Reluctant Diva
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline

Chapter 1 – A new persona
It was after attending the Friday night ball-game at the high school stadium that my life really changed. That date marked the end of an ongoing battle between Mom and myself. I had been ‘persuaded’ to go there wearing a dress, and a hairpiece too. Can you imagine?! Actually I have to admit I’d have been wearing a dress even if we hadn’t gone to the game and I’d picked out this one myself. The hairpiece was my mother’s idea, though. But I’m getting ahead of myself. How, in the late 1950s, did a red-blooded, all-American boy, in his freshman high-school year, ever find himself in dresses in the first place?
Wearing female attire had started so long before that I could hardly remember when. Even before my father had left us Mom had often tried to persuade me into dressing as a girl. Crazy! Perhaps she just wanted to explore what it would be like having a daughter. Anyway, each Hallowe’en I would be cajoled and pressured into becoming some female character. Her machinations had varying degrees of success. She sometimes got her way and there were a number of photographs in the family album which testified to those occasions, but in general I resisted. Especially as I got older. After my parents divorced, there were plenty of times when I experienced the same kind of persuading, but for a totally different reason.
As I got older, I guess I got more and more unruly and with Dad no longer around, my mom was probably about at the end of her rope trying to cope with my bad behaviour. When I was twelve or so I was caught out badly. She found some goods I had shop-lifted from the five-and-dime store. As a result of my light-fingered action I was sent to school next day wearing bright red nail polish. She believed in making the punishment fit the crime, you see! On another occasion I ended up attending class wearing pink lipstick for lying about completing my homework and it went downhill from there. Each time I had, or was deemed to have, misbehaved, the more draconian and humiliating my punishments became, until eventually it became quite the norm for me to change into girl’s clothes after school. While so dressed I was made to undertake a list of household chores that seemed endless. Just as if I really were a girl!
This punishment regime progressed as time went by. By alternate persuasion and threats I was eventually made to wear feminine undergarments under my outer clothes every day, school or no school. How could that happen?! Well, the next year I’d been caught in something all teenage boys go through. Mom had found my stash of girlie pictures! The fact that it was pretty tame by today’s standards – underwear commercials from teen magazines – didn’t save me from any of my mother’s anger. To say that her reaction was extreme is an understatement. After being labelled a pervert and soundly punished, I’d been hauled off to the lingerie department of the big store downtown and a whole collection of girl’s underwear was purchased for me, along with some dresses, girl’s shoes and other stuff. I now possessed a full range of those very items which clothed the lissom female bodies I’d found so fascinating in those magazines.
You will have noticed that the punishment was made to fit the crime once again. Mom picked on my interest in girls in underwear in this instance. It marked the start of a daily discipline every day consisting of dressing after school as my alter ego ‘Jennifer’, my mom’s femme name for me. All day at weekends! Worse, as a means of restricting access to my private area I was made to wear one of those long-legged panty girdles twenty-four seven.

Yes, that included all of the night-time, and at school as well under my boy clothes. Even though I was allowed to take a note to school excusing me from gym classes and sport, I remained paranoid that my guilty secret would be discovered. If found out there was no way I would ever live it down. How could I face any of my friends? With my regular absences from sports, they were fast diminishing in any case.
The by-product of being coerced like this was that I became expert at wearing heels, applying makeup, painting my nails and arranging my hair. I could have given lessons on the sort of deportment expected from a teenage girl in those days. My boyish pursuits were gradually traded one by one for girlish ones. I was further indoctrinated by being made to read teen magazines and chick-lit type novels and to watch a diet of soap operas and soppy romances on TV. My mother went as far as checking on me afterwards to make sure I had been paying attention.
Occasional rewards for good behaviour were also linked to my regime and I was introduced to the ‘delights’ of girlie times with Mom. Typical were days when, daintily dressed as a teenage miss, I would accompany my mom to the library, the museum, the art gallery, a cinema or a restaurant. Though I was petrified I’d be discovered, with my long hair (for a boy) and delicate features, it actually proved easy enough to keep my true gender a secret on such trips. We made the perfect ‘mother-daughter’ couple. Worse, to my consternation I even found myself beginning to enjoy the deception I was practising on bystanders. I had to admit that some of what I experienced was actually kinda nice. It felt like heaven to be pampered and cosseted like a tender flower in stark contrast to the stern treatment which was my usual lot.
The worst part of this regime was the accompanying mind games which Mom played on me. At each new departure and despite all my efforts to resist, the rationale for what took place somehow became twisted. I was tricked into acknowledging that it had been “my idea” to play with my lipsticks, and “my choice” over which girlie outfit I had ended up in. In reality the choice had been influenced by intimidation, accusations of lying, direct threats or the narrowing of an ever-shrinking set of options. There emerged a sort of pattern. First, an agreement that behaving this way wasn’t all that bad would be enticed from me. Well, I found the feel of feminine clothing very sensual and the knowledge that I was fooling most of the folks who saw me was quite amusing, so in honesty I had to agree that some of it was kind of fun. The next thing I knew, this admission was used in evidence that I wanted to be wearing dresses and makeup and behaving like a girl, whereas... I hated it!
If I then tried to justify how I actually felt I was then accused of being a liar which led to extra sanctions, usually painful ones. As time went on I was treated more and more as if I really were a girl. Instead of Robert, I had to answer to the name ‘Jennifer’. Whichever way I turned my manipulating parent had an unanswerable argument that it was my perverse choice to become a shameless sissy interested only in fashions, makeup and chasing boys! Yes! Boys!!

It wasn’t like that! No way! The worst thing was, I could never prove her wrong!
Despite every attempt at resistance I could come up with, I gradually saw my boyhood interests replaced one after another. Action men and comics were discarded. Going to baseball practice was actively discouraged, and if any of my buddies called for me I usually hid. Dressed the way I was for most of the time, the last thing I needed was my former friends catching sight of me. After the occasion when I was sent to junior high school in lipstick, most of my classmates had taken to avoiding me and that suited me just fine! The ultimate humiliation came when I was kicked off the baseball team. Thank God my dad wasn’t around then to witness the event. In fact he wasn’t around much at all, as Mom was only too pleased to remind both my little brother, Tom, and me at every opportunity.
For long enough, it was a welcome escape from Mom’s feminising discipline to pretend to myself that Dad still thought of me as a second baseman, his macho boy and his ‘li’l buddy’. However, that didn’t last! During a disastrous stay with him and Marnie, his second wife, the illusion had finally all unravelled and the last mental refuge for my masculinity disappeared.
It was quite recent. Since the split, there had been minimal contact with my father. Though visits with him and trips out had been arranged, more often than not they had been cut short, cancelled or postponed, to my intense disappointment. It didn’t help that Mom was vocal in expressing her disgust on these occasions over what she saw as further evidence of his unreliability and selfishness. In the past I had always revelled in trips to the ballgame, and camping and fishing expeditions with him. This latest visit of mine had been the first in as long as I could remember. It seemed to be a dream come true when I knew that I was going to spend some quality time with him; for nearly a week on this occasion. I was destined to be free of my enforced femininity at last. I thought I had died and gone to heaven; and then my mom ensured that it all went sour.
I’d always dreaded Dad’s reaction if he ever got a hint about my other-self, but at the end of the visit, the deadly secret finally come out into the open. Despite Mom hating Marnie with a vengeance, she made an unholy alliance against me with her. By packing some of my girlie things along with my boy stuff for my step-mom to find, she contrived to reveal that I spent time in female underwear and the existence of ‘Jennifer’ became impossible to hide. It wasn’t long before Marnie had wheedled the full facts out of me. Disaster! On the last day of my stay, my dad was called in to his office and it was then my stepmom saw her opportunity to humiliate me. Using the threat of full disclosure she manoeuvred me into a little harmless ‘experimenting’ and I found I was given little choice but to try on a variety of her own outfits. She then did exactly as she pleased with me, which even involved taking me on a trip to the mall, and later for drinks at a posh restaurant. This last was the scariest situation I had yet found myself in. To cap it all it was then that Dad showed up.
Marnie didn’t have to say a thing. My father was witness the spectacle that ‘Jennifer’ made, dressed for an evening out. By that stage I was more than a little tipsy. Along with full makeup and painted nails and wearing one of his second wife’s party frocks, my hair was even adorned with a little ‘fall’ or hairpiece! Being discovered like that was my worst nightmare come true. His too, probably, judging by the way his disappointment in me showed. As expected I experienced the full force of his anger and disgust. For months afterwards I felt sick to my stomach whenever I thought about how that unmasking and shaming had taken place.
Once back home I did attempt a last-ditch rebellion against Mom’s regime. With my hair cut short at Dad’s instigation (he’d always hated my long hair), and in my boy clothes, I plainly but politely told her I wasn’t going to be ‘Jennifer’ any more. This vain attempt to resist her and redeem my masculinity was short-lived. It was stamped on immediately and I found myself utterly defeated. As a consequence the realisation followed that I had no choice but to give in to her wishes completely. There was no alternative left that I could see. I had no place else to go and my future prospects were unutterably bleak. Worst of all, there was no way of restoring myself in Dad’s estimation. He was the one person whose good opinion I had really cared about. Well, that had gone for ever, or so I figured. Once the reality of this had sunk into my mind, it didn’t seem to matter much what anyone else might think.
So, the night of that ball-game marked the end of my resistance to my mother’s schemes. We spent the evening together as mother and daughter in outwardly perfect accord. Acceding to all her wishes wasn’t easy, but I did get an immediate reward by doing so with apparent good will. Her unqualified approval was something I had rarely known up until then. The contrast between how each of my parents viewed me in my ‘Jennifer’ persona couldn’t have been more marked. I began to see that the relationship between my mother and me might even begin to blossom in a new way.
In the following days I took some time to think my confusing situation through. I was now convinced that the only way to please my mother was by dressing and acting like a teenage girl. I couldn’t work out the reason why. The only thing I could come up with was that perhaps she really did miss the daughter she never had. It was easy enough to please her on a single occasion, but I found that to remain in her good books was something else. Every time I managed to satisfy her in one respect, then the bar was immediately raised and I had to try even harder.
What, I wondered, if I anticipated the next scary ordeal she might have in store for me and came up with some crazy scheme which was all my own. Instead of waiting to be cajoled and bullied all of the time, I could look for new ways to be as feminine as I could. Desperate as this course of action appeared, there was little left to lose. Any pretensions I had to masculinity had already disappeared pretty much completely, so why try and hold on to them?
There were other motivations working on me. The amount of fun I got making all and sundry believe I was a teenage girl was an unexpected source of enjoyment. It gave me mixed feelings even though on balance I would have preferred to be thought of as a real boy. Lastly, in the back of my mind lurked another faint hope. Against all the odds, Mom might have a change of heart and relent if she could see where her plans for me were leading. I still couldn’t really believe that she wanted to turn me into a full-time girl!
So with all these conflicting thoughts going round in my poor confused brain, I finally decided to try and find some way of topping Mom’s feminizing plans for me? That would really take some doing, but if it succeeded it would be worth it. I also had a sneaky suspicion that I might actually enjoy the attempt.
I came downstairs one Saturday morning knowing what I would do. I’d already bathed and dressed and fixed my make-up as was now my normal routine. It being the weekend, I was clad in my day-dress over panty-girdle, hose, bra, and heels. All was topped by a frilly apron. I checked myself in the mirror and wondered with a sigh where that second-baseman had gone. There was no going back, it seemed. I resigned myself to another day and got on with my girlish chores, as they were deemed back then. I had the coffee percolating, the eggs boiling and the toast browning for breakfast and had just started putting the laundry from the previous day in to soak, when Mom entered the kitchen.
“Breakfast’s ready” I said with what I hoped was a winning smile, “Come and sit down. The newspaper’s just here. I’ll call Tom, shall I?” My brother was two years younger than me and unlike me it seemed he could do no wrong in her eyes.
My thoughtfulness was rewarded, at least in part. “Looking after your poor old Mom, at last!” she smirked. “It’s almost like having a real daughter!” In passing I received a brief hug and a peck on the cheek, followed by a pinch on my other cheek, down below.
“Oww! Mom!” was my involuntary response, wincing. What hurt more than the pain was being reminded that my attempts at true girlhood were only regarded as fake after all.
“Don’t be a baby.” she scolded. “That cute little tush fills out the skirt of that dress so nicely, you are going to get it noticed, one way or another.” To my relief, I could see that she wasn’t trying to be mean. Her words were accompanied by a gleam of humour in her eyes.
After more than a year, the continual wearing of my tight undergarments had been having a shrinking effect on my waist which was only too predictable. The displaced body fat just had to go somewhere and my rear and thighs were the beneficiaries. I had become increasingly self-conscious about the size and shape of my butt, which became all the more noticeable as my waist grew ever smaller. Teenage boys just didn’t have such curvy figures and I didn’t enjoy Mom teasing me about it on this particular morning.
Her manner became serious. “Are you taking those ‘vitamins’ I got you?” she asked, for no apparent reason. “Every day?” she persisted.
I couldn’t follow where these questions were leading but her eyes had narrowed; always the warning sign of an impending storm!
“Yes Mom,” I answered truthfully, “Two every day. Just like you told me”.
I’d been taking some mysterious salmon coloured pills daily since just before my fourteenth birthday, nearly six months ago. Back about that time I had noticed a sort of chubbiness in the area of my chest. Needless to say, this was a horribly embarrassing development for any teenage boy, let alone one in my situation. Mom had put it down to my hormones when I finally plucked up the courage to ask her about it, and she maintained that my apparent boobs would naturally diminish as I grew older. Far from growing out of it however, the mounds on my chest seemed to get bigger and bigger and the little pills didn’t seem to help at all. The bras I had originally been made to wear as a discipline began to fit me all too well and by this time I was the owner of a bustline which many teenage girls of my age might be proud of.
In my innocence, I didn’t understand why Mom looked disproportionately pleased with my reply on this present occasion. Casually picking up her paper, she remarked, “Good. I think you might increase your dosage from now on, okay? Try taking three a day. A growing girl needs to have her hormones balanced just right.”

