Chapter 15 - Connie Returns

Saturday Morning
"Mmmm," came a sleepy voice. "I could get to like waking up with your hand on my breast."

"You weren't saying that the first time your breast ended up in my hand. As I recall, you were saying something rather salacious."

"I've reconsidered. Leave your hand there as long as you want."

"I'd try my luck putting it some other places, but if you really want to see Connie ice skating we'll have to get up shortly."

"I've reconsidered."

"Your choice. Seems a shame to waste all your effort convincing my mother to do our ice dance routine for you."

"Choices. Always choices."

You were the one who wanted to see Connie in full bloom, remember?"

"Hot sex or a hot girlfriend. Choices, choices."

"In any case, I've got to pee. You really don't want a wet girlfriend in bed with you."

"Yucch! My boyfriend is gross."

"We could shower together and save water."

"You've got a deal."

It takes a while to dry my waist-length hair, so Julie got dressed while I brushed and blew myself dry. It was quite enjoyable watching her take the time to get dressed up, usually we had to hurry to put our clothes back on because a roommate was going to be back soon and we almost always pushed the limits of the time we had alone together. I'm sure she was putting on a show for me now that we had time to enjoy the show.

Normally I would wear a dress or a skirt-and-blouse combination to the rink and change into my skating things in the locker room. This morning I was putting on a show for Julie, who wanted to see just how I managed my transformation. I have to admit I was willing to show off. We had used bras and panties and stockings in our sex play, but she had never seen the Connie completely put together.

"I'm going to have to get a new pair of tights, I think, The elastic is just about gone on these after sitting in a drawer for a couple of years."

"You should have spares, girl."

"I know, but if I had spares they'd probably be shot, too."

"I guess. They look like they'll last for a day. What's with the two pairs of panties?"

"The outfit is designed to show off my crotch when the skirt flies up. I know you get off looking at my cock, but Connie shouldn't have one. Since I'm not about to cut it off I have to disguise it. Did you know that if I'm careful I can push my balls up inside somewhere and then the panties hold them in there. Much less obvious."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"Not too much, and it's OK for a few hours of skating. I prefer long, full skirts if I'm not on the ice."

"What comes next?"

"The padded panty."

"Another one?"

"One of the girls at the rink clued me in about them. Seems I'm not the only girl who needs a little help under these costumes. You practically have to know the secret code and knock three times to find anyone that sells them, but it can be done."

That's the only ad I could find on line from the era, such things weren't widely advertised. Naturally my padded panty didn't have any material on the legs because the skating costume stopped at my crotch. Like Julie observed, it took a lot of effort to be Connie on the ice.

"You put a lot of effort into being Connie. I bet that thing helps if you fall on your ass."

"It doesn't hurt."

"All those layers probably helps keep you warm."

"You'd be surprised how fast I can work up a sweat on the ice."

"You look funny with a girl's ass and a man's chest."

"Then I suppose I should put on my bra. You don't have to put on yours, though."

"Pervert."

"And who's watching a man transform himself into a woman and loving it?"

"We fit together so well, don't we? So these are what you use to fill your bra. They look like they are getting cracked."

"Crap! You're right. I'm going to have to look into getting replacements."

"Does that mean that Connie will really come home with me?"

"Try and stop me."

"Can I make a long distance call on your phone?"

"As long as it doesn't take too long."

I have to interrupt here for readers who grew up in the cell phone age. When I was in college the phone company had a quaint practice called "Long Distance Calling." This meant if you called anyone more than a few miles from your wired-into-the-wall telephone you were charged extra fees by the minute! This had resulted in several very irate letters from parents to those guys on the floor who had spent too much time talking to the girl back home.

The system included a complex system of calling zones, which meant the farther away you called the more they charged. To add another layer of complexity, calling after 11 PM was cheaper than calling in the evening, which was cheaper than calling during the day.

The availability of gender conformation surgery in our modern era is not the only reason I'm glad I'm still kicking in 2020. Making a phone call is much easier, too.

Now you know why Julie had to ask if she could make a phone call, so back to the story.

Julie had a mysterious smile on her face when she returned.

