked, all too innocently.

I looked at her in shock. “Like this?” My hand swept gracefully across my body. A bit too much Julie Andrews this morning.

“Don’t be silly, Sally.” She giggled. “And don’t dilly, dally.”

I laughed at her joking phrasing and remembered my purpose for the weekend was to make love to her. The way to a woman’s heart is to do whatever she wants. Outside of the kids from school, I couldn’t care less who sees me.

I opened the door and found a girl who looked to be my age, who I had never seen before. What shocked me the most was her startling resemblance to Miss Recudes. Can there be two of her?

“Hi,” she said. “You must be Sally. That’s a lovely perfume you’re wearing. What is it?”

My mouth dropped open and would not cooperate when I tried to speak. Besides, I have no idea what the name of the perfume is.

Thankfully, Miss Recudes came up behind me. “It’s called Falling in Love by Philosophy. Sally, this is my niece, Amanda. Amanda, Sally might be playing Maria in The Sound of Music for me. She’s staying with me this weekend to practice. I asked you over, Amanda, so I wouldn’t wear out Sally’s voice. We’ll be right back. Sally, come with me.”

Miss Recudes took me by the elbow and steered me toward the kitchen where she handed me a purse. She then grabbed my elbow and turned me toward the door. “She thinks you’re one of the girls from my drama class,” she whispered. “I thought by being with her you could try out in the real world everything I’ve taught you about acting like a girl. Don’t worry, she won’t notice anything different about you.”

With that, she took me back to the front door and shoved Amanda and me out. “You two run off to shop. I need a yard of that black chiffon material that I love, from that mall over in Wolverton. Would you be a dear, Amanda, and pick it up for me. Have lunch while you’re there.” She pressed a wad of bills into Amanda’s hand and directed me toward the car Amanda must have come in. “Be back by three, so Sally can practice some more.”

It won’t be so bad. I don’t know anyone in Wolverton. I’m wearing a short dress, going to a mall with a girl I don’t know. . .to have lunch. At least she’s a babe.

I’m totally screwed!

***

“Don’t you just love Carrie?” Amanda asked as she drove us toward what I was beginning to feel would be my utter devastation.

I listened intently to the CD expecting the singer might be “Carrie” Underwood, but the singer was definitely Ariana Grande. I looked around to see if Amanda was referring to someone or something I hadn’t seen. “Carrie?”

She grinned. “The woman you’re staying with -- my Aunt Carrie.”

I laughed. “I could NEVER call Miss Recudes — ‘Carrie.’”

It had become her turn to laugh. “And I could NEVER call my adorable Aunt Carrie — ‘Miss Recudes.’”

I like her already. All of a sudden what I was wearing didn’t seem to matter all that much. She was really nice and seemed to like me. We talked easily about our schools and the classes we were taking. I was so comfortable in my role as Maria that playing “Sally” didn’t seem too unfamiliar.

“Do you have your driver’s license yet?” She asked. “I got mine the day I turned sixteen.”

“I’m still fifteen,” I replied. And barely that.

“Driving is the best,” she enthused. “So, do you have any cute guys in your class?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. I have no idea which guys the girls think are cute. “Do you have any cute guys in your school?”

“Nooo,” she shook her head at me, “you’re not getting off that easy. Are you seeing anyone? I’ve noticed that the girls who are the most secretive about cute guys are the ones who have one all to themselves.” She wagged a cautionary finger at me.

“Okay, okay. There’s this boy named Ryan who I think is a pretty nice guy. Say . . . what kind of guys do you like?” Maybe I can convince her to like guys like. . .me.

She shrugged. “I like guys who dress like they know who they are. Don’t you hate it when guys haven’t figured out they should wear socks that match? I also like jocks, if they know how often to take a shower.” She held her nose and shook her head slightly.

If it wouldn’t have been too obvious, I would have written down a few notes, while she told me the secrets for getting girls to like you.

Talking to her got me so relaxed I didn’t even think much about how I looked, until we were inside the mall. Everything there seemed normal. A fountain sparkled in the big hall ahead of us. Little kids were screaming for candy and toys; and their mothers were shushing them. Signs in store windows announced huge savings. Then I caught a reflection of myself in a store window and almost blacked out. I was about to turn and run when she pointed towards a kiosk.

“Look, Sally. They’re piercing ears for free today. You’d look a hundred times better if you had three-inch hoop earrings to go with that dress. You really need to accessorize.”