There was clearly some significance behind these instructions despite her assumed nonchalance but I didn’t understand her purpose then, so I just smiled “No problem. I’ll have enough to last me till the end of next month.”
When my brother Tom eventually made his appearance, Mom and I had done with breakfast, and I was about to clear our things from the table. He hadn’t spent any time in front of the mirror, as far as I could tell, and his t-shirt had a few marks down the front. You could see by their appearance that he had been eating chocolate ice-cream. Mom scowled at him from behind her paper, the warning furrows between her eye-brows ominously returning.
Her take on his laxity was typically biased and as usual the censure when it came was directed against me. “Jennifer, why is Tom wearing yesterday’s t-shirt?” she asked severely. I gulped anxiously. This rebuke wasn’t fair, of course, but defending myself wouldn’t be helping the success of my new resolution any. It always seemed as if Tom managed to get away with far worse behaviour than what I had ever been allowed. I had some faint hopes that that was about to change, at least.
“Oh gosh, Mom. That should be in the wash. Sorry! I must have missed it when I picked up” I stammered. “Come on, Tom, let’s go and find you a fresh one in your drawer.”
He looked mutinous.
“I know your favourite one is clean” I encouraged him.
Thankfully, he didn’t rebel against my coaxing this time but stumped out. I looked back and whispered conspiratorially “I’ll make sure he washes his face and hands too!”
Mom’s frown softened. “That’s more like it, my girl. I expect you to care for your little brother, you know”.
The situation safely defused for the moment, Mom returned to her paper. With much exercise of patience on my part, Tom was persuaded to wash and change and brush his hair.
On returning I started to clear away the breakfast things, while wondering when the best opening would come to start putting what I’d planned into effect. Mom seemed relaxed enough, drinking her coffee. So here goes! I slipped back to the table and sat in the chair next to her, as close as I could.
“Mo-om” I said, plaintively. “Can I ask a favour?” She looked up from the paper, a patient expression starting to spread across her face.
“It’s quite a big favour” I went on in my most winning tone. “You know the money Mrs Martin and Mrs Bennett have been paying me for helping them all this time. Well, I’ve spent hardly any of it, and when I was shopping for you last week, I had a look around Sears’ fashion department.” I had her full attention now.
“Well! I saw this dress!” Without even trying, I listened to myself starting to sound enthusiastic. Not so long ago I wouldn’t have believed that I’d be saying these things, but yes, it was really me, the red-blooded all-American freshman high-school boy!
Tom, sitting on the opposite side of the table, gaped at me. Ignoring him, I ploughed on. “You have given me some lovely dresses, I know, but this one is different. It’s a little bit longer and so much more grown up, like some that the senior girls would wear. The skirt is really full and the material is dreamy, soft and white with glossy spots. Oh, Mom, it would be heavenly to wear!” A good proportion of Jennifer’s wardrobe consisted of hand-me-downs so this approach ought to sound convincing.
Mom didn’t say anything but was looking at me with an odd expression. She probably couldn’t believe her ears. Tom, meanwhile, was choking with suppressed laughter.
She must suspect that I’m up to something. I ploughed on regardless. “I haven’t got enough cash to buy it outright, of course”. I hesitated before finally gulping out, “but if you would loan me the rest, I’d pay you back as soon as ever I could…” my voice trailed off and I sat waiting for her reply with eyes cast demurely downwards.
“Hmm. Well.” She temporised. “It sounds expensive. I’d have to see it.”
She thought some more then softened a little, “When would you wear it?”
“Well” I said, in for a penny, “it would have to be for a special occasion and I can’t think of one, but we might make our own occasion. You have some really stylish cocktail dresses which you never get to wear and you have such a great figure”. Still off-balance, she smiled at the compliment, despite herself. Perhaps this might be going better than I had dared hope. “I was wondering if we could hold a little party. There’s Thanksgiving… or New Year’s Eve… You have lots of friends that would come. It might be fun……”
“Well!” Mom exclaimed, laughing, “My ‘daughter’ is full of surprises this morning!”
She gave me a little squeeze. “What brought this on, honey?” Her arm was still around my shoulder and she clasped my hands with her free one. It was a relief to see how pleased she looked and enjoying her proximity gave rise to a delicious feeling of warmth. Together with an awareness of her perfume, I was even dismayed to feel a tingling down below. I knew that sensation only too well and it increased my confusion.
I blushed deeply and muttered lamely “Oh just seeing the dress, you know. I would so love it.”
At this Tom exploded with mirth. “What a priss!” he mocked.
“That’s enough from you, Thomas Cartwright”, Mom snapped back at him.
He stopped short, stunned to be the one on the receiving end of her displeasure for a change. I tried not to show any sign of satisfaction at his discomfiture. He got up from the table and stamped up to his room.
“You know, Jennifer, that boy needs taking in hand.” said Mom thoughtfully, but her attention quickly returned to me. “If we are going to look at dresses we had better change” she determined “and you need to fix your hair”.

Chapter 2 – A new departure

Inspired by Lipstick Discipline

An hour later with my hair fluffed over my eyes and neatly arranged – it still hadn’t quite grown out enough to be put in Mom’s preferred style of “dog’s ears” – and wearing my newest dress in bright blue with matching jacket, three inch white heels and purse, I followed Mom out of the house to the station wagon. The day was fine but breezy and the little gusts tugged fitfully at the hem of my dress.
She was dressed in her cream suit in a similar style. With white purse and heels just like mine we made a typical ‘mother and daughter’ couple. Mom had arranged for Tom to go over and hang out with one of his friends, Miles, and we dropped him there on the way to the store.
When we had parked up I slipped out of the car quickly and stood waiting while Mom picked up her purse and checked her makeup in the mirror.
“My, you are an impatient little hussy!” she exclaimed, beaming with pleasure at my eagerness which I have to admit wasn’t completely feigned. How come?! I couldn’t believe how well everything was working out, I guess. This treatment was so different from being yelled at or worse and I couldn’t get enough of it. It was gratifying to see her so obviously having fun too and to know my behaviour was the cause of it. I led the way into Sears and onto the escalator to the first floor.
“Legs together, sweetie” whispered my Mom “you never know who is looking.”
The hem of her skirt fell just below her knees, whereas mine was shorter, making this caution necessary. I found myself liking the feelings of vulnerability that this thought provoked, as if I were somehow delicate and fragile. I gathered the loose folds of material against my thigh, before checking around to see who might be getting an uninvited glimpse. There were a number of males on the floor below but no-one seemed to be paying me any attention. Now why was that realisation accompanied by a twinge of disappointment? Strange!
Mom’s knowing look revealed that she understood what was in my mind. “Jennifer! You little tease!” she laughed with mock reproof. I coloured up to the roots of my hair in confusion. What had I been thinking?
At the top of the flight was the fashion department. She stepped off the escalator and stood there giggling helplessly at my continued embarrassment. I grabbed her hand and pulled her still laughing towards the evening dress section. To my dismay, the dress I had picked out was no longer on any of the display mannequins on the stand.
“Oh no! It’s already been sold!” I cried, gesturing to the display dummies and feeling genuinely distraught.
“Calm down” Mom soothed. “I’ll bet there’s one on the rail, you goose! Come on! Let’s look!”
She was right of course and when she led me over to where a whole row of cocktail dresses were arrayed, amongst them I could see three examples of the one I had picked out, in varying sizes. They didn’t look as striking on the rail as the one I’d seen on the dummy so I still felt a little deflated, but when Mom had selected an example in my size and held it against me, my doubts started to subside. Yes, this would be a wonderful dress that any ‘girl’ would dream to wear. My mom was sure to love it and ought to be so impressed that I had chosen it by myself.
A middle-aged sales assistant made her way over to us. “Can I be of assistance, madam?” She addressed Mom, while I stood indulging myself in a fantasy of being the girl in that dress and surrendering to the charm of that fantasy.
“My daughter would like to try this dress” said Mom firmly. “Come on, dreamy one!” she said to me, rudely breaking into my girlish reverie by rapping me on the head with her knuckles. “We haven’t got all day”.
I was shown into one of the tiny changing rooms and handed the dress. The curtain having been pulled across behind me, I proceeded to hang up my purse, slip off my jacket and shoes and unzip my own dress. My fingers were fumbling with excitement and anticipation.
I took the dress from the hangar and undid the zipper. I saw that the bodice of the dress was stiffly boned and the sweetheart neckline had built-in cups, so I unfastened my bra and hung it up, as that item of underwear would not be needed either. The dress had attached petticoats sewn-in and I found myself searching through their several layers to find the intended opening. When at last I slid it over my head and arms, I was surrounded with fold after fold of slippery soft fabric. The sensation was thrilling and started the tingling down below again. I managed to ignore it and arranged the material, straightening and smoothing out its layers. I felt the bodice pulling my waist in as I did up the zip at the side. I had to exhale deeply before I could fasten it all the way. I slipped my shoes back on and finally I turned and looked in the mirror.
I was too close to the glass to take it all in, but what I saw was enchanting. The bodice had padded inserts in the base of each of its cups, so I’d had to ease the swollen mounds that formed my chest upwards, to fit over them. The result was a cleavage which would have done credit to a model in a commercial. My waist looked tiny, making my ‘bosom’ seem even larger.
I couldn’t take my eyes from the image. The effect it was having on my private area was beginning to grow stronger, when… “What are you doing, Jennifer?” My mother’s voice broke in upon me and at the next moment the curtain was swept aside. “Let’s have a look at you.” A pause then, “Turn around, sweetie”. I obeyed and stepped out of the cubicle.

