Gene or Jean? - Part IV - Looking for Answers.
By Pentatonic

Chapter 15 - Am I a Boy or Am I a Girl?

As a result of dressing as a girl for my French class project, I was spending more and more time as a girl. While Sandy had been enthusiastic about my cross-dressing at the start, she seemed less and less in favor of it as time progressed and I spent more time en femme. She wanted a boyfriend.

My Father just didn’t like it. He was reluctant to discuss my cross-dressing; he left it to my Mother to tell me of his concerns. “Your Father had hoped that your cross-dressing was a phase and that you would grow out of it.” she said, “Now he thinks that you might be turning into a girl. He thinks that you are more girl than boy, and he wants you to go to counseling.”

Sandy shared my Dad’s concerns. Therefore, I agreed to go to counseling.

Because my Father was going with my Mother and me. I decided that wearing my boy clothes would be a good idea. The counselor shared an office suite with several other professionals in a building downtown. Nothing really fancy. We told the receptionist that we had an appointment with Dr. Lisa Goodman and a minute later Dr. Goodman escorted us into her office.

“Now, why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” she asked.

“My son, Gene, likes to dress up like a girl, and I’m afraid that he wants to become a girl,” my Dad declared.

“Is that correct, Gene?” she asked me, “do you like to wear dresses and skirts?”

“I do, on occasion, wear a dress or a skirt,” I answered. I decided to not volunteer any information, so aside from answering her question, I said no more.

“So, do you wear any other girls’ clothes when you wear a dress or a skirt?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Everything,” I replied. This time I decided to expand my answer, “panties, pantyhose, slip, camisole, bra and heels.”

“How does that make you feel?” she asked.

“I like it.”

“You’re dressed as a boy right now. Why?” she asked.

“Dad doesn’t like seeing me in a dress or skirt,” I answered.

“Is that right, Mr. Torne?” she asked my Father.

“Yes.”

“How about you, Mrs. Torne?”

“You wouldn’t believe how cute he, or rather she, is when all dressed up in a skirt or dress,” my Mother answered.

“I take it that you approve of his cross-dressing?”

“Well,” my Mother started to say. She then looked at my Father and continued, “I know that my Husband doesn’t like it, so rather than saying I approve it, let’s just say I don’t object.”

“Do you ever help him cross-dress?”

“On occasion. However, my three daughters seem to enjoy helping him dress,” my Mother answered, “So he doesn’t always need my help.”

Dr. Goodman then shifted the conversation. “So, why are we here, and what do you hope to accomplish?” she asked all of us, in general.

“To find out why he likes to cross-dress, and to figure out if he wants to become a girl,” my
Father answered.

“Is that correct, Gene?” Dr. Goodman said.

“Pretty much so,” I answered.

“Why?”

“I’m curious, and I think that my girlfriend would like to know,” I responded.

“You have a girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” I answered.

“Are you and your girlfriend intimate? By that, I mean do you have sex?” she asked.

“Nothing outside of an occasional kiss and hugs,” I responded. From the corner of my eye, I could see that my parents were relieved with this answer.

“Gene, have you ever gone out in public wearing a dress or skirt?” Dr. Goodman asked.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it”

“I had a project in French class, and I sang some cabaret songs in front of the class, and I wore a dress for it because I was imitating Lucienne Boyer. I then filled in for a girl who broke her leg in a musical being produced by my school and had to wear her costume, which included a mini-skirt. I also repeated the cabaret songs at a talent show held by the school. Each of these time, I wore female clothes.”

“How did that go?” she asked.

“Fine, no problem/ My voice range is high enough to sound like a girl.” I answered.

“Tell her about Montreal,” Mother interjected.

“What about Montreal?” Dr. Goodman asked.

“Well, based on my performance at the talent show, a record producer wanted me to do an album of French cabaret songs, which I did. The album and some singles were introduced in Quebec, because all of my singing was in French. The album has been doing fairly well for what it is, and I was invited to Montreal to promote the album and for some concerts. Naturally, I dressed as a girl for all of this. I couldn’t dress as a boy, because my photo as ‘Jean’ was prominent on the CD cover, and everyone expected to see a girl,” I answered.

“So you dressed as a girl when you performed. I can see why you did that. However, do you ever go outside as a girl when you aren’t performing?” she asked.