"How did you get rid of the feathers?" I asked.

"What the devil are you talking about?"

"You're smiling like the cat that ate the canary. What happened to the feathers?"

"I sent them out to be made into a boa to wrap around your scrawny neck."

"I'm not sure I have anything to go with yellow."

"You didn't wait so I could watch you finish dressing."

"All that's left is the dress. Could you do the zipper?"

"Mmmm. That's usually a question you ask when you're wearing jeans."

"Stop that! I'm rather constrained to be thinking of things like that."

"Heh, heh, heh."

"Just wait until tonight. Can you be quiet enough not to disturb my parents?"

"Well, if I had something in my mouth…"

"I told you to stop that."

"If you insist."

"You want to do my hair?"

"Of course."

One of our pleasures was to brush each other's hair. We needed something special to go with the provocative skating costume, so she sectioned and created several long braids, which she fashioned into a crown of glory pinned to my head. Perfect for keeping it out of the way while skating and dramatic enough that I wished she had been around the last time I competed for a prize. I was sure that the male judges counted looks as a part of the scores, no matter what the official rules said. Connie was once again ready to face the world.

It felt good to be back on the ice. It felt good to be back as Connie. Why had I ever tried to hide from this? As I was stretching my muscles prior to skating, I wondered just why I hadn't been born a girl.

It may seem funny after several years of dressing as a girl that I had never really wished I had been born a girl. I had often wanted to be a girl, but there was really no way that could happen. I was destined to be a man who liked to dress as a woman, so I just had to learn to enjoy that.

And enjoy it I did. Being on the ice and dancing with my mother was a joyful experience. If you ever want to feel like a woman, I highly recommend ice skating. You must have seen how a woman can glide across the vast expanse of ice, arms spread, one skate on the ice, the other leg behind her and her breasts plowing ahead in the air like the prow so some sailing ship on the high seas.

We started off easy, just skating around a few times, then worked our way up to some of the various jumps. I'll try to keep it simple, the moves that catch the eye are the jumps, and they have names like Axel, Lutz, Salchow and Loop. What they have in common is both skates leave the ice, you spin your body around one, two or - if you're really good - three times in the air and then land without sprawling or hurting your ass. Of course that makes your skirt flare out and your panty clad crotch is right there to make the men start drooling. I suppose some women would start drooling, too, but I'm not going to comment on that.

OK, that's vastly oversimplified. What differentiates the jumps is where on the blade you start and finish the jump and which way you're going when you land. If you really want to know, Google it, there are lots of places that explain in detail.

The art is in how you combine those jumps, some land with you going forward, some with you going backward, there are endless permutations, and working out a graceful sequence of moves counts for a lot.

If you've a partner, the possibilities expand. If it's a male-female pair (or looks that way) then the guy gets to toss the girl around and maybe spin her in the air a few times. Then they do those impressive spins where he rotates like a top at the center and she stretches out and tries to cut a big hole through the ice with her skates, drowning them both at as a six-foot disk of ice sinks into the sea below them. Sorry, that's a bit of black ice humor. Of course it isn't really true.

Suffice it to say that Mom and I found our old groove and put on a show for Julie and anyone else in the place. Ice dancing routines rely more on synchronized movements that mesh with the music being played. We had agonized endlessly over the music for our routines, there being a generational difference in musical tastes. The term 'catfight' might have been appropriate at times, but we always found a compromise and obviously it was a good one as we took several prizes.

Since we were just two of many people on the ice for an open skate we didn't have any music that morning, but we managed. As we discovered our old rhythm people began to notice and gave us room, skaters are nice that way. Our sequence derived from the tango actually drew some applause, good to know we still had it.

I even did a couple of double jumps when I was feeling confident. I had accomplished a triple a few times when we were skating every weekend, but I wasn't going to try it after being off the ice for so long.

By the time we finished, I was really wishing I had been born a girl so I could be doing this without having to pad my body. I pushed that thought down and resolved to live in the joy of the moment and enjoy being a girl for the time being.

