"OK you guys, listen up!"

Pete Zimmerman's attention focused on the Scoutmaster of Troop 36, Boy Scouts of America, which was meeting in the basement the Baptist Church. The meeting was just about over and Ron Brockman, colloquially known as "Brock" to all and sundry, was making his announcements in the vain hope that some of the boys would be listening and maybe even remember some of them.

Brock was a realist - there were handouts waiting to place in their grubby little hands as they left, maybe some of them would actually make it home to their parents.

"OK, there will be a Court of Honor in a few weeks, any of you who are ready to move up to the next rank had better make sure you have your requirements filled and your merit badges signed off. Talk to me if you need some help. I know it's still early spring, but our week at summer camp will be the third week of June. You have to have a signed permission slip if you want to go, so don't put it off if you're going. I have to know how many by May 15. Lastly, how many of you yahoos have done your good turn for the day?" he asked.

"Hey Brock! I mowed the lawn and trimmed the hedges."

That was Edwards, always the first one to blow his own horn.

"That was no good turn," piped up Tony Matthews. "You only wanted to be sure you could see in Mary Jane's bedroom window."

"Matthews, I hope you did two good turns today or you're going to be making up for that smart crack for the next week. There may not be enough little old ladies in this town to help across the street if you dig yourself in any deeper."

"I didn't help her across the street," offered Tom Lewis, "but I did take out my neighbor's trash."

"Not a bad start," replied Brock. "I got an offer you can't refuse, boys. The church here is having its rummage sale and they need some help. You might have noticed the bags and boxes in the corner, well they need some help sorting and tagging and suchlike. That gives you all some opportunities to do a whole lot of good turns if you show up here next weekend and help out."

"Awww Brock!"

"Look at it this way - the Girl Scout troop will be here, too. It would be a lot more fun to do good turns for them than some little old lady."

"Now you're talkin', boss!"

"As long as you keep it to talk, get me?"

"Trustworthy, loyal, helpful… That's us!"

"Remember, you'll be in a church, you yahoos."

"Hey Pete!"

"Yeah?"

"You gonna help with the rummage sale?"

"I don't know, Dave. Too much like shopping."

"Yeah, right. Too much like work, you mean."

"That too."

"You know I have to help out, don't you? We go to the church and there's no way my folks would let this slide. I don't want to be stuck with all the goodie-goodies from church all day. I need you, man."

"My heart bleeds for you, man."

"Just think, Pete! We can go garage saleing all day and not leave the place. You might even find something worth taking home."

"As if…"

"The Girl Scouts are going to be helping, too. You never can tell what might happen."

"Dave, you're an idiot. If I want fantasy I'll read Terry Pratchett."

"Hey, what red-blooded eighteen year old boy couldn't take home a Girl Scout from a rummage sale?"

"Yeah, like I'm going to go up to one of them and ask 'How much do you cost?' "

"Not a good idea, Pete."

"Just like the whole rummage sale thing, Dave."

"Well, aren't you Mr Negative tonight. What happened to Trustworthy, Loyal, blah, blah, Cheerful, blah, blah, blah?"

"Mr Reality came by and kicked his cheerful butt."

"Careful or you're going to miss the Reverent part of the Scout Law."

"Give it a break, Dave. Natural Law says I ain't gonna be getting no girl to even look at me, let alone go out with me."

"Hey - someone's gonna want to run her fingers through your hair sometime, buddy. It's long enough."

"Cut it out! I get enough of that from my Grandma."

"Not your folks?"

"Nah. They're OK with whatever I want to do with my hair. Dad says if he didn't have a bald spot he'd wear his long, too."

"Your folks are pretty cool, they don't get all excited about little things like hair or whatever."

"Just as long as I do the dishes on my night and get the trash out before the truck comes."

"You do dishes?"

"I eat, therefore I wash."

"I mean, what about the dishwasher?"

"We don need no steenking deeshwasher, amigo."

"That's the worst Mexican accent I've ever heard."

"Tough."

"Tough to listen to. You really aren't going to help with the rummage sale?"

"I suppose I'll have to. Don't want Brock to get left hanging."

"Loyal, that's what I like. You might even hit all twelve if you keep this up."

"I might just hit you if you keep this up."

"Now, now! That would screw up Friendly just 'cause I was trying to be Helpful."

"There's Dad. Just keep your mouth shut, will you?"

"Mmph mumble mumble."

The Friday night before the Rummage Sale

"Oh my aching back!"

"Yeah, if they're having the sale in the basement, why did they have to store the stuff upstairs? I tell you one thing, this sure ain't no stairway to heaven."

"Careful, Dave. Since we're headed down you know where that leads."

"Can you say 'hell' in a Baptist church and get away with it?" asked Pete.

"You just did. I'm gonna stay ten feet away from you just to be safe for the next little while. Of course you can say 'hell' in the church, the fire-and-brimstone types say it all the time. Hell, they scream it at the top of their lungs when they really get going."

"I think I'm gonna stay twenty feet from you, you just said 'hell' twice."

"Damned if I didn't. Want to go for the record?"

"Hey, we're Unitarians, it wouldn't count in my church. I'm still not sure just what we're supposed to believe."

"Well, I believe we need to get all this junk downstairs before someone yells at us for shirking."

"Yeah, yeah yeah…"

 

"Hey Pete - you look like you need something to do."

"Me, Mrs Wise? Don't I look busy enough?"

"Your hands are empty and you're sitting down."

"Oh."

"Tell you what, stay sitting down and I'll bring you over a box to start sorting."

"Just so long as I don't have to move it up or down another staircase."

"I think those steps get longer by about three paces every time I go up them," offered Dave.

"And I think every box I tote down them gains about twenty pounds per step."

"You poor thing. Could that be a new corollary to Einstein's theory of relativity - a moving box increases in mass in proportion to the number of steps it traverses?"

"Could be - but I really don't want to do any more experimentation to prove or disprove it tonight."

"And science suffers another blow. There! You can discover what unknown treasures lie in this box."

"What do I do with them?"

"Clothes and shoes in one pile, household goods in another, then Kitchen stuff. Just try to put similar items together so we can set up logical tables."

"Hey, the whole thing is full of garden junk. Even a gnome with a broken nose."

"There's a table already started for garden things in the back of the hall. Take it over there and try another one."

"OK."

 

Some time later…

"You need some help, Pete?"

"Hi Sheila. Sure, there seem to be an awful lot of boxes and bags. Too bad they didn't use clear bags so we could see what's in them without dumping the whole thing out."

Sheila was somehow related to Pete in an obscure fashion, so they'd known each other for as long as they'd both been around. Pete never was much into this 'how are we related' stuff, but she qualified as a kissing cousin. Not that he'd ever tried, but she was eminently worth kissing; tall, busty, (very busty, he and every other boy in sight had noticed) graceful and sure of herself. OK, maybe she was downright intimidating to a guy like Pete.

"What I want to know is why would anybody pay actual money for most of this crap?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, or at least according to the old song."

"And we'll have to pay the trash man to get rid of most of this when the sale is over."

"Maybe, but they said we can take anything that's left after they close the doors."

"Oh goodie."

Hey - there's a garden gnome with a broken nose that I have my eye on."

"What marvelous taste you have."

"So what's in your bag?"

"Ummm… Stuffed toys… old towels… and a wall hanging with a hole in it."

"Jackpot!"

"Smartass. What's in your box?"

"Kids' books… canning jars… some odd tools and… bingo! A Spiderman blow-up bop-doll!"

"Some people have all the luck. Blow it up and see if it leaks."

"I'm not sure a blow job is appropriate for a church basement."

"You are one sick puppy, Pete."

"You want to do it?"

"What's it worth?"

"Quite a bit when I tell Dave I actually went up to a Girl Scout tonight and asked how much she charged."

"I'm not sure I want to be near you, Pete."

"Just wait a minute. HEY DAVE! COME OVER HERE A SECOND!"

"Pete, everybody in the room is looking at us."

"Well, you're well worth looking at."

"That's not the point!"

"What ya want, Pete?" queried Dave."

"Hey Dave, did I or did I not talk about asking a Girl Scout how much she charged tonight?"

"To the best of my recollection, senator, you did just that as we came down the stairs."

"See, I told you, Sheila."

"The both of you are sick. Some talk for a church, you heathens."

"Sheila," grinned Dave, "I swear the conversation was entirely innocent. I was speculating on his chances of going home with a Girl Scout when we were through."

"You dirty sexist pig! Some Boy Scout you are - objectifying women."

"I wasn't objectifying anyone! sniffed Dave. "I was simply quantifying the chances of my buddy here of getting any girl to go on a date with him, let alone a Girl Scout. After all, Girl Scouts promise to respect themselves and others, and how could any self-respecting girl go on a date with Pete?"

"Thanks, buddy! I might remind you that as a Boy Scout I am always prepared. In this case I'm prepared to knock your block off."

"Children, play nice," growled Sheila. You're in a church. Is this your way of asking me for a date, Pete"

"Huh?"

"Always prepared are you, old buddy? The answer would be 'yes' or 'no.' "

"Uh, yes?"

"Good answer!" crowed Sheila. "Now we have that settled we have a couple of dozen more boxes to sort. Since you're here, Pete…"

"Slave Driver."

"I think I found a toy whip a while back. Should I get it just for you?"

"No another box will do, cousin."

"Please! I don't want that to get out in public, cousin. Go get some more junk and start sorting."

 

"Hey cool!" exclaimed Dave. "A a whole bag of Scout uniforms."

"That's great. We ought to set them aside for Brock," said Pete."

"Uh, not these. They're Girl Scout uniforms."

"Oh."

"Why not, you'd look cute as a girl scout, Pete." laughed Sheila.

"Keep it up and I'm gonna have to reconsider about asking for a date."

"Hey - you never actually asked, Pete."

"Oh. You wanna go out with me?"

"Oh Pete!" she swooned dramatically. "You're so romantic how could I resist."

"You're so sarcastic it would be easy."

"Too bad, sucker. You asked and I'm saying 'yes', so you're stuck."

"Careful, Sheila, or we could become the subject of a steamy romance novel. I got to look through a few dozen a while back. Didn't see any of the heroines on the cover wearing a Girl Scout uniform, though."

"What, they didn't have Passion at Summer Camp?"

"Nah, unless they have a summer camp by some old castle on a hill. Whoever donated them had a thing for castles and women in lace-up dresses. You really want to go out with me?"

"Why not? You look kinda cute when you blush."

"Now who's objectifying people?"

"Not me. You turned a lovely shade of rose when I told you you'd be cute in uniform. We woman just love a man in uniform, you know. So what's your phone number, Pete?"

He recited it and the next thing he knew a light was blinding him.

"Jeez, what'd you do that for?"

"Now your smiling face is in my contacts. I'm calling you so you have my number."

Flash! Turnabout was fair play.

"Don't you dare save that picture!" she cried.

"Too bad. I kind of like the way your eyes are shining."

"My face, too, I'll bet. I don't have any makeup on!"

"Neither do I."

"You're going to need lots of concealer, you creep."

"Concealer?"

"To hide the bruises when I punch you in the face for taking that picture."

"Can we get back to doing what we're supposed to be doing?" asked Dave.

"I suppose so…"

 

"Oh shit!"

"Language, Petey, language." scolded Sheila.

"This box is full of underwear."

"So? People do outgrow their underwear before they wear it out. I hope they washed it first, though."

"Looks clean, but I'm not sure our customers would want me pawing through their bras and such before they bought it."

"Well, somebody has to sort it - sizes and such, you know. How are they going to know a lowly man did the sorting. Or are you too big and masculine to pick up a bra and read the tags?"

"Ugh! Me tough!" growled Pete. "Real man snap bra, not read tag!"

"Try that with me and you won't get a second date, buster!"

"Hey, I have to sort my sister's and my mom's stuff when it's my turn to do laundry - I'm not a complete newbie. But I know who belongs to what in the family. I'd need a microscope to read the tags on some of these panties."

"Damn! Do me a favor, Pete. Set aside those nightgowns, I want them for me!"

"Oh, the fantasies that are invading my brain. You'd really wear something like that?"

"Not while you're around."

"Oh, darn."

"At least not before our date. Then you can have your fantasy if you're up to it."

"Hey you two!" interjected Dave. "Get a room or get through the last boxes. It's almost time to go."

"If you insist."

To be continued

Trustworthy, loyal helpful
Friendly, courteous, kind
Obedient, cheerful, thrifty
Brave, clean and reverent
 

On his way home from the church, those words from Scouting kept running through Pete's mind. That and he actually had a date with Sheila.

Actually, those words were a pretty good way to describe how to live a decent life. Well, he had some reservations about the 'obedient' part. When Baden-Powell came up with the Scout Law, kids were expected to be obedient and do what the grownups said without question. It was a lot different these days; if you're encouraged to think for yourself and challenge authority, obedience is a lot more tricky.

Now the Oath was a lot more interesting to Pete.

On my honor, I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country, to obey the Scout Law, to help other people at all times, to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake and morally straight.

'Morally straight' was a lot harder to pin down. How many politicians, from the President on down, were 'morally straight?' Grandpa got exercised about Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinsky. Anyone who watched TV knew the names Stormy Daniels and Jeffery Epstein. Not the kind of examples anyone would use to inspire their children to be 'morally straight.'

Pete's own church, the Unitarian Universalists, had been back-and-forth with the Scouts over just what it meant to be reverent and morally straight. If even the churches couldn't agree then just what was a young man to think?

And then it wasn't that long ago that gays were morally unacceptable. Just like the 'obedient' part, society had changed and the meaning of the words had changed with it.

Well, at least for most people. There were still those who were mired in the mud of the past and weren't going to change. If you wanted proof, just click the channel selector on Sunday morning until you found some dude in a power suit and ridiculous tie flashing his gold jewelry while he railed on about the general dilapidated state of society and how only Gee-zus! could set things right.

Pete kind of wondered if this Gee-zus! had ever met the fella in the New Testament who hung out with lepers and prostitutes and washed beggar's feet.

Alone in his room, the dust and grime from the evening's sorting showered off, Pete opened the small suitcase he kept in the back of the closet and pondered its contents: a blouse, a skirt, a bra with the elastic puckered badly, a pair of nylon panties and some pantyhose with a whole lot of runs in them.

Pretty pitiful. Since he outgrew his mother and sister, both notably small women, his source for the clothes he secretly loved had dried up.

To put it bluntly, Pete was just plain scared to try and buy anything new for himself. His heart ached when he read how someone on line had just gone out and bought a bra or a dress, but he just couldn't do it. Until recently, he had been dependant on his parents for transportation, he sure wasn't going to try and come home in the car with them toting a Victoria's Secret bag!

On line was just as bad. Sure he could find what he wanted there, but there were sure to be questions when mysterious packages arrived in the mail. No way his snoopy sister would let a mysterious package slip by her!

Pete had just about worked up the nerve to actually buy something like a bra when he got his magic ticket - otherwise known as a driver's licence. Being a man of action in all things except buying a feminine wardrobe, Pete had a few bucks set by from odd jobs that could be used in the project. The barrier was just where could he go to purchase such items without feeling like a total fool?

Walmart? Target? The mall with its myriad stores catering to young women? Sure, the people on line were full of assurances that the salespeople would not freak out, but would he get the one prune-faced old harridan who would scream for security and have him dragged off into durance vile, never to be seen again?

Funny how easy it is to get yourself worked up about people finding out you want to be a crossdresser.

Until the rummage sale, that is. Some of those bras in that box were his size, probably the panties, too, but he couldn't really tell with people looking over his shoulder. He really hoped they wouldn't be sold, he could probably sneak them in with whatever else he wanted after the sale ended.

The lord works in mysterious ways, be he in a UU hall or Baptist church basement.

So how did these clothes fit into Scouting's 'morally straight' business? The Jesus he learned about hadn't said a darned thing about gays or men wearing women's clothes. For all that, back in Jesus' time men wore dresses, or near enough it didn't matter. He had long hair, too; at least if you can believe the usual pictures of someone who never had his likeness painted so we could really know what he looked like.

Pete just couldn't see how his putting on a certain type of clothing was going to hurt anyone. Or was it just clothes? When he was wearing a bra and could look at the gentle swell of what he purely wished were his breasts, he dreamed he could have been born a girl. Not that being a guy was so bad, after all he had good friends and a loving family, but sometimes the whole guy thing got to be just too much!

The girls in school did sports just like the guys. Only a few total assholes thought girls weren't as smart as boys; five minutes in their company was enough to know their opinions weren't worth squat. Leadership, creativity, sensitivity, stuff like that? Somehow Pete suspected girls had some sort of advantage there, even if he couldn't say what it was. He wanted in to that secret world that his Y chromosome had denied him.

Was his wanting to be a girl why he had such a hard time asking a girl for a date?

Be that as it may, Pete knew that he had better not wear those clothes in public, and not because the skirt and blouse clashed with each other. It didn't feel like his morals were bent, but it felt so darn good when he put those clothes on his body. It felt so darn good to think of actually being a girl. He could pretty much take it for granted that old Baden-Powell wouldn't approve, but that wasn't going to change the things he felt.

Pete once again went to bed confused.

Pete spent much of the day on Saturday wondering if that pink bra would still be there when he returned. The Scouts had been drafted as workhorses to move things for the church, they weren't involved in the sale itself, so the day passed mowing the lawn and hanging with Dave and a couple of others at the park. Pretty much what he did most weekends.

Except this weekend Pete wasn't quite with it. In fact, you could have called him a space cadet and been remarkably close to reality.

"Yo Pete!" Will hollered. "You want to go?"

"Go?"

"C'mon Pete! What've we been talking about for the last ten minutes?"

"Uh…"

"Man, you're on Planet X this morning. Ice cream, m'boy! Pick your flavor, lick the cone. Drip the goo all over your jeans. It's getting hot and we need to cool off."

"I guess."

"Jesus Pete! You get laid last night or something?"

"That's your fantasy, not mine Lance."

"Oh-ho! So you do have a fantasy, buddy. Tell us all about it. Blonde? Brunette? Redhead?"

"Lance, I'm not sure I want to have ice cream with a misogynistic sex fiend."

"Careful, Pete. Use words with more than two syllables and Lance gets confused."

"Hey - sex only has one syllable."

"Which brings us back to the topic. So, did you get laid, Pete?"

"A gentleman never tells."

"So how's that apply to you, Pete?"

"Hey - he did get a date with a girl named Sheila yesterday," Dave tossed in.

"Whoa! How'd you do that?"

"My sparkling personality and respectful attitude toward women."

"Well la-te-da! A feminist on the hoof."

"And how many dates have you gotten in the last couple of months, Lance?

"Let's change the subject, shall we?"

"Hey Pete? What d'ya think it would take to bribe Sheila to find a blind date for Lance?"

"A fully restored 1949 Packard Woody Wagon? She's into old cars."

"That would beat the pants off of that heap he's driving now." opined Dave.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think he wants to beat the pants off a car." Pete retorted.

"Yeah, It's not like he could talk any woman into removing her pants on her own."

"Now wait a minute! What is this, Crap On Lance Day?"

"Let me check my calendar… Hmmm... Nope, tomorrow is Crap On Lance Day. We're too early, boys."

"Well, Lance," Dave drawled, "as a Scout we're supposed to 'Be Prepared.' Just think of it as preparation for your big day tomorrow."

"Screw you guys! You can sit here working your jaws until they come unhinged. I'm going for ice cream."

"Says the guy who is the dictionary definition of unhinged. Just hope there aren't any shrinks having a cone, you might be taken away by the guys with the butterfly nets."

 

Eventually six o'clock arrived, but since Pete was in the church basement a little after five he spent the next forty-five minutes trying not to watch the table where the lady's lingerie was set out. It was frustrating not being able to go over and look to see if the things he wanted were still there, but he wasn't about to put himself in the position of having some little old church lady ask 'can I help you?'

Yeah, sure: Is that 38B bra I saw yesterday still here?

Oddly enough, the Girl Scout uniforms were still there. That was easy to tell at a distance by the distinctive green color. That surprised him, Boy Scout uniforms disappeared from second-hand shops in seconds.

°°Wait a minute - some lady is checking out the goodies and there was a flash of pink in what she was sorting. I hope it's that pink bra I saw last night. Even before I outgrew mom's stuff she never had a pink bra. Wouldn't it be a kick if her son was wearing a sexier bra than she was?°°

"Ladies and gentleman," came the announcement, "please make your final selections, the rummage sale is officially over in five minutes."

Trying not to sigh too obviously, Pete saw there was nothing pink in the pile of clothes the lady brought to the checkout register. There was a flurry of activity and then the doors were closed and someone from the church announced,"OK folks, take a few minutes and if there's anything you want to take home with you it's yours."

Grabbing one of the bags, Pete scored a couple of T-shirts that weren't bad, a spare mouse for his computer and camping mess kit that would come in handy at summer camp. Dave was studying the computer junk, Sheila was in the kitchen knick-knacks and about a dozen other people were scattered about the place. Hoping the coast was clear, Pete scooped up the whole pile of bras and panties that were left on the table. What the heck, the Girl Scout uniforms went in the bag on top of the good stuff. Maybe his little sister could use them.

Fashioning the pull ties on the bag into a bow, Pete took the bag to the car and put it in the trunk so it wouldn't get accidentally routed to the Goodwill in the chaos of the cleanup. His treasure secured, Pete then bagged and boxed much of the stuff he had unbagged and unboxed the night before. The things people think are worth trying to sell could give a guy a headache. I mean, who wants to take home a pile of scratched vinyl records or a lazy Susan that must have been related to a tilt-a-whirl?

As the last of the leftovers were secured in the church garage they set up the basement hall for use after the service in the morning. Having the car, Pete was able to take Sheila home.

"Hey Pete, where we going on our date?" she asked as they left the parking lot.

"Crazy? Over the river and through the woods? Nah - that's grandma's place and we do not want to have a date anywhere near grandma."

"That's for sure! If you mean Great-Aunt Aggie, she can be a pain."

"What can we do that's kinda special that we haven't done a million times before?"

"You can get your folks' car?"

"If I ask nice."

"As nice as when you asked me for a date?"

"As I recall, it was you that asked me."

"Details, details!"

"I can get the car.

"How about going to the Coast? I haven't been there in ages and we won't be harassed by our friends if they run into us."

"Nice. Too bad the water's too cold to swim."

"Angling to see me in my bikini?"

"If the suit fits, wear it."

"That's supposed to be 'shoe'."

"The bikini would look better on you, not that you don't have nice taste in shoes."

"Good save. Next weekend?"

"I'll have to check on the car first, but that would be great."

"Let me know."

"I will. See you then."

"Pete?"

"Yeah?"

"C'mere."

"You get any closer and we might have to get engaged."

"Like this?"

Kissing Sheila was very different than, say, kissing Mom or Grandma. With his arms around her he could feel her bra beneath the blouse. Idly, he wondered if it was white or colored. Stupid thing to think about when kissing a girl. Especially for someone who, only twenty-four hours ago, was fantasizing about being a girl.

Scout or not, he just wasn't prepared for the whole experience.

Whew!

"Now you don't have to worry if I'll kiss you on our first date, eh?"

"I may never worry about anything, ever again!"

"Cool. I like you, Petey. See you at next weekend."

With that she got out and, turning around she poked her head in the window and asked "By the way, what are you planning to do with all that lingerie you put in that bag?"

And she was gone.

Shit!

As Pete walked through the door of his high school on Monday morning the was greeted by an enthusiastic "Damn Pete! You look like crap!"

"Feel like it, too," mumbled Pete.

"Say what?"

"Didn't get much sleep last night."

"So who was she?"

"Your mother, but don't tell your dad."

"Oooh, feeling a little testy, are we? Sheila dump you before you even had your date?" asked Dave.

"Jesus, does everybody in this stinkin' world know we're going to go out?"

"Only those of us that count, old buddy."

"Then how the heck do you know about it?"

"Damn! I hope you get laid when you take her out. Maybe you'll stop being such a grouch." Lance drawled.

"Just 'cause you're green with envy doesn't make me an Oscar. And Lance, old buddy…"

"Yeah?"

"Unlike you, I'm a gentleman. There are other things gentlemen do on a first date besides fuck."

"What? Don't tell me that the big, bad Scout won't be prepared for his date?"

"Scouts are also 'friendly, courteous and kind', which is why I don't see you at any meetings."

"So what's to stop you from getting real friendly and courteously asking 'wanna screw?' "

"I give up, you're all hopeless."

Just then the warning bell rang and the group mercifully broke up. Even if his friends were all assholes, Pete felt a bit better after the badinage, and so headed off to classes in a much better mood.

The distractions of the school day kept Pete's mind off of the bag waiting for him in the shed behind the house, but there was little else on his mind on the way home. Unfortunately, the family was all home and the bag stayed by it's lonely self for the next several days.

Thursday was the first day Pete was home alone and within seconds of having the last of his family bid him good-bye he was unlocking the shed in the back yard and toting the bag to his bedroom. With a grunt he upended the bag and spilled its contents on his bed. Ignoring the Girl Scout uniforms for the moment he picked up the pink bra that had so captured his attention and looked at the label. 38B, it would fit! Hastily removing his shirt he snapped the bra around his body, then removed it to let out the straps. Whoever had used it before him had much smaller shoulders.

For the first time, Pete was wearing a bra that fit him properly. The worn-out old thing he had plucked from someone's discards was too small, the only reason he could put it on was because the elastic had stretched to virtual unusability. This bra fit snugly, and felt just right!

He couldn't help it, he had to look in the mirror. Sadly, the cups hung forlorn and empty. Digging in his drawers he filled them with balled up handkerchiefs and such, which resulted in lumpy breasts - but still they were breasts. Breasts upon his very own body. Reveling in the feeling he sorted through the other goodies from the bag. All told, there were two more bras and two slips that fit his body. Sadly, there were no panties, but since he had been buying his own clothes for some time he had a drawer full of hip briefs that were close, even if they had that crossover flap on the front that only a boy would need. There was even a garter belt, a truly strange object that he had to Google to understand what it was. The thing was so odd that it took several clicks of the Show More button to find a picture of what the devil it was. Then he remembered seeing a couple of packages of 'gartered stockings' among the pantyhose as he surreptitiously eyed the racks while waiting for his mother and sister to shop. Did he dare actually buy a pair?

The joy of prancing around in bra and panties soon faded, even if they still felt good on his body, so he checked out the uniforms and was delighted to find two of them were a reasonable fit. Admiring the image in the mirror, Pete couldn't help but snicker at what Brock would think of him in this uniform. What would it be like to hike through the woods in a dress? Would real breasts bounce when chopping firewood? Would he have to squat to pee in the woods just for authenticity's sake?