“Yes. When I shop for clothes, and sometimes just when I feel like doing it,” I responded.

Nothing further was said for a few moments while Dr. Goodman made some notes. She then continued, “Well, before our next session, I have questionnaires for each of you to fill out,” and she handed each of us a questionnaire. I could see that mine was thickest. “I want you to be totally candid with your answers, so it would be best if you didn’t share your responses with each other. If Gene knew that you would see his answers, it may affect what he says.”

Dr. Goodman then turned to Mother, and said, “I want Gene to have a complete physical exam, and to have some blood tests done. I have a list of what tests I want,” and she handed a paper to Mother. “I would like to listen to the CD, if possible, and would like to see some photos of Gene while dressed.”

With that, the session ended.

* * *

My sisters and Sandy wanted to know all about my counseling session. “Well,” said Emma, “do we have a new sister, or still have an icky brother?” I chose to ignore the question.

Sandy wanted to know if I was turning into a girl, for other reasons than those expressed by my sister. “I think we are growing closer,” she confessed, “and I don’t want to be a lesbian.”

The questionnaire was lengthy and comprehensive. I did note a lot of questions which related to whether I thought that I was a girl trapped in a boy’s body, and whether I thought that I should have been born a girl. I gave negative answers to these questions. There were a lot of questions about my sex life, which I found a little amusing, since to date I didn’t have a sex life. Other questions asked if I had ever dated or had sex with a boy. Some of the questions gave me an insight into other sexual practices, such as anal sex. I had never even heard about this before, not even in sex education classes.

The next counseling session was a continuation of the first. We all turned in our completed questionnaires. “I want to review the questionnaires before out next session,” Dr. Goodman said. She then turned to the results of my blood tests. “Gene, the tests show that you have a slight hormone imbalance. Other than that, all of the tests are normal.”

“What does the hormone imbalance mean?” I asked.

“It means that your estrogen level is higher than usual, and your male hormones are slightly lower. It’s nothing to be alarmed about, because the imbalance is not severe. I’d like to monitor it in the future.”

“Does this mean that I’m turning into a girl?” I asked.

“At this time, probably not, since the imbalance is slight. Your doctor noted that you have not started puberty yet, and that must be factored in. When you go through puberty, that all may change. If you notice any changes in your nipples, please bring that to my attention, because that may indicate that the imbalance is increasing.”

Am I growing tits, I wondered?

At the end of that session, Dr. Goodman said, “I’d like to have Gene come to the next session fully dressed as a girl. Mr. Torne,” she said to my Father, “you do not have to attend if seeing your son in a skirt or dress would bother you.”

“I have seen him in a skirt or dress many times, and it does bother me, but what we are doing is important, so I’ll be here,” my Father answered. Dr. Goodman liked his answer and smiled with approval.

I dressed very carefully for my next counseling session. I decided to wear a dark blue knee length skirt, which meant dark pantyhose, black panties and a black half slip. Naturally, I had to wear the corset. Because the corset was black, I decided on a dark brown sweater on top. I wore a pair of black heels. I had Nancy help me with my hair. She pulled it back and used a red hair band. My makeup was daytime, and the colors subdued.

While my parents and I were walking to the car, my Father said, “Despite not liking you wearing girls’ clothes, I must honestly say you look very pretty, pretty enough for a father to be proud of the way his daughter looks. So, rather than being unhappy, I’m trying to be proud of my cute daughter.”

“Dad, that’s the sweetest thing you could say,” I replied, “Thank you,”

Dr. Goodman checked me out when I arrived with my Parents. ‘Stand up tall,” she commanded. “Now turn around.” I slowly turned completely around, and then did a fast twirl, which lifted my skirt. Dr. Goodman smiled.

“Now let me see you walk.” I walked a few steps in her office. “Let’s try this in the hall,” she said, and we all went out into the hall where I walked the length of it several times. When we returned to her office she carefully watched as I sat down. “You present yourself well as a girl,” she said, “how much of that is from practice and how much is natural?”

“My sisters were more than happy to spend countless hours coaching me,” I answered, “so I have no idea how much is natural.”

“But you look all girl,” Dr. Goodman commented. “So there must be something in your appearance that is natural.” She made some notes on a pad.

“You have a feminine figure,” she said, “how do you do that?”