“N-n-n-n-o,” I stammered. “Mom doesn’t want me to have pierced ears.”

“When did she say that?”

I decided to make it seem as final as possible. “When I was in the first grade.”

“That doesn’t count. No mom wants her little girl in the first grade to have pierced ears. You must be the only one in your class who hasn’t had her ears pierced.”

To argue with her I tried to think of some girl who didn’t have pierced ears, but then I realized I had never noticed one way or the other. “I really can’t tell you who does . . . or who doesn’t.”

“Then it’s no big deal, right?” She handed the girl at the kiosk a couple of bills. “My friend would like those drainage studs, once you pierce her ears.”

“Her. . .? Ahhh.” The Goth salesgirl looked confused, of course, The Sisters of Mercy were screaming in her head from her iPod.

“If you don’t want our money, I’m sure there are ten shops here in the mall who do,” Amanda said, completely surprising me with her vehemence.

“No problem,” the girl said meekly, even though her black-covered lips, turned down at the corners, suggested there was some kind of BIG problem.

“Good!” Amanda showed the girl where to put the holes in my ears, and then stood back.

“Wait,” I yelped. “What if I don’t like them pierced?”

“They’ll close up naturally,” the counter girl said, with the air of a body holes authority. “Lots of guys have their ears pierced, and then let them grow closed when they get tired of it.”

The pain wasn’t too bad. I wasn’t sure if being a girl I should cry, or not. So I wiped away a few pretend tears.

“These are a friendship gift from me to you,” Amanda said, as we walked away from the kiosk. She handed me a pair of earrings that could have been used for ring toss. “Before you know it, your ears will be healed and you can wear them.” She hugged me.

I looked closely at her, after our embrace. “Thank you,” I whispered. Sex with her would be terrific.

She hugged me again in a different, more suggestive way, and spoke softly in my ear. “Do you like girls?”

I nodded several times, as we separated. My hand found hers and I squeezed it lightly.

“I was hoping so,” she said, and then winked broadly.

Now I’m a lesbian.

“Let’s get Aunt Carrie’s chiffon, and then have something to eat,” she suggested.

As we walked and shopped we continued to hold hands and put our arms around one another. It seemed as straightforward as breathing and almost as necessary.

Fifteen minutes later, we were sitting in a restaurant booth across from each other.

“My dad is bigoted like that girl that did your ears,” she said. “He won’t even go to Aunt Carrie’s house on Christmas.”

My mind reeled trying to connect the dots between the red-haired Goth who had pierced my ears, Christmas, and Miss Recudes.

Amanda’s eyes focused on something over my shoulder. “I think I just saw three girls I know, from your school.”

I tried to slide down -- and didn’t dare look behind me.

Not that I needed to, because in four seconds Brianna, Melissa, and Courtney were standing right next to us.

I hope when my heart explodes it doesn’t make too big of a mess.

“Amanda, I thought that was you.” Melissa hadn’t seen me yet, and I hadn’t dared look toward the other two. “It’s been ages since our cheerleading camp last summer. Are you going to be a counselor this year?”

“All three of us are.” Brianna added, obviously not seeing me. “Have you ordered food? You don’t mind if we squeeze in with you -- do you?”

My heart stopped. All of my muscles locked except for the ones in my legs and feet that were making my knees bounce. I stared intently at the arrow on the sign hanging on the wall that said “Men’s” -- hoping it could magically make me look like I should go that direction.

“Ahhh,” Amanda said, “it’s okay with me, if it’s okay with Sally?”

All three of them turned to me. “Do you mind?” Courtney asked. One by one each of them registered shock by either widening her eyes to the size of pumpkins or dropping her mouth open like a bass leaping for a mosquito.

“Ryan, what happened to you?” Melissa asked as she slid in next to me.

“Ryan?” Amanda whispered, “I see. . .‘the nice boy.’”

Melissa reached over and touched my hand. “Is Miss Recudes making you do this?” She turned to Amanda. “I’m sorry, we got in an argument with your aunt and now. . .. Ryan, we heard she’s considering you for the part of Maria. Is this some kind of test?”

I nodded. “I should have told you before, Amanda. I’m not really a girl.”

“Oh, I knew right away,” she said.

It was my turn to be shocked.

“I thought you were a member of Aunt Carrie’s support. . ..” Amanda stopped mid-sentence. “I knew,” she added quietly.