Pete emptied his forlorn stash from the suitcase and replaced it with his new clothes, then bagged up the things that didn't fit and took the bag back to the shed, feeling very daring going into the fenced back yard in his Girl Scout uniform. Of course, nobody could see him through the high fence, but being outdoors in a dress was exhilarating

Pete was closing the back door with a sigh of relief - no matter how good being outside felt there was still a what if someone sees me? in the back of his mind. But something felt wrong. It took a few seconds to realize that the bra had worked its way up his body and was trying to nestle under his chin. How did real girls cope with this?

Oh wait, real girls didn't have to cope with this sort of thing - they had real boobs to fill their cups, not old underwear. Real boobs were, at least according to the sex ed classes, made up of fatty tissue. Offhand Pete wondered what the girls thought of being told their boobs were nothing but fat, but back to the amazing raising bra. Fat had weight to it, so maybe if he could fill the cups with something heavier they would stay put,

Now, being in the kitchen for this revelation could be right handy. Crisco - that's fat. But how could he keep it confined? A balloon? Nah, how would he manage to squeeze the stuff into the little tiny neck of a balloon? Besides, he didn't have a balloon. A baggie? Maybe, but he remembered the time the baggie full of chicken broth had unzipped as he took it out of the refrigerator for his mom. Not a good idea, it would ruin his pretty new bra and be hell to wash off.

So, something dry then. Something that wouldn't create havoc in case of a wardrobe malfunction. Too bad he didn't have Janet Jackson's boobs. Careful Petey boy, such thoughts could be misconstrued. Besides, she probably had sixteen hulking security guards surrounding her and her boobs. Did wearing a bra automatically turn you into a blonde ditz? Where did such thoughts come from?

Concentrate Pete! Beans? They might work, but there weren't enough beans in the cupboard to swipe them without being noticed. Small, heavy and dry. Rice! Filling a baggie with a cup of rice, Pete inserted it in his bra cup and ran to the bathroom to look. Not bad, no lumps or bumps, but maybe a little bit more? Another quarter of a cup, then repeat with another baggie. Just to be sure he doubled the bags to be safe. As a test he ran up the stairs to his bedroom and the bra was still firmly in place.

Success!

Just then his phone started to warble - Sheila was calling. This was going to drive him crazy. More crazy if the image in the mirror had anything to say.

"Hello?"

"Hi Pete. Whatcha doing?"

"Uh, just doing a little experimenting with rice in the kitchen."

That was true enough.

"You cook?"

"Of course I do. Mom wouldn't let either of us out of the house without mastering all the life skills needed to have our own place. I can sew, too. At least enough to repair a tear in my jeans."

"A renaissance man, already."

"We still on for Saturday? I talked the folks into the car for the day."

"Why do you think I called?"

"My magnetic personality? You were exceedingly bored and would do anything to pass the time?"

"From one extreme to the other? More like after working so hard to get you to go out with me I wanted to be sure we were on the same page. I think spending the day alone with you would beat sitting home and licking postage stamps."

"Does anybody actually send paper mail these days when you can text or dash off an e-mail?"

"Poetic licence, dear boy. Have you no romance in your soul?"

"I'm going out with you. Does that qualify?"

"Right answer, Pete.

"Poetic licence, dear girl."

"Ouch!

"At the risk of sounding like I'm handing you a pickup line, would you be interested in taking the scenic route to the coast?"

"Not the submarine races?"

"Even I wouldn't be so naive to try that one on you. You know how maps have the Interstates in Green and the secondary roads in red and the local roads in black?"

"Sure."

"Well, the road I think we should take is printed in light gray."

"So it's the 'we're lost and need to snuggle up for warmth' ploy?"

"You have a very suspicious mind."

"I'm female. You're a teenage male. Need I say more? Just how did you find this practically invisible road"

"There were unindicted co-conspirators involved."

"And…"

"One of the unindicted co-conspirators had the car for the day and wanted to give it a workout. The Meadow Lake Road twists and turns and corkscrews through some pretty remote territory so there wasn't much chance of getting caught."

"You haven't gotten to the part about why I should care."

"Because it's a beautiful drive. There's even the McGuire Reservoir along the way. They won't let you near it, though, because it's the water source for the town.

"Why not? Beats sitting thru some awful action flick watching them blow up all those cars and the hero dodging every bullet fired at him."

"Somehow after all the mass shootings these days I've lost my taste for shoot-em-ups."

"You're definite boyfriend material, Pete."

"Now who's putting out the cheesy pickup lines?"

"I don't put out."

"Uh…"

"At least on the first date."

"Urg…"

"I bet you're blushing again, Pete."

"Senator, to the best of my recollection I have no knowledge of the subject of your question."

"You get a lot of use out of that line, boyfriend-to-be. You gonna make us a picnic for Saturday?"

"I suppose I could. Since I'm experimenting with rice, how about a rice salad. I know we have plenty in the house."

It was hard not to laugh at that one.

"I can rustle up some steaks and we ought to be able to find some corn at the Safeway even if it's out of season. You've got to have roast corn with a steak on the grill."

"You like iced tea?"

"Of course."

"And chips."

"Salt and vinegar?"

"Of course."

"You have good taste, Pete. Sounds like you're eating chips while we talk with that crackling."

The baggies had been crackling in his bra as he moved, but he hadn't really noticed. Damn!

"Nah, just putting stuff in baggies."

"How domestic. You'll make someone a proper wife, my friend."

"Are you proposing already, Sheila?"

"As opposed to propositioning?"

"Even if I wasn't several miles away from you I'm not dressed for the occasion."

"Come as you are, my boy."

"No car. I'm home alone."

"Seen the movie, no way I'm going to try and get into your place if you're home alone."

"Some proposition."

"Wait until Saturday."

"This dating business is suddenly more interesting."

"And I wasn't interesting before?"

"Senator, to the best of my recollection I have no knowledge of the subject of your question."

"I'm glad I'm not in politics, then."

"Unless you move to California. There the politicians talk about propositions all the time."

"And the ones in Washington proposition people like me all the time."

"They know a good thing when they see it."

"Why Peter! You romantic devil, you."

"I'm just glad you can't see me right now."

And how!

"You're blushing again, right?"

"Uh, something like that."

"And you're not dressed for the occasion."

"Like I said…"

"This wouldn't have anything to do with that lingerie you made off with the other night?"

"Sheila, this conversation is getting weird."

"And here I thought it was getting very interesting."

"Uh…"

"No sweat, cuz. Most people wouldn't notice, but your second cousin knows you pretty well."

"Just how well?"

"Well enough to notice how when you check out a girl you aren't trying to look down her dress, you're looking at her dress. Am I right or am I right?"

"Uh…"

"And you notice little things like how clothes match, how earrings and jewelry compliment an outfit. I've seen you wince when one of the girls is wearing something really ugly but you never make nasty cracks about it."

"Is that your crazy way of saying I'm a nice guy?"

"You noticed! I'm not into Ugh the Caveman types. We girls like to check out the guys just as much as you guys like to check out us girls, you know."

"So you've been checking me out?"

"Sure. Enough to know I'm going to enjoy our date. Enough to see that longing look when you opened that box of lingerie. So did any of the stuff fit?"

"Uh… some?"

"I knew it! Was it the pink bra? I liked that one but it wouldn't fit me. You're going to have to show me someday, Pete."

"When pigs fly."

"Oink, oink"

"Planning to grow wings?"

"Planning to grow boobs?"

"Sheila, I would never ask a woman about her breasts. I'm a gentleman."

"A gentleman with a pink bra. Wait a minute!"

"I can wait as long as it takes for you to come to your senses."

"Experiments with rice… crackling plastic… by any chance would that rice have ended up in your bra cups. Your pink bra cups?"

"Senator, to the best of my recollection I have no knowledge of the subject of your question."

"I knew it, girlfriend. Don't go into politics, you're a lousy liar. So you're wearing a pink bra while we're talking, aren't you?"

"Uhhh…"

"C'mon Pete. Tell the truth."

"Yes."

"I knew it!"

"I guess that means the date is off, right?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Now you know I'm wearing a bra."

"So am I, what's the big deal?"

"But you're a girl!"

"I'm glad you noticed. Sometimes I have to wonder about you."

"You'd still go out with me even knowing I want to wear a bra?"

"Heck, I wouldn't even care if you wore it on our date. Probably best to leave the rice home, though."

"Wow!"

"I like you, Pete. You're a good egg, even if you're a bit cracked."

"Trustworthy, loyal helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent. Not one word about my underwear."

"I will do my best to be honest and fair, friendly and helpful, considerate and caring, courageous and strong, and responsible for what I say and do, and to respect myself and others, respect authority, use resources wisely, make the world a better place, and be a sister to every Girl Scout. We Girl Scouts have our spiel too.

"Say - you'd look pretty cute in a Girl Scout uniform, and then you'd be my sister and my cousin."

"I suppose I do."

"Wait a minute! How would you know?"

"There was more than lingerie in that bag."

"You're wearing a Girl Scout uniform? Now?"

"Two of them fit me, so I tried them on. It's a lot more interesting than the Boy Scout uniform. But only until my family gets back, which is any time now. I'm going to have to resume my secret identity and stop talking."

"You are one confused puppy. I thought Pete was your normal identity and the Girl Scout in the pink bra was your secret identity."

"I'm not so sure, really."

"Interesting. I'm looking forward to Saturday, it ought to be the most interesting date I've ever had."

"It's the only date I've ever had."

"Zowie! We better make it pretty special, then."

"Let's not get too excited. Friends, OK?"

"Friends, for sure. I want to know both of you better."

Saturday morning found our hero up early, excited and conflicted. Excited to be going on a date, excited because Sheila was a vivacious, sexy, intelligent girl who wanted to go on a date with him. Conflicted because Sheila was entirely too intelligent and perceptive and seemed to be able to see through into the parts of him he often tried to hide from himself.

And Sheila had actually kissed him.

The minutiae of packing the picnic, scarfing some food and being sure he had everything that would be needed kept him occupied for a while, but the confusion crept back in as he crept through the usual horrible Portland traffic on the way to pick her up. Even on a Saturday morning I-5 still sucked. Maybe moving to the desert would be an option to consider?

After what felt like hours to his whirling brain Pete pulled into her driveway and got out. Before he could even raise his hand to knock at the front door it opened and a whirlwind blew out and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Petey! You made it!"

"Aye, I battled through storm and fire and the idiots who want to park on the I-5 just to be at your door, fair maiden."

"You do have a poetic side, Pete, but the sky is perfectly blue and gorgeous, not stormy."

Taking out his wallet, Pete flipped it open. "Wait a second, I'm sure I have my Poetic Licence in here somewhere. Costco membership… Driver's licence… Safeway Card… Petco discount… Ouch! Hey, I liked it better when you kissed me."

"Smartasses get a smack upside the head."

"We haven't even started our date and already I'm in an abusive relationship."

"Oh you poor, dear thing. I'm so sorry you're a smartass."

"Apology accepted. You ready to go?"

"First things first. You've got to do the Dreaded Dad Interview."

"Why do I hear deep, throbbing cellos and kettle drums in the background when you say things like that?"

"Because it's the next best thing to going down in the basement without turning on the light?"

"Your dad doesn't seem too scary at the family reunions."

"That's because you weren't taking his little flower on a date at the family reunions"

"Little flower?"

"Well, when I was four years old that's what he called me. I kinda grew like a weed since then."

"A lovely blossom such as yourself should never think of herself as a weed."

"Oooh, you silver tongued devil, you. Let's get this over with, the 'rents insist on introductions since I made a couple of really bad choices before I was even supposed to be dating."

"You'll have to tell me sometime."

"Don't worry, I will. You won't have to worry about being a better date than they were, either."

 

"Hey Dad, you remember Pete?"

"I think so. One of Aunt Aggie's brood if I remember correctly."

"That's right, sir."

"It's too early in the morning to get sired. Uncle Tim will do, and Aunt Martha."

"OK, Uncle Tim."

"So where are you two going and do I need to get out the tracking collar again?"

"Daddy!"

"Uh, I wasn't planning on crossing any state lines."

"Daddy, we're only going over to the coast and maybe Cannon Beach and Ecola."

"Good wholesome, clean fun?"

"Don't get your hopes up."

"It's Pete's hopes I worry about."

"Jeez Daddy, I was the one who had to ask for the date, he's a Boy Scout in thought and deed."

"Hey - I am here, you know!" spoke a bemused Pete.

"Don't worry, son. Or maybe with this hellion you had better worry, but that's your worry. Have a good time."

"Just let me get my stuff."

As evidence of Pete's status as a non-macho male who understands women he refrained from comment as Sheila handed him two large, overstuffed bags and followed with a picnic hamper.

Even at eighteen years of age, Pete was a seasoned Portland driver, which meant he avoided the Interstates between the hours of 5AM and midnight, which constituted rush hour in Portland Oregon. With Sheila and the GPS as consultants (don't listen to her, Pete - I know a better way) they made it to the town of Carlton and, having left the city behind, started winding their way into the mountains. Even though the altimeter on your GPS will tell Portland is only about 300 feet above sea level, there are some serious mountains between you and the coast.

This was the scenic way to get from here to there, winding and twisting through the beautiful woods and forests. If you're not in a hurry, like Pete and Sheila, it's a wonderful drive if you don't mind dodging the occasional logging truck or that the road suddenly turns to gravel in places.

With the sun shining brightly and not a cloud in the sky they ascended the mountain, marveling at the spring green of the newly burgeoning trees and the darker green of the conifers. Every so often a yellow diamond sign reminded them they were on a twisty road, not to mention warnings to beware of log trucks. The area was being actively logged and those behemoths could be daunting when they were careening down the slope toward the cockleshell of a passenger car.

The conversation was a bit slow to get started. Take two teenagers who have known each other casually all their lives and have them suddenly realize they are the opposite sex and they might, just might, be interested in each other as more than an acquaintance and the conversational field becomes as dense as the forest surrounding their vehicle. Add to that the fact that Sheila was the only other person on the planet that knew Pete was a crossdresser and it's hard to find a neutral topic that's safe to discuss.

Family camping trips were a good choice, both having been at home in the woods most of their lives, as was Scouting. They were both starting to relax a bit when, around a hairpin turn, a logging truck about as big as the Biblical Leviathan made it's appearance and Pete abruptly jammed on the brakes and hit the dirt shoulder to avoid becoming one with a load of future wood pulp.

Pete was speechless. Sheila was more vocal. "What the hell does that asshole logger think he's doing!" she cried.

"Are you OK?"

"I think so. Are you OK?"

"Yeah, I'm OK… And if you start singing that song you can walk home!"

"Song? Why would I be wanting to sing a song after almost getting flattened by a logging truck?"

"I'll explain someday, just not now."

Once Peter and Sheila were over the peak of the mountains and descending the western side the road followed a stream that splashed and danced over the rocks as it ran through the verdant forest. At each turn in the road a magnificent new vista was revealed and Sheila was enchanted by the scenery.

"I had no idea any of this was here, Pete. It's beautiful."

"I thought you'd like it."

"You sure know how to plan a date. This beats seeing a movie all hollow. Uh Pete?"

"Yes?"

"Is there a gas station any time soon? I have to pee."

"You should have taken care of that before you left," Pete replied in a singsong voice.

"Your folks used that line too?"

"One of us always put off doing their business on every road trip. It was usually followed by 'You'll just have to hold it.' "

"And one of my brothers always made a crack about turning yellow and my mother got mad."

"Sorry, no gas stations until we get into Beaver."

"Beaver? Damn!"

"But there are a bunch of little picnic sites and campgrounds that have outhouses."

"Peter, that was nasty."

"But it was fun."

"How soon do we get there?"

"Hours and hours. That was my dad's line. It can't be that long and I'll try to avoid the bumps."

"You're a true gentleman, Pete."

"I suppose."

"Such enthusiasm."

"There times I don't want to feel like a gentleman."

"Oh… Like when you're wearing a pink bra and a Girl Scout uniform?"

"Uh, yeah."

"You want to talk about it? No pressure."

"Other than needing to pee?"

"You're changing the subject."

"I'm good at that. I've never told anyone before."

"You told me."

"Because you're too damn smart and ought have been a detective."

"Like Miss Marple or Hercule Poirot? Do you suppose Hercule ever wanted to be Miss Marple?"

"I don't think he would fit into her clothes."

"He'd have to shave his mustache, too. There goes the image."

"That's what it's all about, isn't it? Image?"

"And what image do you see for yourself?"

"I just don't know! Sometimes I get so sick of the whole 'boys do this' routine when I want to do something else entirely. I hated it when I was playing little league, baseball has got to be the most boring game ever invented. Most of the time my brain seems to think like a girl, not a boy."

"So what's wrong with that? People are telling me all the time I think like a man as if that's something tragic."

"I guess to a jock, anyone that looks as good as you and isn't a bimbo is tragic."

"Wow! A compliment about my looks that wasn't sexist. You're good, Pete."

"Just trying to be honest."

"So do you want to be a girl?"

"I don't know! Sometimes I do. Sometimes I want it so bad it hurts. But most of the time being a boy isn't so bad. Then when you kissed me the other night I sure wasn't feeling anything like a girl. It's confusing!"

"And I thought just being a girl was confusing enough. Here I go stalking you for a boyfriend and find out I get a two-for-one deal. Or is it maybe a one-for-one deal splitting it down the middle and just having a friend?"

"Now we're both confused. Sit and think on it for a few minutes, there's the campground. I just hope they've been pumping out the outhouse regularly. A stinky outhouse is a lousy place for contemplation."

"Gad! This has got to be the most romantic date I've ever been on!"

"Gad?"

"An old-fashioned way of saying 'Oh Shit!' without getting a lecture on proper language for a young lady."

"I never knew you could increase your vocabulary by dating. I'm sorry I didn't start earlier."

"Hold that thought. Nature is calling. Screaming, in fact"

And with that she bolted for the outhouse, leaving Pete wondering if he could become enough of a proper young woman to say 'Gad!' with a straight face.

 

"Whew! That's better. Your turn."

"I'm OK."

"The last time I said that you threatened me about singing some song. What gives?"

"You're not a Monty Python fan, are you?"

"Who's he?"

"Them. British crazies that did TV and movies back in the day. They're old guys now, but they're still funny. At least I think so, not everybody gets their humor."

"And…"

"I'll play you the Lumberjack Song when we get back in the car."

"Is this some kind of test?"

"Might be. If you like the song you'll understand."

"Then let's get going so I can hear this marvelous music for myself."

"Don't forget - you just asked for it."

To Pete's vast relief, she passed the test.

 

"Hey look!" cried Sheila as they drove through the town of Tillamook. "There's the cheese factory."

For anyone living in the northwest of the good 'ole USA, Tillamook dairy products are a fact of life. If its made from milk then the gigantic Tillamook Creamery makes it: cheese, yogurt, ice cream, butter. How big, you ask? They produce one million pounds of cheese each week - that big.

"I don't see any cows."

"Not at the factory, you big ape."

"Which means they must moo-ve a lot of milk around."

"Pete, as a well-endowed woman I've heard just about every dairy joke on this planet. Don't start."

"I shall contemplate your charms in silence."

"Pete? Why the hell would you actually want to wear a bra when you don't have breasts?"

"Because I want breasts?"

"You're welcome to mine, I have a stinking surplus."

"Be still my beating heart. I thought you said you didn't put out on the first date."

"Peter! You know that's not the way I meant it, or is your testosterone getting in the way of your girl thing?"

"Conditioning brought on by growing up in a patriarchal society."

"Pseudo-feminist claptrap!"

"Claptrap?"

"I like the word. Mom uses it all the time. Don't change the subject."

"So OK, I fantasize about breasts like yours, just not the way most guys do."

"Why is it that no matter what we're talking about the conversation keeps ending up about sex or your odd clothing choices?"

"Because we're hormone-ravaged teenagers and you're fascinated by my 'odd clothing choices?' "

"You sound like my father!"

"I guess I kind of sound like my father. That's the kind of thing he says when I get his goat."

"Nanny-goat or billy-goat?"

"You don't seriously think I would have told him about something like this?"

"I suppose not. This is the weirdest and most fun date I've ever had."

"I was scared shitless when you figured out how I was dressed, but now I'm actually glad you know."

"So am I. I tend to come on a bit too strong for a lot of men. Boys. Whatever. You haven't gotten that queasy look in your eyes and tried to find a polite way to say 'I'm outta here!' "

"And you haven't said things like 'queer,' 'wimp,' or 'pervert' either."

"Maybe that's why you're such a good date, you aren't trying to impress me with how manly and protective you are. This is really your first date?"

"Yeah. I just didn't feel right taking a girl out when I half wanted to be a girl myself. Felt like false advertising."

"Aren't you glad I'm the pushy type?"

"You caught me with my attention elsewhere, like on those clothes I was coveting. My defenses were down. Then you kissed me. Thank you for confusing me even more than I was, I think."

"You kiss pretty good for someone who's confused."

"You kiss pretty good for a pushy chick."

"You liked it?"

"Hell yes!"

"Good. I haven't lost my touch. Be interesting to kiss you sometime when you're dressed up and see what happens."

"Like that's going to happen."

"What good is a kissing cousin if I can't kiss him. Her."

"Jeez Sheila, I've just barely been able to try on those new clothes for a half an hour. Not too often everyone else is gone and I can dress up."

"You just aren't sneaky enough, cuz. These things have to be planned."

"And I suppose you have a plan?"

"I'm working on it."

"While you're thinking, should we stop at the beach?"

"Sure, why do you think I wanted to go to the coast?"

"So you could delve into my deepest, darkest secrets?"

"That was for the trip here, now I want to see the water."

"Your wish is my command, fair maid."

"And if you are the one looking like a fair maid?"

"We'll split the difference."

 

"Would you want to stop and tour the cheese factory or just keep going to Cannon Beach?" asked Pete.

"The cheese factory. We can eat lunch there and have the picnic for dinner."

"A practical woman, you've got it."

"Well now that was exciting." declaimed Sheila.

Pete and Sheila were back in the car after the plant tour.

"Yeah, nothing like watching a bunch of stainless steel tanks sitting there doing nothing to keep your interest." replied Pete.

"Well, we did get to see a movie. Movies are sort of required on a hot date."

"I guess I'm doing pretty good for my first try at dating."

"Smartass. At least the cheese packing lines were moving, looked like a river of orange down there."

"I liked the river that ran by the road getting here better."

"So did I. How come the cheese is orange when the milk is white?"

"Ah, I just happen to know the answer to that. Heard it on NPR a while back. It all started as a seventeenth century fraud."

"You're kidding!"

"Seriously. Some of the cows in England ate grass that had enough beta carotene to make their milk sort of yellow or orange, so much of the best quality cheese had that color naturally. And naturally, somebody had to cheat to make a buck, so they started to skim off the cream, which was what had the color, and sell it separately. Then they colored the lowfat milk and sold the crappy cheese for a premium price."

"Figures."

"And us Americans had to do everyone one better so some dairies started making their cheese look like a Halloween pumpkin to make it stand out."

"If anyone tries to market pumpkin-spice Cheddar I'm going to personally shred their marketing hacks and put them in little bags hanging in the grocery store along with the pasteurized processed poop they so daringly call 'cheese food'."

"Remind me not to get on your bad side. Can I tell you a secret?"

"You have another secret besides the one we've been talking about all day?"

"This one could really get me in trouble if it got out."

"Do tell!"

"I don't like Tillamook cheese."

"Sacrilege! They'll burn you at the stake for heresy, or maybe drown you in a vat of buttermilk. You Unitarians are taking things too damn far."

"And you Baptists get carried away over nothing. I suppose around this part of Oregon dairy products are the next best thing to religion. Why do you think I don't want anybody to know? Tillamook cheese is just plain too bland. You ever tried Cabot Seriously Sharp?"

"Would it pair well with communion wafers?"

"I prefer wheat thins. You can see for yourself at dinner."

"You brought some with you?"

"In the cooler."

"You're just lucky their competitor's product alarm didn't go off when you drove into the parking lot."

"Its a lead lined cooler."

"That stuff must be really hot!"

"Tastes much better cold, thank you."

"You're weird."

"Oh, and New Englanders think premium cheese should be white, and since Cabot is based in New England it's white."

"We heading for Cannon Beach?"

"Yup. Decision time. Do you want to troll the little shops or just head for the park and do some hiking and stuff."

"What do you want to do?"

"Well, it might be fun to see some of the shops first."

"That's it! Now I know you are serious about this girl thing. No man I have ever met would want to troll the shops with me."

"Was that a test?"

"Could be."

"Did I pass?"

Cannon Beach is an unabashed tourist town. The City Parents - no sexism here with City Fathers, please - wisely kept the beach open to everyone, building the requisite yuppie condos far back from the shore. Come sunset you can see couples strolling hand in hand or dogs joyfully running flat out, all outlined against the sea and the setting sun. There's usually someone starting a fire from the driftwood with the family clustered close for the warmth.

What you won't see is anyone swimming; the Pacific ocean is cold! Take three steps into the water and your ankles are screaming get the heck out of here! Fortunately, when your ankles have stopped screaming and you can walk again without wincing, the City Parents have provided a multitude of little shops and boutiques to wander through.

Thus, it was no surprise to find Pete and Sheila wandering through the shops. The element of surprise was not totally lacking, however. Both Pete and Sheila were mildly surprised at how much fun they were having together. On Sheila's part, the whole thing of taking her cousin out on a date was a spur-of-the-moment whim to see if she could get a rise out of her 'mister nice guy' cousin. For Pete, it had become a torture of anticipation to spend the day with his wild-woman cousin who had figured out he was a crossdresser. Not exactly the stuff that romance novels are made of.

And yet…

Well, it would be an overstatement to say Romance Was In The Air, but there was a certain keen interest on both sides. Neither had expected that the day would be so much fun. For the past hour, the two of them had been perusing half a dozen little shops, taking a break to sit and eat some ice cream and watch the people passing by before resuming their lazy explorations.

At this point, Pete was in a quandary. They were in a clothing shop - a women's clothing shop - and Sheila was happily trying on several items and asking Pete's opinion. Pete was finding it hard to concentrate despite Sheila being an attractive woman who fully did justice to her clothing selections. While Sheila was ensconced in the changing room Pete had spotted an item on the closeout rack. Being spring in the great wide world it was now summer in the retail world. Thus the winter clothes were relegated to the cutout rack and Pete was surrounded by swimsuits and summer frocks.

While waiting for Sheila, Pete had, ever so casually, wandered over to the rack and examined a beautiful dress of blue velvet with angel sleeves and a high waistline. The bodice was embroidered and the hemline would fall just below the knee on him. And that's where Pete was imagining the dress - on him.

Yeah, it was a distraction. It was even his size, and he could afford it if he could get up the nerve to buy it.

In front of Sheila.

Yeah, it was a distraction.

"What do you think of this one, Pete?" Sheila inquired as she spun around to flare the pale violet skirt."

"Not bad. Matches your panties."

"Letch!"