Mom stepped back, took a deep breath and sat down on one of the chairs provided. An even longer pause, then she beamed at me.
“Oh, Jennifer! It looks amazing on you! You were right about this dress. I was going to suggest a couple of alternatives but……” her voice trailed off.
The assistant hurried over and added her compliments. “You have such a pretty daughter, madam!” Admired by all (another assistant came over and joined in the chorus of approval), I paraded up and down in front of the big mirror gazing at this wonderful creation. I actually found myself revelling in the all the attention I was getting.
Now that I was able to see the whole thing properly I couldn’t get over the realisation that this stunning creature, with décolleté bosom and hourglass figure, was little ol’ me. The thrill I was experiencing was up there with the best sensations I’d had as ‘Jennifer’ so far! I caught myself checking around the store for any male shoppers whom I might impress and feeling another twinge of disappointment that there were none to see me. Why was I even thinking that? Unexpectedly, thoughts of Chris Bennett flashed through my head and I found myself imagining him seated there and myself twirling round so that layers of the delicate skirt would brush flirtatiously across his legs. Then….
“We’ll take it,” said my mom to the assistant decisively; and to me “You can pay me back every cent, mind, and soon too. You realise that earning all that money is going to mean you’ll be spending much more time at your cleaning jobs.”
Perhaps I should explain about Chris. I’d known him from when his older sister Rachel used to babysit me and my little brother. Stunning to look at and kind in nature, she was always my idol of female perfection. Until recently Chris and I had never really hung around each other because of the difference in our ages. Nearly two years older than me, he was popular, athletic and smart; everything I wanted to be. However we’d encountered each other a few nights after my return from Dad’s. We’d called over to see his mother, my mom’s oldest friend, the night that my brief rebellion against Mom had been finally put down. When he put in an appearance during the course of the visit, I’d found him fascinating.
I’d never realised before but he was actually very good looking if you really paid attention to him. A shock of blond hair framed his face. He had blue, almost violet eyes that shone directly into mine and a pair of full lips formed a wide, fascinating smile. Curiously he seemed to be just as interested in me. This was really odd considering how I was dressed at the time and the way that my presence had been announced by his sister “Look who is here, Chris. It’s Robert!”
If I hadn't been so ashamed of my girlie appearance, I'd have thought him a pretty neat guy to hang out with. We kind of hit it off despite the shaky start, and parted as, well, as friends. Well, perhaps a bit more than that; somehow he’d ended up with the imprint my lips on his cheek! How had that happened?! I was definitely not into guys! No way!
My mind recovered from the recollection, back in the store. “Gee thanks Mom, you’re the best. I don’t mind paying you back, really I don’t. Oh, I can’t wait for Mrs Bennett to see me in this, and Rachel and…. and… er… C… er… Karen too!”
It was useful to substitute the last named at that point to hide my true thoughts. Karen was my erstwhile school sweetheart. She knew all about ‘Jennifer’ and was a sore subject with me. We’d got together not long after I first started high school and I had been crazy about her. However it soon turned out that she never wanted to go out with me in my boy clothes but only with my feminized self. On top of that I found out she was dating one (or two) of the high school football jocks at the same time as me! In my make-up and dresses I couldn’t begin to compete with them. She and my mom had formed an alliance against my masculinity which had made my life uncomfortable ever since. By now I’d given up on the relationship. Sort of… My daydreams these days went in other directions, one of which I didn’t like to acknowledge to myself, let alone discuss with my parent.
When I’d changed back into my own clothes, I caught up with Mom who had paid for the dress and was browsing absently around the store. I was pleased to see her looking a little dazed, at which I wasn’t altogether surprised. Perhaps she was having to adjust mentally to a great deal right now. What did take me unawares though was just how much I was loving this. We returned to the parking lot and I flounced across to the car on her arm. The way the wind flipped at the hem of my skirt chimed in with my elation, and I chose to ignore its fluttering, despite attracting stares from a group of high school boys we passed. I looked straight past them, head held disdainfully high, to their confusion and Mom’s evident approval and delight.
On the way home I wondered “what next?” The first thing that came into my head was to ask her when we might arrange our party, and actually I felt that I couldn’t wait!!! You can tell that this was going too well, can’t you? So I was to discover. My mother had fallen silent and was thoughtful. As we pulled up in the driveway I sensed that the fun-filled mood we were sharing at the store had somehow evaporated.
“What is it you’re not telling me?” The ominous question came from my mom before we got out of the car.
Baffled, I looked across at her, not understanding what she could be referring to. “Err... Mom?” I stammered, wondering what had gone wrong.
“Don’t play games with me!” she snapped back. “I know when you’re hiding something. What is it?”
“N... n... n... nothing” I croaked, aghast. SLAP.
“Don’t lie to me!” she exclaimed. “I know when you’re lying. You stopped short before you mentioned Karen at the store – you tried to cover it up but you weren’t thinking of her, were you?”
My cheek stinging, I looked in her angry face, and finally the penny dropped. “Oh!”
“Yes. Oh!” she went on. “Well!”
I really didn’t want to have open my inmost feelings up for discussion, so sat there silently considering what to say. Another SLAP. “Mom, please” I whined, my eyes filling with tears.
“Now just listen, little mister” she scolded. “It’s no good pretending to be my good little daughter, if you’re going to have secrets from me. You want me to trust you? Fine! That works both ways. Whatever is going through your head, you tell me. Whether you want to or not, you tell me! Even if you think I might not like it. Especially if you think I won’t like it! Got that?”
I looked away, choking back a sob. “I guess.”
“Pardon me!” she demanded.
“Yes, ma’am.” I said quietly, realising I would have to give in, no matter how it left me feeling.
“It’s for your own good, Jennifer” she went on in a calmer tone. “Pretty girls your age are vulnerable. Don’t I know it?!” she added ruefully. “You’re starting to think you can handle admirers? If you are going to be running around with kids your own age, you need an older and wiser head to understand what you are going through. Someone that cares enough about you to be sure and protect you! No secrets! Spill!”
I nodded dumbly.
“What were you thinking back in the store?” she persisted. All the recent ground I thought I had gained in her approval had been lost again apparently.
I hesitated. I really didn’t want to do this, but there didn’t seem to be any choice. “I was thinking about… well… I wanted Chris to see me in my dress, that’s all.”
Mom sat silently for several minutes. When I looked up I could see a twinkle in her eyes. “Chris? Really? Why had that got to be such a secret, then?”
I thought for a while “He’s different, I guess.” I thought some more. “I like him a lot. He’s a proper boy but he’s really nice to me, even though he knows all about me.”
It wasn’t getting any easier the more I talked to her. “He’s cute too. I can’t help thinking about him, even when I don’t mean to,” I wailed. “I… I don’t want to be a fa… I mean to have sex with boys, but I can’t help being… well… turned on by him. That’s awful! Right?” I ended tearfully.
“It is what it is” she replied gently.
I sat there miserably, tears welling in my eyes, feeling raw and exposed. She put her arms round me and I sobbed onto her shoulder. “Oh Mom, I feel such a mess inside.”
Later that day I had time to reflect whether my plan had paid off. True, it had been a rocky road with a stumble along the way, but the final outcome had been okay, and my mom and I were a mite closer than before. I reckoned that it was probably worth persevering with my attempt.

Reluctant Diva 3
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 3 – My little ‘sister’
The very next day was Sunday, and wet. The rain wasn’t letting up and looked as if it was on all day. The problem with that was that Mom had agreed to let Tom have Miles and another of his friends, Andy, over to play. That didn’t suit me at all. It was bad enough to put up with Tom’s repertoire of mocking looks and snide remarks about my feminine attire without having any of his friends there. Their presence was likely to egg my little brother on to open ridicule while Mom would look on wearing her amused expression, or would make ‘helpful’ comments like “Now you’re getting a taste of what we women have to put up with from the opposite sex”.
If it were wet, they would be cooped up inside and the prospect for me was a whole day of torment to which I wouldn’t dare to retaliate. This would surely put my newfound resolve to exceed my mother’s feminising schemes to the test.
The morning started reasonably well for me, as the trio were allowed up to Tom’s room to swap comic books and play with model soldiers. Though we didn’t often get to church Mom liked Sundays to be different, so chores had to be completed the day before or left till Monday. Mom and I had time to ourselves, reading some of her magazines and talking about our upcoming party. I was wearing a Sunday outfit which included a flimsier and prettier dress than the ones I wore for doing my chores.
After an hour or so Mom told me to make sandwiches and drinks for lunch. “You can take the ‘boys’ theirs” she remarked, a glint in her eye. Her emphasis made me wince at my implied exclusion from that group but obediently I loaded a tray and carried it upstairs. Taking a deep breath I opened the door of Tom’s room and clopped across to his desk in my heels to put down the tray.