“A corset,” I responded, “a painfully tight corset.”

“Other than the corset, what else are you wearing under your skirt and sweater?” she asked.

“Pantyhose, panties, bra with breast forms, a half slip and a camisole.”

“Am I correct in assuming that you have a complete feminine wardrobe with multiple skirts and dresses, along with underwear?”

“Yes,” I answered. “I needed a lot of clothes for my trip to Montreal,” I explained.

“Are you ever afraid that you will be ‘read’ when out in public?” she asked.

“I’m not aware that it ever happened, so my answer would be no. Of course, a lot of people know that I’m a boy in a dress, by reason of my performances,” I answered.

“You said that you sometimes go out of the house dressed as a girl, for no particular reason, other than to just do it?”

“Yes,”

“Why?”

“I like dressing as a girl. I like the way the clothes feel. I like the way boys check me out, and I just like being a girl,”

“Would you like it if you could dress as a girl all the time?” she asked.

“I haven’t thought about it, because there are so many times, like when I’m in school, when I have to be a boy.” I answered, “and I don’t think that Dad or Sandy would like it.”

“Do you ever imagine yourself getting married, and if so, as a groom or a bride?”

“Both,” I answered, “you see, I am close to Sandy, and if we married, I would have to be a groom. I cannot picture myself as a bride to any of the boys I know, so the boy in my imagination is rather vague.”

“Would you like to have children?”

“I think so,” I admitted, “but I haven’t looked that far ahead.”

“Have you ever dated a boy?”

“No.”

“Do you want to?” she asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied.

Dr. Goodman then changed the direction of our conversation. “Your Father has said he does not like you presenting yourself as a female. Does how he feel impact into what you have told me?” she asked.

“I know how Dad feels. I love him, and I respect his opinions, so I would have to say that how he feels impacts my answers,” I responded. I turned to look at my Father and he looked happy when I said this

“There seems to be uncertainty as to whether you want to be a girl,” Dr. Goodman observed, “we’ll have to explore that in further sessions.”

No conclusions yet.

Chapter 16 - The Dating Game.

Shortly thereafter, I mulled over the question that Dr. Goodman had asked me; if I ever dated a boy. I wasn’t sure that I had even formally went on a date with Sandy. We were close, but had we gone out on a date? I decided to change that.

Sandy and I were studying together one afternoon. “Would you like going out with me to a movie or something like that?” I asked Sandy.

“You mean like on a date?” she responded.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I responded.

“Sure,” she said, “when?” She paused, and then continued, “with the boy Gene or the girl Jean?”

“The boy,” I answered.

“Good!” she said.

I had my drivers’ license by then, so I suggested a movie and pizza. Hardly original. We arrived at the mall with some time before the movie was to start, and Sandy suggested we browse the music collection at one of the stores. While most CD sales were on-line, the store had a reasonable number of CD’s for sale. Tucked away in a corner was a display of foreign language CD’s.

“Let’s look if there are any CD’s which would help us in French class,” she suggested. I noted that there was a terminal to look up CD’s which could be ordered and picked up at the store.

There was a clerk at the terminal. He asked us what interested us.

“French language.” Sandy responded.

“You know, there is a CD in French by a local singer, Jean or something like that. We have it in stock in the foreign language section. One of my friends bought one, and I listened to it. Nice looking chick on the cover, and what a sexy voice. I’d like to meet her.”

I started to blush, but he didn’t see that. “I think I know the CD, and I already have a copy,” Sandy said, “and you are right, she is good looking and her voice is really sexy.” I, the owner of the ‘sexy’ voice continued to blush, but said nothing.

“Are you selling a lot of them?” Sandy asked.

“More than I would have otherwise expected. Maybe because she is from around her, or maybe because she has such a sexy voice. I just don’t know,” he said.

We left the store without buying anything. As we were walking to the movie theater, Sandy could not resist teasing me. “I see that you with the sexy voice said nothing.” she said, “afraid of giving yourself away?”

I just grunted in response.

The movie was nothing special, no Oscars for it in the future. What was special was that when I put my arm on Sandy’s shoulder, she laid her head on mine.