"I'm not the one who was letting her underwear show. I do notice things like that."

"Have I commented on your underwear?"

"As a matter of fact, you've been talking about it all day."

"Oh, I guess I have."

"I'm getting used to it. I confess I'm a little bit jealous that you can try things on and I can only sit here and let my imagination run wild."

"If anybody else had said something like that I'd slap them silly, but I think I know where your imagination is taking you."

"Don't be too sure of that, cuz."

"You're blushing again, Pete."

"You could always try on a bikini or two."

"And what is it you want to try on?"

"Uhhh…"

"C'mon Pete. I'm getting to know you and you can't hide a thing."

"The blue velvet?"

Pete feebly waved in the general direction of the cutout rack, so Sheila went over and examined the dress.

"Not bad at all. Too bad it's the wrong size for me but it should be just about right for my cousin, eh Pete."

"Uhhh… Yes…"

"You're so decisive today. Why don't you get it for her and she can show it to me sometime."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Of course not!

"It still seems weird."

"Pete, old buddy, you're doing your part to Keep Portland Weird. It's your civic duty!"

"Wow! I feel so patriotic."

"So wear it with a red scarf and white hose. Perfect!"

"I think my face will be enough for the red, crazy cousin."

"You're blushing again. Very feminine."

"You enjoy making me blush."

"Oh, you noticed."

"Can we get this stuff before you talk me into anything else outrageous?"

"The day is still young, cuz"

 

"Where are we going?"

"Ecola State Park."

"Ecola? That's an unfortunate name. Sort of midway between Ebola and E coli."

"It comes from the Chinook word for whale. That was long before the modern nasties were common. Turn here!"

"I don't think the town wants you to be able to find your way out once you've gotten in. That's all I've been doing is turning every hundred yards. I think I need a map."

"You're thinking like a girl again. First shopping, now a map. No man I ever met actually asked for a map."

"Too bad I don't have my bra so I could wear my new dress. Does that sound as twisted as this road?"

"Don't worry, I'm getting used to the idea. That was the last turn. From now you can't go wrong."'

"On this road I may go into the woods. Is there enough room for someone going the other way to get by us?"

"Think small and stay right."

"I get the feeling that the surveyors used a snake instead of a straight edge."

"It is a bit twisty. Only a little more to go."

"Did I just see Little Red Riding Hood in the bushes?"

"I thought you didn't want to go to Grandma's house."

"I forgot. Hey look! There's a little house up ahead and not a big bad wolf in sight."

"He doesn't show up until you sneak in with out paying your five dollars to park."

"Looks just like an ATM. The State must be saving money by not paying rangers to take your money."

"Automation is everywhere, even in the middle of the woods."

"At least there's plenty of parking. I'm glad that's over."

"Feel like a rat at the end of a maze?"

"Look, just because I brought foreign cheese with me is no reason to be insulting."

"So - the cheese lies at the end of the road?

"No, the cheese lies in the cooler, along with the steak and the corn."

"Don't forget the rice salad. I've become very fond of rice."

"And you're not going to let me forget it, are you?"

"Nope."

"But why?"

"Why? Why not? I've always liked you, even before I thought you'd make a good boyfriend. You've been sweet and treat me like an intelligent person. Believe me that's not something a girl can take for granted. You were honest with me the other night on the phone when you could have denied everything. You trusted me and that doesn't happen so often."

" 'You're a nice guy.' That line is usually followed by a 'but I don't want to…' and it goes downhill from there."

"Aren't you lucky I can see through the bullshit?"

"And you're so modest, too."

"You bet your ass."

"And if I won that ass what would I do with it?"

"An interesting question. You're a creative guy, I'm sure you could come up with something."

"I'm a nice guy, I won't press my luck."

"Damn! Sometimes you can be too nice, Pete. And you've done it again. Every time we start to talk about you liking women's clothes you manage to get me talking about something else."

"Part of being a creative guy, you know. I get pretty used to hiding it, and I can't figure why you're so interested. Most people get grossed out or pissed off."

"Part curiosity, part I have a lesbian friend who does the butch thing and it sort of ties in, doesn't it. And part because I've had a crush on you for years."

"What!"

"You're not the only one with secrets."

"You had a crush? On me!"

"So I'm a sucker for cute guys. We only see each other a couple of times a year at big family things and you always seemed to be off somewhere with a book or something."

"I suppose you're right. We're the only two near in age and I was too shy to try and chat you up."

"Hah! When your Scout troop turned up at church I decided 'what the hell' and made my move. I did notice you checking out the frillies and it made me curious."

"Was I that obvious?"

"Well, the guys that I know would have been outta there in a flash - unless the frillies happened to be wrapped around a girl and then they would have been making asses of themselves trying to get them off her."

"Not a pretty picture you paint."

"You could hardly call those guys artistic."

"I'd call you a cynical bitch but I have to agree. I never could figure out guys like that, but then I'm not sure how much of a guy I am. There are times I think I should have been a girl. Then stuff happens like you kissing me and I want to be a guy."

"Jeez - I feel like a Marine. I'm gonna make a man out of you! 'Course I wouldn't want to go out with some macho military man so I'd much rather help make a girl out of you."

"The only bad part of that is you'd have to be careful about kissing me again. In all the fairy tales when the beautiful princess kisses the frog he turns into a handsome prince. That would be rather counterproductive, wouldn't it?"

"Are we going to sit here all day or are we going to have a picnic?"

"Picnic. You take the basket and I'll bring the grill and the charcoal."

It was pretty late by the time Pete dropped Sheila off. This time the kiss goodbye was no hurried peck, but an extended and enthusiastic exchange. It took a few minutes before either had their breath back.

"Uh, you didn't turn into a handsome prince." Sheila smirked.

"I don't feel much like a frog, either."

"Frogs don't kiss like that."

"Shall we try it again?"

(Dialogue wouldn't do justice to the inarticulate sounds that followed.)

"Pete? I have an idea for our next date."

"I was hoping there'd be a next date."

"It's early enough in the season that nobody should have claimed the cabin next weekend. You could bring your dress and things and I could see my other cousin."

"Uhhh…"

"Good thing it's too dark to see you blush."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Do you want me to keep the dress so you don't have to hide it?"

"Would you?"

"Sure. Pete, this is the best date I've ever been on. I'd say something like 'you're a prince' but I suppose I ought to be gender-neutral and say you're royalty or something."

"I'm flattered. I had a wonderful time and I really am glad to get to know you better. Too bad it took so long."

"I've got to go or dad is going to be flashing the lights or something like that."

"Well you've certainly set my light flashing."

"Me too. See you cuz!

Confusion. A fine old word, comes from the Latin confundere, meaning mingle together. Now there's a concept that describes a young crossdresser - or maybe trans-something - if there ever was one.

After the exhilarating emotional roller coaster of a date with Sheila, the word bi-polar was much in his mind. One minute high with enthusiasm for wearing his (her?) new dress with his (her?) cousin, the next down in the lower recesses of despair for being a freak. Keep Portland Weird joined bi-polar running around Pete's befuddled brain.

Pete didn't really mind being a boy all that much. The typical boy things like sports and dirt bikes and catching snakes were OK, but that was about it - OK. They were just about as much fun as cooking or sewing or just talking to friends without having to invent exploits to impress the guys who were being just as inventive. As far as he could tell, the balance shifted to the girl side because they had nicer bodies.

So yeah, maybe he was prejudiced by the testosterone in his body.

How many years had he daydreamed about being a girl? And how many years had he not done a damned thing about it? Reading stuff online was about all. A few scrounged pieces of clothing, taken out rarely when he was alone and worn in his bedroom, all the while listening feverishly to be sure nobody had come home to catch him wearing them. Those nebulous visions of walking in a flowing skirt, feeling his very own breasts bouncing in a bra were cherished fantasies.

Then along comes Sheila kissing him and suddenly Pete was thinking of things about as far from being a girl as could be imagined. Not macho, that wasn't anything in his makeup, but horny male images of putting his hands inside her bra. While she was wearing it. Maybe taking her bra off her and not because he wanted to put it on his body.

Then she goes and invites him to dress up like the girl he thought he wanted to be and spend the day all alone with her.

Could Portland get any weirder than that? It was like trying to find his way out of a maze.

The clothes had fascinated him since his sister got her first training bra. He must have been, what? Eleven? Vicky started showing breasts when she was only ten. Overhearing his parents talking about what to do because she was developing so early had made him jealous. Why couldn't he develop, too? The answer came only a few days later when Dad took him aside and explained what was happening to Vicky and what would happen to him.

After that talk about the birds and the bees he sort of got the idea; at least he knew he was never going to have his parents buy him a training bra. That seemed awfully unfair, but it was pretty clear it wasn't something he was supposed to complain about to his parents. The message that boys and girls are different did come through clearly.

It still wasn't fair, though.

Then he noticed one of his mother's bras in the laundry and it did fit. Well it flopped around a bit but it was close. He even wore it overnight a few times after he had been tucked into bed. He still remembered the one night when he had a nightmare and Mom came in to comfort him. He was scared silly she would hug him and find the bra. He managed to get the idea across he was too big for hugs and he wanted to go back to sleep. He took it off the second she left the room and hid it until he could toss it down the laundry chute the next morning.

Sadly, he grew fast enough his mother's clothes wouldn't fit by the time he was maybe thirteen. No more secret overnight sessions with her bra. That lasted until a few years ago when he found a couple of dusty boxes in the attic that contained his grandmother's old clothes. That was his Dad's mom, not Mom's mom - the one who complained about his long hair. Pete could barely remember her living with them when he was a little kid. She must have died when he was six or so and those boxes got shifted upstairs instead of going to the Goodwill. Who knew why, but there they were, waiting for him.

Maybe it was age that made the elastic so limp, maybe it was that Grandma didn't care if her bra let her tits flop. He certainly remembered being buried in them when he sat on her lap. Most of the nicer stuff was too small, she lost a lot of weight as old age and cancer slowly killed her, but some of the older stuff was near enough his size for him to wear. At first he felt like a grave robber wearing her things, but after a while they just became his precious clothes whenever he could put them on.

Now he had underwear and two Girl Scout uniforms that fit properly, not to mention that blue dress bought especially for him and no one else. Clothes he could wear all day long if he could handle his cousin being there watching him.

It was a good thing that Pete was known as a boy to all and sundry, because if he had been a girl everyone would have thought he (she?) was an air-headed bimbo that week in school. His mind was a thousand miles away. Or rather about twenty five miles away at a cabin in the woods.

Saturday morning.

Early Saturday Morning. Maybe it was because he had gotten only a few hours sleep each night during the week that Pete had finally gotten a good night's rest. In any case the alarm woke him and he was showered and dressed well before he had to be. Greatly daring, he had put on his bra and panties and filled the cups with the bags of rice. Donning his jeans and a very loose, sloppy sweatshirt he examined the image in the mirror and decided the modest B cups wasn't too obvious. Appropriate clothes for a day in the woods.

His backpack lay by the door, containing wardrobe for both Pete and Polly. It seemed silly now, but much of his sleeplessness was deciding on a name to use today. Somehow he just had to have an appropriate name for his feminine side. It hadn't much mattered to him when he was snatching a few hours alone in his room, but now that Sheila would be there and talking to him (her?) Pete just wouldn't do!

Nervously, he sat in the kitchen by himself; the rest of the family was sensibly catching up on their sleep this morning. Only Pete, soon to be Polly, was up at this hour. At last there was a knock on the door - she was kind enough not to lay on the horn and piss off the neighbors at this hour - and he opened it to find a smiling Sheila looking like a model in the Land's End catalog or some hearty English heiress ready to cross the heather. Or was heather only in Scotland? Who cared? Wearing a wheat-tone cotton cable-knit sweater and nubby cotton midi skirt, Polly was instantly jealous and wished she could look like that.

"You go out in the woods looking like that and the wolves are going to start howling, Sheila."

"They'll go for the girl in the Girl Scout uniform first. You brought it?"

"Yes, And a change of underwear."

"Good idea. Never can tell what you'll run into in the woods."

"Like wolves?"

"Or mud puddles. At least it's not supposed to rain today, even if it is a bit cool."

"I can always start a campfire, no matter which Scout uniform I'm wearing."

"Better yet, a fire in the fireplace so we won't freeze our backsides while roasting our fronts."

"At least part of my front will be insulated."

"I wonder what R-factor rice has?"

"Get in the car, will you?"

"Play you cards right and I can keep your backside warm."

"Strip poker?"

"You'd lose your girlish figure."

"I suppose you're right. I'm simply your girlfriend enjoying a platonic day together, right?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"My innate cowardice?"

"Bold enough that I see lumps under your sweatshirt."

"You're rubbing off on me."

"Now rubbing you sounds like a capital idea!"

"Will you stop that?"

"I haven't even started."

"Do you always try to seduce your cousins?"

"Only those riding in my car and wearing bras."

"Is it safe to be alone with you out in the woods?"

"Depends on what you consider safe."

"I could call for help."

"No cell service out there. I've got you in my power…"

"But I can't pay the rent, Snidely!" Polly squeaked.

"You must pay the rent!" growled Sheila.

"Just wait until Dudley Doright comes to save me!"

"He's tied up on a railroad track, Nell."

"Actually, I've decided I should be called Polly."

"Polly? Polyphemus? Polymorphic? Polyandry? Polyester?"

"Polly Ann, please. And if I'm Polly for the duration seducing me would do you no good if you're set on polyandry."

"See - I've gotten you used to the idea of being seduced, Polly. Nice name, by the way. Wasn't one of our great-great-grandmothers named Polly?"

"Haven't got a clue."

"I did a genealogy thing in tenth grade and I'm pretty sure that one of our great-great-grandmothers was named Polly Marie."

"You're the expert. Who'd have thunk I would be carrying on her name?"

"I got to see the family Bible from way back, one of the Aunties inherited it from I forget who, but it gave me all kinds of information. I wonder if we should add your new name to it?"

"Do you ever slow down or is it always full-throttle ahead?"

"Full throttle. I don't want Dudley rescuing you before I'm done with you."

"Poor Dudley would get one hell of a surprise when he rescued me."

"Not Dudley. His heart was pure and his dick was forever unused."

"Uh, can we find something else to talk about?"

"Poor Polly!"

"I'm finding it hard to think like a fair maiden somehow."

"Great! That's the whole point of seduction, isn't it?"

"Tell me again why I agreed to do this?"

"Because I'm a pushy broad who is fulfilling her lifelong crush on her kissing cousin. Just 'cuz he likes to wear dresses makes it that much more interesting."

"I'm doomed, aren't I?"

"No negativity! The stars are aligned and we are fated to find romance and live happily ever after."

"Until either of our parents find out and then we are fated to get covered with the shit that hit the fan."

"So who's going to tell them. My folks are just happy I'm dating a boy they can trust. They haven't exactly been pleased with some of the guys I dated."

"I've heard rumors."

"Probably true. I hate to say it but they were right. The last one turned to be a fast-talking cherry picker."

"Huh?"

"He tried to pick my cherry, but he didn't realize it had been harvested already."

"Do I want to know this?"

"If I convince you to be my boyfriend you you should know. If you want to be my girlfriend then this is the stuff girlfriends talk about."

"I'm really getting uncomfortable here."

"You look like it. Your boobs are crackling again."

"And they're getting sticky. I'm sweating in this sweatshirt in the warm car and I need to think about some better way to fill my bra."

"Polly darling, I have a surprise for you."

"What?"

"If I told you it wouldn't be a surprise. Wait till we get to the cabin."

"Are we there yet?"

"Just a couple more minutes. Control yourself."

"Only if you quit with the seducing."

"What fun is that?"

 

"Hey - this is sweet," enthused Polly.

"Grandpa Luis was a hunter, but I think he used this place more to get away from Grandma Shari. She sorta gave the place to us when Grandpa passed on. She hates the woods and gets all excited about bugs and stuff."

"Some people have all the luck."

"It's a great place for parties. Mom and Dad trust us and I try not to do anything stupid enough to change their minds."

"Trying to seduce your cousin isn't stupid?"

"C'mere."

She planted another kiss on his unresisting lips.

"Now was that stupid?"

"Um, I'm not sure. Try it again?"

She tried. They tried.

"I feel like I'm kissing a bowl of rice krispies. You're crackling."

"What can I say. A certain wannabe seductress gave me the dress code for the day."

"Mmmmm… So she did. Your boobs aren't the only thing that's crackling."

"So who's seducing who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Remember, you're the one who isn't going to do anything to worry your parents."

"Then let's bring in the rest of the stuff and I'll give you your surprise."

"Oh, goodie."

"First I have to swear you to secrecy."

"Do tell…"

"Cross your heart and hope to die."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I have a bag of rice over my heart and can't reach it."

"You…"

"Gotcha! OK, I swear."

"Since you want to join the ranks of the feminine, you need to know what the first topic a ten year old girl will discuss with her friends."

"And that is…"

"The boob fairy. Her name is Tit-Tanya, by the way."

"Ouch! Is she related to the tooth fairy?"

"Second cousins, I think."

"How do I schedule an appointment?"

"You don't make the appointment, she does. And she never appears when you want her to. We decided that convincing your mother to get you a training bra was the best way to invoke her presence. Once you were wearing a bra she was honor bound to fill it up."

"I was awfully jealous when my sister got her training bra, but I didn't have the nerve to ask for one for myself. By the time I realized I wasn't going to be developing breasts I was very disappointed."

"You weren't the only one to be disappointed. Half of my friends were practically turning cerise trying to get the darn things to grow."

"And you were one of them?"

"Hardly. By ten I was a B cup and on my way to a C. I wasn't even nine when I started, and believe me there can be too much of a good thing."

"Jeez Sheila! Too much information!"

"Girl talk. You want to dress like a girl, maybe be a girl, you got to talk like a girl."

"You're as bad as the jerks who boast about their cock sizes. And believe me with the name Peter I get a whole lot of grief when the 'big boys' get going."

"Just think, you could join both conversations and become a universal expert."

"Oh great! Tit-Tanya and Long Dong Silver making a joint presentation."

"Yeah, a gold-plated breastplate and a platinum codpiece."

"Nah! Metallic bras are traditionally made of brass."

"So are balls."

"I'm not really into comparing sizes, thank you."

"At least you don't have your secondary sexual characteristics on display for the entire world."

"I'm keeping my mouth shut."

"Since you were polite enough not to ask, there's an F on my bra tag. But back to the boob fairy. There are some girls who just can't wait and try to help nature along. You wouldn't believe the silly things certain people put in their bras to impress the boys."

"Somehow I find natural breasts impressive enough."

"So much so you want a pair yourself."

"I wouldn't toss Tit-Tanya out in the snow if she came along."

"These days the rich girls don't have to resort to toilet paper wads or bags of rice, because you can get a perfectly good looking pair of silicon substitutes on Amazon and have them at their door the next day."

"I thought those things were expensive."

"They can be, and the really top-of-the-line falsies are big bucks. But one of my friends is pretty well off and was convinced Tit-Tanya had lost her address, so she got her parents to buy her three pair."

"Three pair? Does she plan to mate with a lab rat to need that many?"

"Smartass! Three different sizes, small to start out with, then in a couple of months she upgraded and a while later she did it again. It must be nice having parents rich enough to buy you three sets of breasts so you can look like the breast fairy didn't forget you."

"Somehow I don't picture you hanging out with a rich bitch."

"She's rich, but certainly no bitch. Very down to earth, in fact. Her folks are pretty cool and don't flaunt their money. Much. A couple of years later Tit-Tanya got her act together and she downsized as her body upsized."

"Sounds like a lot of work."

"We must make sacrifices for beauty. Actually, when she was on the middle set some jerk felt her up on a dare and she never even noticed. We had to kick the ass in his ass while she was still looking around wondering what the hell was happening."

"They ought to put that on Saturday Night Live."

"They could get Al Franken to play the jerk, I don't know if he ever got a new job after the stupidity he had to put up with."

"No politics, please. Besides, political sex scandals are a British tradition. I assume there is a point to telling me all this."

"You shall know all, dear cousin. I paid a visit to my friend and she still had those three boxes up on her closet shelf. Want to be a B cup, Polly?"

"You're kidding!"

"Nope. Let me get them and you can go into the bedroom and change. I assume you shaved everything that shows?"

"Carefully, and I cleaned the tub up afterwards."

"Definitely not your typical male. Put on the Scout uniform and we can go for a hike in the woods."

"You don't have any neighbors, do you?"

"Never can tell, but this early in the season nobody's around."

"I don't know why you're doing all this for me, but thanks."

"For starters, you're a better kisser than anyone else I've met. Got to keep you satisfied. Now scoot!

 

"Not bad, but you need a little work."

"As the sage said: 'Men fall in love with women, women fall in love with potential.' "

"Hey - not a bad line. I like it."

"Stole it from a folk song. So what kind of work are you thinking of? Makeup? Deportment lessons?"

"We'll keep it simple today, nobody here but us girls. Just style your hair, pierce your ears, a tattoo…"

"Wait a minute!"

"Gotcha back!"

"OK, I deserved that."

"Really, just style your hair a bit, maybe pluck a few eyebrow hairs, but not enough to get anybody looking at you funny. Makeup doesn't make sense for a walk in the woods, but if you really want to take this farther then we'll see. Don't take this the wrong way, but you really aren't going to be going head-to-head with Arnold Schwarzenegger."

"For which I am silently grateful. I'm big enough that the bullies don't paint a bulls-eye on my back but small enough to make being a girl more than a fantasy. At least I fit into this uniform without any problem."

"A corset would help, but I wouldn't wish one of those on anybody. Well, maybe one particular bitch I… Forget I said that."

"Said what?"

"Nothing."

"How do you know about corsets? I've never heard of a real girl wearing one. Just the guys in some of the crossdresser fantasies I've read on line."

"They write stories about this stuff?"

"Bunches. I suspect most of them by old men who wouldn't stand a chance in hell of looking like a woman in real life. Imagination is a powerful tool."

"So it is… I'm working hard at thinking 'real girl' and not 'sex object' when imagining how to make you look convincing."

"That's going to take time."

"We could make it our summer project."

"I think we might have some interesting questions from our parents if we spent that much time together."

"Want to go steady?"

"Oh darling! This is so sudden!"

"Told you I had a crush on you. If we were going steady then I could put the lip-lock on you in public and nobody would get excited."

"I'd be getting excited."

"So would I. You going to get any grief from your folks if we spent a whole lot of time together with nobody watching?"

"Didn't some old politician say 'trust, but verify'?"

"We just make sure that any spot inspections happen with all our clothes on."

"And all my clothes as the inspectors expect."

"And Polly…"

"Yes?"

"I hope it will be more than an excuse to teach you about being a girl."

"I'm confused, but I want to give it a try."

"Seal it with a kiss?"

Over the next few months, Pete began to feel like a double agent. Something clicked between Pete and Sheila, and a medium-to-long distance romance began to blossom. Medium-to-long distance because they didn't live too far from each other, there is no such thing as a short drive in Portland traffic. They went to different schools so that shot holding hands in the halls and after school activities together, not to mention the old standby of doing homework together.

Naturally, their cell phones got a lot of use. Thankfully they both had unlimited talk and text plans, and they set out with determination to test the limits of unlimited. So far neither had been called into the stern parental presence for a lecture on the theme of I'm not made of money! Maybe 'unlimited' was really unlimited!

Inscrutable are the ways of the universe, and somehow Pete, Polly and Sheila seemed destined for each other. That first tentative session in the cabin where Sheila first met Polly was a reasonable success, Pete was fraught with doubts at having someone else see him in a dress, Sheila was consumed with curiosity to see Pete in a dress and both of them weren't quite sure about the whole thing. That first session was quite chaste, Pete changing in the bedroom while Sheila paced the main room of the cabin. But as time passed the inevitable happened to two teenagers alone in a cabin with less than all of their clothes on; the kissing cousins became lovers.

That's not to say that when Pete took his clothes off it was to make love to Sheila, they had to come off for Polly to appear, and Sheila was as fascinated with Polly as she was with Pete.

Pete was, to put it bluntly, pretty much average. Not too tall or too short, not bulky or skinny, not markedly masculine or feminine. His long hair tipped the balance slightly to the feminine, especially viewed from the back, but from a distance more than one person had asked that age-old question: Is that a boy or a girl? With obvious breasts and a Girl Scout uniform, the balance swung to the feminine with a resounding clunk! as the pan hit bottom.

"Not bad at all, cuz!"

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you?"

"Probably. You do have a reputation, you know."

"Yeah, and I earned it, too."

"You'll have to tell me sometime."

"I will. If we're going to be an item you should know how stupid I was. I hope I've learned better. My parents trust me again and I don't want to blow it."

"Then should we be here?"

"We should. After all, I'm here with my girlfriend, what could happen?"

"Better not kiss me again or you might find out."

"And who's the wild woman now?"

"There's something freeing in doing this. I've dreamed of being a woman for so long."

"Funny, I used to dream about being a man, I got so damn sick of the 'girls can't do this' crap."

"If they didn't have stupid rules for you to break then how could you have become a wild woman?"

"Believe me, I found a way. Lots of ways."

"Do tell?"

"I will. Let's do something with your hair and we can take a walk while I get up the nerve."

"Sure."

 

The day was warming, the trees were just starting to leaf out and being out in nature dressed up was all that Pete had wanted it to be. Hand in hand they strolled where the path was wide enough, drinking in the beauty of nature, until they came to a rough wooden bench along the trail. Sitting close with their arms around each other they remained silent for a time, then Sheila spoke.

"Do you think my parents are too strict?"

"Not that I've seen. They seem pretty cool."

"And they are, but I didn't see it that way when I was about ten. I started to develop by nine and had my first period at ten. As far as I was concerned that made me a woman and a grownup. I thought my parents were just so overprotective and treating me like a little kid. Nothing that they could say or do could convince me otherwise. I damn well knew better.

"I looked maybe thirteen. I was a C cup by then and sure I was the sexiest thing alive. I teased the boys unmercifully, even if most of them were too young to understand what I was doing. So I started in on the older guys, who could appreciate my body. It worked but not the way I thought. I was sure I was the coolest woman alive and could get the boys to do whatever I wanted.

"Maturing so early, my folks did give me the whole birds and bees lecture but I was just too young to take it all in. About the only part that stuck was: I had a period, I'm all grown up now. I could be like the sexpots on TV, be the most popular girl around, get my own way. Nothing could change my mind.

"By twelve I was sneaking out of the house to party with the bad boys. I was drinking booze whenever I could get it - adults do it so I had to do it too. A week before my thirteenth birthday I got drunk and ended up in on a couch with one of those bad boys and he took me right there in front of everybody at the party while they cheered us on.

"I suppose legally it was rape because I was too young, but I wanted it, in my mind adults had sex and I wanted so damn badly to be an adult. So I had sex. By the time I sobered up I realized that sex wasn't the magical grownup thing I thought it was.