There was an ominous silence.
“Lunch, boys!” I trilled with a brave smile “and there will be a piece of cake for you when you are done with these.”
At this Tom rolled his eyes at his friends derisively as they grabbed the drinks. “It’s just my fairy brother” he sneered and continued, showing off before his buddies, “Let’s have the cake now, sissy boy! We don’t want sandwiches and I don’t take orders from a big girl’s blouse like you”.
His friends stared at him, then at me.
“Why are you wearing a dress?” said Andy. Then scornfully, “You must be a faggot or something!”
“Yeah!” Miles joined in.
“Faggot, faggot, faggot!” they chanted in unison.
Clenching my fists under this hail of ridicule, I was reminded not to retaliate by my long painted nails digging into the palms of my hands. I knew only too well that I was expected to behave like a ‘lady’ even under this sort of provocation.
“Oh what a shame, I see you’re not hungry, Thomas.” I said finally. “Shall I ask Mom if you can have something different?”
My loaded question, and the use of his full name, got through to Tom for the moment, and he pulled a face and fell silent. His friends were in no way overawed, however, and continued to make fun of me, flouncing about the room in effeminate poses and putting on a high pitched imitation of my voice. Incidentally, for some reason that was yet to break, providing another source of embarrassment for me among my peers.
Deciding I could safely ignore them I slipped out of the room and left them to it. Hunger would probably make them eat what was set out for them eventually, I reasoned. I knew enough not to mention any of this to Mom, relying on no sympathy from that quarter and sure enough, on my return she sat sipping her lunchtime coffee and pretending to hide that irritating smile of hers.
After half an hour had passed things started to get noisy upstairs again. After letting it go for what seemed like an age, “Go see what they’re up to, Jennifer” said Mom, frowning.
Reluctantly, I got to my feet and marched back upstairs. Tom’s door was open and I stopped short on the landing. I could see the three of them parading around the room, arms held limply out in what they thought were girlie poses. I was horrified to see that they had put on a variety of garments which I recognised as some of the contents of the laundry basket. Andy and Miles each wore a bra over their t-shirts and Tom was wearing one of my blouses, on his head! I froze as I realised that, while the bra Miles had on was mine, the one Andy was wearing was clearly not.
“What in heaven do you think you are doing?!” cried an angry voice from behind me.
Mom had come silently up the stairs and was surveying the three miscreants with blazing eyes.
“That’s mine! How dare you?!” she yelled, as she took the offending undergarment from Andy, none too gently. I backed into a corner to get out of the way.
“Don’t you have any respect for other people’s things?” she thundered. “Wait till I tell your mothers how you behave when you’re visiting. Out! Now!” Turning to Tom “I’ll deal with you later” she snarled as she marched them downstairs and out towards the car.
He looked at me with fear in the back of his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel a little sympathy for him (although only a little) plus some trepidation on my own account. Tom was usually allowed to get away with any amount of bad behaviour, but this time “I think you may have crossed the line” I said.
“Oh, she’ll get over it” he scoffed, but the words sounded hollow and didn’t convince either of us.
The scene when Mom returned was one I would dearly like to forget. She still looked mad when she entered the house. Tom had retreated to his room but was commanded in short order “Thomas, get down here!”
“Mom, I’m sorry, we didn’t mean…” he started but next instant she had bent him over her knee, the hair brush in her hand.
“Never, ever, go near, my underwear, again!” she yelled, punctuating her words with well-aimed blows. Tom yelled and squirmed and finally wriggled from her grasp, defiant.
“What’s the matter with you? We weren’t doing any harm” he shouted at her.
I squeezed up into a corner, knowing the kind of explosion this response would just have triggered in Mom, and fearing that somehow I would get blamed too. The next ten minutes seemed unbearable and ended finally with Tom being sent to bed alternately sobbing and muttering incoherently about running away.
Mom was shaking when it was all over and stood at the kitchen sink staring mutely out of the window. The rain poured steadily down and every prospect seemed brooding and sullen. I watched her anxiously for a while. After a bit, she seemed to have calmed down and when I looked closely I could see a tear rolling unchecked down her cheek. She looked vulnerable and a little frail.
Without stopping to think how risky such an action might be, I found myself crossing the room and coming up behind her to slip my arms gently round her waist. She didn’t attempt to stop me, so I just nestled my head into the hollow of her back and held her.
After a few minutes she sort of sighed “What kind of mother must I be?”
I just squeezed her a little tighter and we stood there looking out into the rainy, darkening afternoon.
Eventually she turned round and enveloped me in a warm hug. “Honey! That was awful sweet of you”, she crooned. “So you do love your poor old Mom, even when she gets a little cross?”
I didn’t answer. She pulled my head down to nestle against her breasts and I felt some more tears splash down on my cheek. It was kinda special, being that close. She took my hands in hers and stood back looking at me and smiling. “Who’d have thought it?” she mused. “Just when I needed a woman’s sympathy. Jennifer, Jennifer!”
“I’ll make us some coffee?” was all I could think to say. She nodded assent.
By the time it had percolated and we were sitting at the table, Mom was more herself again. “What am I going to do with that brother of yours?!” she exclaimed, and seemed actually to be expecting me to supply the answer.
I didn’t know what to say, but came out with “I guess it might be easier, if I had a little sister!”
We both laughed. “Too right!” agreed Mom with feeling. “But I don’t think I’ve the energy to go through all that again, this time with Tom.”
I stared at her as I realised that my remark had conveyed a shade of meaning to her that I hadn’t intended.
“I wonder how you would manage, though? A teenage girl should get as much practice as she can making younger ones behave.” She was thinking out loud. “You will be sorely needing it when you have a husband making demands on you while you are bringing up your own family”.
“Mom, please!” I protested feebly. What was she thinking?!
She brushed aside my objection. “Okay, let’s see! This is how it’s going to be. Over the next month Tom’s behaviour is going to show a marked improvement, or he’s going to find himself in dresses. How you achieve either outcome is entirely up to you. You can use any ‘inducement’ you think might be effective, but keep your hands to yourself. I won’t have any bullying, got it?”
“But how….?” I interjected, but was cut short.
“That’s not my problem, Jennifer. There’s a lot more to being a woman than wearing pretty dresses and flirting with the boys. If you are really wanting to impress me then let’s see how you are as a big sister. I will give you this one hint: it’s best not to meet every problem head on, okay?”
“I think so” I hesitated. I hadn’t a clue as to what she meant!
“If you can make a success of this little project,” she thought for a second, “then I won’t make you pay for that dress, or for anything else you might need soon. I’ve a few other purchases in mind. Thanksgiving’s not far away and I’ve some great ideas for your costume then”, she grinned. Costume?! “And another thing; you won’t be going to Mrs Martin’s quite so much if you are looking after Tom, so you’ll find you have to watch your pennies in any case.”
She looked decided. “How about it? Deal?”
“Deal!” I said, with outward complacency while internally I was anxiously wondering what those “other purchases” might entail. I knew I could expect Mom to find some way of pushing the boat out much further than I was prepared to go and dressing me up for Thanksgiving might give her a perfect excuse. While I felt sure I could carry off the majority of female outfits, I didn’t have the same confidence about one of Mom’s ‘costumes’.
I was able to deal with this little qualm fairly well by remembering my decision of the day before. I needed to push the envelope continually if I was to keep my parent on side. Back in the present, what was demanding my attention more urgently was how, exactly, I planned to bring Tom into line. After a moment more of thought, I got up and headed purposefully for the door.
“I think I’ll go sort through my clothes,” I said. “There’s quite a few that are too small for me now. I somehow feel sure they might come in useful! Thomas may be in for a little surprise!”
“Good girl!” Mom’s laugh had a meaning ring to it. “This could be fun to watch!”
The next day dawned bright and sunny and the air felt fresh after yesterday’s rain. As it was a Monday I was up extra early to pick up and start the laundry before fixing everyone’s breakfast. I had Mom’s uniform and shoes laid out ready for her so she wouldn’t need to rush. After such a full-on weekend, it felt odd to be wearing a boy’s shirt and trousers even if they were on top of my obligatory panty-girdle. I nearly forgot to rearrange my hair so I would look like Robert once again at school.
Tom was strangely quiet at the table. He was keeping a low profile and needed no second telling to get himself ready. He was out the door in plenty of time for his bus. My own school bus ran later than his by about ten minutes, which just gave me time to head back upstairs and rearrange some clothes in various drawers, before I too left the house. Mom evidently guessed what I had been up to because I received a conspiratorial wink from her as I left. It was good to know she and I were in sync just at present.
Tom’s day ended earlier than mine so the arrangement was that he would stay at a neighbour’s house in the next block until I called to collect him on my way home. Today was no different and he seemed his normal cheeky self as we walked along. The events of the weekend seemed to be forgotten. As soon as we got home, Tom kicked off his shoes, went to the kitchen to get himself his usual juice and biscuit and plonked himself down on the sofa in front of the TV. I went upstairs and changed into my girl clothes then fixed my face and hair. I came down and entering the lounge, walked across the room and turned the television off.
As my brother started to protest I cut him short “Before you get stuck into TV, Thomas” I said gravely, “There’s something you need to consider. Mom is still seriously displeased with the way you and your friends behaved yesterday and you are likely to get punished further”.
“Oh, come on, Rob! This is too much” he whined, but I had gotten his attention.
“You’ve got to realise that a woman’s underwear is personal to her. If you mess with it, it shows you don’t respect her, so you need to change Mom’s mind and show her that you do.”
“We were just having fun!” he moaned.
“Yes I know you thought that, but if your fun is at someone else’s expense then it stops being ‘just’ anything.” I explained.
“We didn’t even know that the stupid bra was hers” he mumbled.
“Hers or mine, it’s still the same thing” I enlightened him, improvising wildly. “Now here’s what you can do. Mom was inclined to say, no TV for a week.”
“A week!” He gaped.
“Well it would certainly make you remember all right, but I think that’s a bit harsh, so there is another way. What if you were able to show Mom you wanted to see for yourself how it felt to be female? That would show you think women are important.”
Tom looked doubtful at this and thought for a minute before asking, “So what would I have to do?”
“Okay, this is how you can get out of a more serious punishment. You can try wearing a bra yourself for a few hours. That would show you were really sorry.”
Tom looked horrified. “I’m not dressing up like you do, with makeup and everything. I’m not a fa…”
“Thomas!” I cut him short “That’s no way to talk. You’ll end up in worse trouble, that way.”
I went on patiently “No-one is asking you to dress “like I do”. It’s just a token gesture. If you were to do this after school till bedtime, I’m sure that would be the end of it.”
He looked at me sullenly.
“Ok then” I continued, assuming silence meant assent, “In your top drawer upstairs you’ll find three of my old training bras. They’re all clean, so why don’t you go and choose one to wear before Mom gets home. If you are quick you won’t miss the start of the Lone Ranger. I’ve put in some tops as well that no longer fit me, for you to wear over whichever bra you decide on. You won’t even be able to see it.”
I smiled encouragingly. “You had better wash your face and hands first”.
He sat for a full five minutes thinking, a frown all across his face. Finally he got up and went upstairs without a word. I could hear him open his top drawer and indulged myself by imagining the creeping horror that must be filling his little mind. This was sweet! It would repay him for some of those jibes and scornful looks I’d been forced to put up with, from my own little brother.
After a while I called up the stairs “How are you getting on?” There was no answer so I went up to his room.
He was knelt on the floor in just his shorts and socks with one of the bras twisted across his chest. “I can’t get this thing fastened” he complained.
Suppressing a grin, I took it off him and showed him which was the right way up, where the arms went and how to line up the hooks and eyes to fasten at the back. He needed the tightest of the three settings. I adjusted the straps till it was nicely in place.
“There, that’s how it should be” I said, and promptly undid it and took it off him again.
“Now you do it” I said. “Mom will be impressed if you can manage one all by yourself.” It took three more attempts before he finally did it without help from me. “That’s great” I encouraged “now choose a top to go over it”.
He looked in his drawer and then back at me aghast. “Do I have to?”
I considered for a moment then “No, but then you will be showing your bra for anyone to see. Or you could just do without TV.”
He went back reluctantly and selected one at random and put it over his head. I straightened it for him. Oh joy! It was the pink crop top with the kitten gambolling on the front, which I had hated being forced to wear so much. It seemed so long ago now.

The light padding on the bra made the front stand out a little and the fit was just about right. Just then I heard Mom come in. Perfect timing! “That looks good on you. Let’s go and say hello to Mom and see what she says?” I smiled reassuringly.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table changing her shoes when we got down. She looked up and gazed at Tom appraisingly. “Tell me Jennifer, why is Thomas dressed like that?” she demanded coldly, still staring at him critically.
“Oh Mom,” I started, “he is really sorry about how he behaved yesterday. To show you he wasn’t meaning any disrespect, he wants to know what it’s really like to be a girl. He picked out these things himself…” My voice trailed off as her face showed no signs of softening.
“And you think a girl would want to be seen like this?” addressing Tom this time. She grabbed his hand roughly “Look at your grubby fingernails. And! Those! Knees!” slapping his legs. “Get upstairs and into the bathtub and quick about it!”
“You said this would be okay” yelled Tom to me and stormed off defiantly.
“Not a great start, Jennifer” said Mom quietly after he had gone. “You forgot that the basics are the most important. Ah, well. Better try again tomorrow – it’s another day.”