We continued to date. After one of these dates, Sandy said, “We’ve been dating for a while, and you seem to enjoy it. I know that I do.” She then let the other shoe drop. “You’ve never gone on a date with a boy, have you?” I admitted that I hadn’t. “Most girls like going on dates with boys,” she posited. “If you think you are a girl, shouldn’t you at least go on one date with a boy?”

“Wouldn’t that be like cheating on you?” I said.

“Not if you had my approval,” she answered. “I think that you need the experience.”

“No boy has ever asked me out for a date,” I said.

“That’s because all the guys know you’re a boy and going out with me,” she responded.

“If a boy asks me out for a date, I’ll think about it,” I said, “but no promises. What happens if he’s a total jerk? I don’t want to go out with a jerk.”

“Okay, no jerks,” she said.

“I don’t know,” I said, “I’d be scared to go out with a boy,”

“Maybe I can arrange for a double date, if you don’t mind me going out with another guy,” she suggested.

“I don’t like you going out with another guy,” I complained.

“You’re jealous,” she responded, “how sweet.”

Despite my reservations and concerns, Sandy arranged a double date. We would meet the guys at the movie so neither would know my address. Sandy’s date, Bill, was a friend of her cousin. My date, Bob, was a cousin of Bill’s.

Some way my sisters found out about my date. I think that Sandy leaked it to them. In any event, they went into high gear getting me ready. “A little black dress!” exclaimed Emma.

I did not have a little black dress of my own, but Nancy had one that fit me. With my corset, it gave me a nice looking figure. “Pantyhose, or stockings?” was Emma’s suggestion.

“We can put straps on the corset, so stockings are possible,” Nancy said.

I had very little input into the whole process. I wanted to complain that the dress was too short, but to no avail. When they were finished, I looked in the mirror and saw a cute, sexy, teenage girl.

I had told my Parents that I was going on a date. I just didn’t say with whom. My Parents naturally assumed that I was going out with Sandy. In a sense, this was partially true.

I drove to Sandy’s house. Driving in heels was, well, ‘different.’ We did, however, make it safely to the movie theater. Sandy had arranged to meet Bill and Bob at a kiosk in the mall. After introductions and some small talk we went to the theater. We sat together in the theater, Bob to my left and Sandy to my right, and Bill to Sandy’s right.

While in the theater I let the hem of my dress ride up, exposing a hint of my stocking tops. Bob noticed, but then he leaned over to me and whispered, “I appreciate the show, but you should know that I’m into boys, not girls.”

“You mean you’re gay?” I whispered back, “as opposed to being transgendered.”

“Gay, not transgendered,” he whispered in response.

“Then why are we on a date?” I asked.

“My Parents,” he answered, “When I told them I was going on a date with a girl, they were overjoyed. They don’t approve of my orientation. I hope that Bill can take a photo on his phone to show them. It’ll take some of the heat off of me.”

I had to smile at this. If only they knew the truth, they’d probably blow a gasket, I thought.

Halfway through the movie, I decided to try something. I took his hand in mine and held it. He made no attempt to stop me and take his hand back. After the movie, Bill suggested that rather than a pizza we got some takeout and ate it at his house. On the way to his house, Bill and Sandy rode together, That left Bob and me in my car.

On our ride to Bill’s house, Bob said to me, “If I wasn’t gay, I’d really go after you.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” I answered.

“Why,” he asked.

“I’ve got a secret, and if I tell you it’s got to remain a secret. Okay?” I said.

“Okay,” he replied, “so what’s the secret?”

“I’m a boy.” There, it was out.

“You mean that you have a p. . .” he started to say.

I interrupted him in mid sentence, “Yes.”

“Wow,” he said with astonishment, “I’d never have guessed. You look so feminine.”

“That’s the goal of every cross-dresser,” I said, “to look so much like a girl so that no one would guess.”

When we parked in front of Bill’s house, he touched my face with his hand, and turned it toward his. He then leaned over the front seat console and kissed me. I felt his tongue on my lips and opened them up.

When we broke off the kiss, I though, ‘Wow, I’ve just kissed a boy.’

“That was for being so nice,” Bob said, “this evening has to have been weird for you, but it means a lot to me. As you saw, Bill took some photos, which I’m going to show my Parents. My Parents strongly disapprove of my homosexuality. They think it’s a phase which will pass once I met a ‘nice girl. I’m sure that you understand that’s not how it works. Anyway, they demanded that I go on a date with a nice girl. What is really funny is that you are supposed to be the ‘nice girl.’ They are happy that we are going on this date. If they knew all of the facts, they would go ballistic.”

