I was already abed Wednesday, when I heard a faint knock on my door. I turned up my lamp, opened the door, and found Constance in an agitated state.
“Constance, what is wrong, dear?”
“Oh, Miss! I don’t know what to do. I can’t talk to mother, she’d kill me!”
“Kill you? What ever for?”
“I’ve miss my monthlies twice now.” Tears were streaming down her face. “I must be with child.” She broke into loud sobs that would surely rouse the household.
“Come in,” I said, grabbing her by the arm and quickly shutting the door. “You must control yourself or you will wake everyone.”
“You’re … right.” Her breath was catching with muffled sobs.
“What can I do for you?”
“I … I don’t know. I just needed to talk to someone. I don’t know what to do.”
“I assume the father is Liam Pendergast, the blacksmith’s apprentice?”
“Yes. … How did you know?”
“I saw you going into the apple orchard together.”
“Oh. … Yes, he’s the only one I’ve been with.”
“Well, I could have told you how to avoid getting with child, but it is too late now. … So, have you told him?”
“No, I have been scared.”
“Well, you must. Do you think he will marry you?”
“Oh, yes! We talk of it all the time. He has finished his apprenticeship, but needs $100 for tools to set up on his own. Until he does he can't support a wife. He's only saved $47, and I $16.”
“Hmm … I do not have anywhere near enough to make up the difference, Constance.”
“I wasn’t asking …”
“I know. … Let me think. … When I was waiting for the train, I saw a notice nailed to the station. They are looking for a blacksmith at the railway shops in White Planes. The position may still be open. Maybe you could tell him?”
“Thank you, miss.”
“In the meantime, you must tell your mother. She was your age once and will understand.”
“I don’t know …”
“Be a brave girl.”
“Alright, I will.”
Saturday, I returned to Manhattan – flush in anticipation of my rendezvous. Caroline awaited me on the platform, not far from where I had faced the man in grey. We greeted each other with a warm embrace – not unusual for two women.
It was a fine Spring day. So we opted to walk rather than take the horsecar. Near where we first met, we turned onto a side street. A few doors down we ascended the stoop of a modest townhouse. Caroline used her key to enter, and led me to the parlor. I was introduced to Mrs. Wells, a woman in her seventies and perspicuously hard of hearing. Then we ascended to Caroline’s chambers – a small sitting room and a smaller bedroom.
“Oh Nancy, I’ve wanted to be alone with you since I first saw you on the omnibus,” she said as we sat on a small settee. Soon she was across my lap, teaching me to kiss as the French do. I had the most delicious feelings – first in my bosom as she caressed me and then in my nether region. As a result, my milk came down and, for fear of staining my dress, I took my bodice down,
“Oh my, you have milk! May I taste it?”
I guided my teat to her moist lips. Soon, she fell into the role of infant, calling me “mommy.” I felt drawn to the maternal role, just as I had been with Edward and Alexander – but now my maternal feelings were accompanied by a lascivious excitement. As Caroline tongued and nibbled my teat, she changed positions. Soon, her hand made its way under my skirt – progressing up between my thighs. Suddenly, I was convulsed with waves of pleasure such as I had never felt. I cried out uncontrollably as my body arched in spasms of ecstasy. Caroline looked up in seeming gratitude at my response.
When I recovered, I apologized in embarrassment for my outcry.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. Wells can’t hear a thing, and I have heard far louder cries from the neighbors – especially from Mrs. Johnson when her husband is absent and her gentleman caller has come.
“Now, it’s my turn. I have not yet come to ecstasy …”
“What must I do?”
She led me to her bed. I followed, anxious to return the pleasure I had experienced. There she schooled me in feminine intimacy.
When we finished, we were both exhausted – and famished. We dressed and descended to the kitchen. As we passed the parlor, Mrs. Wells asked if I was enjoying my visit. When I responded, “Yes. Very much,” she winked. I became crimson with embarrassment.
“She knows. I thought you said she could not hear?”
“She can’t, but she is a woman of the world, Nancy.”
Over a luncheon of cold chicken, bread and cheese, we each discussed our week. When I told her of my wearing tongs, she became newly animated.
“Could you dress-up for me?”
“What do you mean? My tongs are in Yonkers.”
“Oh, that is no problem. Mrs. Wells has asked me to dispose of her late husband’s wardrobe, but I am yet to do so. Shall we see if his things fit you?”
They fit surprisingly well, except over my bosom, which spread the shirt buttons in an unseemly fashion.
Caroline corrected this by binding me with a length of flannel. Once I donned a waistcoat and jacket, I looked every bit a man from the neck down. Next she removed of my lip balm and rouge, rearranged my hair and covered it with a felt hat. Finally, she took a snippet of my hair and fashioned a thin moustache and goatee with the aid of gum. I was stunned by the young man staring back from her glass.
Caroline was quite taken with the new me, and I played the role of a seductive beau for some time – a role I found strangely natural and satisfying. Alas, neither of us had attended to the tolling of the hours. When I finally did, there was insufficient time for me to both return to my womanly persona and catch the train. In a panic, Caroline put my feminine attire in a shopping bag while I transferred the contents of my purse to Mr. Wells’ shoulder bag.
As I left the house, Mrs. Wells said, “Well, if you’re not the man about town! Caroline is going to have a severe scolding for entertaining a gentleman in her rooms!” Then, she doubled over laughing.
I could only blush and hurry out the door – carrying the shopping bag and wondering where I could change back into a woman. At the station the conveniences were clearly labeled “Gentlemen” and “Ladies.” Neither would serve my purpose. I reflected that the WC on the train was open to both sexes and determined to make my metamorphosis there.