Reluctant Diva 4
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 4 – Just the same
The next day was indeed another day and after school, despite all my coaxing, Tom plonked himself down in front of the TV and refused my requests for him to change.
“You can’t make me dress like a fairy and neither can Mom” was his repeated retort.
When Mom came home the expected explosion duly took place, with Tom defiant and Mom losing it completely. It ended with him being stripped and sent to stand sobbing in the corner of the room in his birthday suit until dinner was ready.
Mom looked none too happy with me either, but at least she didn’t yell at me. She merely gave me the strongest sense of disappointment that both my ingenuity and powers of persuasion had been found wanting. For the rest of the evening the hours crawled by with uncomfortable slowness amid an atmosphere you could cut with a knife. It was a relief when it was finally time for bed.
The following afternoon marked a huge improvement. Having repeatedly been assured that Mom’s anger would be softened if he elected to follow my advice, Tom was persuaded to bathe as soon as we got home. I added a generous measure of bath salts to the water and told him to wash his hair too. When he came out of the bathroom wrapped only in a towel he looked well-scrubbed and clean.
He addressed me doubtfully, “I really don’t like this” referring to how he smelled of course, and it certainly seemed strange to have such an elegant perfume coming from his direction.
“Oh, it’ll soon wear off” I tried to reassure him. “Hurry and get these clothes on. I’m going to sort your hands out in a while, too. Mom will be so impressed!”
He didn’t object, thankfully, and while I washed up and got changed myself he resignedly dressed in another of the bras and the same capri top which I’d laid out for him. This time I’d selected a pair of pink shorts and some slip-on sandals to go with the top. The shorts were so full they resembled a skirt! He didn’t even protest at the pair of plain white cotton panties I had chosen as his underwear. Though they had no lace or bows adorning them they were definitely an unusual undergarment for a boy!
When I’d done my face and hair, I took him into my room. It had ceased to resemble a boy’s room for long enough thanks to the years of Mom’s feminising influence. He looked around him uncomfortably at the girlie surroundings, but I sat him down at my dressing table and told him to put his hands down flat on the surface. I then took up a nail file and proceeded to smooth and shape his fingernails.
“It’s all right. I won’t colour them” I reassured him “At least not this time.” I took a bottle of clear nail polish and started to shake it up. “You will hardly notice it.”
I proceeded to paint his nails, explaining how it was essential to brush with even strokes, starting in the middle then doing the sides. “It’s easy with practice” I said “You can try tomorrow”.
After making him sit for 10 minutes to let the first coat dry, I applied a second. I then took my brushes and parted his hair in the centre, fluffing it up as much as I could, despite its shortness. “I think that’s everything. Let’s go down.” Mom had come in a few minutes before from her shift at the clinic where she worked. We had heard her spending some time changing out of her nurse’s uniform and then going back downstairs. We looked at each other nervously and both took a deep breath before descending ourselves.
“Hi Mom” I called through to the kitchen as we entered the lounge. “How was your day?”
“Oh, interesting” was her cryptic reply and as she joined us I thought I detected a glint in her eye which for some reason was more than a little disconcerting. “And who have we here?”
This was directed at Tom, who was standing looking awkward and sullen.
Not knowing what reply was expected, I fell back on my standby, “I’ll make some coffee, shall I?”

However, Mom seemed pleased and started to fuss over how Tom looked, how good he smelled, his nails and all the effort he had made (as if any of it was his idea). She did, however, end somewhat sternly (but looking at me) with the statement that if she was to forget his behaviour at the weekend, then he would need make as much effort and more for the remaining evenings this week.
Though Tom was clearly relieved at this reception, he was unwise enough to show his vexation when he wasn’t allowed to turn on the TV until his homework had been completed. “Upstairs now!” She ordered and he stumped off upstairs with her handprint across his cheek, while I accompanied Mom meekly into the kitchen to help prepare our evening meal.
The following day was more successful still. On her return, my mom was greeted by Tom at the door wearing a similar outfit to the previous night but with pink nails this time.
“You ought to know Mom that Thomas did his nails all by himself today” I informed her “and he has also tidied his room.”
“Now that is more like what I would expect” she replied, looking over his head at me. “If he really wants to understand what being a girl entails, then it’s important he knows that it’s not just about clothes and makeup.”
Tom looked incongruously pleased with himself at this praise, but it was I who fully appreciated her approval. Naturally I didn’t let that show in my face.
“Now Jennifer, here is something which will interest you” she began. “I’ve been giving a lot of thought to what we should do at Thanksgiving and have made some decisions.”
By ‘we’ I rightly guessed she meant me.
“You will be pleased to know that it is going to provide a wonderful opportunity for you to wear your new dress.”
“Oh gee, thanks Mom…” I started, but she held her hand up.
“As I told you before I have one or two purchases to make to complete your look for that day, but I think you will be amazed when you see what I have in view.” The air of mystery which accompanied this statement did nothing for my peace of mind.
“What have…?” Again I was stopped in my tracks by her gesture.
“Trust me Jennifer. What I’ve come up with will take your breath away!” She brooked no further questions and ominously the subject was left hanging there.
After dinner when I was doing the dishes, Mom re-opened the subject of my brother’s discipline regime. “Today was a step in the right direction” she commented “but only a step. I hope you have some further plans for Tom.”
“Oh yes! Leave that to me!” I replied quickly, praying at the same time that she wouldn’t ask for any details. Basically my plan was to make it up as I went along.
She looked at me narrowly, but seemed satisfied with my answer for the moment. “You do understand,” she went on. “It’s not just about appearances, my girl. Behaviour counts just as much, if not more.”
I nodded anxiously. This was leaving me a lot to think about.
“He was playing me up again just now” she went on, “so it’s high time he gets a reality check.”
“Was he? Is that right?” I exclaimed. “Oh boy! Is he going to regret that tomorrow?!”
Keeping up a determined demeanour for appearances sake, I marched out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into my room. I was buying as much thinking time as I could. It seemed to me that making a direct approach would be the best course of action.
The following afternoon after school I finished making a few preparations in my room and then walked over to the head of the stairs and called him. “Thomas! We need to talk!”
It took him a minute but he came to his door looking slightly alarmed. Hearing the use of his full name usually spelt trouble.
“In here!” I gestured to my own room and he trailed obediently in. This was a change from only a week ago, when any such instruction from me would have been met with laughter and derision. I pointed to the chair and he sat down on it, looking apprehensive.
“Last night you upset Mom again, I believe.” He started to defend himself but I cut in, “No, just listen! More importantly, Mom is still disappointed with you. She thought you were exploring what it was like to be a girl this week in order to show how much you valued women. You are going to have to do much better and quickly too. This is likely to be your last chance”
I gestured to the bed. There laid out on it was a complete outfit of girlie clothes which I myself had been used to wear a couple of years previously. They were just about his size. He looked horrified, but was too scared to protest. Strangely I felt a twinge of something which I could only identify as remorse over his being scared like this. It didn’t seem right to subject him to this humiliation, despite the pain in the neck which he often gave me. From experience I understood only too well how he might be feeling. Nevertheless I had to go through with what I had planned, for my own self-preservation.
“Come on. I’ll help you. It will only be for today.” I reassured him. I wasn’t sure but I might have I meant it. I seemed to find it hard to be angry with him.
Half an hour later, bathed and scrubbed, and surprisingly unresisting, he was duly attired in bra, panty-girdle and hose. Something about his overall look gave me pause. What was it that didn’t seem right? He didn’t fill out the girdle in the way I had always done, whereas it had always been a squeeze for me to get my butt into the constricting garment (and noticeably more so as time went by). More alarmingly he seemed to have a bigger bulge at the front than I had myself even now. Being more than two years older than him, that was something I wasn’t expecting.
Another thing – the bra didn’t sit very well on his chest, despite the care I’d taken to choose a padded one. He certainly had nothing that helped to fill it out. Fortunately I had chosen a dress which might hide at least some of these deficiencies. It was a pink sundress in a full skirted style with thin straps and cute pockets. Having submitted thus far, he made no objection when I slipped it over his head and buttoned it down the back. It had been a favourite of Mom’s for me until I had outgrown it. I brushed his hair forward into bangs and added a pink clip to match the dress. Black Mary-Jane shoes completed the ensemble.
“Now let’s do your nails again,” I said encouragingly, taking a bottle of pink varnish from my dresser. While they were drying I got him to hold his face still while I added mascara and a little blush to his cheeks and outlined his lips. I was surprised that his acquiescence was so complete and once again felt those misgivings run through me. Desiring to leave nothing undone, I rooted out a necklace from my collection. A spray of perfume behind his ears and on his wrists completed what should have been a transformation.

“Now let’s look at you,” and I stood him in front of my mirror and took a pace back to assess the result. Though I couldn’t put my finger on what was missing, there was something definitely not right. Standing before me, the image I saw was just a boy. A rather scared boy, but just a boy, despite the girlish trappings. I was at a loss as to what more I could do.
Mom had returned from work and just then her voice broke in on my thoughts. “Jennifer! You are taking a long time up there. What is going on?”
“Wait here a minute,” I told my brother and dashed downstairs.
“Oh Mom,” I exclaimed breathlessly, in response to her enquiring look. “It’s Tom. He’s actually agreed to be dressed completely like a girl. I was even going to introduce him to you as ‘Tanya’, but I’m not sure it’s working! I think I might need your help.”
Her stern gaze softened to one of amused curiosity. “Perhaps I ought to get involved, then.” She followed me upstairs. Tom was still standing in front of the mirror, a perplexed look on his face having replaced the fearful expression of a few minutes before.
“Well I never!” Mom exclaimed and then burst out laughing. “Yes, I see what you mean, Jennifer.” She began to rock with laughter before gasping out “It’s still just Tom!” She laughed and laughed.
At that my brother’s expression changed to one of relief.
“I look silly, don’t I?” He said decisively, and then with a winning smile, “Can I get changed please?”
Mom nodded, still laughing helplessly, and Tom ran off to his room, leaving me totally confused. The realisation hit home that my little brother might be further along the road to manhood than I was and it really stung. It was humiliating.
“I don’t understand,” I said tearfully. “How can he be the same whatever he wears while I’m not? What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing at all,” came the reply. “You are what you are, Jennifer. That’s all!” But there was no comfort for me in those words. Nor in the glint of satisfaction I thought I could detect in my mother’s eye. Just none whatever.
------------------------------
The following evening after I had returned from my cleaning at the Bennett’s I found another ordeal awaiting me. My mother was in my room going through my closet and drawers. “When you were finding clothes for Tom to wear yesterday I realised your room must be full to overflowing with stuff you no longer wear. It's high time you had a clear-out, Jennifer, so I’m giving you a helping hand.”
“Yes, Mom.” Having spent the last hour doing chores, my lack of enthusiasm must have showed.
My parent wasn’t in a mood to let this go. “It’s a very bad habit for a young woman to get into to keep her things just anyhow” she chided. “You will thank me one day when you have your husband and family to keep in order. Tidy house, tidy mind!”
Husband!
On the bed were two piles of clothing. I could see that one consisted of boy clothes and the other of Jennifer’s. Neither fitted me any longer and at least half the second pile seemed to be underwear. That was unsurprising, considering how my body was developing. Under my mom’s instructions, I parcelled the female clothes up neatly. “I want you to take this directly over to Karen’s. It’s all arranged with Mrs Morris. No time to get changed. She’s expecting you. That other pile can go to Goodwill.”
The prospect before me made me shiver. It was a good long walk to the house in question and I was still in my uniform. Worse, on the second occasion that I was there Mrs Morris had contrived to spill hot sauce over my shirt and pants and I ended up in Karen’s panties and a frilly apron. The memory was still a painful one. I could see my mother was in no mood for argument so there was nothing for it but to comply. What they would want with clothes Jennifer had outgrown I couldn’t imagine. My supposed girlfriend was several inches taller than me, so could have no use for them herself. In the past I had benefited from several of her hand-me-downs that had been passed on to me to extend my own wardrobe.
Why was I wearing a uniform? Well that was something Mom had bought for me to wear for my paid jobs. How did I end up landed with those? It’s still a mystery to me! Like any freshman when starting in high school, my load of schoolwork was heavy. Even so, Mom made sure that my responsibilities around the house didn’t slacken, with laundry every day but Sunday and every room kept spotless. It was unbelievable then that one day, I’d discovered in my closet a little black dress with white trim and a matching lace cap and apron. Anyone would think I had a job as a housemaid!
Mom’s response when I tackled her on this subject was typically nonchalant. With cool unconcern she informed me that she’d got me two paid cleaning jobs, actually. One was at old Mrs Martin’s house. That was after school on Mondays, Wednesdays and also on occasional Saturdays, to pick up and vacuum. The other was for Mrs Bennett, my ex-baby sitter Rachel’s mom, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The former would include walking Mrs Martin’s wretched little dog. That activity turned out to be nerve-wracking in the extreme for anyone wearing such a skimpy outfit as I was decked out in.