“I think that I understand,” I said, “My Dad really hates my cross-dressing, but he tolerates it because of the money.”

“What money?”

“I recorded a CD of French cabaret songs as a girl, and I’ve been receiving royalties from the sales. Not a lot of money, but Dad can’t ignore it. Anyway, I am glad if I can help you with your parents.”

With that, we went into Bills house to eat the take-out food.

While driving home with Sandy, she asked, “Now that wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“No, I actually had a good time,” I answered.

“Did Bob tell you about his parents?”

“Yeah,” I answered, “and Bob and I think that it’s really funny that I’m the girl.”

“So you told him?” Sandy asked.

“Yeah, it seemed to be the right thing to do.”

“Did you kiss him?”

“We kissed,” I replied.

“Did you like it?” she asked.

“It was nowhere as good as kissing you,” I answered.

“Good answer,” she said with a smile.

Chapter 17 - Meeting Bob’s Parents.

I was surprised when Bob called me a week later. “You’ve been super, and I had a good time on our date. Something has come up, and I’d like to ask you for a favor.”

“Ask away,” I responded, “the worst thing that can happen is that I refuse.”

“You may want to, after you hear what I’m asking,” he continued. “You see, my parents saw the photos of our date, and now they want to meet you, and want me to invite you to a barbeque this Sunday afternoon at my house.”

“I’m going to assume that you want me to look like a girl. So what’s so bad about that?” I asked, “aside from the possibility that I’ll drip barbeque sauce on my rack.”

“Well, my parents are a little intense,” he answered. “You see, they invited some friends and relatives, and they want to show you off as my girlfriend. They are a bit embarrassed that I’m gay. They hope that you being there will show that I’m not gay. I don’t like it, but you can understand that I want them off my case for a while, and you being there could do it. It might not be a lot of fun for you, but you seem to be the kind of person who can handle it.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said. “I understand your situation, and I’ll do what I can to make your life easier.”

“Thanks a whole bunch,” he said, “I owe you. There’s one other thing. My parents are both professors. My Dad teaches French.”

“Well, then I’ll wow them with my language skills,” I said.

* * *

That Sunday, I took great care in what I wore and my appearance. I had told my Mother and Sisters what was happening, and my Sisters went into high gear.

“What kind of look do you want?” asked Nancy.

“I want to look like an innocent, demure young lady,” I answered.

“Look here, sister,” Emma declared, “we’re good, but we can’t do magic. Demure we can do, but you innocent? No way.” After going through my wardrobe and my Sisters’ wardrobes, we finally decided on a plain white A-line skirt that was about four inches above my knees, a pink frilly blouse with chiffon sleeves and a pair of white tennis shoes.

My Mother observed all of this. “I don’t think it’s nice to deceive Bob’s Parents,” she declared.

“You mean, like you never deceived Dad?” Emma stated.

“That’s different,” Mom said.

“Is that because you’re married to him?” Emma questioned. My Mother gave us a dirty look in response, and then decided to change the topic of discussion.

“You need a white purse,” she said, “I think I have just the purse,” she said, and she went to get the purse.

* * *

When I arrived at Bob’s house, he met me at the door. “You look wonderful,” he said, “all girl. Let me introduce you to my Parents and some of the guests.” There were a lot of guests. “My folks want to show you off to everyone,” he said, “Their idea, not mine.”

Bob’s parents appeared to be glad to meet me. “Enchantee,” Bob’s Father said.

“Merci,” I replied.

“Do you speak French?” he asked, with a hopeful tone in his voice. Speaking in French, I replied that I was taking French in school. He immediately responded with a torrent of French, probably to test my fluency. I understood most of what he said, and I was able to make suitable responses, also in French.

“You seem to be quite fluent,” he said. “I’m impressed.”

Bob’s Mother interrupted, “He’s always happy to meet someone who speaks French. He thinks that it should be a mandatory rule that everyone learn French. He’s disappointed that Bob isn’t that fluent” Bob’s Dad gave her a dirty look, but otherwise ignored the dig.

“Have you ever heard any French songs?” he asked. I admitted that I had. “I recently bought a CD of French cabaret songs. You want to hear it?”