In fact, what I remembered of it just plain sucked. It hurt! The romance I had in my head never happened. That bastard didn't care about me, it was all about him. A couple of days later I told Rosie and the first thing she asked was did he use a rubber?"

"I didn't know, but from the state of my panties I was pretty sure he didn't. Hell, I wasn't even very sure who he was! That's when Rosie told me what a silly bitch I was and sat me down with a calendar to see when I was most fertile. Naturally I had ignored that part of the birds and bees lecture and hadn't a clue. Yup, I was just about at my most fertile when the deed was done.

"The next few weeks were hell, I couldn't tell my parents, no way! Then I skipped my period and I panicked. I had last period PE that year and when I saw there still wasn't any blood in my panties after all that exercise, I just broke down and started bawling. Mrs Reid found me sitting naked on one of those lousy hard wood benches with my panties in my hands bawling like a baby. Some grownup I turned out to be.

"Everybody knew Mrs Reid was a hardass, you don't screw around in her class. I didn't even notice her until she sat down next to me and put her arm around me. She didn't say anything, just held me until I was only sniffling. Then she asked me what was wrong and it all came tumbling out. She just listened, really listened and let me tell it all. Then she hugged me and told me she could help.

"I didn't know it then, but she put her job on the line to help a stupid, stuck-up little bitch who had gotten herself in trouble because she wouldn't listen to anyone. She had me get dressed, had me call my parents to tell them I was staying to help her after school, and drove me directly to Planned Parenthood.

"They were terrific. I know now I wasn't the only one to end up there with the same problem, but they made me feel like I was the only one in the world they were there to help. They did a pregnancy test and I wasn't pregnant! They got it through my thick skull that stress can cause a girl to skip her period, and I had been under a whole bunch of stress!

"By the time Mrs Reid and the Planned Parenthood lady were done I was starting to realize that maybe I wasn't as grown up as I thought. As she dropped me off back home she mentioned she was a Girl Scout leader and invited me to join her troop.

"My parents must have been flabbergasted when I came in and hugged them and told them I was sorry for how I'd been acting. I couldn't have said much more then, I was just so confused. They about expired from shock a few days later when I wanted to be a Girl Scout. I think Mrs Reid saved my life, she knew how to gently guide me toward being a real adult, not a spoiled kid's idea of an adult.

"It wasn't fast and it wasn't easy, it took a couple of years for my parents to really trust me again. I don't want to do anything to lose that trust, so they know that you and I are spending time alone and we've made love. That one took a while for Mom to accept, but she approves of you so she's willing to go with my feelings. What we've got might not be forever and ever love, but it is what I wanted to find when I was so young and stupid."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then just hold me."

So that's what Polly did. Eventually she felt Sheila relax and Polly asked "With that in your mind, it must have been hard to trust me in your bed."

"Not you, love, but I was scared I wouldn't be able to think of you and not the past."

"And I was scared that I wouldn't do it right. It looks so easy in the porn flicks, but you know I don't have anything down there like those dudes do. Dad told me that those things are a pretty poor way to get sex education unless you're planning to make a living filming them."

"Somehow I never pictured you watching a porn flick."

"Rite of passage. The women in the couple I watched weren't really enjoying their side of the transaction. It was embarrassing, but Dad told me that fingers and tongue work better than your dick to make a woman happy."

"He's right, at least as far as I'm concerned. You learned quick, lover."

"I was so afraid I wouldn't be able to do it right that first time."

"And I was so relieved when you started trying and didn't just go for the gold."

"It feels silly talking about sex with you when I'm dressed like this.

"Maybe it's because Polly is part of you that we managed to learn how to please each other."

"I guess. I don't know."

"I do know. I just wish I had known the truth at ten and didn't try to screw up my life so badly."

"We all make mistakes. If we learn from them then we can live a better life. I know my life is better with you in it, lover."

"Having Polly to talk to has made my life better, too. What a strange result from watching you ogle that pink bra!"

Since Sheila's family attended the Baptist church near Pete's house, Sunday afternoons at Pete's place soon became a regular practice. Thankfully, both sets of parents enjoyed each other's company and Pete's little sister was becoming interested in boys around the age of Sheila's younger brother.

With a knowing shake of the head both sets of parents arranged the extended use of one of their cars so the two could spend the day together doing something besides hanging around the house where everybody was watching them. Pete had inadvertently become a 'good influence' on the Sheila the wild child.

If only they knew. Two things slowly evolved: Poly became more of a personality in her own right and their relationship became serious. Sheila, Pete and Polly were afflicted with a severe case of New Toy Syndrome; all of them were annoyed with the limited time they could carve out for Polly to come out and play.

Of course there were 'regular' dates with no mention of his clothing choices, but Sheila had a quirky sense of humor and managed to surprise him regularly. Thus she blindsided Pete completely when she asked to visit the Oregon Historical society. History and culture, right? No mention of crossdressing, right?

With some adroit footwork, Sheila managed to get Pete through the lobby without spying any of the exhibit postings and took them up to the top floor, working their way down. Despite his misgivings, Pete found himself enjoying the place, strolling hand-in-hand with his girlfriend. After quite some time they made it to the bottom floor, where Sheila sprang her surprise. The featured exhibit was several costumes worn by Darcelle XXV, Portland's reigning drag queen. For over fifty years Darcelle had been performing and some of her outrageous dresses were on display.

"Why you little sneak," whispered Pete when he realized just why Sheila wanted to come here.

"Not so little, lover."

"But sneaky, you have to give me sneaky."

"I suppose I do. Impressed?"

"Very. No way you'd get me into anything like those dresses, though."

"Not about to break into show biz, are you?

"Not if I have to trail an extension cord behind me every time I go out."

"With the light output of that dress you wouldn't have to worry about night time makeup, you'd bring the day with you."

"The whole idea is that no one notices Polly as anything out of the ordinary. That wardrobe kinda defeats the purpose."

"I suppose you're right."

"It is fun to see, though. It would take a lot of nerve to do what she does."

"Good thing Polly is becoming real, you ought to be able to go out with me as Polly fairly soon."

"Right! In your dreams."

"I thought you were the one with the dreams, lover."

 

Graduation was looming, there were only a few weeks before school ended and summer began. Pete and Sheila were snuggling on the back porch swing while the older generation played some card game in the dining room and the younger generation were off at the playground amusing themselves. There wasn't much conversation for quite some time, but eventually their bodies demanded they start breathing again and one set of lips released the other.

"Polly, your lipstick is smudged."

"Polly's not here - it's your lipstick that smudged."

"Then what's that red stuff all over your lips?'

"Your lipstick, I presume. I know how to do my own makeup better than that."

"You need a tissue."

"It's in my purse and that's up at the cabin."

"A proper lady never leaves home without her purse."

"I'm not a proper lady."

"Good thing I'm not, either. Hold still. I may not be proper but I do have a tissue."

"Thanks."

"How's the job hunt going?"

"Nowhere. About now I'm desperate enough to even say 'You want fries with that?' "

"Funny you should say that."

"I'm not laughing."

"I have a proposition for you."

"Shouldn't we be alone at the cabin before you proposition me? I don't think we could make to my bedroom without being observed."

"Not that kind of proposition. Remember my friend with the triple tits-in-a-box?"

"I've never met her but she has my eternal gratitude."

"Some of her family runs one of those swanky tourist resorts down along the McKenzie River. They're looking for summer help."

"They are?"

"They most certainly are, and I worked there last summer. You work your tail off, but it's fun and you get to meet all sorts of interesting people.."

"Good for you. Will you support me in my old age when I'm an unemployed deadbeat living under a bridge?"

"Only if you shave regularly. I'm not kissing anyone with stubble. I got enough of stubble when Dad tickled us with his when we were kids."

"You know I only shave twice a week, that might not be a problem. Besides, Polly just might opt for electrolysis."

"Since you've brought Polly into this conversation…"

"Did the temperature just drop twenty degrees? Suddenly I have goosebumps all over."

"And here I am getting hot - for you, lover."

"Uh, Polly?"

"It would seem Polly is more suited for the job."

"Give me a break! You're out of your tiny little mind!"

"Uniforms are included and we'd be sharing a room."

"If you tell me that that they want a French Maid in uniform for this job I'm gonna know you've flipped out and call someone to take you to a nice, quiet place in the country for a while."

"What, the cabin in the country isn't good enough?"

"This is as stupid as some of the stories I've read online. This stuff doesn't happen in real life."

"The uniform is sensible: black skirt, white blouse, hose, flats. You could play in an orchestra wearing that outfit."

"Not if they heard the way I play!"

"I suppose we could arrange for a frilly apron if you work in the kitchen."

"You want fries with that?"

"Not really. We get two weekdays off and Rosemary will let me use her car sometimes so we can get away."

"So we just go down there and I hand them my ID and Social Security Number and then we're both out on our collective asses. I don't want you screaming in pain when I play with your pretty little ass. Not a good plan."

"If we were traditional employees and did the W4 thing that would be a problem. However, we are living in the age of contract employment, which means nobody wants to pay taxes or benefits on their employees anymore. We would be contract hires, no paperwork except for a Social Security number. Use your initials and just wait for the 1099 to come next January. Just be sure to bank 15% of your money so you can pay the Social Security taxes.

"No wonder you're going into accounting. You're slinging that jargon like a professional."

"Do what people expect and they don't look too closely at you. That's good advice for Polly, too."

"And just how do we explain to our parents?"

"You have a summer job with one of my friend's family business. It's a three hour drive away so we don't have to worry about unexpected visitors."

"And the sharing a room part?"

"I'm bunking with a girl named Polly. A complete stranger hired for the summer. Who knows where Pete will sleep?"

"And your folks - not to mention my folks - are going to blithely let us spend the summer together without supervision? Seems I remember some tales of a wild woman who needed a lot of supervision. Still does, maybe. A wild woman whose parents know we're sleeping together."

"You want the job. I want you to have the job. I'll behave."

"You're going to need more practice to sell that one, just like I'm going to need some more practice to sell Polly."

"You get it on Wednesday. The schools are closed for the Teacher's Day Of Action. Which means half the teachers are at the legislature raising hell because the cheapskates won't fund education properly and the other half are raising hell because the hypocritical bastards want to use the schools to indoctrinate us."

"Not cynical much, are you?"

"I'm going into accounting, but I'm going to minor in Political Science. I'd never get elected because I speak the truth, but you have to be politic with your customers - especially when you give them bad news."

"While helping me to fool everyone about who I am."

"That's politics for you. We'll see some action ourselves when I take Polly out for some retail therapy. You're going to need a wardrobe for the summer when we're not working."

"Now you want me to spend money I don't have for a job I may not get as a person I only think I might be?"

Simple, huh?"

"And they're going to hire me sight unseen?"

"Not quite. Saturday we take a trip to the scenic McKenzie River and Polly can impress them with her charms."

"You almost make this silliness seem reasonable."

"Do you or don't you want to spend the summer together before have to go to college?"

"When you put it that way…"

"You're quick on the uptake."

"Have you considered that if we spend so much time together to get ready for our summer certain people are going to expect to see a ring on your finger or something like that?"

"Oh, there will be."

"OK, time out! I bow to your superior feminine wiles and astute planning, but I'm just a poor, wannabe woman who is completely confused. I assume this is an engagement ring that will be gracing your lovely hand."

"The twin to the one on yours, darling."

"I surrender! If I had a white flag I'd be waving it."

"Here - use my hankie."

"It's blue."

"Details, details!"

"It's the details that are going to get us sucked down into the tar pits like those poor dinosaurs at La Brea. I thought you were a reformed wild woman."

"The pressure is still in there, just better controlled. The whole thing makes perfect sense. The rings will keep some of the wolves at bay. I get to have you in my bed all summer, you get to see what it's like to live as a woman, and we both get paid to do it. Perfect!"

"Yeah. What could possibly go wrong?"

"Let me get this straight, son. You're asking to spend the entire summer out in some cabin in the woods with your girlfriend and expect your poor, innocent parents to go along with this plan?"

"Mr Z, that's not quite right," Sheila answered.

"It's a hotel, a small one but a hotel with a pool and a bunch of cabins for tourists. It's run by a perfectly honorable family."

"That's true, said Sheila's father Tim. "Sheila worked there last summer and we know Rosemary's family. We went down to meet Russ and Rose last year and they are good, hard working people who are running a fine place for tourists. Russ is one heck of a cook, too."

"We would be supervised while we were there." added Pete.

"I think Tim and I would agree our daughter needs some serious chaperoning."

"Mother!"

"Don't Mother me, darling. Start counting the gray hairs in my head and know that you put them there."

"When you get done with that, count the hairs that aren't in my head and realize I tore them out worrying about what you were up to, Sheila."

"I think your bald spot is cute, Dad"

"Don't try to change the subject," interjected Pete's dad, Scott. "While Pete is a pretty nice guy, this whirlwind romance you two are having would make us just a teensie bit concerned about what would happen if you were together for weeks on end."

"Nothing that wouldn't happen if we were still at home."

"I suppose that's true, Sheila," replied her mother. Sheila had a sudden coughing fit.

"Really, Martha," spoke Pete's mother Irene, "Sheila has been a perfectly sweet girl for all the time she's been with us."

"While she seems to have come to her senses, she has been a trial. You just don't know!"

"Sounds like your girl has a rep, eh Pete? smirked his father.

"Couldn't prove it by me." Pete replied innocently.

"Ah, that's the rub. Proof. That usually takes a little over nine months."

"Daddy!"

"Tim! Behave yourself."

"I think I see where she gets her rep from, that apple didn't fall too far from the tree," grinned Pete's father.

"There are core truths in life that are hard to swallow."

"Maybe I should have a talk with Grandma sometime," Sheila mused.

"That won't be necessary." her father replied.

"Peter," spoke his father, "if this does happen we will be trusting you to behave like a gentleman and not be playing musical bedrooms at night."

"Dad, I promise that I'll stay in my very own bed all night and not go wandering around."

"And I know you'll make that same promise, right Sheila?" said her mother.

"Certainly," her daughter replied after another coughing fit. "I have no urge to wander either."

"That only leaves the eight hours they aren't working or sleeping to worry about," her father mused.

"I'll be making beds, not hopping in and out of them."

"People," Pete's mother spoke, "I think we're going to have to accept that these two young people are now legally adults and responsible for their own behavior. Not that they aren't responsible for our premature aging as well, but they are going to have to learn how to live their own lives sometime. This might be a good way to start."

"Life was a lot easier when all we had to do was change his diaper and put him in the playpen to keep him safe," his Dad grinned."

"Scott, I don't remember you changing that many diapers," his wife scolded.

"And I smell a lot better these days, Dad"

"That's for sure!"

"So we are agreed? If they get the jobs we won't object. Just remember we are trusting you both to behave. And since Sheila is on the pill we won't become premature grandparents."

"Daddy!"

"Just accepting reality. I wouldn't take a bet that the two of you make it through the summer still celibate."

"Don't ask, don’t tell, Scott. That's their business."

Sheila's mother just smiled.

 

"I can't believe they bought it!" enthused Sheila.

"You were pretty good, you seductress. 'We won't be leaving our own beds,' indeed!"

"Sometimes the truth is the best way to misdirect."

"Just one little problem."

"And that is?"

"How do we go shopping on Wednesday without a car?"

"Public transportation, you dummy. You pack up Polly's outfit, hop on the TriMet and change at my place, then we toddle off on the train to the Goodwill."

"You're serious?"

"Polly has to come out sometime, Wednesday is the day, sweetie."

"I'm not ready!"

"Want to try the Salvation Army first? That way if you screw up they can save your soul and you can try again."

"I guess…"

"You'll do fine. Your voice is coming along nicely and with a little padding that blue dress will be easy to take on and off when you try on the clothes. I still think you should try a corset sometime."

"Buy me one for Christmas if you're so hot to see me in one.

"I've already bought you an engagement ring, what more do you want?"

"You got me a ring already? You must have been pretty confident you could pull off this scam."

"Hey, I've got lots of experience."

"Aren't rings expensive?"

"$9.79 each on Amazon with Prime shipping. They'll be here on Tuesday so we can wear them when we go shopping. Of course we'll probably have to coat them with clear nail polish every so often or our fingers will turn green, but they ought to last the summer."

"You are something else."

"And you will be someone else, name of Polly. By the way, you need to order a new ATM card with only your initials on it so people don't give you the eye when Polly uses it."

"I suppose so. I'm not made of money, you know."

"Which is why we are shopping at Goodwill. You can probably get away with three or four outfits. Oh, you'll need a couple of new bras and panties since you'll be wearing them all the time now. We can probably do it for a couple hundred bucks. You'll make a lot more than that over the summer, you have to invest money to make money."

"Now you're a financial adviser as well as an accountant and a politician? Such talent."

"Don't forget fashionista and deportment coach. We modern women are nothing if not flexible."

"And this is the woman who wants me to wear a corset talking about being flexible. Jeez!"

"Shut up and give me a kiss."

Fashion accessories may be one of the hardest subjects for a novice crossdresser to grasp. After all, most males have little choice in such matters, Even those of a more unrestricted outlook on life basically have three choices: ties, rings and, if so inclined, earrings. As a student, Pete only wore a tie under protest on Sunday mornings when his Grandmother was going to be present at church. His class ring was the only adornment on his fingers, and it was big and clunky as such things are wont to be. Earrings were still out of the picture, although he was pretty sure that one of the first things Polly would do on the way to her new job was to have her ears pierced, and the heck with what happens in the fall when Polly had to go into storage.

Yet, as a member of that subset of humanity under thirty, there was one ubiquitous fashion accessory that was not out of place on either males or females: the backpack. For some reason just about anybody under thirty seemed compelled to carry half of their life's possessions on their back, putting even the Aldabra giant tortoise (Aldabrachelys gigantea) to shame in hauling it's home along on its back.

While a backpack on a woman in a cocktail gown or a man in a Brooks Brother's suit might be a bit much, it seems backpacks were acceptable for just about any occasion in these the waning days of Babylon.

Dudes in skin-suits zipping along on bicycles on the downtown streets of Portland, kindergartners on their way to school with Ariel the Mermaid on their backs, young women strolling in the park, hikers on the Appalachian Trail, mothers with young babies that don't want their hands encumbered by a conventional diaper bag, students crossing campus with their books and notes safely stowed behind them. Nobody looks twice at anyone wearing a backpack unless they are wearing a uniform and standing next to a metal detector.

Wednesday morning Pete arose at his usual time of six AM, having packed his backpack with the essentials needed for the day ahead. A leopard print blouse, skirt, pantyhose, black flats, bra, inserts, makeup kit and the necklace that Sheila had given Polly that went so beautifully with the outfit. That blue dress somehow didn't make the final cut. It took a little effort to maintain the usual breakfast conversation and he took the kidding about spending yet another day with his girlfriend with good grace. With one last check to be sure his TriMet app was on his phone, Pete walked the three blocks to the train station and waited for the train to arrive.

Naturally it was full, and as a courteous male he dutifully hung on to the strap and swayed as the train make it's appointed stops. Twenty minutes later he exited and walked the four blocks to Sheila's place and rang the bell. After a satisfying bit of tonsil hockey the couple made their way to Sheila's room and Pete transformed happily into Polly, gratefully accepting Sheila's assistance in snapping Polly's bra.

"Think you can do your own makeup today, lover?"

"I'm going to try. Like you said, if we're going to do this all summer I need to be able to do it myself."

"Have at it."

Sitting down at Sheila's vanity, Polly carefully applied some mascara and a light coat of concealer. While Pete had a very light beard, a close examination showed a little shadow on his cheeks. A bit of blush - darn! Too much. Wipe it off and try again, this time it was just right. A touch of eye shadow and Polly was almost ready.

"Looks very good, lover. Now we need to do something more feminine with your hair."

"Like what? Polly asked.

"How about pigtails with ribbons. No guy would be wearing that kind of hairstyle no matter how long he wore it."

"You'll have to do it. I can braid boondoggle if I can see it, but I don't think I can do it blind on my own head."

"Sit still while I get creative."

 

"Looks very good, lover. Very Dorothy and no sign of the scarecrow. Let's get shopping."

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be."

"Not quite yet. You almost forgot your ring."

Theatrically getting down on one knee, Sheila slid the cheap engagement ring on Polly's left ring finger.

"Please do me the honor of being my one and only until the summer is over."

"Wow! A time-limited proposal."

"I'm not making promises or predictions about the future, but for the summer you're all mine."

"Then I happily accept. You may kiss the pseudo-bride."

And out the door they went, leaving the backpack in Sheila's room, where Pete's clothes made their temporary home. Maybe Polly could have gotten away with wearing a backpack, but since the object of the day's activity was to bring back much more than they left with, it seemed silly to tote Pete's clothes on their mission.

Being a warm day, Polly was so enamored of the feeling of walking in a skirt and hose that she almost forgot to be scared of being caught out. Why would a woman ever want to wear pants when they could enjoy the freedom of a skirt?

Being technologically up-to-date, Polly took her phone from her purse - well, really Sheila's purse - and tapped it at the transit reader, then got on board the train. No problems with identity, the computer didn't care what Pete was wearing or what name she used; the phone had all the information needed.

This time, an older gentleman rose from his seat and offered it to what he took to be a young woman. Feeling rather guilty about making an old man stand while she sat, Polly sat and Sheila took the seat adjoining hers.

"There are some perks to being a woman, aren't there, Polly?" Sheila whispered.

"I… I suppose so."

"Don't let it bug you, tell that macho creep in your brain to go to sleep. You're Polly, so just enjoy it."

There didn't seem to be much to say to that, so Polly just watched the scenery go by. Eventually they reached their stop, waited some more, then boarded a bus, tapping their phones like the old pros they were. A few minutes later they saw the sign for the Goodwill, so they left the bus and walked back a block or so.

"What am I looking for, oh Mentor mine?"

"You see the kind of things I wear, become one with fashion, grasshopper. And remember most women do not wear skirts all the time, so you need some nice trousers and maybe a pantsuit if they have one."

"You take all the fun out of it."

"Remember - the idea is to blend in. You'll need a sweater for the cool nights. A warm nightie and a sexy nightie that I can take off your delectable body. A light jacket if we can find one. If there's any money left some scarves or jewelry, although the jewelry here tends to be crap."

The search commenced and turned up one blouse and a skirt that met both Polly's liking and Sheila's approval.

"Kind of disappointing. Not much here."

"We're only starting. You didn't expect to find it all at once?"

"Why do the people who donate clothes have such lousy taste?"

"A law of the universe. Would you want to keep most of this stuff in your closet?"

"I see what you mean."

"Onward to the next thrift shop, my girl."

 

Sheila turned out to be better and more accurate than any GPS in locating thrift shops with low-priced clothing. After a couple of hours, Polly thought nothing of removing her blouse and modeling whatever was in the pile they had garnered. In fact, the fashion show aspect was downright fun.

By three o'clock they had about run out of money and energy, and trudged their way back to the bus, but being rush hour it was full and no old-fashioned gentleman was present to offer a seat to a weary lady. Polly reached up for the strap and was suddenly reminded of just how she was dressed. Her bra tightened, the straps dug into her shoulders as they supported her breasts and she felt like she was sticking out from here to eternity. Every bump in the road caused her breast forms to bounce and wiggle, making her sure that every male eye was following their every motion. In her discomfort she completely forgot she was standing next to her well endowed cousin - which one of them would a sexist male stare at on the bus?

A glance around showed that her fellow passengers were each locked in their own little world of non-thought as they endured the ride to their homes, but she still felt awfully exposed with her arms above her head and her breasts bouncing.

Eventually they transferred to the train, where they were on schedule to arrive back at Sheila's place before anyone else was home so Polly could once again become Pete. Naturally the schedule got tossed about like her fellow passengers when some idiot who tried to beat the train ahead of him over the crossing and failed. The safety systems and warning plans worked perfectly, except that our ladies' train came to a halt on a bridge high above one of the many sloughs that traverse the city.

They could hear the sirens in the distance and see the flashing red-and-blue lights, but nobody had a clue what was going on. There being no pedestrian access on the bridge, nobody could leave the train. Businessmen grumbled, the cars on the road running beside the tracks ground to a halt. Polly watched as half the drivers pulled out their cell phones and began to amuse themselves, an ingrained action for any Portland driver in a traffic jam. A couple of buskers on the train struck up a tune to pass the time and Polly realized that they were not going to reach Sheila's place in time for her to change.

"What are we going to do?" she asked plaintively.

"We detour over to Rosemary's house and beg shelter."

"Oh great, now she'll know about me."

"Did you think we could work with her all summer without her figuring it out? You're wearing her breasts, fer cryin' out loud."

"That is an image I did not need in my head."

"She's cool. You have a tea party with Rosemary while I go snag your clothes and bring them over, then we go back to my place and beg Mom or Dad for a ride to your place. Want to stay for dinner?"

"I seem to have lost my appetite."

"It'll help you keep your girlish figure."

"And all these bags full of girl's clothes?"

"We let Rosemary watch over them and take them with us when we go to the hotel."

"You make it all seem so simple."

"Creativity under pressure, that's me."

"So much for the reformed wild-woman."

"Don't complain, I still only intend to get wild with you, sweetie."

There didn't seem to be much of an answer to that.

By the time Polly and Sheila reached Rosemary's door, Polly was getting nervous. Very nervous. The day had gone surprisingly well. As one more anonymous girl wandering the aisles of the thrift shops, Polly was taken for just what she wanted to be: a teenage girl. Sheila's comment about people seeing what they wanted to see was very true. But now she was going to meet someone who knew Sheila well, and actually talk to her. If things went as planned she was going to change back to being Pete in this girl's house, there would be no secrets between them.

Yet what else could she do?

"Relax, Polly. Rosemary's crazier than I am. Everything will be fine."

"Relax? This place is a freaking mansion. Will the butler and the gardener and the upstairs maid know all about me before we're through?"

"So all right, her family has gobs of money. How else do you think she could just go out and get three sets of falsies when she wanted to mature before her time?"

"You make her sound like a wine commercial."

"We have shared a bottle or twelve in my wild-woman days."

"Oh, just great. A drunken rich bitch. You inspire such confidence."

"She's cool, and since her parents are workaholics she'll be the only one home. No staff, unless you count the cats. And don't try to count the cats, it's impossible."

Before Polly could answer the door opened.

"Sheila! What's happening girl?"

Polly couldn't help it. There stood Rosemary of the triple-tits, a good looking blonde with a cherubic face and a pair of breasts that certainly didn't need any help to fill her bra any more.

"Got me a bit of a situation, Rosie."

"Now how could a nice girl like you get into a situation? Let me count the ways. One: you hooked up with some creep again. Two: you're pregnant. Three: your parents gave up on you and you're homeless. Four…"

"You've made your point, Rosie. None of the above. I'd like you to meet my friend Polly."