The most humiliating part of all this was knowing that I would be seen in a maid’s uniform in front of the Bennett family. Fortunately Chris would usually be out at sports practice but there remained Rachel. I’d always had a huge crush on her, for as long as I could remember, and I would have done anything rather than let her see me dressed this way. In the event she was too much my friend to make a thing of it. I could definitely put down her pretence not to notice my outlandish apparel as another instance of her kindness that never seemed to vary.
Getting to my places of work while keeping the shameful uniform a secret also posed a big problem. The nearest of the two was about a mile away and I fretted that I was sure to be seen and recognised either going or returning. In the end I came up with an effective disguise. I borrowed one of my mother’s old wool coats and a hat that concealed my head quite well. With purse and heels I looked pretty much like any other female and that lessened the possibility of being discovered. Talk about stress!
When I set out on my errand this particular evening, I was muffled up accordingly. Mrs Morris opened the door to me herself. I wasn’t anxious to see Karen, or rather, I was most anxious that she didn’t see me in my maid’s outfit. I’d never hear the end of it and it would do nothing to help me establish myself in her eyes as her macho boyfriend. I was hoping that I could merely hand the parcel in and depart. However, the lady of the house was holding their cat in her arms so I had no choice but to carry the bag in for her.
“This is kind of you, Robert, though I can see you’re ‘Jennifer’ today. My, you do look nice. You’re so good with make-up. Up the stairs please, and into the back bedroom” she smiled, closing the front door firmly behind me.
As before, I found her commanding personality overpowering and I did as I was bid. Following me upstairs she chatted away merrily. “Karen isn’t home right now, but she’ll be back presently. It’s that church youth group of hers. It takes up such a lot of her time. Right in there please.”
Mrs Morris returned downstairs leaving me to do as asked. I had time to recollect that on my last visit my ‘girlfriend’ had arranged to spend the evening at the youth group too. What was worse, she had arranged to go in the company of one of my rivals for her affections. To say tonight’s similarity of circumstance caused me some unease was an understatement, but my disgruntled feelings were soon replaced by those of puzzlement when I saw that I had entered a boy’s bedroom. Baffled, I laid my parcel on the bed and looked about me. No mistake. This room must belong to Karen’s younger brother Vernon. To confirm my guess, the door opened next minute to admit the child himself, with his mother following close behind.
His eyes were downcast and I got the strongest feeling that he really didn’t want to be there. Then I twigged. The only other time I’d seen the boy he’d also been in some kind of disgrace. Significantly, his parent had made the comment that he didn’t think that boys could be made to look as pretty as girls and she had assured him that it was only a question of wearing the right clothes and makeup. My appearance had been given as evidence. I wasn’t particularly pleased to be held up as the living proof! What now seemed to be happening to him could be a further stage of his being disciplined. He was about to experience the delights of ‘petticoating’ as it was sometimes known.
I felt sorry for the kid when he was bidden open his parcel. He remembered his manners enough to thank me but his crestfallen appearance when he saw its contents gave me pause. I could clearly remember my own alarm when my first feminine items were bought for me. Now in anticipation that Mrs Morris might hinder my prompt return home, I’d made a plan. I didn’t want to be trapped there and to be once again the object of her manipulation. On the last occasion, I had been manoeuvred into spending the whole evening catching up on all the household chores, as a favour to Karen, even though this had followed the departure of my ‘girlfriend’ for her date. My present worry was that Karen’s contriving mother might have something similar in mind for me tonight.
I didn’t know if it would help materially but my plan just might make things easier for Vernon as well. It involved seizing the initiative and shock tactics would be called for. “Sorry but I can’t wait for Karen, Mrs Morris.” Slipping off my coat and hat, “I’ve too much homework waiting me and as you can see I’m dressed for work.”

The surprising disclosure of my revealing maid’s uniform took the woman aback, just as I was hoping it might.
“Like my outfit?” I primped and gave a twirl. “I thought it was too skimpy to begin with but it’s kinda grown on me. It really gets attention, if you know what I mean.”
Mrs Morris looked stunned at my seeming levity. She pursed her lips in disapproval and taking advantage of her discomfiture I pressed on. “I’m not sure whether Mom regrets getting it for me. She always tells me that the last thing she wants is me chasing boys, but looking like this, I don’t have to do the chasing!”
Speechless for once, she just stared wide-eyed at the brazen attitude I had adopted, not realising it was purely for her benefit.
I did my best to smile back at her innocently, before turning to the boy. “Just think, Vernon. Could be you by this time next year! Sorry Mrs Morris, got to dash. Bye!”
With a wave I ran downstairs leaving the youngster and his parent both with looks of horror on their faces. I made sure I was safely out of the house and away, before even resuming my coat and hat. I couldn’t help smiling to myself all the way home. I just hoped that my pretended enjoyment of my feminised state might shock Vernon’s mother. She might just have second thoughts about the possible ramifications of petticoating her own son. It was all I could do for him. I could only hope he might escape a fate like my own.
Once back home I knew my mom would ask about my encounter. While it was essential that I got her on side, it was important that I stuck as near to the truth as possible. I knew the consequences of being found in a lie all too well. The safest approach seemed to be to cover every detail.
When I had her attention, “It was really strange, Mom. Karen wasn’t there and Mrs Morris seemed a little put out.”
“Oh?” she answered frowning.
“Yes. At first she was pleased to see me and I took the parcel up to Vernon’s room for her. Everything seemed okay when Vernon opened it, but then when I told her I was dressed for work, and showed her my uniform, she seemed to disapprove.”
It was Mom’s turn to look surprised. I shrugged as she stared at me.
“To pass it off, I said that to begin with I thought it was too revealing as well and that it had taken a while to get used to wearing it. It is the sort of thing that attracts attention after all, but you’ve warned me enough against chasing boys. I think I said the right thing.”
I was relieved when my parent was disposed to overlook the incident. It was even reasonable to hope that when she and Karen’s mother got their heads together at some point as no doubt they would, there might be no comeback on me as a consequence and fortunately it proved so. Relief!
 

Reluctant Diva 5
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 5 – My big day
The day before Thanksgiving I was surprised to see my mother’s station wagon at the school gates at the end of the day. When she saw me she motioned me to get in the back of the car.
“Hurry Jennifer! We’ve a lot to do and not much time to do it in,” she greeted me as I pulled the door shut behind me. I was desperately hoping that no-one within earshot had heard her make use of my femme name!
“You can change as we drive” she instructed, pointing to the clothes laid out on the rear seat.
Of course I was already wearing my panty-girdle under my clothes so it was easy enough to remove my shirt and pants and put on the bra and dress laid out on the seat. I swapped my socks and trainers for sandals and by the time we pulled up in the parking lot, all that was left to do was fix Jennifer’s face and brush out her hair.
Mom’s air of mystery still prevailed, but I can’t say I was totally surprised when we drew up in front of the hair salon she patronised. The name blazoned across the shop front read Belle Boutique. I regarded it with dread. I’d been there on two former occasions, the most recent being to prepare for a fancy dress day at school to have my hair styled. For that event my mom had dressed me up and had gone way over the top, resulting in my complete humiliation. All my objections had been to no avail then, but with the recent improvement in our relationship I had a small glimmer of hope that this time her ideas for me would be less extreme.
When we walked in the door it was immediately obvious that the stylist, Delia, was expecting us. She complimented me on how much cuter I had grown in the weeks since she’d last seen me, but this friendly welcome was accompanied by the sliest of smiles. I grinned back nervously. It was evident that Mom had already laid down what she wanted to be done so I just had to sit in the chair and hope her plans weren’t too way out. Though my hair was beginning to grow again, it was still quite short and I took some comfort in thinking there wasn’t much scope for anything too dramatic. Wrong again! On the counter before me were laid out a dozen or so flat lengths of hair. Each was about eight inches long and the colour was close to my own.
Delia laughed at my look of consternation. “Don’t worry, honey. These are extensions. They’re really good quality, too. Human hair! You’re going to look so pretty.”
Thus ‘reassured’, I resigned myself to go with the flow. In reality I had little choice so I made myself sit still in mute terror while she began the styling process. She started off by trimming the extensions to length, holding each up to a different part of my head and then snipping, or not, as required. That done, she selected a section of my own hair with her comb and pinned it up gluing the corresponding piece in place. This process was repeated until just about all the extensions had been employed. Once the glue was set she brushed it all out and, lo and behold, I had a head of nearly shoulder length hair.
The next step entailed wetting it and then forming a centre parting. With the front combed forward she next trimmed across at the level of my eyes. She laughed merrily at my worried look. “Once the curling is done your bangs will hang above those gorgeous eyes of yours. We wouldn’t want to hide them, now, would we?"
When ‘my’ hair was trimmed to Delia’s satisfaction, it received a shampoo while she chattered away non-stop. That process was only to be expected but I was further alarmed to be told that she was adding some tint. This was to achieve an all-over match apparently and also add some ‘natural’ highlights. She finally wound my locks on rollers, which were secured tightly against my scalp with bobby pins. A pungent smelling setting lotion was applied and the drier was lowered over the whole. Its roar effectively drowned out any conversation though in any case I was feeling too stunned to attempt to make any.
While my hair was setting, attention was paid to my nails. They were washed and soaked, and then had false nails glued in place. Once fixed, these were coated with layers of shocking pink polish and lacquer so that they seemed to glitter like fairy lights. Delia removed my sandals so that my toenails could benefit from the same treatment, with cotton balls separating the toes while the polish dried. When I looked down I realised that super sexy was the signal I was broadcasting, literally from head to toe. This couldn’t be happening!
Delia then turned her attention to my eyes. “I’m shaping your brows to look a little more defined,” she explained. Thankfully, the result wasn’t the extreme fine arch that I immediately envisaged and dreaded but merely a taper to the side and an angle near the centre. To my alarm, however, several trios of false eyelashes, three lashes in each, were next glued onto my upper eyelid and trimmed to length. She crimped them in a curler and with an application of mascara, my eyes seemed rounder and larger than ever in the mirror.
Eventually the drier had done its work and the hood was removed. I waited to see the finished results with trepidation. Beaming with satisfaction, Delia took out the rollers, brushed out my curls and preened the bangs on my forehead. When she turned the mirror for me to see, my appearance was certainly dramatic. Where was the boy who had walked out of school a couple of hours before? No trace of him was left that I could find, and neither of that ‘girl’ that I often saw there these days. There was only the reflection of a glamorous young woman in her place. Her hair and complexion looked flawless and her eyes seemed huge, like deep wells of mystery. The effect was intimidating and I was sure that I would not be able to carry off the part which my parent had assigned to me. Clutching at straws, I took refuge in one small plus point. It was a huge relief to know that under all of this, Robert Cartwright would be completely unrecognisable!