Bob’s Mother interrupted again, “She didn’t come here to listen to that frog music,” she said. Bob’s Dad didn’t like the use of the word ‘frog’ for ‘French.’

I began to get a funny feeling about this CD. Could it be the one I recorded, I wondered?

Bob’s Mother introduced me to all of the relatives and guests as ‘Bob’s girlfriend,’ which I found interesting. While circulating I noticed that they had a Bosendorfer piano.

“That’s a beautiful piano,” I said.

“Do you play?”

“Some,” I answered.

Despite the disparaging remark about ‘frog’ music, Bob’s Dad found the CD and carried it over to me. It indeed was the one I had recently recorded. He looked at the cover picture and at me, and then repeated the same. I could see him making the connection. “Mildred,” he announced, “Bob’s girlfriend is the singer on this CD!”

“How nice,”she absently responded. Then what he had said hit her. “What?” she exclaimed as she snatched the CD from her husband’s hands. Like her husband she repeatedly looked at me and the CD cover. “Well, I must say, you’ve made his day.”

She turned to her husband. “She doesn’t have to hear any of the songs on this CD, she’s heard them millions of times.”

“Would you sing one for us?” Bob’s Dad asked.

“My pleasure,” I responded.

“Hey, everyone,” Bob’s Dad announced as he waved the CD in the air, “Bob’s girlfriend is the singer on this CD, and she’s willing to sing one of the songs for us.”

“How about Parlez-moi D’Amour?” I asked.

“Great choice,” he responded, and I sat down at the piano, smoothing my skirt under me as I did. I played a brief introduction, and then launched into the song. When I finished I stood up and curtseyed to the applause.

A few minutes later Bob came up to me. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said.

“That’s alright, no problem,” I responded with a smile.

“You’ve really made Dad’s day,” he commented. “I don’t know what he’ll do when we break up.” We had planned to tell everyone that I had made up with my boyfriend and that Bob and I would not be dating anymore.

Later on, Bob’s Dad took me aside. “How many years of French have you taken?” he asked.

“This is my third year,” I answered.

“Any plans to major in French in college?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

“As you know, I teach French, and your grasp of the language and pronunciation are very good. I would be happy to have you consider going to my school and taking French. You probably would not have to take the introductory courses, but go directly into the advanced courses.”

One song was followed by another, and the barbeque evolved into a musical soiree. As a parting gesture I autographed the CD cover, which greatly pleased Bob’s Dad.

Bob and I were able to find a few minuted to be with each other. “I really want to thank you for all you’ve done. You made a real hit with my Parents, and taken some heat off of me. If you and Sandy weren’t an item, I’d like to date you, since you are a boy.”

“I’m not into that scene, but I’ll take what you said as a compliment,” I responded, “Thank you.”

When I arrived back home, my Mother wanted to know how it went. I related that Bob’s Dad was a professor of French, and that he had my CD, and connected me with the CD. “So, I did a lot of singing,” I said. I met up with Sandy the next day and she wanted to know the same. I gave her the same answer which I gave my Mother.

Later on, I related the events to Mlle. Vert. It turned out that she knew Bob’s Dad. “He thinks that I’m a girl, so please don’t tell him that I’m not,” I asked her.

Chapter 18 - Dad comes around.

It was after a counseling session that my Father and I had a frank talk. “I’m well aware of the fact that you have been sneaking out while dressed as a girl.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘sneaking,’ it’s more like I don’t flaunt my dressing in front of you because I know you don’t like it,” I said.

“I appreciate that you don’t want to cause me discomfort,” he said, “but I feel like you are dressing behind my back.”

“So, what do you want me to do, other than stopping dressing entirely?” I asked.

“Well, I know that there are times when you have to dress as a girl, like when it deals with your CD, but I also know that you also dress as a girl just for the fun of it.” He paused for a few seconds. “I can deal with you dressing as a girl. I don’t like it, but I don’t want to be cut out of parts of your life. What I propose is that you not conceal your dressing from me, with the understanding that I don’t approve, but with the further understanding that I will not forbid you from dressing whenever you wish.”

“I hope what you mean is that I can wear a dress or skirt anytime I’m going out or even when I’m at home in the same room as you,” I said.

“That’s pretty much it,” he responded, “but in doing so, I would like you to refrain from looking like a hooker.”