"Well come on in and set yourself down. Nice to meet you, Polly. You wouldn't be the situation, would you?"

"I'm afraid I am."

"Now that's interesting, Sheila's situations are usually male and disreputable."

"You're closer than you know, Rosie," Sheila replied.

"Do tell!"

"There's no easy way to tell this…"

"With you there never is. Just get on with it."

"Remember I borrowed your falsies a while back?"

"Sure. What did you do with them? You never quite told me why."

"I gave them to my boyfriend."

"Sheila, even for you that's pretty weird."

"Just doing my best to keep Portland weird."

"Apparently. So what did your boyfriend do with my used tits?"

"He's wearing them."

"Like putting on a bra and stuffing it wearing them?"

"Got any other way to wear a pair of falsies?"

"There are some that glue on, you know."

"I didn't borrow any glue so that's out."

"OK, so your boyfriend is wearing a bra with my boobies in it. I gotta meet this dude."

"You already have."

"Go away! I know pot's legal here, but you don't smell like you've been smoking. What are you on, girl?"

"You're kinda slow today, Rosie. Polly is my boyfriend."

"Jesus Christ!"

"I don't think he's involved in this."

"You never know what you damn Baptists are going to come up with."

"Polly is a Unitarian."

"And I'm a monkey's uncle. She's shitting me, isn't she Polly?"

"Nope. And thank you for your generosity, they're really comfortable to wear."

"Oh my aching… back!!

"Polly gives a great backrub, give her a try."

"Uh-uh. I'll keep my hands off your girlfriend or boyfriend or whatever."

"It would be her hands on you."

"Enough! You're trying to confuse me."

"She does a pretty good job of confusing any situation, don't you think?" laughed Polly.

"Wait a minute! You're the girl she wants to work with us this summer. The girl who will be working for my Italian Catholic aunt and uncle. I think I've finally found someone crazier than my good buddy Sheila!"

"She fooled you, didn't she Rosie?"

"For all of five minutes. We're talking the entire summer. My Uncle isn't exactly Mafia or anything but he could play one on TV. You want to end up at the bottom of the McKenzie River or something?"

"Really, Rosie, he isn't be that bad."

"Ah, he isn't, he just likes to make people think he is. I can wrap him around my little finger."

"Look! Polly needs a job. I need Polly. You need me to help. It will all work out."

"And you're going to be sharing a cabin with Polly, you sly bitch?"

"Isn't it nice when things work out so well?"

"Of course your folks have no idea, do they?"

"They know we're lovers so we don't have to hide anything from them, and your aunt and uncle will be watching out for us."

"And you just kinda forgot to mention your roommate is your boyfriend to Russ and Rose?"

"I have a terrible memory."

"Yeah. You seem to have forgotten what happened with whats-his-name when you were thirteen."

"Twelve, not that it matters."

"Well, anybody looking at Polly might think she couldn't get you pregnant, but…"

"I'm on the pill. Nobody can get me pregnant."

"That must be a relief to your parents."

"It's a relief to me."

"I am sitting here, girls."

"As if this didn't concern you, Polly. It's Polly's peter that I'm worried about."

"Now don't pick on Peter Polly's pecker, Rosie."

"I hate to spoil all your fun, but I do need to be getting home sometime before school starts in the morning." Polly observed.

"I suppose so. Can you entertain Polly for a few minutes while I go and get her other clothes."

"Heh, heh, heh," snarked Rosie. "You and I got a lot to talk about while she's gone. Tell me all about it, every last detail. How do you know Sheila?"

"She's my second cousin. Her grandfather was my grandmother's brother.

"Peter! Hurry up or we'll be late!" called Pete's mother."

"Coming!"

"Nice dress, Pete"

"You, my annoying little sister, are wearing a dress. I, as befits my status as a graduate of an institute of higher learning, am wearing an academic gown, the traditional garment of those who have attained academic excellence.

"Well la-te-dah! I think Sheila's red gown looked much better yesterday."

"A burlap sack would look better on Sheila than anything would on me, Vicky."

"You got that right."

"Into the car, children. Your dad's waiting."

"Don't trip on your skirt, Pete," taunted Vicky.

"Peter, don't give her the satisfaction," warned his mother. "Vicky, behave yourself."

"That's no fun."

 

"Hey Pete!" called Dave. "They really going to let you walk?"

"I should maybe use a wheelchair?"

"You know what I mean."

"3.9 old buddy. What'd you get."

"Mumble mumble."

"Speak up, I didn't hear that."

"Shut up, it's about to start."

"Congratulations, son," Pete's father offered.

"Yeah, you made it down the runway without tripping on your dress." laughed Vicky.

"Runways are for fashion shows. I crossed a stage, dummy." Pete scoffed.

"You should try it in heels like I had to, Pete." Sheila joked.

At least Pete hoped she was joking.

"I bet he wouldn't make it. Scoffed Vicky."

"You want bets, go to Las Vegas." grumped Pete.

"Nah, the Ilani casino is only ten miles away."

"Irene, how did we raise such precocious kids?" asked Pete's father.

"I'd say they were adopted if I didn't remember the pain of birthing them."

"They certainly are a pain now."

"Just think, only three more years until they're both gone, then we can live it up." crowed Irene.

"Hey Dad," asked Pete, "Can I get you to sign my school loan papers before I go away?"

"I knew there was a flaw in the plans, Irene."

"There always is, dear."

"Don't burn any bridges," warned Sheila. "We'll need babysitters someday."

"Now just a minute!" Scott was looking alarmed.

"How about several years, please."

"We aren't that stupid, Mom. Besides, I haven't even asked her to marry me. Sheila sometimes gets ahead of herself."

"Nothing like planning ahead," Sheila said with a grin.

"Watch out son, your mother said something very similar once upon a time and here you are heading off to college."

"I'll keep my eyes open, Dad."

"If they're focused on her it may not do you any good."

"Oh, I'll be very good to him, Mr Z."

"That's what I'm afraid of. We're trusting you two, you know."

"Dad, I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't do."

"That's what I'm afraid of," his wife responded.

"How did I let you talk me into this?" grumped Rosemary.

"Because you're a hopeless romantic who can't stand in the path of true love?"

"So giving my old boobs to your boyfriend so he can change sex and masquerade as your girlfriend and fool my aunt and uncle into letting you sleep together is how you get to true love? That would make one hell of a romance novel."

"Rosie, didn't you read any of the stuff I showed you about sex and gender?" asked Sheila

"Sure I read it. I doubt my priest would be happy about it though."

"After reading what makes priests happy in the news lately, that's probably just as well."

"I'm not a boy so I guess I'm safe."

"Yeah, those priests are going to give gays a bad name. How could they have more than a dozen priests molesting boys and not notice?"

"Lots of ways to Keep Portland Weird, aren't there? Speaking of your boyfriend, you want me to hide his boy clothes here so he can be a girl for the summer?"

"There wouldn't be room for both sets in your car. Besides, every little bit of weird helps the Portland ambiance."

"But we won't be in Portland."

"Details! Piddling details!"

"Well, Polly changed her clothes here once, and she's doing it again right now. She must be a girl because she didn't scatter her underwear all over the floor when she took it off last time."

"You seen my engagement ring yet?"

"You're kidding! He popped the question?"

"Nah, I got it on Amazon to keep the wolves at bay."

"You're bad!"

"I got one for Polly, too"

"Oooh! Big spender!"

"$9.79 each including shipping."

"You're gonna have gangrene in a week, girl."

"But isn't it worth it for true love," swooned Sheila.

"I'm gonna puke."

"I don't start as a maid until we get to the hotel. Clean it up yourself."

"Damn! It's hard to find good help these days."

"I'd better go knock on your bedroom door and see if Polly is ready. I wouldn't want you to walk in halfway between incarnations."

"I've seen it before, just not all on the same body."

"OK ladies," called Rosie. "Last chance - anything you've forgotten is gone for the summer."

"I'm ready," responded Sheila.

"Let's get going before I come to my senses," replied Polly.

"Then ladies, we're on our way!"

When summer is around the corner and you're just plain sick of working and you need to get away, every state has a preferred playground. New York City denizens head for the Catskills, Wisconsonites head for the lake country, Nebraskans head for - well I really don't know just where Nebraskans would head for with so much of the state being featureless prairie, but they must have someplace special. Be that as it may, many Portlanders tend to flock to the McKenzie River Valley.

That's not surprising, as there are lakes and rivers and waterfalls and trees galore, not to mention interesting fields of black lava only a few miles away.

Once you've headed down Route 126, you'll find innumerable motels, hotels, cabins, RV parks, resorts and B&Bs just waiting to collect your money and offer you a relaxing getaway. If you want excitement, it isn't hard to find whitewater rafting. If you like golf, you're in luck. Hot springs? Sure thing! Those lava fields mean that there is lots of hot magma near enough to the surface to warm many a spring.

Some of these islands of delight are new and modern, some have been there since Hector was a pup. As you can tell from the antiquated expression that means they have been there since the automobile was an exciting new invention, and have hung on through several generations of family operation.

So it was with the Triple Creek Ranch, so named because it sat near where two small streams joined the McKenzie River. The current proprietors, Russ and Rose Russo, were the fifth generation of their family to entertain guests while the weather was clement, then hunker down and hope for the occasional cross-country skier or crazy snowmobiler during the winter. They wouldn't be appearing on the list of the Forbes 500 anytime soon, but they loved it and made a decent living at it, not to mention providing employment for several locals.

The main building, naturally built of wood harvested from the surrounding forests back in the 1920s, had twenty five rooms and a rustic lounge. If you wanted privacy, there were a dozen cabins set back in the woods.

The swimming pool was naturally heated by mixing the nearby hot spring with water from the normal stream and remained toasty year round. The more adventurous guests - probably those with Scandinavian blood running in their veins - were even to be seen swimming with snow on the ground. Not a bad place to spend your summer vacation - even if you had to work there to do it.

The trio pulled up in front of the Triple Creek Ranch, where they were effusively greeted by Rosie's Uncle Russ. If you're a Disney fan, Uncle Russ is easily described. Think of the Chief in the restaurant scene in Lady and the Tramp. You have Russ perfectly - broad, effusive, wearing a tall white hat and flour-covered apron since he had just come from the kitchen where he was baking home-made bread for the evening meal.

"Cara mia!" Uncle Russ cried. The apparition exuded white dust and spread it's arms wide in welcome.

"Uncle Russ!" responded Rosemary. "Don't you dare get flour all over my new dress! Like it?"

Rosie spun around to flare the skirt and gave her uncle a coquettish smile.

"You make an old man's heart beat faster. Your aunt will have me popping those blood pressure pills by the handful if you get any more beautiful."

"Go on with you! I brought the troops with me, Unc. You remember Sheila from last year and this is her friend Polly."

"And now I'm going to need to pop pills by the bucketful! When the tourists discover the beautiful women at my resort we will have to build an addition to handle the crowds."

"Want me to stand out by the road and flag them down for you, Unc?"

"The sheriff, he would not approve. Too many accidents already as the tourists get distracted by the beautiful scenery and fill the ditches. ROSALIE!" he suddenly bellowed. "THEY'RE HERE!"

Moments later his wife bustled out and flour-free hugs were exchanged all around.

"Sheila, it's so good to have you back again. And Polly, welcome to our little family. I hope you will enjoy yourself this summer."

"I'm sure I will, Mrs Russo."

"None of this Mrs business! I'm Rose, even if my brother named his lovely daughter Rosemary to confuse all of us at family reunions. Around here she is Little Rose. Rosemary, you know where your room is. Take your things up while I show Sheila and Polly to their cabin. We decided to put you in the one farthest from the main building, That's the one that gets the least use, people don't want to walk so far these days."

"That will be fine with us, Rose."

"I hope you don't mind sharing a bed, all the cabins have queen beds."

"I'm sure we'll be able to muddle through. You don't snore, do you Polly?"

"You'll just have to find out tonight. When I'm asleep I don't notice if I'm snoring."

"I'll let you know if you do. You may even survive the experience."

"Sheila, control yourself," chided Rose. "It's too late to hire a new girl for the summer. Besides, nobody would want to dig a hole for the body with all the tree roots around here."

"I'll behave, Auntie."

"Fat chance," muttered Polly, but only Sheila could hear her.

 

"I can't believe how you arranged this, Sheila!" exclaimed Polly. "And you said you were over your wild woman stage."

The cottage was very homey; queen bed, kitchenette, table with wooden chairs, dresser, and even a small desk. The bathroom was small but had a shower and built-in heater for the cooler nights - no need to freeze when taking your shower.

"Sure beats going all the way to the cabin to let Polly come out and play, doesn't it?"

"Hey! Nice bed," Polly said as she flopped down on it."

"Enjoy it while you can. We have about forty-five minutes before we have to be up there to serve dinner."

"What?"

"We're here to serve dinner, lover, from five to seven. Breakfast hours are seven to nine and they don't serve lunch since most of the tourists are out touristing during the day. Note the uniforms hanging over there? We put them on and go up to do the job that's allowing me to share that bed with my girlfriend."

"And then I suppose we have to do the dishes?"

"Nope, the kitchen staff does that. The tourists want to see our lovely, feminine asses sashay about the dining room, so get your lovely, feminine ass up and put on your lovely, feminine skirt. Just be careful to keep your lovely, feminine ass far enough from the lechers so you don't get grubby fingerprints on it."

"They'd have to be real hard up to grab my ass."

"You have a lot to learn about being a girl. There are some guys that would grab any ass that has a skirt over it. Put a skirt on the Sasquatch and he'd have to be careful with some of those guys."

"I'd like to see what a lady Sasquatch would do if someone grabbed her ass."

"Get it on film and we wouldn't have to work this summer."

"Does this uniform include a body cam?"

"With your hair looking like that you'd better hope not. Come over here and let me fix it."

"Is my makeup still OK?"

"Looks good. We go real lite on the makeup here; casual atmosphere, you know. As long as they don't mistake you for Paul Bunyan you'll be OK."

"Did Paul wear pantyhose? I think I'm going to have to invest in some stockings, pantyhose are rather constricting for my anatomy."

"You back to that lumberjack song again?"

You're the one who brought up Paul Bunyan."

"So I did. You'll do, so we ought to head up to the lodge and see if you get your ass pinched."

"So long as it's not a cop pinching me for impersonating a waitress."

 

"What am I supposed to do?" queried Polly.

"Just follow me around tonight. It isn't so hard," answered Rosemary.

"That's easy for you to say…"

"Just watch… Hi Mr England, so glad you could stay with again this year."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Rosie. What's on the menu tonight?"

"Roast beef or chicken Kiev."

"You went all the way to Russia to get a chicken?"

"Nah, they caught it trying to cross the border and - what can I say?"

"So they kept it on ICE until it was ready to cook."

"I start talking politics and my goose is cooked, Mr England."

"I'll get the chicken Kiev, I wouldn't want the poor thing to have died in vain. And who is this lovely young woman standing behind you?"

"This is Polly, she's just started and she's shadowing me to learn the job."

"Wonderful, I would think working here would be a pleasure. Not that I know anything about working any more, I'm retired."

"I've never been a waitress before, so I hope I can keep the orders straight."

"You'll do fine. I can't imagine Russ or Rose hiring someone who wasn't up to the job."

"You're very kind."

"Nah, I'm a grouch but nobody ever pays any attention to me."

"Since Mr England seems to have left us, Polly, we should go on to the next table," grinned Rosemary.

 

"I'm exhausted!"

"Having second thoughts about being a working woman, lover?"

"I'm so beat I can't think. How could I do it twice?"

"By the way, you were great. You must have some girl genes in you somewhere, you were even cracking a joke or two by the end of dinner."

"Once I stopped being scared it felt pretty good to be able to just be me. Other than this damned pantyhose."

"Got to take the good with the bad."

"I'm still going to try stockings. I wonder if there's any place near here to get some."

"Polly, there's no place near here for anything. That's why it's a vacation spot. You'd be better off to order on line. Take your laptop up to the lodge and go shopping, girl."

"Tomorrow. I haven't the energy right now."

"Hey - it's only eight o'clock. Time to party!"

"Do I know you? Help! There's a strange woman in my bed!"

"That's my line, lover. Women don't get much stranger than you."

"I suppose you have a point. You really did this all summer last year?"

"Yup! Serve breakfast in the morning then take care of the rooms. Russ feeds us at noon, then we can relax until dinner. Tomorrow we can talk to Rose and the part-timers and set the schedule so we can have our days off and go play."

"You go play, I'm going to take a shower."

"Want company?"

"Think you'll fit?"

"Only one way to find out."

Is there anything more insufferably cheery than the bingity-bongity, bleepy-bloopy tune a cell phone plays when the alarm goes off? Coming slowly to consciousness Polly realized that her knees were a bit chilly. Cracking one eye open did no good, as the sun had not yet risen and the only light in the cabin was the glow of the cell phone, which abruptly shut off before the second eye could be peeled back.

"You awake?" she mumbled to her bedmate.

"Did you even sleep?" replied Sheila.

"I must have, that damned alarm woke me up."

"Glad you did. You know something?"

"It's too early for questions."

"Whoever decided that 'sleeping together' was the proper euphemism for sex didn't know shit. I like you in my bed perfectly fine when we're making love, but I've never actually tried to sleep with anyone in my bed before."

"Yeah. I like having a hot girlfriend, but in an cabin without air conditioning you put out a lot of heat, sweetie."

"Look who's talking."

"Actually, my knees are cold."

"Poor baby."

"I think my nightgown has migrated upwards."

"Mmmmm, you're right."

Polly felt a warm hand sliding over her leg.

"Mmmmm, that part certainly feels warm."

"That's not my knee."

"I figured that out."

"Do we have time for this?"

"Probably not."

"Then you'd better stop."

"Spoilsport."

"Tonight?"

"I hope so."

"I suppose even if this nightgown leaves my knees cold it does have some advantages. Stop that!"

"Having you in this bed has some advantages, too, even if I didn't sleep all that well."

"So you never shared a bed with someone before?"

"Not to actually sleep, if you know what I mean. It's different."

"Nice though. I hope makeup will hide the lack of sleep."

"Turn on the light or we'll be late."

"Spoilsport."

 

"Tell me again why I'm doing this?" whined Polly.

"Because you're getting paid?"

"That helps, but how can you schlep sheets and towels and make beds all day long?"

"Poor baby, we're almost done and it's only eleven. Having second thoughts about women's work, are we?"

"I suppose it beats coal mining."

"See - a positive attitude makes the work light."

"Then you carry this mass of sodden towels to the hamper. How can anyone use so darn many towels, anyway?"

"You don't know my brother, do you?"

"I'm not that I'm excited about meeting your family at the moment, you understand."

"If it didn't mean I'd be grounded for life, it would be amusing to see how you handled it. I hope you will do better than you're doing with the less glamorous side of being a woman."

"Sure, rub it in. I'd like to see you try to be a man."

"Honey, with these honkers it would be a failure from the get-go."

"With my recent personal experience in needing breast support I wouldn't want to have you run around without a bra if I was your size."

"Damn! An understanding man - you're making progress."

"Only two more rooms - that's progress."

"Don't forget we need to help Rosie with the cabins."

"Oh my aching… back!"

 

"Polly, you look like you forgot to sleep last night," commented Russ as they entered the kitchen for lunch.

"I slept fine," Polly lied, 'but I never realized how much work it took to run a place like this."

"Ah my patatino, there are easier ways to make a living, eh?"

"The phrase 'a woman's work is never done' was coined for hotel maids, didn't you know that?" grinned Rosemary.

"Which is why men are not maids." interjected Russ' wife Rose as she entered wiping her hands on a towel. "Men don't have the stamina to clean a house, let alone a hotel."

"I know one thing," replied Polly, "I'll never work for a cleaning service."

"I heartily agree," responded Rose. "Which is why we use a laundry service for our linens. It isn't cheap, but the time to wash them and cost of maintaining the washers and dryers makes it the best option."

"Let us leave the laundry and stay in the kitchen. I have chicken tortellini soup for my hard working crew along with some bread fresh from the oven. Restore all that energy you have expended this morning so you may enjoy the afternoon refreshed."

"Thank you, Russ," Polly said. "I'm not going to get by on a salad and a diet soda after working all morning."

"You'll never make it on the runway if you eat like that, sweetie." Sheila chided.

"As if! I'm all for fashion but I would never wear some of the crap those supermodels wear."

"I'm not sure if you just betrayed women everywhere or made a profound statement on our popular culture."

"I'm too hungry to be profound."

"Then have another bowl of soup, topolino." offered Russ.

"Topo-what?"

"Topolino, Italian for little mouse."

"I don't think having a little mouse in the guest rooms would go over very big with the customers."

"Ah, but have you ever watched a little mouse at play? Most endearing. Our son raised mice for a time."

"Hey - I raised rats for my Animal Husbandry merit badge," said Polly

Which earned her a discrete kick and a mouthed 'wrong Scouts!' from Sheila. "I think you mean your Brownie Pets badge, don't you?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Rats?"

"Sure, they're very friendly little critters. Mine used to run down my leg and over to my dad and up his body to sniff at his ear."

"Uck!"

"I think it's time to go before anyone else mentions more creepie-crawlies," Rosemary said pointedly.

"Now who was it that was in love with Minnie Mouse when she was little?" grinned Sheila.

"Minnie never crawled up my leg."

"Not like Sam, eh?"

"Time to go!"

 

"God I'm tired!" moaned Polly as she sat down on the bed.

"Hey - I thought you Unitarians didn't believe in God."

"Typical Baptist misunderstanding. Some do, some don't. Me? I'm not sure but I grew up in a culture that loves to use His name for emphasis. Kinda like you did last night."

"Hmmm… It was heavenly. You do know how to treat a girl."

"I'm learning. You're a pretty good teacher yourself."

"Polly, uh Peter, can I be serious a minute?"

"Can you?"

"I want to try. You know I wasn't a virgin before."

"You've told me, and I don't think it matters. It's not like you could wear it out."

"I hope I've learned that lesson. You know that I never had an orgasm until we started loving each other."

"Really?"

"Really. I think that may be part of why I went so wild."

"That's sad. I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I think there may be two reasons why it works with you."

"And…"

"I think that having Polly as part of you, you aren't trying to prove how manly you are, but take the time really consider my feelings. You really try to get me aroused and take the foreplay seriously. No one else did that."

"I'm so sorry!"

"So am I. I was stupid and it took time to learn better."

"I just couldn't think of doing it any other way. The whole idea of coupling means that loving is something you do together!"

"That's the second part, that there is love involved. I don't mean love-and-marriage forever, but we know each other and do things together besides grab a quickie whenever we can."

"You're starting to make me wish this ring on my finger were the real thing."

"Great minds think alike. It's too soon, you can't decide things like forever after only a few months. But for right now I love you, Polly. And I love Peter just as much. You've made me realize what I have been missing for so long."

"I love you too, Sheila. I don't know why you were so willing to help me find Polly, but finding you was the best thing that ever happened to me. We may not end up with 2.3 kids, a mortgage and a house in the suburbs, but I know I'll have a good, trusted friend for the rest of my life."

"That's beautiful, Polly. Thank you."

"Now we better get into this bed and sleep or we'll be dead in the morning."

"Hold me close?"

"You bet."

Sunday morning. The alarm went off at its usual time, much to Polly's distress. Even more to her distress, Sheila was up and disgustingly awake.

"C'mon sleepyhead, get up and look at the day the Lord has made." Sheila ordered.

"Mumble, mumble."

"Say that again?"

"I'd better not. The Lord might take it the wrong way on this day He has made."

"Dearest, you know he can read what's in your heart, so it's too late to get away with a minor blasphemy."

"I seem to be getting away with a major blasphemy quite nicely, thank you."

"Don't tell me you're suddenly getting concerned that Polly is not pleasing to the eyes of the Lord, as it were."

"Since I don't talk to Him on a regular basis, I haven't thought to ask, but wouldn't a Baptist be more likely to get excited by crossdressing?"

"Hey, I'm an American Baptist, not one of those Southern Baptists. Most of us figure the Big Guy can handle the way people want to dress without our help."

"You gonna wear your bikini to church, then?"

"Only if you do."

"Then we'll both have to settle for wearing a nice dress this morning.."

"No uniform?"

"Did your brain go to sleep before your body did last night?"

"Probably."

"In a nutshell, Sunday breakfast is a buffet, all we do is set it out on the steam tables and let the guests have at it. That lets Russ and Rose make it to church by 9:30. Since my best friend and their niece Little Rose is sort of obligated to go with them, that means her best friends will go along with her and bow our heads in prayer."

"Wait a minute! I seem to remember they're Catholic."

"Your brain must be resuming operation, you got it the first time."

"So they let heathens like us into a Catholic church?"

"Depends on which of the 47 varieties of Catholic you're talking about. They have even more internal theological disputes than the Southern Baptists."

"I thought the Pope said frog and they all jumped in unison."

"As if any institution that big could do anything in unison. As far as I'm concerned they think Jesus is Lord and that's good enough for me."

"I hate to break it to you, Sheila, but we Unitarians don't all believe Jesus is Lord."

"Then you don't have to worry what Jesus thinks of you wearing a dress. Just get out of that bed and come to church with me like a good girlfriend."

"And I suppose I'll be rewarded in Heaven after I die."

"Which may be sooner than you think if you don't get up."

 

Despite her sleepy objections, Polly did want to go to church, so she was a good girl and dressed nicely (too bad the blue dress was far too warm to wear on a summer's day) and helped set out the food, then helped some of it be eaten. At Russ' signal they all boarded his battered old van and started on their way.

They hadn't gone half a mile when Russ took his hands off the wheel and crossed himself, while the van crossed the double yellow line and headed for the McKenzie river.

"Russ! Look out!" cried Polly. Strangely, the other passengers took it without any comment.

"Don't worry, Polly. I always cross myself when passing the graveyard. It's a sign of respect."

"Jesus Russ! I don't want to end up a permanent resident of the place." Sheila cried.

"What, the hotel isn't good enough for you?"

"I suppose the rent is cheaper and the work hours shorter, but there's nothing much to do otherwise in a box underground."

"Relax, I've never killed anyone yet."

"Now I know why your van is so dented."

"Russ, you're speeding again," advised Rose.

"Uncle Russ, you don't want to scare off the new girl. Sheila's had time to get used to you, but Polly still needs to develop a tolerance. Try to take the curves on all four wheels, please."

"Everybody's a critic!"

"Think of how much easier Confession will be if you drive sensibly," chided his wife.

 

The St Benedict Lodge was where Russ and Rose attended services. A retreat center run by the Dominican order, they welcome anyone to their Masses. For Polly, attending a Mass was a new experience.

The building was lovely, but there was no doubt that it was a church. No matter what the faith, any building dedicated to worship was bound to look like a church, no matter what it was called. Any worship service, no matter what the faith, would be at least marginally familiar to anyone who had attended a service before. The details might vary, as would the language, but the form would be at least vaguely familiar.

