"Who's that girl at the corner table?" Frankie the Nose asked.

Larry Hodge took a look. "Uh, boss, that's a guy."

Frankie Al Nez withered his henchman with a glance. "I know a dame when I see one. Bring her up to my room at three." He stood up and left the dining room.

Packy Bellafonte, the muscle, looked at Larry, worried. "Uh, that is a guy, isn't it?"

Larry stood up. "Boss says the kid is a dame now, he's a dame now. We'd better go persuade her to get dressed for her date."

Davey pushed long hair out of his face again. He liked to read at corner tables in quiet out-of-the-way restaurants where his noisy roommates couldn't disturb him.

He looked up, aware of someone looming over him. He expected to tell a waiter that, no, he did not need any more coffee.

Two large men stood between him and the room. "Come with us, Miss," said the one with the mustache.

"Miss?" said Davey. "I'm afraid you're making a mistake."

The mustache shook his head. "No. But you will if you don't come along without making a scene."

They took him to a hair salon in the hotel across the street.

"Give her the works," said Larry to Beth, the hairdresser.

"I'm not a ..." Davey began.

"Shaddup," warned Packy, the muscle.

Beth owed Frankie the Nose so she just nodded.

"Don't cut her hair, Boss likes long hair," added Larry. "He likes blondes, too." He shrugged.

"I'm not ..." Davey tried again.

"Shaddup," said Packy.

Beth leaned close to Davey's ear. "You've got nice bones, let's keep them that way," she whispered.

Davey looked at Packy's fists and decided to sit quietly while Beth went to work.

"What would she look good in?" Larry asked.

"She's slim and tall -- a long, straight skirt with a high waist line?" Beth suggested. "And blue looks good on girls with her coloring."

"I'm ..." Davey began but Packy cracked his knuckles and Davey thought better of it.

"I don't suppose you know your dress size?" Larry asked.

"No idea," agreed Davey.

"A Misses 10," the cosmetologist guessed. She applied hot wax to Davey's eyebrows.

"Boss likes 'em slutty," Packy offered.

"A leather dress slutty enough?" Larry asked.

Beth worked her nail tip under the cooled wax. "Pretty slutty," she agreed.

Beth quickly styled Davey's long straight hair into soft curls using only water and a curling iron.

Finished, she went back to working on Davey's face, the foundation now dry enough to cover imperfections, including evidence of a beard. Next she went in with eyeliner, lipliner, eyeshadow, mascara, lip color and gloss.

Davey watched as Beth transformed him from mostly harmless college nerdboy to devastatingly beautiful blonde. The makeup went just a bit over the top.

After glancing at Packy (busy with an issue of Vogue, his lips moving), Davey whispered, "I look like a cheap hooker."

"No," said Beth.

Davey wanted to scratch his nose but with both arms under the cloth -- bib? cape? -- tied around his neck, he couldn't.

"Don't make faces," Beth warned. "Your face might crack."

Larry came back just then with a big, red-headed woman following him. "This is Little Ruby," he said.

Davey looked up at the woman, a little frightened at the intensity she looked back at him with.

"You do good work, honey," Ruby told Beth. She pursed her own lips with fat fingers, thinking. Then she said to Davey, "I'm your new Mommy, sugar, ain't you the lucky b...?"

Ruby and Beth took Davey into the back. "So the mens can't see," the big woman explained.

They had him undress down to his underpants and squeezed him into a corset Ruby had brought with her, tightening the strings until he couldn't even gasp. Finally, she backed it off enough that he could breathe -- a little.

Next she brought out from somewhere two lumps of rosy plastic that looked exactly like breasts to Davey.

"A skinny girl's true friends are her falsies," said Ruby, grinning. Beth giggled.

"But I'm not ..."

"I get through wit' choo, sugar, who's gonna know?"

It's like some fever dream, thought Davey. He stared into the mirror Beth held, staring at the woman staring back -- beautiful, bewildered -- and vulnerable.