“That… that can’t be me!” I stammered
“Like what you see?” Delia smirked proudly. “Told you that you were going to be pretty! You’re not just pretty, honey, you’re hot!” Like that made me feel any better!
Mom was chatting to the manageress and to a tall elegant woman who seemed to be in charge of the salon. I’d noticed the latter watching me intently, almost hungrily, while I was being worked on. Delia’s next remark was addressed to my parent, “He… No… She’ll need a hairnet in bed tonight to keep the curl in place. Then a gentle brushing in the morning and she’ll be good to go. Big day tomorrow, sweetie. You’re going to knock ’em dead! Have yourself a blast!”
Both the other women came over to scrutinise the results of the employee’s handiwork, before turning to each other with a satisfied smile and nodding approvingly. Predictably Mom was pleased as well and the outcome of her own examination clearly proved favourable. “You’re just amazing Delia. Here!” handing her some bills. “Worth every cent!”
I gathered that this payment must have included a handsome tip. My stylist beamed with gratitude. This must be costing my mother a packet, I mused ruefully. Was trying to make me resemble some kind of sex symbol really worth it, whatever the result? As we walked to the car I even plucked up the courage to ask “How are you affording all this, Mom?”
“Just think of it as an investment, Jennifer” she replied airily, then more significantly, “and if you do exactly as I say…. Well I’m hoping for a fast return!” More mystery!
One final preparation was called for which I should have been expecting but wasn’t. It occurred just before bedtime. I had already undressed and was about to slip on my nightwear when Mom appeared at the door of my room. “Before you get ready for bed, there’s something we need to do”, she informed me.
Wildly embarrassed I stood there in my birthday suit, holding the nightgown against me to preserve some modesty but unsure which part of me to cover, the swollen mounds on my chest or my private area. My mom seemed blissfully unaware of my discomfort and showed me what was in her hand. She was holding her Remington lady shaver which she proceeded to connect to the socket, telling me that she was going to remove the fuzz from my legs, arms and underarms which would be essential the next day. I didn’t really have any hair there to speak of but by the time she was finished, and she had anointed the areas so treated with copious amounts of lotion, all my skin was satin smooth.
The next day was Thanksgiving and I was awakened by my mother entering my bedroom and gently shaking me. As it was usually my job to get up first and get the breakfast ready, I started up guiltily in alarm. Then I saw the clock and realised there was still another hour before my normal time.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Her voice was gentle and her face wore a concerned expression I hadn’t seen there too often. However I could sense an undercurrent of excitement in her too.
“No chores for you this morning” she continued. “I want you looking your best. Here’s your coffee. Now, when you’ve drunk it you need to bathe.” Her parting shot, “Oh and wear a shower cap when you are in the bathtub. We don’t want steam from the tub ruining that hair-do.”
Slightly bemused, I sat up and sipped my coffee. This was better. I could get used to being pampered like this! Ten minutes later I was on my way to the bathroom. Mom was there to check my head was properly covered. “That’s fine! Now don’t be too long. And make sure you douche beforehand!”
Ah yes! The douche! Something I should explain perhaps. I had met this item of torment (and fascination) nearly a year ago. One day I had got in from school to find my mother returned from work early with one of her sick headaches. I realise now it would have been that “time of the month” for her. Tom was out playing with friends and I was already changed into a day-dress I particularly hated and was starting on my chores when I was called into my mother’s room. I was surprised to find her laid on the bed in her nightgown, a damp cloth on her head. She asked me to go to the store for her and pick up a prescription and a whole list of things.
Though I daren’t refuse, in those days I was unused to go out by myself when dressed as ‘Jennifer’. Also I was wearing that hideous dress. I couldn’t face being seen in it and was desperate to think up an effective excuse so as not to go. I looked at my mom laying feebly on the bed and an idea came to me that seemed worth a try. I complained that I too was feeling bad and probably had got what she had got! Big mistake!
At first she was naturally inclined to ridicule the idea of a boy having period pains but then her manner softened and she actually seemed to go along with my story. Feigning concern, she put her hand on my forehead, and then on my belly while I moaned and played along. It was working! There was absolutely no way I would have to leave the house in that stupid dress! The shopping would have to wait until Tom came home. Maybe he could run Mom’s errand for her. However I ought not to have bargained on getting the better of an experienced nurse. Although she gave as her diagnosis the probability that it must be my time of the month too, there was a glint in her eye which should have been a warning to me!
Still seemingly sympathetic, she explained all the ins and outs of teenage girls’ periods and the sort of things they need to do to themselves ‘down there’ each month as a result. It was way too much information! Then I received my just desserts. As a remedy for my pretended pains she introduced me to the rigours of the douche. This device was formed of a kind of pink rubber bulb, on the end of which was a strange-looking nozzle, long and fluted and with all sorts of holes in it, like some sort of water sprinkler. She filled the bulb with warm soapy water. Then I nearly died of embarrassment when I learned how this thing of nightmares should be applied (making allowances for my anatomical differences of course!). Embarrassment, yes totally, but I also I was surprised to find that there was a surprising up-side too. Shall we say it was mind-blowing, a whole educational experience?! After a thorough internal cleansing and a follow-up bubble bath, I was pronounced to be “sparkling clean, inside and out”. Then I had to go to the store anyway.
Mom laid down that the next five days would form the extent of my ‘period’ and in that time each month I would be expected to adhere to a regime of douching regularly each day.

Worse, I had to wear a tampon for the days of my ‘period’, a further humiliation. At the same time I became experienced in the use of sanitary pads. Can you believe it?! Aaargh!!
That was how this particular aspect of my feminisation had begun. By the time Thanksgiving had come around it didn’t strike me as out of the ordinary to be reminded to douche on my way to the bathroom. It was okay. After my session and a soak in the warm scented tub I felt serenely relaxed about what the rest of the day might hold for me. That feeling wasn’t to last, as you might guess. With my bathrobe wrapped around me I made my leisurely way back to my bedroom to find my mom standing there. She was already dressed in one of her best outfits and awaiting me impatiently. On my bedside table I noticed she had set a breakfast tray. The contents were quite minimal, just fruit and a little cereal, but she laid stress on the importance of keeping my figure in trim. She motioned me to sit and eat and told me it would save time if she busied herself with my hair while I did. Once she had fluffed out my locks and arranged them to her satisfaction, all I now needed was to get myself dressed for the day ahead. At last the mystery of what costume had been lined up for me was finally to be revealed.
“Now pay attention, Jennifer” she began. These days the instruction would have sounded ludicrously like the introduction to a briefing by Q, but the James Bond films had yet to be screened back then and in any case my mood would soon have sobered up when the details of what Mom had been planning were unfolded. Perforce I listened carefully enough to suit the demands of my exacting parent.
“As you know, today our town has its Thanksgiving parade” she went on. “There are two floats which are for entrants to the beauty pageant.” My face fell as I guessed what might be coming next. “Yes, my girl, I have entered as you as one of the contestants. Isn’t that going to be so exciting?”
Totally shocked and horrified, I could only gape in reply.
Apparently heedless of my mental turmoil she went on brightly “In the parade itself the girls are to be dressed in keeping with a theme from American culture. That part of the programme starts at noon, by the way. Then after that there’s the bathing beauty section and for the grand finale the girls’ attire will be evening or cocktail dresses. That’s when the results of the contest will be declared.”
I gazed at her wide-eyed. “Err… Mom…!” I was going to object but that’s when a sickening realisation hit me. So much for my intentions to go beyond my mother’s schemes! There was never ever going to be the chance of accomplishing that. All I would ever be able do to please her would be to go along with whatever crazy idea she came up with next.
“Now this may surprise you, but in my estimation you stand a really good chance of making the final” she continued, seemingly blissfully ignorant of the panic that was rising inside me. “You are only fourteen but could easily pass for seventeen or eighteen, and have got everything going for you….. your face, hair, legs and your figure too. Trust me, it will be worth it. There’s a first prize of $250 with a guaranteed entry into this year’s state-wide beauty contest. Second prize is $150 and third is $100. See why I’m hoping that you will try your hardest!” She took my hands and looked into my eyes with an excited smile. She reminded me of an eager child. “Well! What do you say?”
“Er… well… er… okay… I guess.” I was horrified but she was being so nice to me I didn’t see a way to say no (or, never in a million years!) without triggering a major falling out, especially as I knew she had laid out quite a sum of money in paying for all those preparations. Though it was quite a novelty for me not to find myself being bullied into doing something so totally against my wishes, I was discovering that being cajoled into complying could be quite as effective as a means of manipulation. Basically I just couldn’t face letting her down! Once I’d reluctantly acquiesced, concerns over the finer details of her scheme came to the fore in my head.
“So… what will I be wearing?” I enquired tentatively. A little curiosity might, I felt, be justifiable!
Mom glanced at my face as if to reassure herself that I was fully on-board. “Well, you already know what you will wear for the final, that beautiful new dress from Sears. For the bathing beauty display I bought you a really stunning swimsuit in the summer sale. It’s by the Hollywood designer Cole of California and will really turn some heads.” Conveniently overlooking the fact that turning heads came near the bottom of my list of priorities, she pushed on to the pièce de résistance.
“For the parade itself you need to wear something more than just eye-catching. It has to celebrate the heritage of our community. Well, we used to be tobacco growers round here and we still grow some in certain parts of this state, so your costume will be that of a Cigar Girl. Get it? Back in the thirties, nightclubs and speakeasies always featured pretty young women, dressed to please, with trays of cigars. Your costume is in pink. You’ll just love it!”
In my mind’s eye I could conjure up the image of just such a costume. It wouldn’t have been my first choice but sounded as if it might be something I could just about go along with.

Mom looked delighted over my acceptance of all this. If she was a little surprised, she hid it quite well, but I felt sure that she was expecting to have to use one of her more draconian methods of persuasion to get her way. Without any objections from me, however, she was like an irresistible force and became instantly practical.
“Firstly Jennifer, we need to think about dealing with your bottom end. Now, as you have decided (Really? I have decided?!) to put yourself on public display in a cute little costume, then nothing but nothing must show. One of your short panty-girdles will work but we also need to get rid of the least little bulge down there. It’s called tucking. Let me demonstrate.”
She took off my bathrobe and knelt down in front of me, level with my privates. In her hand was a roll of surgical tape. To say that I found this position embarrassing is a wild understatement and I coloured to the roots of my hair and wanted to die! Undeterred she reached forward and first fastened a piece of tape across-ways. She next attached two more pieces of tape to pull everything back between my legs and secured them. The result was that all vestiges of my maleness completely disappeared upwards and backwards. She handed me my panty-girdle which I stepped into, pulled up my legs and eased over everything. When I looked down below, I was totally smooth and secure without any hint of a tell-tale bulge.