Thus it was for Polly; someone read from a holy book, someone played an organ, someone led a prayer, someone offered a sermon, almost everybody sang. That the leaders of the service were in robes and unusual headgear was irrelevant; the kneeling and standing was not part of her usual worship service, but so what? The purpose was fulfilled - to draw the participants closer to God.

Despite her misgivings, and her vague unease in appearing before God in disguise, she gradually fell into the proper frame of mind. The words slowly became clearer as her mind cleared. She began to feel that peace that had so often filled her at services in her home church. The details varied, but she felt at home with God.

The homily (which seemed to be what the Catholics called their sermons) concerned Ephesians 2:8-9: For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do. So she was God's handiwork. The part of her that is Polly and the part of her that is Pete had both been prepared for her in advance by God Himself, so how could her inmost feelings be wrong?

Did she have that right? Was she reading too much into a simple verse? Yet it felt right. She was still young, so there hadn't been much time to do many good works, but she - or he - had tried to be good and to make the world better in some small way.

That sort of blended with the Scout Oath - On my honor I will do my best to do my duty to God and my country and to obey the Scout Law; to help other people at all times; to keep myself physically strong, mentally awake, and morally straight. Weren't they both pointing in the same direction? Did her feelings of femininity make any difference in living a good life? Could her feelings of femininity actually enhance the good she could do in her life? Her questions were unresolved at the end of the service, but the feelings of peace and joy remained.

After the service Russ, who was plainly a regular and known to all present, was schmoozing with the priest. Sheila, Little Rose and Big Rose were discussing something with several women, but Polly found herself a bit apart, still considering the deeper questions in her life.

"Welcome to St Benedict's. I hope you enjoyed the Mass."

Standing before her was a rather short older man dressed in the Dominican habit, obviously one of the Brothers here."

"I wasn't sure about coming as I'm not a Catholic, but I can honestly say that I feel better now than when I came. I may still have questions, but I'm glad I came."

"It would be too much to hope that all your questions would be answered so simply, but perhaps it is the work of a lifetime to find those answers. You need not be concerned if it takes time. I'm Michael, by the way. I usually don't worry about titles when talking to someone like this."

"Polly. Polly Zimmerman. My life has changed pretty drastically in the last couple of months and sometimes I get confused."

"Life has a way of doing that, don't you think? I hope the changes have been for the better."

"I think so. I've found new friends and I'm finding parts of myself that I had tried to ignore. I've found love, Yet where I go from here…"

"Ah yes… It's trite to say, but the only constant is change. It sounds like you've made a good start if you are getting to know yourself. Philosophers from Socrates on down have always said something along the lines of 'know yourself.' It's good advice, but often hard to follow."

"So I've found."

"I don't mean to pry, but what is in this change that troubles you?"

Polly was suddenly unsure, this stranger seemed to be someone who had her best interests at heart, and certainly a man of God, but could she trust him? She surprised herself by deciding she could.

"I… I've discovered the strength of the femininity within me. I've discovered what perhaps will be my passion and profession in life. I didn't really know what I wanted to do with my life, I just sort of headed for a liberal arts degree in college because I didn't know what else to do. Then I fell in love quite by accident and with her help I have found the woman within me that I had denied for so long."

"Her?" his eyebrows rose.

"Oops. I suppose that isn't the sort of thing you should say to a priest."

"You're safe, I'm not a priest yet, just deciding if that's the right path for me, even at this late date. So I'm a friar, that's because I'm not big enough to be a roaster."

Fortunately, Polly had learned about chicken sizes in her tutelage with Russ in the kitchen, so she got the joke.

"Not a capon, I hope."

"Although we are celibate, gelding is not a requirement of our order."

"I understand most religious orders have enough of a recruitment problem without that to worry about."

"How very true!"

"I've gone and done it again. Every time I get into a discussion about the changes in my life I get off track pretty quickly."

"Not uncommon, Polly. Difficult topics are often approached tangentially. If you feel uncomfortable we can talk about something else."

"It is a bit uncomfortable, but if I'm going to be true to myself I have to stop hiding from it. Michael, I'm transgendered. I really don't know what your faith thinks of me, but I don't hold to your faith, either."

"I find myself at a loss for words."

"That's better than get thee behind me Satan!"

"The Church has a lot to answer for when I hear things like that. These days it's pretty obvious that we remain fallible men even if we have a religious vocation and took this path to serve the Lord Jesus. I have to tell you that I am conflicted on the subject myself."

"Welcome to the club!"

"The next time a young child asks me why I'm wearing a dress I'm going to remember this conversation. If I call it a habit that's no help as even little children associate the word 'habit' with drugs. And there I go - changing the subject."

"Proving the man in the habit is quite human."

"I would like to think so. I find myself more and more unhappy with the church's position on women as spiritual leaders. I have met far too many women who would be marvelous priests but are living frustrated lives because of - well, I hate to call it misogyny, but if the shoe fits…"

"I've always wondered about that, but since I'm not Catholic…"

"I fear that when it comes to the difference between men and women everybody gets confused. Are you aware of our Congregation for Catholic Education's recent statement on transgendered people?"

"Not really, like I said I'm not a Catholic."

"The Congregation is sort of the policy maker for what we teach in our schools. Their policy was not very encouraging for you, I'm afraid. The title should make that clear - Male and female he created them. And yet… like any large organization everybody does not march in lockstep with the leadership. I suppose our confusion must be much like your own confusion. In the end I hope I will do as Jesus would want me to do, and the Jesus I know was tolerant of human foibles. Please don't think I'm minimizing your struggles to a mere foible, but I tend to take a more open view than many in the Church.

"Not that I've thought a great deal on the matter, but having met you I would have a very hard time telling you that the lovely young woman I've met is a sinner simply for wishing to be a lovely young woman."

"You were right to say I wouldn't resolve this easily, but I do appreciate talking to you. You've given me much to think about."

"As have you, Polly. I do hope you will return once more next Sunday. There's a quote from the bible I would like to share with you where Jesus said: (John 14:27) Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives you. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

"I wish you peace, my friend, and a fulfilling life no matter what your choices may be."

"I could wish you the same. It's been nice to talk to you and try to express what I'm feeling to someone outside the situation."

"Then thank you for your trust. If you ever want someone to talk to, just call me at the St Benedict's. Peace, my friend."

Neither of them knew it at that moment, but that conversation was the start of a long and enduring friendship. Each Sunday during that summer Michael and Polly, often with Sheila, took some time to discuss a myriad of topics, not just gender issues. Even after the summer was over, the two maintained a sporadic correspondence, keeping the friendship alive over the distance that separated them.

---

Author's Note:

Russ and Rose Russo in this story were inspired by old friends and mentors of the same name in my past, who made a great difference in my young life. They are long gone now, but one of the joys of storytelling is the ability to bring back old friends and introduce them to others. (I pulled the same trick in my story Recovery.)

While he was never an innkeeper, Russ kept a family of nine children fed by selling bread from the back of his very battered van. The real Russ most certainly drove like my fictional version, it was quite an adventure to ride with him. He really did cross himself while passing graveyards.

Rose was the one who taught me how to make real Italian spaghetti sauce, a great boon to my family in the days when it was hard to feed a us all on my pitiful salary. Each fall the cellar was filled with jars of homemade sauce to last us until the tomatoes ripened again. I also have to mention Rose's cannolis and Christmas cookies, the best you'll ever taste.

I discovered a piece about Russ on line a while ago, you can get to know the real Russ Russo at Russ the Baker.

"What the f…" Polly cut herself off before she could finish, this trying to be a girl thing was starting to be automatic.

"Oh crap!" groaned Sheila. "I forgot to turn the alarm off."

"Then kill the noisy thing before I do."

Groping toward her phone she stabbed at it until it stopped making that awful racket.

Rolling over, Polly felt her glued-on breast forms make contact with Sheila's back, then settled her hand around Sheila's nicely real breast and drifted back to sleep.

An hour or so later they roused and another of Polly's appendages - one in distinct contrast to her breasts - pressed into her bedmate and they started their day with some slow, pleasant loving.

When they were again coherent, they raced to the bathroom, Polly smugly reaching the toilet first. Undaunted, Sheila started the shower and waited a minute for the hot water, then combined two pressing tasks with a sigh of relief. Hey - it all goes to the same place.

"Think we can get ready fast enough to make breakfast, lover?" asked Sheila.

"If I channel Pete I can be ready in five minutes. There are advantages to this dual nature, you know."

"And I certainly appreciate the advantage you showed a few minutes ago."

"I certainly won't have to worry about a gallant reflex giving me away after that, you sexy woman."

"There are advantages to having you in my bed, once I got used to not sleeping solo."

"And I'll be glad to take advantage of you any time."

"Get dressed or we'll miss breakfast. I want to show you Proxy Falls, and that means hiking. No pantyhose today, good hiking boots and socks."

"Can I still wear a skirt?"

"You're addicted, you fool. That flowered one would be good."

"And the pink blouse?"

"You just want to wear that pink bra again, don't you?"

"It's special. The first bra I owned that fit right."

"I'll do your hair if you do mine."

"Deal!"

 

Technically, they did reach the dining before it closed at 9AM. 8:59:30 is before nine, but Rosemary wasn't buying it.

"Well la-te-dah! I suppose you two think your shit-eating grins will inspire me serve you two bounders breakfast?"

"Is that any way to speak to a guest?"

"You guys are the help. The help eats in the kitchen, varlets."

"My, my. You must have been up all night reading some medieval potboiler. Varlets, forsooth!"

"I have been communing with the Bard of Avon, you literary lowlifes."

"Going to be producing Shakespeare In The Woods any time soon?"

"Why? You want to play Juliet, Polly?"

"I guess I'm uniquely qualified for the part both in Shakespeare's time and the present, aren't I?"

"Jeez! You shake your spear around me and I'll lop it off."

"You even think about it and I'll borrow Mercutio's sword and you'd be in big trouble." warned Sheila.

"She's borrowed my tits, so why not have you borrow a sword. Just keep it away from my tits, you hear? Get thee to the kitchen, fair maids. I have work to do!"

 

Russ gladly fed them and provided a picnic lunch for their adventures. With the air redolent of baking bread, Polly got a faraway look on her face as she inhaled deeply

"Oh, I wish I could bake bread like you do, Russ. It smells so heavenly and tastes even better."

"Then come to the kitchen when you finish your morning chores tomorrow and I'll teach you."

"Would you really?"

"Of course, it's not like it's an old family secret recipe that has to be guarded and passed down from father to son."

"That's a good thing as I wouldn't qualify."

"And here I am being a sexist. From parent to child works better."

"I still don't qualify, as much as I wouldn't mind having you as my dad, Daddy Russ."

"I love it when you call me that. A lovely daughter and I didn't have to change her diapers or put up with her as a teenager. What could be better?"

"I'm still eighteen, Daddy Russ. You aren't out of the woods yet."

"And if I were out of the woods I couldn't charge the tourists the ridiculous price I charge to have them stay here. I like being in the woods!"

"You win either way, don't you Daddy?"

"You betcha!"

Thanking Rosemary for the loan of her car they set off. As the door closed, Russ turned to Rosemary and said "They're a couple, aren't they my Little Rose?"

"I'm not so little any more, Unc."

"My Rosalie is the biggest rose in my life, so you shall remain forevermore my Little Rose. You avoided the question, my Little Rose."

"Can't fool you, can I? Yeah, they're a couple. A couple of whats I'm not sure, but whatever they've got together, it works."

"Ah, to be young and in love again. The priests may not agree, but how can such love be wrong when they are so obviously meant for each other? They try not to show it, but love is hard to disguise."

"After some of the crap Sheila pulled when we were kids I was sure that she was going to get into another meatheaded relationship and screw up her life again. They're second cousins, you know."

"All in the family, eh? You're too young to have watched All In The Family, but The Meathead was the character that tried to inject a little sanity into the chaos."

"It's their story to tell, Unc, but there's enough chaos involved to keep some theoretical physicist busy for years and years."

"They're doing a good job here, Polly knows how to make the customers happy now that she's relaxed a bit. I think she was scared to be serving at first, but she's learned quickly."

"You don't know the half of it, Unc, she had her reasons. I was skeptical, but Sheila's my best friend and she was sure Polly would be good at the job."

"She was right. Sometimes you have to trust your gut. I did so when she and Sheila came down for the interview and my gut said 'hire her.' "

"With your gut that's a lot of approval."

"Get out of here piccolo, get to work and stop with the body shaming."

"Why Unc, you'll blow your Old World image if you start spouting modern jargon."

"Out!"

 

Meanwhile, Sheila and Polly headed for Route 242 toward the town of Sisters. Negotiating the uphill twists and turns, it didn't take Sheila long to ask "Remind you of anything, Polly?"

"Looks like you want to relive our first date."

"I'd rather live with you, I don't want to have to take you home when we're done with the date."

"Since we call the same place home these days, I guess you'd have to take me to a motel."

"Smartass."

"At least we don't have to watch out for logging trucks since this is a forest preserve."

"And we can ignore all those signs about chains and snow since this is summer."

Conversation sort of died down as Sheila needed all her concentration to negotiate the twists and turns in the road. Eventually they came to a trailhead for Proxy Falls.

"Looks like we weren't the only ones with this idea," Polly observed as she took in the many cars parked at the trailhead."

"Can't say I blame them for being here. Ready for a hike?"

"Lead on, my love."

Each taking a stout walking stick borrowed from the hotel, they set off into the woods. There was no doubt that these mountains were volcanic in nature, the forest was littered with black volcanic rocks liberally covered with lichen and moss.

Despite it being a warm summer's day, the woods were cool and fragrant as the two hikers made their way along the trail. Every so often they would meet other hikers returning along the trail and exchanged friendly waves and smiles in passing. Polly did notice that she was about the only woman wearing a skirt, but it was very comfortable and didn't interfere with her walking in the slightest.

Glowing with the joyful exercise they came to the first of the two falls on the trail, pausing to drink in the beauty of nature.

Finding a convenient bench along the trail, the two rested for a bit and contemplated the beauties of nature.

"Somehow I don't regret missing Scout Camp for a summer job when we come to places like this," observed Polly.

"It is beautiful, isn't it."

"Almost as beautiful as you."

"Whoa! Just keep that up and you might get kissed."

"My love is as beautiful as a summer's day -"

The rest was smothered as Polly's mouth was busy with things other than speech, no matter how romantic.

"Careful, my lipstick is back in the car."

"Who cares? I have a tissue. Hold still."

Sheila dabbed some errant color from Polly's face.

"My turn," said Polly, who returned the favor. "You know, I think I've just realized something."

"And…"

"Beautiful places like this let you slow down and think. We've been pretty busy the last couple of weeks, not that I'm complaining. Working at the hotel is fun, I love the people and the way everyone pitches in to make it all work."

"I have to say I'm amazed at just how well you've fit in. Don't get mad, but there's still a bit of the wild woman in me that was wondering if you would fall flat on your face trying to be a woman."

"You weren't the only one! And since I've learned about your alleged sense of humor I won't get mad."

"I have to say you look damned comfortable as a maid."

"Every crossdresser's fantasy, you know. Except it's usually in a sexy, frilly outfit in a mansion somewhere."

"Maybe Rosie's family will need some extra help."

"That isn't one of my fantasies. I think I'm living my fantasy right now."

"And you like being a woman most of the time."

"That's just it! I think I've figured out that I don't want to be all-woman or all-man. I have a hard time buying this 'men's work - women's work' stuff. A job's a job no matter what your plumbing. I like girl's clothes, I love wearing a bra and almost wish I had real breasts to put in it. But I like being a Scout, I want to be a father someday, Right now I don't want to have to choose one or the other. I like both!"

"So why not have it all? It's your life."

"Great idea. Tell me how to do it. Just go home and say 'Hey pops - I'm gonna be a girl today.'?"

"You could become an actress and specialize in British farces. That might work."

"You're full of good ideas today."

"Sounds like you need to talk to a councilor. This isn't going to be just a summer's lark, is it?"

"I don't think so. So now I go home and say 'Hey pops - I need to see a shrink because I want to be a girl'?"

"Well, the plan needs a little more development."

"Too bad I couldn't have a little more development in certain places."

"I'll e-mail Tit-Tanya when we get back."

"Fairies do e-mail?"

"Got to keep up with the times, you know."

"Speaking of time, we should get moving."

"We'll find some way to let you be who you want to be, somehow."

"We?"

"I don't abandon friends."

"Thanks. That means a lot."

"You mean a lot to me, Polly. And you, too Pete."

With that they set off down the trail once again until they reached the second waterfall.

Despite the serenity of the scene, Sheila started to laugh.

"And what's so funny about a waterfall?" asked Polly

"Not the waterfall, the trees."

"And we haven't been walking through trees to get here?"

"Not the ones standing up, the ones lying down. I just wondered if you had an urge to chop down a few trees like the guys in that silly song you taught me."

"The only thing sharp I could muster is a cutting remark. Besides, I can't come home and change into women's clothing because I'm already wearing women's clothing."

"And how does it feel, lover?"

"Other than my bra itching a bit it feels wonderful."

"It's nice that it's a bit cooler in the woods, I just hate it when the sweat drips down between my breasts on a hot summer day. I wonder how you'll feel when it warms up and you have those things glued to your chest."

"I'll call on my manly side to suck it up and be a woman."

"That doesn't make any sense!"

"As if spending the summer as a woman is sensible?"

"It's different, anyway. You're with me and that's what counts."

"You're a sensible woman, my dear."

If any of the other hikers wondered why they could hear The Lumberjack Song in duet floating among the trees, they were to remain forever in suspense.

 

Glowing from their hike, Sheila continued driving up the winding mountain road with a smile on her face.

"Ready for your surprise?"

"Living with you I've come to expect them."

"Not that much further, lover."

In a very short time the road emerged from the forest to pass through vast fields of jumbled, black volcanic rocks."

"Whoah! Where did that come from?" exclaimed Polly.

"A volcano, silly."

"That's igneous rock just like they taught us in science class, but it just started at the edge of the forest and keeps on going!"

"I suppose even a volcanic eruption has to end somewhere. It just happens it ended at those trees."

"I had no idea this was here!"

"I didn't either until Rosie showed me last year. Remember the hot springs that feed the hotel pool? That comes from magma under the ground and that means volcanoes."

"Like Mount Saint Helen's. Mom and dad were little kids when it blew up and they say it was spectacular."

"Yeah, except this happened umpty-thousand years ago and not much is growing on it yet."

"I've got to take pictures of this to send Mom and Dad."

"Wait a little more, the best is yet to come when we hit the Observatory."

"Like we can't observe all these rocks right now?"

"Smartass. Don't get your panties in a twist. I wouldn't want you to damage anything you keep inside them."

"Me either! Dee Wright Observatory ahead. Is that what you're talking about?"

"You're pretty observant yourself."

"Smartass yourself!"

Even if the Observatory weren't so prominent, they would have known there was something to stop for by all the cars parked along the road. Finding an open space, Sheila parked and they got out.

Naturally they had to follow the winding path to the top, where they could see Mt. Washington and Mt. Jefferson to the North and the North and Middle Sister Mountains to the South. Since the day was clear, they could even see Mt. Hood, almost eighty miles away.

"This is so cool!" exclaimed Polly.

"Like your surprise?"

"I can hardly wait for Christmas if you're this good at surprises."

"No hints, sweetie. Aren't you glad I told you to wear hiking boots even if they look a bit strange with a skirt?"

"I trust my fashion adviser implicitly. Except when it comes to pantyhose. They may work for you but I hate them. I still want to buy some stockings when we get to town."

"If anybody still carries them."

"I still want to look."

"And so we shall. I suppose it might be kinky if you kept them on while we made love."

"Another excellent reason to try to find some."

"Good luck, Polly."

 

After a morning of fun exploring the area, Polly was soon to learn what the denizens of most rural areas know only too well: Everything you want is a couple of hours drive away. If it's any closer it costs ten times as much as it would in a larger town.

After a fruitless search for stockings in the town of Sisters, which seemed to be a tourist town much like Canon Beach only bigger, the ladies ate their picnic in the town park and drove on to Bend. Bend was the Big City, if you define the Big City as any place large enough to have a Costco and a WalMart.

There Polly's quest was rewarded, but she about expired of apoplexy on seeing just how much stockings cost. It was enough to make Polly reconsider how much she wanted to be a woman, they were that expensive. When her breathing returned to normal she did what any modern teen would do, she got out her phone and checked Amazon. Not much joy there, either. In fact, it seemed that the only stockings available were designed to be sexy enough for seduction, not made for everyday use by a working woman. At those prices she would put up with pantyhose, so she stocked up as long as she was there, as did Sheila.

"These things have got to be a male-dominated, sexist conspiracy, that's what I think!" Polly grumbled as they exited the store.

"See why I prefer trainers and socks. Socks last forever, pantyhose shred if you look at them wrong."

"We need to talk to Rose about the whole idea. Now that I know how expensive these things are they don't seem so desirable as they did before I had to buy them!"

"And you thought being a woman was all love and roses."

"Yeah, I suppose I did. I'm starting to grow up and learn the truth."

"Just don't grow up too much or you won't be able to pull off being Polly."

"And that's another thing! I never realized how lucky I was to only have to just shave my chin a couple of times a week. Now I spend hours shaving legs and pits and whatever."

"Welcome to the fair maiden's side of the divide, Polly. The grass is always greener and all that horseshit. Quit bitching and let's go window shopping,"

"Sounds good to me."

And so they did. You don't need a blow-by-blow of their afternoon, but they enjoyed a nice meal at an interesting restaurant and made their way over the mountain before it got dark. All in all, a great day off for the both of them.

After a couple of weeks working at the hotel, life settled into a pretty steady groove. Polly and Sheila were getting used to having someone else in their bed all night and sleeping well. Polly no longer had heart palpitations each morning when putting on her bra. Sheila had really started to believe that she was in love with both Pete and Polly. Rosie was still shaking her head and grinning at her two crazy friends and their antics. Russ and Rose smiled benevolently at the young people who were clearly blossoming as they performed magnificently in their jobs. The customers were smiling and those so inclined were exchanging puns and little jokes with the girls, never realizing that one of those girls was pretty new on the job in more ways than the obvious.

Life was about as idyllic as the tourist brochures made it out to be along the McKenzie River.

Refreshed after their day of recreation, all three girls polished off the morning's chores in record time. Arriving in the kitchen, Russ asked Polly "You ready to learn how to bake bread?"

"You bet, Russ!"

"Ah, my little tesoro, you'll make some man a fine wife some day."

"Uncle Russ," Rosemary asked with a grin, "you're third generation Italian-American and I know you don't even speak Italian other than some pretty good curse words. What's with the tesoro and all that crap?"

"Got to keep up the image, passerotto. The jolly innkeeper y'know."

"You old fraud! Next thing I know you're gonna be hanging a's on the end of all your words."

"That's-a not-a true-a, my-a little-a amore!"

"You're full of more hot air than your bread dough!"

"But when you poke-a my belly it doesn't-a deflate like bread dough. More's the pity."

"I'm outta here! He's all yours, Polly, and good luck with him!"

"I think he has a nice belly," Polly said as she patted it affectionately. "See? He's an old softie!"

"I've known that for years," offered Rose. "Let's leave these two to the flour and yeast, Sheila. Come and tell me all about what you girls did yesterday."

"No gossip in the kitchen. Here, put on this apron or you'll look like the Pillsbury Dough Girl before we're done. Let's start with the yeast, Polly my little stella."

"I may have to start poking your belly if you keep that up, Russ."

"Oh to be only twenty years older!"

"Huh? You want to be older?"

"Yes. An old man can get away with so much more with a beautiful young woman."

"You'd better have Rose drive you to an optometrist. If your eyes are that bad I wouldn't want you on the road by yourself. Besides, I've seen your van and it looks like you need a chauffeur."

"Hey, a deer here, a dog there. A dent here a ding there. Hazards of the road."

"And I'm not saying who's the hazard. Yeast?"

"Right. You've seen those little packages of yeast in the store?"

"Sure."

"Well, we don't use those little things. I'd go broke if I did. Each packet has two and one quarter teaspoons of yeast - and don't ask me where that measurement came from - so we buy yeast by the pound or even in five pound packages. A pound of yeast costs about six bucks wholesale and is equal to 160 teaspoons or about 71 packages. With all the bread I bake we need to buy in bulk.

"Baking good bread is a little art and a little science. These days everybody's heard of gluten, there's big business in gluten-free stuff, but gluten is what makes bread possible. I have some French friends who consider Americans completely crazy because of the gluten-free craze. Not that he doesn't consider Americans completely crazy for other reasons, but that's another story.

"Anyway, there are two proteins in wheat flour, glutenin, which creates elasticity and the chewiness, and gliaden, which creates extensibility, the protein's ability to stretch to achieve a higher rise. When you add water these two different proteins combine to make gluten, and that's what holds the bread together. The yeast makes little bubbles of carbon dioxide and the gluten holds the little bubbles in the dough, which makes the bread rise. Once the bread is baked the starch in it sets and you have a loaf of bread that won't crumble away.

"It gets even more complicated than that, because there are different kinds of flour. There's all-purpose flour for cakes and soft baked goods with about ten percent protein, bread flour with about twelve percent protein for soft breads and things like croissants and high-gluten flour with about fourteen percent protein for bagels and dense breads. The protein content is determined by the variety of wheat that is used, and that's a whole 'nother study. Confused yet?"

"So do you order your supplies from Fisher Scientific or the bakery supply?"

"Ah, you've been listening! The bakery supply, of course. Now, the four essentials for bread are flour, yeast, salt and water. You can get something edible with those basics, but there are other ingredients that make each thing you bake different. Oil makes the bread more tender, egg can make the bread more chewy and makes it rise higher. Milk makes the bread softer and the crust will brown more easily. I use half water and half buttermilk for my bread because it makes it taste like sourdough bread without all the hassle of keeping a sourdough culture alive. More salt slows down rising and makes the bread more dense, like in bagels.

"Go to a bookstore and you will find a dozen books about how to make the best bread and all of them will tell you something different. The best bread is a matter of taste - yours and the loaf."

Just then Russ' assistant chef came in.

"Hey Tony, meet our mystery baker for the afternoon."

"Jeez Russ, the only mystery is how fast your brain is shrinking. You think I wouldn't recognize Polly when she's in and out of the kitchen fifty times a night?"

"Should we be concerned, Tony? Just a few minutes ago he was having trouble with his eyes."

"Eyes I don't worry, he could bake bread blindfolded with one hand tied behind his back. Better write down your recipes so Polly can learn them before we put you in the home, Russ."

"I could burn water, Tony."

"Not when I get done with you, kid. Russ, you've just been declared redundant. Get thee to the office and start writing."