While he gawked, Ruby worked on his chest, feathering the edges of the falsies she had glued on so they seemed to be part of his body.

It didn't just feel weird to Davey, it sent bolts of weirdness deep into his soul.

Ruby sat back. "I made them edges disappear," she told him.

"I'm disappearing," said Davey.

"Nothing left of you soon," she agreed, grinning at him. "'Cept a pair of Double Dees."

"Don't touch me!"

"I'm gonna show you ... ."

"You're not gonna touch me! Not there!"

"Okay, okay. Do it yourself, sugah. Pull the girdle most of the way up, tuck things back and in and ... you never done this before?"

"Before what?"

"Hee, hee! Before what, I like that. Yeah, sugah, now snug it up to your waist, and see? Flat in front and the padding in the girdle give a bit more booty than your po' white ass came with OEM."

"OEM?"

"Originally Equipped Male. You're blushing! You so cute, baby. Your date gonna eat your fine self up, sugah."

While Ruby dealt with Davey's falsies, Beth had depilated his legs then creamed and soothed them and painted his toenails. Stockings attached to garters and then the blue leather mini went on, fastened with a concealed zipper in the back.

Ruby and Beth surveyed their work. "Mm, hmm?" asked Ruby.

"Mmm," agreed Beth.

"What?" Davey wanted to know. He blinked, eye makeup made his lids feel heavy.

"You needs jewelry, and a bag," said Ruby.

"If your date doesn't offer jewelry, marriage or bearer bonds, check his pulse," said Beth.

The women laughed. Davey, too, though he wasn't sure why.

With a necklace of shell beads, matching clip-on earrings, a spritz of stinkum and a touch-up of gloss and mascara, Davey wobbled away on a new pair of heels.

"First dates are so bittersweet," said Beth.

"If you got bitter fruit, make Calvados," Ruby said, producing a broad-shouldered black bottle and a smaller gold one. "Got orange soda? We can toast our girl."

Soon each had a Bitter Orange Cocktail. "To Dee Dee," said Beth.

Ruby sipped. "That'll put a wiggle in your tail."

"We should have made one for her."

"She'll be okay," said Ruby, looking toward the door.

"Who?" Davey asked.

"Frankie the Nose?"

"I never heard of him."

Larry patted Davey's hand. "Don't worry, if you're not a member of The Industry, you won't be expected to know who he is."

Davey almost yanked his hand back from where it rested on Larry's arm, but wearing high heels made him worry about falling on his face in the middle of the street. His beautiful new face -- he reached up to touch his own cheek with a delicately painted fingernail. "He's in show business? Mr. the Nose?" he asked.

"Something like that. You ever watch The Sopranos?"

Larry held the door as Davey entered the apartment on the fourteenth floor of the Del Amo Hotel. A distinguished middle-aged man sat in an antique chair, a bottle of wine and two glasses near him on an elegant table.

Larry made an introduction, Davey didn't listen except to start when referred to as 'Miss Dee Dee LaTours'. It's Davey Towers, he reminded himself.

"Please sit, my dear," said the older man, standing as Davey entered. "I'll pour the wine and we can get acquainted."

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Davey. His own nervous giggle caught him by surprise.

"Can I ask something?"

"Ask."

"Why do they call you, 'The Nose?'"

"Three reasons: first is my name. My ancestors came from Tripoli and the family name got written down as Al Nez in Italy. Nez sounds like nose."

"So you're part Arab?"

"Greek. They adopted the name because of where they lived."

"Oh."

"Second, I do have a big nose. Having a big nose is considered manly. You may giggle but it's true."

"I'm not giggling."

"It's a cute giggle. Third, I've got a reputation for smelling trouble, guessing right when things go wrong."

"Maybe you've got a cold?"

"Tell me about yourself," said Frankie the Nose.

"You were reading a book earlier. Do you read a lot?"