“I can live with that,” I responded.

“And no prancing around half dressed,” he said.

“Okay, no prancing,” I agreed, with a smile at my own cleverness.

“Wait,” he said, “the important part is not ‘prancing’ but in being half dressed.”

“Okay, nothing that my sisters wouldn’t do,” I assured him.

“Wait a minute,” he said, “you know I don’t have any control over them. Don’t use them as a role model. I’m hoping that you will be more modest.” I had to smile at this comment.

With that we called Mother in and told her what Dad and I had decided. One positive result was that Dad would tell me how nice I looked when dressed even if he didn’t like it. “I love you, and I don’t stop loving you when you wear a dress,” he said.

Chapter 19 - Confusion at Counseling.

I had a private session with Dr. Goodman where I had an opportunity to tell my counselor about my date with Bob, and the reasons. “Did you kiss him?”she asked.

“Yes.”

“Anything more?” she then asked.

“No.”

“Did you enjoy kissing him?” she asked.

“It was okay, but I like kissing Sandy more,” I answered.

“You knew that Bob was gay when you kissed. Do you think that this affected how you felt about kissing him?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied, “it did seem a little gay, and I don’t think that I’m gay.”

“Have you ever thought about dating a straight boy?” she asked

“Not really,” I responded, “I don’t think that Sandy would approve.”

My counselor made some notes. “You don’t have a lot of experience in sexual relationships, which makes it difficult to determine your preferences,” she said. “Have you noticed any physical changes?”

“Not really,” I said.

“Why don’t you and Sandy discuss you going on dates with boys.” she suggested.

Sandy and I discussed my dating boys. She didn’t like the idea at all, even thought my counselor had suggested it. I, of course, didn’t know any boys who would want to date me.

Except for Bill. I ran across him at the mall, when I was dressed. “You look pretty good,” he said, “You want to catch a movie this weekend?”

‘Wow,’ I thought, ‘I’ve just been asked for a date by a boy.’

“Sure,” I answered.

I dressed very carefully for my date. I wanted to favorably impress him. I wore an A-line skirt and blouse. Underneath it, I decided to wear nylons and my corset. While at the movie, I felt him put his arm around me, and I put my head on his shoulder. Then he kissed me. It was wonderful, as good as kissing Sandy. Bill and I continued to date, and I let his hands have a freer range. While I told Sandy about the dates, I didn’t go into great detail, but rather I made it seem like I was only doing it because of what my counselor had suggested. I knew that sooner or later, we would have to go beyond kissing and hugging. That opportunity arose one Sunday afternoon when I was at his house. His parents were not home. He made a suggestion of what we could do. I didn’t want to. I was a boy, not a girl, and that left me with a negative feeling. Because of that and because Sandy did not like my dating Bill, I stopped going out with him.

I related my experiences to my counselor. Rather than reaching any conclusions, it just created more questions. “I don’t think you know what you want to do at this time. I suggest we hold off making any decisions until we get a better idea of what you really want to do,” she said.

Chapter 20 - Another CD.

It was at the end of my junior year at highschool that I received a call from Mr. Phillips, my record producer. “Nicholas and I were discussing you the other day. Your CD went over better than we expected, and we were trying to figure out whether it makes sense to produce another. We may want to change the format somewhat, since I think that the market has enough French cabaret songs.”

“What kind of format are you looking for?” I asked.

“You’ve got a sexy voice, so something that would capitalize on that point. If you’re interested in that, Nicholas and I will scout around for likely music.”

“How about I write my own songs?” I ventured.

“You can do that?” he said, with a strain of disbelief in his voice.

“I’ve done a few, and I think that I can.”

“Then why don’t you see if you can do some more and make a rough tape for us to hear.”

“Okay,” I said.

I spent my free time over the next month working on composing some songs. The music was difficult enough but the lyrics were harder. During this process, I discovered that it made sense to have the lyrics down first, rather than trying to get the lyrics to fit a melody which I had written.

At last I had about 20 songs, some better than others. If I wrote additional verses for some of them I felt that I could fill a CD. Of course, the producers may not like any or all of them. Using a digitizer and some microphones I made up a CD and sent it to them.