"I may forget how to write when it comes to you paycheck."

"It's electronically deposited, old buddy. No need to sign. Besides, that's Rose's department."

"See how hard it is to get good help these days, Polly. I'm glad I hired a girl as good as you are or I'd be out of business in a week."

"You were telling me how to bake bread, Russ?"

"Of course! Where were we?"

"I told you he was ready for the home. Memory care floor, I think." Tony commented as he entered the refrigerator for vegetables to turn into soup.

"The first thing we do is proof the yeast. It's always best to be sure your yeast is still alive before you start making the dough. Not that it's much of a concern with all the bread we bake here, but at home when you only bake bread every once and a while, proofing the yeast can save you a lot of unhappiness. We measure out the buttermilk and hot water, then take it's temperature. You want the liquid somewhere between 110° and 115°. If it's too cold, zap it in the microwave, too hot either wait or add a bit of ice. Then a bit of sugar or honey so the yeast has something to feed on and finally stir in the yeast with a whisk. In five or ten minutes the mixture should be frothing if the yeast is still alive.

"While you're waiting, measure out an equal amount of flour as your liquid and add the salt. Without salt the bread will taste flat and bland, it's really important. That and the amount of the salt affects how it rises. Then we measure out the oil. I have the recipe in my head so I don't have to look, but you will probably be using a written recipe, so have everything at the ready before you start.

"Traditionally, you mix everything up and when the dough starts to come together you knead it. That means you fold it over in half and use the heel of your hand to stretch the dough. Then you fold it again and stretch it again until it's smooth and elastic. Don't you love those clear, simple directions to tell you when you're done?"

"Elastic like a hair tie or elastic like a tire tube?"

"That's where the experience comes in. It always takes longer than you want to get to smooth and elastic. Usually ten or fifteen minutes will do it. As you can see, the amount of bread we bake, I'd have to hire the Jolly Green Giant to knead it all at one time, so let me introduce you to the bread baker's best friend. Now over here we have our industrial-scale bread kneading machine, which is going to become your best friend."

The machine was almost as tall as Polly and had an enormous bowl. It was also bolted securely to the floor of the kitchen.

"I'm not sure Sheila will approve of my throwing her over, Russ."

"You certainly don't want to do anything to alarm Sheila. She would have a hard time finding another woman like you. At least you won't be sharing your bed with the mixer."

Ohmygod! How much does he know?

"Russ!"

"You have a pretty blush, Polly."

"So I'm told. Can we stick to making bread?"

"The whole idea is not to have a sticky dough. See, the yeast is foaming and we know it's good, so we dump it all together and add the oil."

He did so, having Polly pour in the oil while he added the yeast mixture.

"Now turn it on and let it do all the work."

A cloud of flour erupted as the machine started, but it soon settled down. As Polly watched Russ judiciously added flour until the contents slowly changed from a sticky, gooey mess to an elastic ball that slapped rhythmically on the sides of the bowl.

"Here's where the art comes in," commented Russ. After a while you get to know when the balance of flour and liquid is just right by poking the dough. Every batch is different, the flour has more or less moisture, the buttermilk is a little thicker or thinner, the Bread Gods have a case of indigestion and want you to worship them with a little more water today."

Russ stopped the machine and poked the dough.

"No matter how tempting it is to just stick your hand in there to check, always stop the thing or you may have some blood and extra protein in your bread that you really don't want to add to the recipe! Poke it and see what it feels like."

"Squishy."

"Right. It needs a little bit more flour."

So saying he added about a cup more flour, a very tiny amount compared to the mass in the mixing bowl.

"Do it slowly or you can overdo it and then you have to add water."

A few minutes later he repeated the poke test and was satisfied. With no little effort he cranked the dough hook out of the bowl and put a cover over it.

"Now we leave it to rise for an hour or so and do other things like start on dessert for the evening meal."

"You want some help?"

"Why not? We have apple pan dowdy tonight, so there are lots of apples to peel."

As it turned out, Polly spent the rest of the afternoon in the kitchen with Russ. Sheila would poke her head in every once in a while, shake it knowingly, and retreat to the office where she continued to talk with Rose and Rosie. Once current events like just what Polly and Sheila had done on their day off had been discussed, the motherly Rose drew out the details of Sheila's life. Surprised to find Sheila was interested in accounting, talk turned to just how the finances of the hotel worked. It didn't take long for Little Rosie to lose interest, so she excused herself. Rose and Sheila spent a pleasant afternoon together as Rose related just how things worked and how things could go interestingly wrong.

The girls didn't know it then, but that afternoon was going to change their lives completely.
 

---

 
The next chapter will post on Tuesday, No Internet available where I'm going.

It happened so slowly that nobody really noticed it happening, but by mid-summer Polly and Sheila had moved from being 'Summer Help' to join Little Rose as 'Family.' The hotel had been in the Russo family for generations, so it was sad that Russ and Rose had no children to continue the family business.

Polly soon found that life in the kitchen was very attractive, and Russ took her under his wing to pass on his love of cooking for large groups. His mentoring didn't stop at the kitchen door, as Russ played the Jolly Innkeeper, welcoming his guests heartily and making them feel at home. With his example to follow, Polly grew and became more than a summer's lark, flirting and catering to the people who chose the hotel for their relaxation, making sure they thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

Sheila gradually began to help Rose with some of the buying, learning the practical aspects of money management, being sure that the invoices matched the goods delivered. With several part-time people, managing who was on duty when could be a challenge, but one that Sheila gladly took on.

In their private moments, Russ and Rose would beam with pride at their ersatz granddaughters who, in their turn, reveled in the relationship. Polly, particularly, enjoyed being a granddaughter. Counting hours 'on the job' went by the wayside, everybody worked to make the family business thrive. Little Rose just shook her head at the whole situation, wondering just how her friends had become her cousins.

So it came to be that Polly was at the reception desk on a Friday afternoon in the middle of August. This wasn't a very demanding job, so Polly was immersed in a book between customers. Hearing the door chime she finished her paragraph and looked up.

"Welcome, can I help you…"

And the words died as her breath vanished. Standing before her was her mother. In the silence that followed the door chimed again and her father and sister entered with suitcases in hand.

"Did you find Peter, honey?" he asked, to be greeted by silence.

"Uh, hi Mom, Dad?"

Alerted by that sixth sense that any good innkeeper develops, Rose came out of the office to see what was happening.

"Is anything wrong, Polly?" she asked. Having taken the Zimmerman family reservation a few weeks before, she was aware that her intervention had come to pass at last. "Ah, I understand. Welcome Mr and Mrs Zimmerman. I know it's quite a shock, but could I introduce you to your daughter Polly? She has been quite a wonderful help to us this summer and we think the world of her. I hope you don't mind sharing her with us, as we have come to consider her part of our family.

"You knew?" Asked Polly incredulously.

"Of course, child. How you choose to present yourself is up to you. As long as you treat the customers properly and they don't spend more time talking about you than the hotel, who are we to judge? You are obviously very comfortable with being Polly and that, in itself, is a triumph. So many people go through life not knowing who they are or what they want to be.

"I think you need to check your parents in so they can unpack and then you can spend a little time with them. I'll get Chanice to cover for you and I'll take over for Sheila so she can join you."

With that Rose bustled off, leaving the family in stunned silence.

"This ought to be good!" spoke Vicky. "How did I end up with a big sister?"

"It's a long story, kid." answered Polly.

"I'll just bet it is." Polly's father marveled.

"We thought we'd surprise you by coming down for a vacation, uh, Polly?"

"That's my name for the summer, Mom."

"I guess we got the surprise, though," responded her Dad. "I think we would like to try to understand."

"I'm not so sure I can explain it myself, but I'll try. Let me get you keys and as soon as Chanice gets here I can show you to your cabin. Then we can talk."

"Even your voice is different. You even sound like a girl!" her sister exclaimed.

"Duh! How else am I supposed to sound, sis?"

"You sure don't sound like my bratty bother!"

"Girls, don't fight, warned their mother. "Oh! I can't believe I just said that!"

"And you don't know how many times I've wished I was your daughter so I could hear you say it."

"Really?"

"Really."

Just then Chanice arrived, long braided hair flying wildly."

"Rose said you needed me to take over, Polly. Oh! You look like someone just walked over your grave, girl," she said in her soft Jamaican accents.

"You may be closer than you know, Chanice."

"Damn girl, you got to stop working so hard, you too cute to look so frass. I don't know how you do it, up at the crack of dawn, waitressing, maiding, cooking - you do it all. You got to slow down, but not until you make some more of that apple whatever-it-was you made for dessert last night. Make a big bowl of that stuff and put my name on it - it's spelled C-h-a-n-i-c-e, girl - and then you can slow down!"

"And you say I need to slow down?" Polly queried with a smile.

"There now, you look better. I can still talk your ear off and put a smile on your face. What's happening, girl?"

"Uh, my parents decided to surprise me by coming for their vacation this week."

"Well hallelujah! You the lucky one. These your folks?"

"Yeah, Chanice, my parents Irene and Scott and my little sister Vicky."

"Welcome to the place. You done one fine job of raising this girl, she's a superstar round here. Don't know what we're going to do when she has to run off to college."

"I'm not sure how we managed to raise such a fine, uh, daughter, but thank you for your praise. I'm sure she appreciates it as much as we do."

"You folks go on now and settle in so you can enjoy our hospitality. See you later, Polly."

"You too, Chanice."

"Covering for you is going to be quite a trick, sis," murmured Vicky as Polly led them out the door.

 

Passing the pool, a flock of children waved frantically and shouted "You gonna come in the pool with us today Polly?"

"You know I'm allergic to water," Polly called back.

"That's what you always say."

"I'm allergic to smart-aleck kids, too."

"None of those here!"

"Then why am I sneezing?" Followed by a rather theatrical sneeze.

"You seem to be rather popular here," observed her mother.

"I suppose I am. I really enjoy getting to know our guests."

"And it seems I haven't really gotten to know my own son."

Passing the flower beds, Bill the gardener waved and called "Beautiful day! How's it going, girl?"

"Round in circles, Bill."

"As long as you aren't circling the drain, that's OK"

"I think I may be in over my head about now."

"Just give me a shout and 'ole Bill will be there with a life jacket. You take care."

"I will, Bill."

"Does everyone here know you by name?" asked her dad.

"Pretty much. I serve their meals, make their beds and sometimes check them in and out. Russ has been teaching me how to cook for a crowd and he embarrasses me by telling everyone when I made their cake or side dishes. I really have to thank you for teaching me how to cook, Mom. It's been a real asset."

"Well I never…"

"And I even saved us a bundle, Dad, because you taught me how to fix a toilet and we didn't have to pay a plumber to do the job."

"While you were wearing a skirt, I suppose."

"How else? This is the official uniform and I wear it all day long except on my days off."

"I afraid to ask, but what do yo wear then?"

"A sundress if it's warm, or a skirt and blouse. Depends on my mood and the weather."

"I suppose you wear mini-skirts?"

"Not a chance! I realize I don't have the body to wear something like that. Actually my taste are much like yours, Mom, at least when you wear a skirt."

"This is just too weird!"

"At least we have that in common. Here's your cabin. Rose booked you into one of the two bedroom ones, and now I know why the reservation book seemed to be in Rose's office whenever I was covering the desk. You weren't the only one to get a surprise this afternoon."

"And she knew you were doing this?"

"I certainly didn't know she knew. Only Sheila and Little Rose had any idea. Shows how perceptive I am."

"Speaking of Sheila, looks like she's about to join us, sis."

"Did she know that this was going to happen?" asked Dad.

"If she did she deserves an Oscar for best actress!"

"I think you might be in line for that one."

"Actor or Actress?" Polly asked with a rueful grin.

"A damned good question, child of mine."

Just then Sheila came to a halt by them."

"Should I disappear until you guys decide if I'm wanted here?" she asked.

"Don't you dare! We're in this together."

"Wow! Your dad can do Mr Spok with the eyebrow."

"Even he couldn't help. I don't see any place to insert logic in this situation."

"It's a situation that calls for McCoy, who does human emotions, Dad."

"I'm trying not to get too emotional, at that. Why? What makes you want to dress like this?"

"Let's get you settled in first so we can sit down and talk."

"Spoken like a true innkeeper."

"Don't laugh, but I think I may have found what I want to do with my life. The hospitality industry may be it."

"Besides changing sex?"

"Wait until you're settled and then we can go into those details. This is one of our deluxe cabins, two bedrooms, full bath and kitchenette. Some wag nicknamed it Hell's Honeymoon Cabin but we don't tell the tourists that. Lots of privacy but if the wedding fizzles they can both stomp off to separate bedrooms. Seems that's what happened once years ago and the name stuck. The legend is you could hear the screaming all the way to the front desk with the doors closed. On that hopeful note, Sheila and I will wait for you on the porch and I'll see if I can rustle up some drinks."

"You do take this inn-keeping seriously, don't you?"

"The only way to do it."

"All right, give us a few minutes and we'll join you."

Polly and Sheila settled on to the porch swing together and Polly called the kitchen on her cell phone to beg for some special service.

"Well," said Sheila, "you appear to have survived without any major lacerations or contusions. What happened?"

"They decided to surprise Pete by spending a week of vacation here. They sure as hell succeeded in surprising me."

"You gave as much as you got, eh?"

"I'm still shaking. At least nobody started screaming, but what am I going to say?"

"Try the truth. From experience, I can tell you that lying and hiding things from my parents didn't work worth crap."

"So easy to say and so hard to do…"

"They were going to have to know sometime. We both know this isn't something you want to do for the summer and then turn it off, isn't it?"

"You're right. Speaking of knowing, Rose knows who I am and arranged it so I didn't know they were coming."

"She did? Can't get much past that woman, can you? She never once treated you like anything other than what you appear to be."

"I wonder if Russ knows?"

"Get real! There's no secrets between them, honey."

"Hey Jimmy, thanks for the special service."

Jimmy put a tray of drinks and snacks on the small table on the porch. "My parents showed up to surprise me and I wanted them to see just how good this place really is."

"Anything for you two dolls. The place won't be the same without you when you have to go off to college."

"Only a couple more weeks. I'm going to miss being here."

"Gets to be more than a job, doesn't it? I just love the atmosphere that Russ and Rose have created. They treat people real good, don'cha know."

"So they do. Hi Mom. Meet Jimmy, one of the people who keeps this place humming."

"Hi Mrs Z, nice to have you here. Your daughter really knows her stuff. The place won't be the same without her."

"I'm sure of that, right daughter?"

"Thanks for the compliment, Jimmy."

"Gotta run. See you later, ladies."

"Have you got every man in the place twisted around your little finger?" Polly's mother asked skeptically.

"Not every man," answered Sheila. "Everybody. I wasn't sure about Polly at first, but she is a real person and I love her as much as I do Pete. This was kind of a nasty way for you to discover her, but I hope you'll give her a chance. It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Love? Is that why you have matching engagement rings on your hands?"

Sheila started to laugh. "Ten bucks each on Amazon and we have to coat them with nail polish every few days or our fingers turn green. Keeps the wolves at bay when you're waitressing or someone is still in their room when you come by to make the bed."

"Quite the resourceful pair, aren't you?"

"Don't be surprised if there's a real diamond there sometime soon, Mom."

"I accept!" enthused Sheila. "We need to go shopping on our day off and blow all our summer wages."

"Not all of them, sweetheart."

"Scott! Come out here. I think our daughter just proposed to Sheila."

"What?"

"I just asked Sheila to marry me, Dad."

"Oh my aching head! This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation and what do I get? A new daughter and a new daughter-in-law and a misplaced son. I need a vacation from this vacation!"

"Don't worry, Dad," offered Vicky. "I know CPR if you have a heart attack."

"Oh joy, one child gives me heart failure and the other wants to revive me. How lucky can a man get?"

"If you don't mind me saying," Sheila answered, "Pretty lucky. If you hadn't raised Peter so well I never would have found him or Polly. I did a pretty good job of messing up my life when I was younger and my parents and some very good people showed me I could be different. Polly may be different, but she's the one I want to spend my life with and I wouldn't want that if she weren't the most wonderful person I know."

"I'm trying to understand, really I am, but why? Is it the clothes? Just… why?"

"It's not just the clothes, although it started out that way. I can't tell you how jealous I was of you, Vicky, when you got your first training bra."

"Jealous? Of me!" her sister was incredulous.

"I love her but she's crazy, isn't she Vicky?" asked Sheila.

"I'll say! You really wanted a bra?"

"I really did. I think I really wanted to be a girl just then, but I couldn't quite put it into words or even a coherent thought."

"But you never seemed to be unhappy to be a boy," her mother said.

"I don’t think I was all that unhappy. I just rather wished I was born a girl. There wasn't anything I could do about it, so I just ignored it."

"Typical man!" scoffed her mother.

"Wait a minute!" laughed Polly. "I thought the girls were supposed to just want support and the guys were supposed to want to solve the problems."

When the laughter ended, Polly got serious.

"Actually, I did like most people these days do, did some looking online. There seem to be a lot of men who wish they were women and a few women who want to be men. Then there are people like me who aren't sure or don't care which side of the line they fall on. Gender-fluid is the buzzword. I found a whole new vocabulary to describe what I was thinking. It helps to put it into words, it isn't as confusing that way."

"That's easy for you to say," commented dad.

"You guys are taking this awfully calmly," commented Sheila.

"Once Peter admitted you two were sleeping together, we kind of used up our shock quotient," Mom replied.

"Oh…"

"Hey, you told your folks, I didn't want to be outright lying to mine."

"Just neglected to mention a few things, eh?"

"I figured I would know better just what I wanted by the end of the summer."

"And have you figured it out?"

"Living as Polly just feels right!"

"Right enough to make it permanent?"

"I just don't know. If it were only me, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But there's you and Sheila and college and shrinks and legal stuff and… Well, it's not something I could do without a lot of thinking and talking to people who know about this stuff."

"Scott, even though this isn't what we thought we'd get when the nurse handed us a baby in a blue blanket, we seem to have raised a very responsible child. I think we can be proud of whoever he or she turns out to be."

"I couldn't agree more, Irene."

"And Sheila, if you two do get married, we will be just as proud to have you as part of our family."

"I think you two delinquents should get back up to the hotel and get on with whatever they're paying you to do. We need some time to let this all sink in. We can talk some more later."

"You're right. I've been trying to figure out how to tell you about Polly and why I feel so right living as a woman. I'm just sorry it had to be so abrupt."

"Maybe it's for the best. Now scoot!"

Each day, any day, no mater how the humans packing the surface of this planet act, react, stumble, fight, love or hate, they must bow to the reality of physics. Sailors fear that if all the passengers on a boat should move to one side it could capsize, and that very thing has happened. Not even if some demagogue should convince the entire population of the Earth to all move to one side of the planet would it change the rotation of the Earth.

The sun will apparently set below the western horizon precisely on schedule. If another branch of physics should concur, the world will be suffused in golden light as the clouds glow in a glorious display of pink and red and orange. If the weather chooses to be cloudy, the world will be shrouded in gray, muddy light as it soggily dims, the poor hapless humans never being sure just when the sun actually set, but set it will.

In a small cabin along a scenic river in the State of Oregon, night fell after a glorious sunset. After a day in which the humans located in that area had tried their best to make order from the chaos of their lives, the beauty of the sunset was healing for the troubled couple inhabiting that cabin. They were on autopilot, brushing teeth, disrobing and donning pajamas, not without a fond glance at the naked body of the other person in the room. Pretty nice that after more than twenty years the mere sight of their naked partner could inspire admiration, even lust. With the mundane things necessary to be ready, they fell into the strange but comfortable bed with a sigh.

"Scott?"

"Yes, love?"

"Hold me?"

Rolling over and finding his hand resting comfortably on her breast, he replied "With pleasure."

Silence ensued, then was finally broken.

"Do you understand anything that happened today?" she asked.

"Do you?"

"I asked first."

"Who was that woman who served us dinner tonight? She was familiar but so different. Look how she flirted with the other customers, how she made the children laugh. She even fed the baby with that couple who had that big brood when the kid started crying."

"I could see flashes of our Peter now and then; a look, a phrase, a posture. If I hadn't borne that child myself and raised him for eighteen years I would never have given that woman a second glance. A woman with breasts!"

"Not to be a sexist pig, but they do look perfectly natural."

"I know they must be forms like Caroline had after her mastectomy, but you're right."

"I suppose that's why those kids were teasing her about never going swimming. It would be hard to hide them in a bikini."

"I do not want to think of my son in a bikini, breasts or not!"

"Disconcerting, isn't it?"

"Yet that young woman is obviously happy and in her element."

"I wish I got along with my coworkers as well as she appears to!"

"And then Russ goes and announces that Polly made the dessert tonight! Not only is she a charmer, but she's a cook!"

"Takes after her mother."

"Was I the only one who was hoping they had one of those heart-starting machines around somewhere when that girl at the desk turned out to be our son?"

"Good thing Vicky learned CPR."

"I'm going to have to find time to talk to that Rose. She had to have known about Peter or she wouldn't have arranged it so Polly didn't know we were coming."

"And yet both she and Russ seem to be perfectly fine with the whole situation. He even boasts about her cooking!"

"Entirely justified! If I didn't know my wife would give me that frown I would have asked for seconds."

"She wouldn't have frowned unless you refused to share it with her."

"Now you tell me!"

"Just one more thing I didn't know about. Did we miss Polly because we were so focused on our son?"

"I think it's not so much that we missed Polly, but that she was always part of our child but in the background. You know we both fretted because Peter didn't seem to be all that interested in dating, and deep down inside I wondered if he might be gay. Then Sheila became his steady girl I have to tell you I was overjoyed."

"Thoughts of grandchildren running through your head?"

"Well, maybe a little, but mostly that Peter had found someone to love."

"Yeah, it was pretty obvious that there was real love between the two of them. Grandchildren would be a nice side benefit though."

"Even with two mothers?"

"That does complicate matters."

"Living our liberal ideals just got a bit harder, didn't it? Not as big a problem when it's your friends in a lesbian relationship, somehow."

"Lesbian? That doesn't sound quite right."

"If we accept our child is female, or wants to be female, then what else would you call it?"

"I just don't know what to think. I was prepared to enjoy a week of vacation and not have to think about anything so confusing!"

"And now our child is getting married! I was actually there when they sort of proposed to each other."

"I suppose it's a good thing they passed same-sex marriage, if that's what applies here. Otherwise it could have gotten sticky."

"Trust a man to come up with a comment like that."

"What, you want me to follow in my son/daughter's footsteps?"

"You would look simply awful in a bikini."

"Then I'll leave the bikinis to you. Did you bring yours?"

"A forty-three year old woman does not wear a bikini."

"Why not? You have the body for it." Giving her breast a squeeze he continued "See? Still plenty firm and plump. Roll over and I'll inspect your ass."

"My ass is lying next to me playing with my breasts."

"Vicky's going to be out with that crowd of kids for quite a while. We're all alone."

"So we are. I guess we won't solve all the world's problems tonight, but we could solve one simple one."

"And what's that?"

"I'm horny."

 

Meanwhile, in a cabin a little closer to the woods, a similar scene was taking place. There was one more bra to remove and the flash of lust lasted some time longer as the couple was far younger than Scott and Irene, but the results were the same.

"I still can't get over how warm your boobs are, lover," mused Sheila.

"It's a shame I can't feel your hand, though."

"Implants would fix that."

"Not in the program until we're rich and famous. We'd have to work here for about a decade to get one boob done. They aren't cheap, you know."

"And you know?"

"Google it. Still in the realm of fantasy, lover."

"Notice how we're talking about everything except what happened today?"

"At least my folks didn't go ballistic."

"That's a plus. Even if it was sneaky, I think Rose did us a favor by not letting us know your folks were coming. Kind of like getting a root canal, you worry more about the pain to come than the pain the Novocain doesn't let you feel."

"You might feel a little pressure now…"

"They must drill them in that line in medical school."

"We're not talking about what happened again."

"Easy to try and avoid it, isn't it? So what are we going to do when we go home and go to college?"

"The first thing I'm going to do is change my major."

"Really?"

"You know I was just taking liberal arts because I really didn't know what I wanted to do?"

"You've mentioned it."

"Well, after this summer I think I want to enroll in the Hospitality program and get a formal degree in running a place like this."

"You're really hooked, aren't you?"

"I just love the whole thing. I could live without making another bed, but Russ and Rose have been really trying to have us know how everything works here."

"I've noticed. Rose even has me doing some of the accounts. I got to take the money to Sisters last week in their van."

"They really trust us, don't they?"

"And Rose knows about Pete!"

"I suppose Russ tied Little Rose to a kitchen chair and threatened her with that monster pizza paddle he has for the oven."

"How else would they know?"

"They may seem like a quaint old couple but they don't let much get past them."

"That's for sure."

"I hope we can come back next summer. We have to talk to Russ and Rose before we go and see if we can."

"Which brings up the question - who's going home, Pete or Polly."

"Since all of Pete's clothes are in Little Rose's bedroom back home, Polly hasn't any choice."

"But will you change clothes before going home?"

"I really don't know. I don't want to but…"

"Yeah, but. Speaking of which, you have a nice butt. I've gotten to like wearing nightgowns in bed with you."

"Could I point out that it's so warm neither of us are wearing a nightgown?"

"Why so we are."

"So do something about it, lover."

 

Meanwhile back at the ranch. (The hotel is called the Triple Creek Ranch, after all.)

As with our other two couples, Russ and Rose were preparing for bed. In their case a bit later than usual considering how early Russ has to get up to start breakfast, but there was no way they were going to miss the events that Rose had set in train.

"So, my lovely Rose, we survived the day, those poor, unwitting parents survived the day and those two lovely young women survived the day."

"Those two will not only survive, they will thrive together. It almost makes me wish…"

"Thinking of Tony, my love?"

"You know me too well. If only he had come back from the Gulf War those two could have been our grandchildren."

"A lovely thought. Still, our life has been full of joy as well as sorrow. I have to admit, until you told me I never had a clue that Polly was anything but what she appeared."

"Just like a man, put a pair of pretty tits in front of him and he won't see anything else."

"Let me help you with your bra, my love, and we can test that theory."

"You old lech!"

"After almost fifty years I still love seeing you naked."

"Get on with you. Sheila you might like to see naked, Polly I'm not so sure of now you know."

"I only have eyes for you…" Russ sang.

"You're an old fool."

"But a fool in love."

"Russ, we aren't getting any younger, are we?"

"That's obvious after popping all those pills we take before bed. Arthritis, leg cramps, blood pressure, you name it!"

"Russ, what's going to happen to this place when we get too old to keep it up? Your daddy was so proud when we kept the family business in the family, but with Tony gone we don't have a family to pass it down to."

"No cousins, no siblings, not even a maiden aunt hiding in the woodpile. But you were just talking about grandchildren."