"I read a lot. I guess. If I'm not going to class or sleeping, I'm studying or reading just for fun." Davey wanted to not get too specific about himself. He glanced down at his plastic bosoms. Things were weird enough without discussing his boyhood while dressed like a high class call girl.

"You're a student? What are you studying? A pretty girl like you, I'll bet you end up with your MRS degree," Frankie teased.

Davey stared blankly. "My what?"

"What are you studying?"

"Communications. I want to be a journalist."

"And I'm asking all the questions. Except about my nickname. Which school?"

"City. Down in Tribeca."

"Do you live with your parents?"

"No. I share an apartment in the Village."

"Good. I wouldn't want them to worry about you."

"You have a sexy voice," said Frankie.

Uh oh, thought Davey, here it comes.

"I do?" he said.

"Yes, I like hearing it. I like looking at you, too. Read to me. Would you do that?"

"Read to you?"

"Yes," said Frankie, almost closing his eyes. "There's a book on the table beside you. Read that." He watched through thick, Mediterranean eyelashes while Davey found the book.

It looked like a hardback reprint of an old pulp novel, complete with lurid painting on the book jacket. Davey opened it to the first page and read aloud. "How could she refuse?"

The story concerned a series of misadventures featuring a young woman and her older lover, some funny, some poignant, but all ended with the couple in bed--

scenes explicit enough that Davey blushed. Still, it wasn't like basic cable didn't offer programs just as vivid.

"That's enough for now," said Frankie the Nose. He stood, smiling down at Davey. "Thank you. Larry will pay for your time, Dee Dee. We'll finish this book tomorrow. Same time?"

Davey blinked, unsure of how to answer. "Tomorrow?" he asked.

Frankie nodded. "I like the way you're dressed," he added just before leaving the room.

"Where are we going?" Davey asked.

After Frankie left, Larry returned and led Davey to the elevators. "Your place," said Larry. But they stopped on the twelfth floor.

Larry showed Davey to a room--a fully furnished apartment with kitchenette, bathroom, bedroom and sitting room.

"Whose place is this?" Davey asked, wondering how soon he'd be able to go home and change out of his callgirl masquerade.

"It's yours now, Dee Dee. Packy is bringing your stuff from the Village." Larry smiled. "Boss wants you close, in case he needs some reading done in the middle of the night, you know?"

"Here's your purse," said Larry, "with your new ID and credit card."

Davey stared, not wanting to take it. "This can't be happening," he said.

"Of course it's happening." Larry smiled, placing the purse under Davey's arm. "A nice old guy wants to pay your rent, buy your clothes and food and give you $500 monthly allowance on the credit card -- and all you have to do is read and look beautiful -- which he's also paying for."

"But," Davey protested, "I'm a guy?"

"I said it was really happening, I didn't say it made sense," Larry pointed out.

Davey explored the apartment. The kitchenette had a small refrigerator, a three burner range-top, a tiny electric oven, a microwave and a sink, all surrounded by blond cabinetry. "It's so cute," he said.

Larry smirked. "I'm glad you like it."

Davey blushed. A breakfast bar separated the cooking area from the front room with its enormous HDTV and plush sectional sofa. "How long will this last?"

"We took a seven year lease."

Davey felt his knees go weak.

"You might want an advanced degree." Larry shrugged.

"Advanced degree?" Davey squeaked.

"You're going to City, right?"

"Oh, college," said Davey, relieved.

"Frankie Al Nez will pay my rent, pay for my schooling, give me an allowance and all I have to do is dress like this" --Davey gestured at his tight leather dress-- "and read to him?"

"Or whatever else he wants," agreed Larry.

"That part scares me."

Larry shrugged. "It's going to be better if you take the deal."

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

"Not really."

"What else might he want?"

"No idea. But the boss isn't a bad man."

"Could have fooled me," Davey muttered. Still, he hadn't been hurt -- except for the waxing, that did hurt.