As expected, some of the songs were rejected, but Mr. Phillips and Mr. Nicholas liked the others. “We’ll get the rights to some other songs, and we’ll have enough for a CD. The ones you wrote we’ll release as singles. As to the ones we rejected, we’ll put the scores up for sale. Maybe some other singer will want to record them. Naturally, we will copyright all of the songs as well as your singing. We want to hold the copyright, and we will pay you for assigning the rights, independent of how well the songs do on the market.” Mr. Phillips handed me a contract. “Take this to your lawyer and let us know as soon as possible, since we want to start recording in the near future.”

They had suggested that some strings would work well with the songs, and I went back home to write string parts. “If you have problems with the string parts, I know an arranger who can take care of it. In fact, we might want the arranger to work on all of the songs.”

When all of this was done, we started recording. The arrangements were well done, and I had practiced all of the songs at home, so we ended up doing more songs in each session than they had planned. Naturally, both Mr. Phillips and Mr. Nicholas were pleased with this because it reduced the production costs.

When the music was released, Mr. Phillips called Ms. Stone, the critic for the local paper and she interviewed me again. It was later that I found out that our local paper was syndicated, and the interview was published in quite a few papers. This really helped sales. For the second time, I traveled around promoting the CD and giving concerts, not as the headliner, but as a warm up for the main act. This time I took Nancy with me as my manager.

Chapter 21 - Music Video.

My senior year in high school was not particularly notable. Sandy and I continued to date. I took a fourth year of French. I received royalties for my second CD. But there were a few notable exceptions. I was driving in my car and I heard one of my rejected songs being performed. At first I didn’t recognize it, because the singer’s style was so different from mine, however, her style suited what I had written.

One day Mr. Phillips called. “I’ve had some inquiries about you writing additional songs. I think you need an agent to handle this.” Our family lawyer knew some agents, and soon I was connected with one. One of the first things my agent did was to suggest making a music video.

Mr. Nicholas agreed to front the cost of producing the video, provided that he and Mr. Phillips could tell me what to wear. “We want something sexy. This is the entertainment business, so we don’t want to hear anything about only being a sex object. Just face the fact that if you look sexy, the more both of us make on the video.”

“How about the dress I wore before?”

“You looked good, but we are thinking about something slinky with a slit that will allow you to show some leg.”

“Who pays for it?” I wanted to know.

“We’ll rent it, so we’ll pay,” Mr. Nicholas answered, “I want you to go to this shop, and ask for Margie. She knows what we want,” and with that he handed me a card from the shop.

My sisters were really interested in this. “If you’re going to show some leg, you might want to consider stockings and garters, rather than pantyhose,” Nancy advised.

I called the shop and made an appointment to meet with Margie and gave her my sizes and measurements. The day before going to the shop, I visited the beauty salon. “It has to look sexy,” I told Sally, and sexy was what I got. I spent a lot of time getting dressed and applying my makeup.

When I went to the shop Margie had selected some dresses for me to try on. “All you have to do is put them on. Mr. Nicholas said that I was to chose which one you will wear.” All of the dresses were revealing and all had a slit to show off a leg. When she made her decision, she said, “You know the color, so select your hose to go with it.”

Mr. Nicholas and I arranged the date for the shooting of the video. When this was done he said, “Don’t worry about your makeup and hair. I’ll hire a makeup girl and a hairdresser for the session, in addition to Margie. I’ll also hire some studio musicians to accompany you, since you’ll be busy strutting your stuff and singing.”

On the day for the video, Nancy went with me, even though my other sisters wanted to go. I wore stockings, not pantyhose, and everything that would go with the dress which Margie had selected.

We arrived before everyone else. Someone had set up the area for the video, with a backdrop. The studio provided a director, who went over what I should do and where. We then practiced the songs and the director made some changes in what I was to do. By the time we were finished Margie, the makeup artist, and the hairdresser had arrived. “The rest of the people will be here in forty-five minutes. See if you can have her ready by then.” When I had my costume and makeup on and my hair fixed, the musicians and the video crew were there. I ran through everything, and some changes were made in the lighting. Then the actual shooting began. While the director was pleased with the first take, we did some additional ones, just to be sure. After that I took off the dress and gave it back to Margie.

I was pleased when the video was released and I saw some of my classmates watching it on their tablets and cell phones. No one connected me, as Eugene, with the girl in the music video.

No answers yet.