The three girls from my school looked me over.

“You’re a much better-looking guy than a girl,” Courtney said, and then blushed.

“Amanda, have you seen Ryan as a guy?” Melissa asked. “He’s a really cute boy.”

“He sure is,” Brianna said. “We all have been waiting for him to ask someone out, but he’s sort of shy. Aren’t you, Ryan? But he’s still really nice.”

“I know,” Amanda said. “We’ve been having a really good time together today.”

I grabbed my water glass and gulped down about half of it. I had considered them all friends, but I’d never, ever thought of them as that kind of friend. I was surrounded by four of America’s Next Top Teenage Beauties. What a time to look less “studly” than I normally do.

“You’re not an ugly girl,” Melissa allowed. “If you want to be a girl, that’s okay with me. We can be friends that way, too.”

Brianna and Courtney both quickly agreed with her.

I shook my head violently, which caused my hairdo to cover most of my face. I pushed it back with my hands, and then shook it in what I realized was a feminine gesture. “Just kidding!” I said quickly. “I like myself as a boy. I’ve never wanted to be a girl. This is strictly for the play.”

They all grinned, especially Amanda, and then -- just as suddenly -- Melissa pouted. “The play. I wish we could be in it. It sucks that we can’t.”

“I don’t get it,” I said, happy the whole dress and make-up thing wasn’t creating a humongous problem. “You guys had the best roles. Why did you push Miss Recudes into a corner, with your list of demands?” Damn, that was pretty blunt.

The three looked at each other -- but didn’t answer me.

“What did you do?” Amanda demanded of them. She sounded a little agitated. Evidently she, didn’t like the idea of anyone challenging her aunt. “Why would you give my aunt a list of demands?”

Melissa waved her hands in front of her as if to fend off bad thoughts from Amanda. “It wasn’t like that. We had to make sure we could pick the boy playing Baron Von Trapp, so we made up two other things we could negotiate away that we didn’t care about.”

“Uh-huh,” Brianna said. “We knew wearing modern costumes was ridiculous, and we never practice cheerleading all that much, in the spring.”

“We expected your aunt would compromise with us,” Courtney added; she was seemingly quite proud of their planning, even though it hadn’t worked.

“There are certain things Aunt Carrie won’t give in on,” Amanda said. “Why would you ever think she would allow you to cast a play for her? That doesn’t sound like anything she would consider.”

Melissa turned to me. “Amanda has shared a four-person tent with the three of us for the last five summers at cheerleading camp. When she’s not getting all annoyed about protecting her aunt she’s our best friend.”

“Well exxcuuuse me,” Amanda said sarcastically. “I know there’s a good reason the three of you are acting like little ‘bee-yotches.’ Spill it.”

They all giggled, something I didn’t understand at all.

Melissa became serious first. “There’s this boy in our school, Peter Morkin.”

Peter! He’s in drama club -- and plays on the varsity football team, at right tackle. He’s one of the biggest kids in school and not anyone you ever would turn your back on. His head looked squeezed in a football helmet, while I could never find one that didn’t flop around when I wore it.

“He’s kind of cute,” Courtney said, ‘if he wasn’t such a total loser.”

All three of them nodded.

Maybe I do know something about girls’ taste in boys?

“He drinks an energy drink before every football practice,” I offered. It felt good to bring up the fact that I played football, to offset my current not-so-tough appearance.

“Isn’t it dangerous to use ephedrine before you play football?” Melissa asked.

I shrugged. “Only if you’re worried about dying or something.”

They grinned.

“What does Peter have to do with Aunt Carrie?” Amanda asked.

Melissa first made us promise not to tell a soul. “When Peter found out he was going to be cast as Baron Von Trapp, it went to his head. He made a bet with ten guys — fifty bucks each, that ‘Baron Von Trapp’ would ‘nail’ whoever played the role of Maria, before the first dress rehearsal. He then told one of his buddies it was a sucker bet because he would rape the girl if he had to — to win all that money.”

That Dickhead! “How do you know about that?” I hadn’t heard anything about it.

“My boyfriend got scared when he heard it was Brianna who got the part,” Melissa said. “All the boys wanted to back out of their bets, but Peter said he was going to do it whether there were bets or not, as a matter of pride.”

“Why didn’t you go to Principal Smekar?” I asked.