"Just a thought. Polly told me she was thinking about majoring in Hospitality at college."

"Is she now?"

"And Sheila has been helping me with the financial side of things. She's going to be an accountant - she's halfway there already and hasn't even started her degree."

"They have both become a lot more than just the summer help, haven't they?"

"Grandchildren, you might say."

"Can you adopt grandchildren in Oregon?"

"Does it have to be all formal and legal?"

"Who knows? Rose, do you think they would be interested in taking over for us once they finish their schooling or we just spinning a fantasy?"

"Wouldn't you say that Polly has started living her fantasy?"

"So she has. Just how did you figure it out?"

"There were little things, things that a girl would know but Polly didn't. The kind of thing that only extended girl talk would reveal."

"Why did you arrange it so poor Polly got blindsided by her family? Isn't that the sort of thing she should have done in her own time?"

"If everything were the way we would wish it, but the world doesn't always go along with our wishes. Her family was going to come for vacation, there was no way to stop that."

"Are you sure?"

"If someone had told you we couldn't visit our Tony back then would you have meekly agreed? Didn't we fly all the way to that lousy desert to see if there was any chance they had found his body? How could I stand between a parent and their child?"

"When you put it that way…"

"Besides, it had to come out sometime and I wanted us to be around in case it went sour. Those girls are too precious to let them be hurt if the parents couldn't understand."

"It's a good thing I married you, otherwise I wouldn't have a clue what to do in a situation like this."

"Anyway, the big clue was when her mother called to make the reservation and said she was Peter's mother."

"That would be a clue. Miss Scarlet at the reception desk with the telephone."

"Could Miss Scarlet be Professor Plum in disguise?"

"I always pictured the professor as a dumpy old man with a pipe. Not a Scarlet type at all."

"Miss Scarlet would never smoke a pipe. The stench would clash with her perfume."

"How did we get talking about such nonsense?"

"Because we have always shied away from talking about what will happen when we get old."

"You'll never be old, my love."

"Russell Russo! You will be seventy-six years old in January. We are old!"

"Never!"

"And who was complaining about arthritis and high blood pressure? Old people's diseases!"

"I hate it when you're right, Rose. I just hate to think we won't be able to keep this place up because our bodies have betrayed us."

"Then we need to think about what we need to do. After knowing those girls all summer, I think we may have an option we had never considered."

"You may be right, my love. We do need to think about it."

"Then come to bed and think about it there."

"Your wish is my command."

"Good book, Vicky?"

"Oh, hi sister. Gee, that still sounds weird. It's OK so far, but I just started it."

"Kind of like me, then?"

"What?"

"Being Polly is OK so far, but I've just started."

"So I suppose Sheila can read you like a book, then?"

"She prefers reading in braille."

"You do have some interesting bumps since the last time I saw you."

"A gift from a friend."

"You have some kind of friends, Polly."

"Sure do. You've met Little Rose?"

"Sure. She's the one who got you the job, right?"

"Right. She had something like my problem when she was younger, so she decided not to wait for the Boob Fairy to visit and bought her own."

"What? Not another one one defecting to the other side!"

"No, silly. She was flat."

"Not any more!"

"Which is why she doesn't need these bumps any longer."

"It's a good thing you're my sister because if I was talking about boobs with my brother it would be just too much!"

"I think they look just right on me."

"But the kids can't get you into the pool."

"Too right. They look good under a dress but they aren't very realistic up close."

"Poor baby."

"I'll live."

"You gonna come home like this or what?"

"I wish. Mom and Dad seem to be cool right now, but what would happen if Polly did come home to live?"

"You wouldn't get to sleep with Sheila, dummy."

"Precocious little twerp, aren't you? I don't think Pete could sleep with Sheila in their house either."

"Even if they know you guys are boinking each other?"

"Please. A refined woman does not boink! Have some cooth, kid."

"Is that on the dinner menu tonight?"

"I think it's fricassee of sister."

"Speaking of eating, does Sheila do it to you?"

"Jesus Christ! I go away for a couple of months and my kid sister turns into a potty-mouthed porn queen!"

"Sort of like having your brother turn into a sister?"

"A refined woman does not speak of such things to an underage potty mouthed sister. Wait till you grow up and find out for yourself."

"I intend to. You really like being a girl?"

"No. I dress like this just to piss people off."

"It ain't working. The people around here think you're the next best thing to an angel."

"That would be awkward. How could I wear a bra if I had wings on my back?"

"Good question. I guess they hadn't invented bras back when those old artists were drawing angels in long white robes. Swaddling clothes?"

"Nah, those were for infants. Bad news, anyway. They wrapped the kid up in the morning and left him to poop and piss all day long while they worked in the fields or whatever. Infections killed a lot of kids that way."

"Yucch. I guess I'll use pampers when the time comes."

"Don't tell that to any environmentalists. Paper diapers are clogging the landfills."

"Jeez - where do you learn all this stuff?"

"By reading. Books, manuals, newspapers, cereal boxes - whatever has print on it."

"They write books telling you how to turn a guy into a girl?"

"Not quite that blatant, little sis. There are a lot of books from people who are like me, though. I think I'm pretty lucky because so many of the others went through hell in their childhood and can't find peace even after the change."

"That's sad."

"I've always felt like I was as much a girl as a boy, but it wasn't so godawful strong that I just had to do something about it before I went crazy."

"And you aren't crazy now?"

"No more than you, twerp."

"You sound like my brother!"

"I know him well, he knows you're a twerp."

"Does not!"

"Do too!"

"Does not!"

"Do too!"

"I guess you haven't changed that much. We haven't done that in a long time."

"Comes with growing up, I think."

"You into fashion magazines?"

"Not much. Sheila is my fashion consultant."

"When do you get to wear anything but that uniform?"

"On my day off."

"When's that? I want to see."

"This week it's Tuesday and Thursday, although I've gotten so involved in the place I don't always go anywhere on my day off. Little Rose and I have been taking people on hikes because we love to hike and why not do something nice for the guests? This week we're going to the Bigelow Hot Springs."

"What? Not with Sheila?"

"If we have the same day off we borrow Little Rose's car and go out together. Alone, before you ask."

"So can we go with you to those springs?"

"You're a guest, and all the guests are invited."

"Mom and Dad too?"

"We have to get used to each other again sometime…"

"I kind of like having a big sister to talk to. A big brother isn't the same."

"That's for sure!"

"Not that you were all that bad as a brother, but…"

"Don't say it! I'd rather just bask in the glow of a compliment from my little sister."

"Don't get used to it, sister!"

 

"You're looking lost, Vicky."

"Oh, hi Sheila. I guess I am."

"Not a good idea here in the woods."

"Not that kind of lost."

"The kind of sister and brother lost, I take it."

"I don't get it. Don't you dare tell Pete, but I liked having a big brother. Why did he want to be a big sister?"

"Kid, if I could answer that question I'd be rich. You see any diamonds on my hands?"

"You got a rock on your ring finger."

"Cubic zirconium. About as valuable as my opinion. You can pay more for a lousy cup of coffee at one of those fancy places with a machine that gargles while it brews."

"At least your opinion won't keep me up all night."

"Wanna bet? You aren't the only one confused. Try falling in love with a guy who wants to be a girl. Try being a girl who gets turned on by a guy who wants to be a girl. You're lucky you only have a sister to deal with, not a lover."

"How do you… I mean…"

"What do we do in bed? Anything we want and that's all I'm saying on the subject."

"What about your parents?"

"They know we're sleeping together."

"And they haven't sent you to a nunnery or whatever you Baptists do with wayward women?"

"Honey, if you knew some of the stupid things I've done you'd realize that loving Polly is pretty mild. I'll tell you someday but not tonight."

"You know they whisper about you at family things."

"Hell, they used bullhorns when it was happening, but you were too young to notice."

"What are you going to do when you have to go home and go to college?"

"Lay in my lonely bed and wish Polly was there with me."

"Jeez - you writing a romance novel or what?"

"Or what. After living together all summer I don't want to live separately, but what else can we do? Starving students don't get much choice, do they? And we're going to blow a lot of what we made this summer on some real engagement rings."

"What will happen when she has to be Pete again?"

"Polly says Pete is going to wear the ring and to hell with what anybody thinks."

"Think Pete will wave his hands about hoping somebody notices the diamond?"

"Wouldn't that be a kick? Actually, we were thinking a pink topaz for me and a blue kyanite for Polly. Think anybody will get the joke?"

"Not unless you tell them. I never heard of kyanite."

"A semi-precious stone that can be blue or orange. Not too common but available. We don't want to spend a fortune on rings, but we do want something special. We want to hit the jewelers in Bend on Thursday and see what we can get."

"I never thought I'd get to see my sister get engaged."

"I'm kinda surprised to be getting engaged myself. Like I said, I screwed up big time as a kid and for a long time thought nobody would want me."

"What? Sheila, I just hope I can get to be as nice a person as you are. Don't put yourself down!"

"Better to emulate your big sister, or your big brother for that matter. Personally, I wish I could be as happy being a female as Polly seems to be."

"She does have the place swooning over her, but they say pretty nice things about you as well. I've been hanging with the kids here and they know what's what with the people who work here."

"Hooked into the gossip network already?"

"Of course!"

"Just give Polly a chance, OK? She's pretty special and I want to be on good terms with your family."

"Don't worry, they love you. Sure they worry about you both being so young, but if you subtract my parents' anniversary from their birthdays, they weren't much older than you guys when they got hitched."

"Did you try subtracting the wedding date from Pete's birthday?"

"I never thought of that. Hold on a minute."

Pulling out her cell phone, Vicky found the list of important dates on her calendar and checked.

"Ten months. Darn, can't use that for blackmail."

"With that, my almost-sister-in-law, I have to get going. Rose is expecting me and I want to learn all the things she can teach me about how to run a real, live resort.

Polly, I've got to hand it to you," Little Rose said. "You have a lot of nerve taking your parents on a hike to a clothing optional hot springs. For that matter, you have a lot of nerve going anywhere where clothing is optional!"

"What was I going to do? I already had four guests signed up for the hike so I couldn't cancel or change the place. And I don't intend to exercise my option! Notice I've got water shoes with me?"

"You better hope your parents don't want any exercise either!"

"You got that right. Here comes our first customer."

"Hi Craig," said Little Rose brightly. "All alone this morning?"

"Sandy will be along in a minute."

"That's great. Here come your parents, Polly."

"So I see. Hi guys."

"Hi, uh, Polly. This ought to be an interesting experience," said her dad."

"I hope so, replied Polly blandly. We're waiting for the McBrides, then we'll be ready to go."

"I passed them in the hall," said Craig. They might even beat Sandy."

"Just so long as you aren't beating Sandy," smirked Little Rose.

"You have a nasty sense of humor, little girl."

"Hey - I happen to know I'm older than you by three weeks."

"And I'm taller than you by about a foot."

"And how many feet do you need to take a hike?" asked Polly.

"Two to walk on and one for my mouth."

"Good answer. You are developing some self-awareness."

"You aren't going to get all mystical and new-age on us, are you?"

"Ommmmmm…" Polly intoned.

"Alright folks!" announced Little Rose. "I'm Rosie or Little Rose since my uncle Russ and aunt Rose own this place. We have a few rules to go over."

The girls had developed quite a polished tag-team routine to start their adventures.

"First," Polly took over, "we do these for the fun of it and invite you guys to come along if you want. We work here at the hotel, but these aren't official hotel activities. You follow us at your own risk."

"Been doing that since you were a toddler," answered her mother, which got her a laugh.

"In case you haven't guessed, that's my Mom Irene and that's my Dad Scott. Over there looking embarrassed is my sister Vicky. And I hope by now you've figured out I go by Polly."

To which announcement her family glanced at each other with a curious smile on their faces.

"Since we don't have a chauffeur or a fancy hotel bus, you all get to drive your own cars to the hot springs unless you want to strap yourself to the roof of Rosie's car. You might get away with it since it isn't deer season yet and the game wardens are not patrolling for illegal game hanging off the cars yet."

"Now, we want you all to be Bear Aware. Please stay on the trail and stay with us. If you wander off and get eaten by a bear the hotel and your guides assume no liability. Since we're both going to be college students in the fall we haven't got any money to sue us for."

"If you wander off the trail and start to get eaten by a raccoon, holler real loud and we might get there in time to save you before he finishes his meal."

"Seriously, be careful, it takes a long time for an ambulance to get here. It's a rather short hike, but there are rocks and tree stumps and suchlike just waiting to break your ankle. It looks like you all have good shoes so that's fine, but bring something to wade in if you want."

"If you want to do more than wade, you are welcome to do so, but you need to be Bare Aware here - that's B-A-R-E - as in 'Bigelow Hot Springs is clothing optional.' In plain language that means we might run into a bunch of naked people there."

"So watch where you're going if you don't want to run into them. Obviously they aren't wearing any padding and it might hurt."

"By the way, my parents will appreciate that I'm not going to avail myself of the no clothes option. You'll understand if I hope they are of similar mind. And Vicky - be a good girl."

"I'll be just as good a girl as you are, sis."

"What? You don't want to have any more surprises this week, daughter?" queried her father.

"Folks, I think we may be in trouble," snarked Little Rose.

"Now, if you haven't gotten eaten, be careful you don't get cooked, and no we don't recommend getting cooked before you get eaten. These are called hot springs for a reason. This time of year the Bigelow is about 100° and is pretty comfy, but that means we may have lots of company."

"Everybody comfortable with the idea of meeting bare people instead of bears in the woods?"

There was general agreement, even from Polly's parents. Who knew?

"By the way, if you want to check out any other hot springs in the area, be very careful. You could get a bad burn if you stick your foot in the wrong place."

"Now that we've scared you to death, we can go and have a fun time. Take a map and we'll meet you there in a few minutes. Just go over the bridge to the parking lot and gather there."

 

"Ladies and gentleman, and you too, Vicky, here we are. As you can see it's not all that big, and is only about a foot and a half deep. Enjoy yourselves and don't crowd As you can see, you don't have to be bare aware this morning."

"That's what you think, sis" taunted Vicky as she started to unbutton her blouse. Within seconds she had divested herself of clothing before any of her family or any of the guests could react.

"And just where did you get that bikini, young lady?" asked her mother in a tone that her children had learned to recognize. Preferably from a distance while it was directed at the other sibling.

"Like it, Mom?"

"Uh Polly," grunted Little Rose, "I think your little sister isn't so little any more."

"Please remember we don't want to pollute the hot spring with anybody's blood," laughed Polly. "Better you than me, little sister. Mom, Dad, I think I can guarantee that you won't see me in a bikini any time soon."

"That's a shame," came a comment from the Peanut Gallery.

While Vicky was springing her little surprise, the McBrides - Sally and Gary - had quietly stripped and headed for the pool, very bare and very aware, both smiling broadly.

"I guess we forgot to tell you we were nudists," they told the girls as they slipped into the waters.

Little Rose elbowed Polly. "Remember that ogling women might be out of character, buster."

"Who's to say who I'm looking at? I don't suppose you'd try to convince me that he doesn't attract your attention."

"Now that you mention it…"

"I don't suppose you brought a bikini?"

"We semi-official group leaders have our dignity to maintain."

"I suppose you're right. I did bring my more modest swimmies, though."

With that she skinned off her T-shirt and shorts and headed for the hot spring.

"You get all kinds of surprises when you do things like this," Polly told her parents.

"I suppose you do," smiled her father. Then an impish look came over his face and he turned to his wife.

"It appears that this is a vacation full of surprises. Shall we join them, dear?" he asked.

With a wicked smile she replied "Certainly!" and they proceeded to remove their clothes. Polly stood there in complete amazement, looking at her mother in only her bra and panties. Then, with a grin for her husband unhooked her bra and she shucked her panties.

Naturally, her mother carefully folded each piece of clothing and placed them in her backpack while Polly stood frozen despite the proximity of the hot springs.

Her father, true to the stereotype, simply stuffed his clothes in the backpack and they joined the McBrides in their clothing optional swim, leaving Polly to stand there dumbfounded.

What the he... Mentally she changed 'hell' to 'heck', true to her resolution to clean up her language. My parents just took off their clothes in front of me and thought it was funny?

Now completely confused, she turned toward the water. Wading could be almost as much fun as swimming.

In a pig's eye, darn it!

 

"I tell you Sheila," enthused Little Rose. "It was the craziest thing I ever saw. Polly's parents really went into the hot springs totally nude!"

"Well, I suppose if Polly shocked them by dressing up then what else could they do but shock her by taking off their clothes?"

"But… but… my parents!"

"I hate to break this to you, Polly, but if your parents hadn't gotten nude and lewd with each other sometime then you wouldn't be here." snarked Little Rose.

"Have you," moaned Polly, "either of you, ever seen your parents without clothes?"

"Not since I got old enough to know what that could mean, lover boy." Sheila was greatly amused.

"Have you considered," queried Little Rose, "that maybe your parents trust you enough not to worry about nudity around their daughter. After all, you do partake of both sides of the divide. If you decide to be Polly full time, I hope the Boob Fairy is as generous to you as she was to your mother."

"Is it too weird to be attracted to your mother's breasts?"

"At least she doesn't have to hire Omar The Tentmaker to make her bras," complained Sheila. "I wouldn't mind having breasts like hers, either."

"You're wearing my breasts now, Polly, why not your mother's?"

"Rosie, you are just plain weird!" exclaimed Sheila.

"And proud of it! Would you really want to have breasts, Polly? Like for real?"

"I've dreamed of it since I knew that girls had breasts. I know a bit of what it must be like after this summer and I still think it would be nice. But it would be so permanent if I did and right now I'm not so sure that Polly is permanent. Then again, I really don't want to go back to being Peter when I go home. It's confusing!"

"Sounds like you need to be talking to a shrink." observed Little Rose.

"You got that one right. I did say something about that to my folks and they didn't freak out."

"If they didn't freak out when they met Polly like that then why would they freak out about you seeing a shrink?" asked Sheila.

"Yeah. Any parents who go skinny dipping with their kids have to be pretty laid back."

"By the way, asked Little Rose, "what did Vicky think about think about your parents going nude?"

"She just tossed her bikini on the shore and joined them."

"So now you're jealous of your sister's boobies?"

"If I had to pick, I'd take Mrs McBride's."

"She does rather stand out from the crowd," observed Little Rose.

"Even without her bra?" asked Sheila.

"You know all those T&A outlines on the signs for the so-called gentleman's clubs that infest Portland?"

"Kind of hard to miss."

"Well, she could be the model for the T part."

"And we're not talking LGBT here either."

"Why does all the good stuff happen while I'm working?" complained Sheila.

"We could go there on our day off if you want."

"Not a bad idea. Just hope that no one's around to see how you define the T in your life."

"That's it!" Little Rose cried. "I'm outta here, go get a room."

"Not a bad idea, is it sweetie?"

"Not bad at all. See you Rosie."

"I can't believe that the week is almost over," sighed Scott.

"I know what you mean. It may not have been the vacation we expected, but this is a lovely place and I do want to come back again."

"It's odd to think that this may be the last time our family vacations together, even if our eldest child is not staying with us. I'm not sure I'm ready to have an independent child go off into the world to find their own way."

"Feeling like an empty-nester already, dear?"

"I suppose I am. Just because we aren't the first doesn't make it any easier."

"Peter will still be living with us, or perhaps Polly will, while she's in school. Oh my! I just called our son 'she,' didn't I?"

"One more thing to get used to, I suppose. It's almost starting to seem normal."

"What do we do, Scott?"

"We listen, we learn, we love our child, we try our damnedest to actually live the things we have taught our children about love and tolerance."

"She does seem so very happy here, doesn't she?"

"I have to agree, much as I never thought I could. If I look hard I can see Peter, but a Peter who has found himself - or herself I suppose. Peter never was one of those people who was the life of the party, but Polly certainly is."

"What I can't believe is how relaxed and happy she is with the children here. They adore her. I can easily see her as a mother."

"So you want to be a grandma, my love?"

"Of course! But if Polly transitions will that ever happen?"

"That comes dangerously close to meddling in our child's sex life. We had better let the two of them make those decisions and support whatever they find best for them."

"You're right; it's not so easy when you actually have to live your principles."

"After finding Polly's personality within him, will Peter even be able or willing to be Peter again?"

"Don't ask me! I'm still amazed that I was actually thinking of Polly as my daughter!"

"And then whenever I see Polly serving dinner or working around the place I can't help but think of what a fine girl we've raised."

There didn't seem to be much more to say to that, so the couple sat comfortably together on the love seat and simply enjoyed the evening together until they were surprised by a knock on the door.

"Now who could that be?" murmured Irene.

"One way to find out," answered Scott and he arose and went to the door. "Russ! Come in, come in!" urged Scott.

"Why this is a surprise," said Irene. "We were just talking about how much we've enjoyed our time here."

"A subject that gladdens my heart. You are most welcome for the kind thoughts."

"What can we do for you, Russ?" asked Scott.

"Rose and I have been talking and we would like to have a conversation with you and your lovely daughter. Of course that includes Sheila, as if we could keep her away!"

"You've gotten to know them well, I take it."

"You'll pardon me if Rose and I feel like they are the granddaughters we have never had."

"How… I just don't know what to say, Russ," answered Irene.

"I hope I am not overstepping any bounds, but Rose is over at their cabin inviting them over so we can all talk together."

"Why certainly! Now you have me intrigued. "An air of mystery descends on the cabin in the woods," he intoned in a voice that would not have been out of place on a daytime drama.

"Scott! Really!" chided his wife.

"Well it is mysterious, you have to admit."

"But not for long, Mr Zimmerman. I hear them coming."

"Please! It's Scott and Irene."

"Of course."

"Hi Dad, Mom. What's going on?" Polly asked as she entered the cabin.

"You'd have to ask Russ, it's his show."

"Hey! You guys holding a convention or something?" asked Vicky as she came out of her bedroom."

"If there's anything conventional about this family I haven't seen it," quipped her mother."

"OK Boss," Sheila said. "We're all here so tell us why."

"Please, everyone sit down, this may take a while, "Russ asked. When everyone had found a place, he spoke.

"This hotel has been in my family for generations, all the way back to the 1920s. When I was a kid my grandfather ran it and I loved helping him during the summers. Then my father took over when he passed and my family moved in to run the place. The same when my own father passed and my lovely Rose and I took over. We had hoped to pass it to our own son, but he never came back from the Gulf War. That was hard, but this old place has been part of our lives since we found each other and we have been saddened that we had no other children to pass it on to."

"What Russ is trying to say," Rose added, "is that this place is more than a business, it's a livelihood and family treasure. We have been wondering for some time now just what will happen when we get too old to keep it up."

"I'm seventy-five years old now, and things are a bit harder these days. We have been blessed with employees who often feel as personally involved as we are. Two years ago I had a little heart problem, a kind of warning that I am getting older, and my assistant cook took over and even convinced his brother to come down for a few weeks to help him in the kitchen so that the place ran smoothly. That's the kind of people who we have been blessed to know."

"Last year Little Rose talked her friend Sheila into working for the summer and we found yet another friend and companion who really loved this old place. When we needed a replacement for Connie this year when she graduated and moved to Phoenix, Sheila found Polly for us."

"This is the way we have been blessed over the years," continued Rose, "with wonderful people who make our lives a joy. Sometimes we get too busy to remember to thank God for His blessings, but we really do appreciate all the Lord has done for us."

"I don't think it's too strong to say that our prayers have been answered with Sheila and Polly this summer. They have become far more than summer help, they have become family. They both have shown such interest in how this place is run that we hope that after they have finished their schooling they will consent to manage this place for us when we retire."

You could hear the proverbial pin drop. No one even seemed to be breathing. The silence went on until Scott spoke.

"Irene, I think we have a daughter that we can be very proud of. As far as I'm concerned, you are very welcome to consider our child your granddaughter."

"Oh Russ! I'm flattered but there are things you don't know about me," cried Polly.

"If you mean that you were once a boy, that doesn't change a thing. You have the passion for running a place like this, as does Sheila. If the Lord is willing we have time for you to get your Hospitality degree and learn the ropes during your vacations. You would work with us until you both feel comfortable taking over and then my lovely Rose and I will transplant ourselves to warmer climes and let you support us with the profits from this place. Sound like a good deal?"

Sheila and Polly looked at each other, then arose and embraced. "Grandpa, you have a deal!" they said together. "And Grandma, keep this big teddy bear out of trouble after he retires. You're going to have a job slowing him down."

"There is one catch, though," warned Russ. "We get to cater your wedding and you had better have it right here! Have you set a date yet?"

"We haven't even gotten our real engagement rings yet. Remember, we're poor, starving students until we become bigtime Hotel Magnates.

"When you guys get married, I get your room, sis." warned Vicky.

"You can follow in my footsteps and work here for the summer. Then you can have your own room."

"Does that mean I have to become your brother?"

"Smartass." replied her sister.

"Vicky!" warned her mother.

"There will be lots of details, and sadly the lawyers will have to get involved, but that's a couple of years down the road. When we're gone the place becomes yours, we don't have any family to leave it to and it will comfort us to know we have a new family to run our old home."

Epilogue

When the summer season ended, it was Polly who returned home. Not only were there lawyers involved, but there were doctors and professors and psychiatrists and ministers and plastic surgeons. The path wasn't smooth; some friends were lost and others gained. Perhaps the main regret Polly had was never being able to finish her Eagle Scout rank, but life is a series of comprises.

Two years later Polly again wore an Academic Gown and her friend Dave again had caustic comments about Polly wearing dresses, although he and his new wife presented Polly with a low cut dress as a graduation gift, the better to display the breasts Polly now did not need to glue to her body.

There was one other profession involved. Father Michael, having decided that the priesthood was indeed the path the Lord had in mind for him, performed the wedding ceremony. He still had some disagreements with the Church hierarchy, but he was sure that Jesus would understand skirting his church's opinions about ostensible same-sex marriage. After all, he knew that Polly was still technically male.

Thoughts of a simple, quiet ceremony had to be abandoned, as there were just too many friends who wanted to be there to celebrate the occasion. There were strong contingents from both the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. During the reception, Polly's old Scoutmaster Brock and Sheila's Girl Scout leader Mrs. Reid could be seen in close conversation with bemused smiles on their faces.

Some months later Sheila proved that the Catholic insistence that marriage was for procreation had not been violated.

With two sets of doting grandparents, more doting genetic great-grandparents and one set of doting adopted great-grandparents, the poor kid was nearly drowned in stuffed animals and all the accouterments of raising an infant. Great-grandmother Aggie was still thoroughly miffed that her grandson had gone and turned himself into a girl just so he didn't have to wear a tie in church.

The last we heard, guests at the hotel just loved their host cradling an infant as she checked them in.
Oh yes, the other proud mother was busy formulating some creative baby food recipes for when the time came that she could begin to feed her daughter.