Later, in the locker room, I showered and changed into street clothes. The ice rink was a part of a rather fancy club which my parents had joined when we got serious about ice skating. This was a far cry from a town recreation rink or the "Y," with their open, echoing communal showers and hard wooden benches between ranks of steel lockers. If that were the case, Connie would have been hauled off to the hoosegow the first time she changed her clothes.

There were a series of individual cubicles with hangers, seats, shelves and a substantial curtain for privacy. The toilet facilities were individual cubicles as well.

I had been pretty nervous the first few times I had gone skating as Connie, but after a few weeks it all became perfectly normal. After having denied Connie for so long I rather went crazy and extra feminine. I had found a pair of black, patterned stockings still in their wrapping that were still wearable, and held them up with a bright red garter belt covered by red, frilly panties. Sadly, I didn't have a red bra to go with them, but the black one set them off nicely. I hoped Julie would appreciate them tonight when we undressed for bed.

Then a full length, red-and-white polka-dotted skirt that just barely revealed the 3" patent leather heels on my feet and a high-necked white blouse with a ridiculously big, frilly ruffle down the front. And yes, I had chosen it so that the world could see I was wearing a black bra underneath. I was plainly announcing that Connie was back and she was not going away.

Mom was glowing as she emerged from her cubicle, I wasn't the only one who had enjoyed our mother-daughter reunion. We stood side-by-side at the big mirror and did our makeup, (I had picked up new makeup supplies because I knew anything left after two and a half years would be trash!) trying to suppress our grins so we could put the stuff on our faces. It's hard to do your lipstick when you're grinning like a fool

Julie approved of my choices and gave me a kiss - on the cheek since we were in public. It may have been the seventies but two women exchanging a passionate kiss would have been anywhere from awkward to scandalous.

Dad didn't have such limitations. He gave Mom a full-bore, spoke-wire-wheeled smack that lasted quite a while. I'm sure there was some tongue involved. I hoped that Julie wouldn't be the only one trying to be quiet tonight. Does that mean I'm finally grown up if I can think of Mom and Dad pumping away in bed without going 'yucch!'?

So we did lunch, Julie charming my parents with her outrageous commentary and irreverent opinions. We agreed on a movie, then left my poor dad to sit on a bench while we three women window shopped, and finally had dinner at a steakhouse. We figured a steak was would be a reward for Dad's patience.

Not that we sat there and nibbled diet salads or anything, we enjoyed our food, just a much smaller portion than our manly protector did. This was the seventies - gyms were the province of weightlifters and boxers and other macho types, the whole eating natural and healthy craze was years in the future. Food was there to be enjoyed, not measured and portioned and analyzed for vitamins and trace minerals. Even though I've been a complete woman for nigh on to thirty years, I still enjoy my food, but I eat in moderation.

Sunday Morning
I was bummed, and yes, I know that's another anachronism for the time period and I don't care. Conrad was back after one glorious day of finding out Connie had most emphatically not gone away. Conrad was packing Connie's clothes but wasn't going to be wearing them.

After two and a half years, many of Connie's clothes were somewhat dated, and not only those that had come from Grandmother's attic. With Julie's help we were easily able to assemble enough for a couple of weeks as Connie. Yes, I know we had only a week, but a girl's got to have options!

With a little effort, they all fit into a suitcase from the attic. Remember this was the early seventies, so suitcases didn't have wheels yet. Sometimes the most obvious things elude designers. I suppose those designers were men, men who thought the big, strong man would be hefting that suitcase for his little woman.

So what happens if you're both the big strong man and the little woman? You can flip a coin, but I still had to lug two suitcases to the bus and then across the campus. Connie's suitcase stayed in Julie's room, I didn't trust Arthur or the lousy little lock on the suitcase. I wasn't going to explain to my roommate (still pretty much a stranger after all this time) what I was doing with bras, panties and dresses.

Once again, my seventy year old self has to point out how unworldly I was at that time. While sex roles were changing and feminism was on the rise, the chances of finding two sets of parents who would accept a crossdresser were astronomically small! I just accepted it because that's the way I wanted it to be. Amazing I managed to live long to make it to seventy.