"What do I tell my folks?" asked Davey.

"Tell them as much or as little as you want," said Larry. "Whatever you say, they're going to find it hard to believe."

Davey nodded. He noticed a phone hanging from the wall in the kitchenette. "Can I use that?" he asked.

"It's your phone."

Davey spoke with his mother for a few minutes, telling her only that he'd found a new place to stay in a nicer part of town.

Larry went to answer the door. Davey had just hung up when he heard Little Ruby's musical contralto, "Baby, Mommy's home!"

"What are you doing here, Ruby?" Davey wanted to know.

"Sugah, you just tell me that you know 'xactly how to make yourself look scrumptious ever'day and I'm gone."

Ruby made leaving-on-a-jetplane motions with her hands, then wiggled all over and grinned. "I'm here when you need me, sugah. I'm yo' Uptown Mommy in a Downtown Way."

Davey frowned. "What does that mean?"

"I don't translate, child, 'cause I just make it up as I go 'long."

"I'm not sure..." Davey began.

"Not sure you need me? Honey, babymine-so-fine, how you goin' get out of that dress without help? Mmm?"

Ruby "unwrapped" Davey, or Dee Dee, as she called him when she wasn't calling him "baby," "honey" or "child."

Jewelry, dress, shoes and hose came off but Ruby stopped before removing the padded girdle and corset. Instead, she showed him how to open the crotch to relieve himself without taking things off.

"But, but..." he tried to say.

"And a nice round one you got, long as you're in yo' wrapper." She admired him extravagantly, bullied him unmercifully, and talked incessantly or sang. "Lucky old Frank, he's got a hank o'hair and a hunk o'bone, you a walkin', talkin' honeycomb!"

Davey, or Dee Dee, wrapped the fluffy robe around his, or her, waist and tied the belt.

"You wrapped that the wrong way, honey," said Ruby.

"What?" said Davey.

"Girls wrap their robes right-over-left, not the other way."

"You're kidding."

"Nuh-uh, here, lemme show you how to do it; You tied the knot wrong, too."

"This is crazy."

Ruby chuckled. "What's crazy is a girl like you with so much talent she ain't even discovered. But don't worry, Mommy Ruby gonna show you what you don't know how."

"Now I'm worried."

"And that's why you're so keeyoot, sugar," said Ruby.

Ruby had him practice putting on and taking off makeup for most of the evening before finally disappearing about nine p.m.

"Get some beauty sleep, sugah," she ordered. "I'll be back to help you get ready for your morning classes."

Before Davey could protest, she was gone. He followed to the door and opened it to find Larry standing there, smiling, looking him up and down.

"I can't sleep in this stuff," Davey protested, still wearing the corset and padded girdle with a pink nightgown and robe over it. "Ruby sewed me into this, I can't get it off!"

Larry had brought a contract for personal services with him.

Davey read it. A thousand dollars a week to be deposited in an offshore account, with ten thousand dollar bonuses for the first month, first six months, escalating bonuses each year and another bigger bonus at the end of seven years. The amount totaled to $604,000 plus interest earned.

Additionally, Quentin Francesco Al Nez Associates would pay 'Dee Dee La Tours' living expenses, college expenses, medical expenses and up to $500 a month allowance with a cost of living adjustment each year.

"Frankie's first name is Quentin?" asked Davey.

"You want to sleep on it?" Larry asked.

"I don't think I can in this corset."

"A pill?"

"No. I'm going to read this contract again. Buy-out clauses. Extension options. Twenty-five hours a week for classes. Five days off a month and a three week all-expenses-paid vacation. But it doesn't say what 'personal services' are."

"Just being Dee Dee when the Boss wants to see you."

Davey frowned. "Come back tomorrow. I'll decide then if I want to do this every day for seven years."

In the hallway, Packy asked, "She going to sign?"

Larry smiled. "How could she refuse?"