All four of them stared at me.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about being a girl,” Amanda finally said. “Men don’t believe us if we’re standing before them with our dress ripped and semen dripping . . ..” She stopped herself. She was good at stopping herself. . .almost.

I shook my head. “If you want, I’ll knock his teeth in.”

Melissa giggled. “You’d ruin your manicure.”

I held my hands out in front of me and looked at my scarlet fingernails. “Not my nails,” I whined, and then crossed my arms hiding my fingers in my pits.

They all laughed, but then Melissa frowned. “And now everyone hates us for ruining the play. We came to the Wolverton mall today to get away from it all. We didn’t think we’d see anyone we knew.”

Amanda and I nodded. I know how they feel.

“Maybe you should have brought up your demands in private,” I suggested in a weasel-ly way, raising my voice at the end of the sentence, so they wouldn’t hate me.

“We talked about that,” Brianna said, “but we were hoping there would be a debate and Peter would somehow get the idea from the class that he isn’t so neat. We thought maybe there would be an opportunity for people to talk about possible other boys, who might be better than Peter in the part of the Baron.”

“Do you want me to continue as Maria?” I asked. “He wouldn’t feel like much of a stud raping me.”

“Don’t count on it,” Courtney said.

All of them quickly made me feel horrible inside by convincing me Peter would not be discriminating in his selection of sexual partners. I knew, and so did all of them. . .if Peter wanted to rape me, he probably wouldn’t be easily stopped. All of a sudden I felt almost naked in my little black dress. I’ll never wear perfume again!

“No,” Amanda said. “Let’s do what should have been done in the first place. Let’s talk to my aunt.”

After a short discussion, we agreed the time had come to trust Miss Recudes.

“Can we get out of here?” I asked. “I think I’ve had enough of being a girl.” The idea of being raped had given me too much insight into their world.

“You’re a cute girl,” Amanda said, “but only because there’s a cute guy under all that girly stuff. A cute guy who’s not going to get out of taking me out next weekend.”

“You have to, Ryan,” Brianna, Courtney, and Melissa all chirped.

“That would be perfect,” Melissa said, hugging me. “Our best friend Amanda will be dating one of the nicest boys in our school. I love your earrings, by the way.”

I grinned, and Amanda made me show them the ones she had bought for me, which they all thought were perfect with my dress.

I have to be careful; the weirdness is swallowing my world, again.

Before we left, Amanda made everyone pinky-swear they would never tell anyone about my cross-dressing adventure.

***

Miss Recudes never did make love to me, but eight years later I married a beautiful, young woman who looked like her twin.

Amanda’s personal attendant, Melissa, made a toast about “How do you solve a problem like Maria?” that mystified everyone but a very few, close, close friends.

The whole Peter thing had been handled quietly behind the scenes. Although we never did find out what was said to whom, Peter immediately transferred to a military school in another state. The rumor was he didn’t get “it,” even after his parents and the school officials got all over him; he still said there wasn’t a girl in our high school that didn’t want him.

The Sound of Music was a huge success. Amanda cheered me from the audience as I danced at the ball, in a tweed suit coat and tie.

Brianna played Maria and was fantastic. She told us that Antonio, the boy who played the Baron, was a great kisser.

I never again wore a dress -- but felt like a better person for my experience that weekend. After that day in the mall, my relationship with those girls was much closer than ever before. The five of us hung out a lot.

A year after I married into her family, my wife’s aunt told me a secret about herself that explained why she had so easily jumped to the conclusion ten years earlier that I was transgendered.

It had become trendy for boys to have pierced ears, so I kept mine and wore simple studs thereafter.

Every so often, my wife asks me to wear to bed the earrings she gave me the day we met, so “we can make love all weekend and climax on Sunday afternoon.”

The End

A few weeks ago, I unpublished my stories on this site. I’ve decided to bring them back with updates and editing.

Thanks to Gabi for the review and help.

I have donated a group of stories to BC to help generate revenue for this site. Erin has said that these stories have raised tens of thousands of dollars in revenue for BC. I don’t receive any of that revenue.

If you buy a book from this list on you’re supporting this site.

Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:

Shannon’s Course
Peaches
Sky
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Molly
Texas Two-Step
All Those Thing You Always Died For
Uncivil
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Sexy, Cute, and Popular
Bringing Good Cheer
Baseball Annie

I’ve also allowed Erin to place several of my stories under Premium Stories.

The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
The Ninth Fold
Voices Carry over Water
Residue
To Alleviate Suffering