Mom had me turn around and walk up and down in front of her. Once her critical gaze was satisfied, she gave me the roll of tape to keep in my purse, “in case I needed to use the bathroom later”. I was allowed to slip my robe back on while she sat me at the vanity and spent the next hour working on my make-up. Besides the usual cosmetic routine, my eyebrows were more sharply defined in pencil, my extended lashes were crimped, curled and mascara applied, and my cheeks were delicately rouged. Finally she used a fine brush to give a pretty outline to my lips before filling them in. The shade of the lipstick matched my nails exactly. She handed me the tube so I could freshen my mouth whenever it might be necessary.
Time was flying by and after checking her watch Mom told me to make haste. She reached down what was to be my costume from where it was hanging in the closet and handed it to me. Seeing the garment for the first time, I examined it curiously. It was in a soft silky pink material and short, but bore little other resemblance to the cigar girl image that my mind had conjured up. There were garter tabs attached for one thing, six of them. The top and bottom hems were trimmed with lace, so that it bore more of a resemblance to lingerie than the dress which I’d been imagining. The bodice was boned and strapless and I could see that I wouldn’t need to wear a bra underneath.
In for a penny! I sighed and stepped into the skimpy thing and pulled it up as high as I could. It was tight and unsurprisingly revealing so that generous amounts of my ‘bust’ were left on view. To go with it were a pair of fully-fashioned nude stockings and for my feet, a pair of pink high-heeled sandals. Resignedly I slipped the rest of the ensemble on and went to stand before the mirror to see how the complete thing looked.

The image before me was breath-taking! Oh boy, would I get noticed in this! To my mind it screamed one thing. SEX! Dismayed, I stood there and racked my brains as to how I might avoid going out attired so. The thought that I would be on public view was totally scary and my brain had frozen. No escape route came to mind. I didn’t dare refuse. From bitter experience I knew that if ever I went back on anything I’d said I would do, my mom would go ballistic, deeming me to have proven myself a liar. She was now gazing at me, beaming all across her face at the sight that met her eyes and I hadn’t either the heart or the courage to raise any objection. She took hold of my shoulders and looked me up and down approvingly. Far from being concerned over its total lack of modesty she seemed absolutely delighted with the outfit. “Jennifer! You are going to knock them absolutely dead!”
I was (and am) puzzled by her attitude. Surely, if I had really been her daughter, her reaction would have been something more along the lines of “You’re not leaving this house dressed like that!”
Mom was ready herself, looking very smart in an elegant two-piece. She fastened my fairy locket round my neck and sprayed some perfume on me. Treating me like some exotic piece of porcelain, she made sure I was wrapped in a warm scarf before she helped me into my coat. She checked my purse so I had everything I might need and then picked up the dress-holder which contained my other two outfits. Allowing me to carry nothing but my purse, she shepherded me outside and held the rear door of the car for me. Tom was already ensconced up front wearing an expressive grin that I longed to wipe off his cheeky face. We dropped him off at Miles’s house on the way to the theatre where the parade was due to start. He was going to come downtown later to watch the festival with his friends.
On the seat beside me was the cigar girl’s tray complete with a pink satin ribbon to go around my neck. Sitting in all my state in the back while my mother drove me felt kinda special, like I was a celebrity, but when we pulled into the parking lot, my nerves were jangling. Was this really happening? In a daze I allowed my mom to escort me to a side door and we walked down a seemingly endless corridor to the green room reserved for the contestants.
Once ushered inside I could see that there were about half of the other participants already there. The room wasn’t any too warm and some girls were sitting in their outside coats but I could see some of the costumes; a couple of cowgirl outfits, an Eskimo, Snow White and another princess of some kind in the line for registration. We tailed on to the end and after a wait of ten minutes or so reached the desk. A middle-aged gent with slicked-back hair and a small black moustache gave me what was supposed to be a winning smile and introduced himself.
“Hello, my dear! I’m Percy Gardner, the host for today’s event. This is my wife, Janet.” He gestured toward the buxom woman by his side. She had dyed blond hair and a lot of jewellery and looked coldly at me. “And your name?”
“Her name is Jennifer Cartwright. I’m her mother.”
“Ah yes, Mrs Cartwright, Jennifer. Welcome, my dear.” His hair was jet black, not wholly naturally, and his eyes flickered over my face while his wife checked the list of contestants.
“Yes, Cartwright. Here we are. Number 16.”
“Sweet sixteen, eh!” Another oily smile. “You can leave your daughter in our hands, Mrs Cartwright, and make your way to City Hall where the parade will finish. If you’d like to take your daughter’s things…”
Mom helped me out of my coat and enveloped me in a huge hug. “Good luck, sweetie!” She handed me my cigar girl tray and stifling a little sob, turned and ran from the room. She was clearly emotional and it took me a moment to get over the realisation that I must mean a lot to her, after all. When I turned back Mr Gardner was leering at me, holding out the label with my entry number, 16, to me. His eyes, instead of flickering up and down my face, were now alternating between my ‘boobs’ and the top of my legs. Well, I guess, there was plenty exposed for him to see! His wife’s expression froze further.
“Let me help you with this.” My hands were holding the tray, which was surprisingly heavy, so I hadn’t taken the label with my number on it from him. He deftly peeled the adhesive sticker from its backing paper and turning me around placed it firmly onto the costume. He actually located it on my right buttock! When he gave my butt a little rub, doubtless to make sure the adhesive had stuck securely, his hand lingered there for noticeably longer than was necessary. Completely taken aback by this intimacy I just stood and let it happen. What worried me most was that it felt sort of nice, to be touched like that. How was that?! Ewk! He turned me back to face him, one of his hands ‘accidentally’ brushing across my bust as he did so!
“Just wait over there, dear!” his wife intervened. Whilst the forced smile remained fixed on her face, her eyes glared at him.
As directed I went over to the door where the other girls were lined up. Even more of a variety of costumes were now visible. The young woman next to me was a few years older than me and was dressed as a mermaid. With her swim top and fishtail skirt her costume was almost as revealing as mine.
She grinned as I joined her. “I can see you’ve made a hit with Pervy Percy! You have to be quick to escape those hands, dearie!”
I grinned back ruefully. While we waited I took note of the contents of my tray. Mom had gone to town! Across the front was the logo Tobacco is King with the name and colours of our state. Arrayed on it were boxes and boxes of candy cigarettes and matches, chocolate cigarettes and bubble gum cigars of several varieties. I offered one to my neighbour but she declined, laughing. “Nice try! This outfit is tight enough on me!” She was right!

Just then Janet came over and started to marshal us out to the floats. It took some time and there didn’t seem to be a lot of rationale for deciding who got posed where. I was placed on a velour-covered hay bale near the back of the second float. I was partially hidden by one of the drapes and that suited me fine. We were about to start off when I heard someone exclaim “No! No! No!” It was the host, Percy, who had come fussing over to do a final check. I was astonished when I saw he was referring to me.
“The colours, woman! The colours!” he blazed to his wife. He came over and taking my arm pulled me from the orange drape of the bale I was seated on. I had to agree that my shocking pink ensemble rather clashed with it. He made ‘Snow White’ change places with me so that I ended up on the highest perch in the centre of the float. The next few minutes were spent in getting my limbs arranged to his satisfaction, which seemed to necessitate his hands gripping my butt and thighs and my bare shoulders quite a bit, while Janet looked daggers at him all the while. When ‘perfection’ had been finally achieved I could truthfully say I knew just what being manhandled entailed! With a final admonition to us all from his wife “Now smile and wave girls!” the cavalcade set off.

Reluctant Diva 6
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 6 – The Pageant
For the next half-hour, that was all we did. I smiled until I felt my face would be stuck like that forever. The waving wasn’t too bad as the exercise helped to keep me warm in the weak November sunshine. With the skimpiness of my attire I was thankful that the weather was being relatively kind. As far as I could tell from the increased volume of cheers and whistles when we passed, our float was the best received by the onlookers. I tried to avoid eye-contact with the crowd but perched up high as I was I seemed to be getting more than my share of attention. At first this was terrifying until I remembered that no-one could possibly recognise me, decked out as I was, and then I started to enjoy myself. By the time we were half-way I was really throwing myself into the part, raising both arms above my head to wave, and primping and posing for all I was worth! Mom and Delia had been right. This was a blast!
On the corner of East and Main I spotted Tom and his buddies who of course were in on my secret. Their derisive gestures and catcalls rather took the wind from my sails but soon they were out of sight and before I knew it we had halted in front of City Hall. The crowd was thickest around there. I’d just caught sight of Mom, and grinning from ear to ear, was waving excitedly to her when my hand was taken by our host. Smirking all over his face, he led me down from my perch before any of the other ‘girls’, to lead the little procession into the hall itself. I was feeling elated and on impulse picked up candies from my tray and tossed them to some of the kids in the throng around me until it was empty. I turned for one last wave and disappeared inside the door. It felt like a moment of triumph and if the day had ended there I would have been totally satisfied. There was more to follow however, much more.
Once inside City Hall, we contestants were ushered into the main auditorium. There were twenty-five of us. Our numbers were called one by one under Janet’s supervision and we were introduced to the audience as we walked on stage. As I waited for 16 to be called I found my effervescent mood was fast evaporating. This was getting scary. It was one thing to sit on a float with the other ‘girls’ or to dash in past a crowd of people, but to stand there in front of an audience! I wasn’t sure I could continue to carry it off. When the count reached my number I was almost shaking.
I heard Percy announce “…and now our very own Cigar Girl, representing the long traditions of our state, pretty in pink and sweet sixteen, Jennifer Cartwright!” I literally froze but Janet gave me a none-too-gentle push and hissed “Smile!” and I found myself walking across the stage. A storm of applause hit me before I was half-way. Blushing deeply I stopped centre stage and bobbed some kind of curtsy and gave the best smile I could manage. I was greeted with whistles and cheers and coloured up to the roots of my hair. It only lasted a couple of seconds but it seemed like an eternity before I turned and walked to join the others who had already been announced. Once all of us had been introduced we bobbed again and filed off the stage. My knees felt weak after this ordeal and I needed the bathroom desperately.
Mom was waiting in the room which had been set aside as a changing area, all smiles.
Hugging me, “Jennifer, I’m proud of you!” she began, but I had to interrupt.
“Sorry. I have to pay a call” I whispered urgently and dashed for the door. The restrooms were at the end of the corridor and I clopped down there in my heels as quickly as I could. It promised to be quite a performance using the toilet, but once my costume and panty-girdle were down I just had to sit and pee. To my surprise and relief I found I could do this without removing the tapes which tucked everything away down below. I just had to give myself a wipe afterwards. This may be way too much information, but being able to do that made me feel more like a real girl than anything in my experience so far!
When I emerged from the cubicle I found the ‘mermaid’ standing before the mirror, touching up her make-up. She seemed friendly and I joined her to do likewise. Her name was Carrie.
“You’re popular!” she commented. “Very popular. Having fun, are we?”
I smiled and nodded a little nervously. Our toilettes completed, we left the bathroom together.
“Don’t be scared, honey! You are doing just great.” Then, “Say. Have you done this before? How old are you?”
I was unsure about answering this but sensed that she was just trying to be nice. “No. This is my first time. I’ll be fifteen in May.” My words stopped her in mid step.
“You’re fourteen?! Really?! Fourteen. Well you fooled me. Honey, you look amazing. I wished I’d looked like you at fourteen, or eighteen for that matter. I’m twenty next week. You know you could win this pageant?”
I stared at her wide-eyed. “You think?”
“Oh yes! You’re the one to watch all right. Well, I hope you do win” and she giggled. “If I don’t win myself, of course. Might be third time lucky for me. Who knows?”
Turning a corner as we approached the changing room I nearly bumped into the host, Percy.
“What a vision! Such loveliness!” he beamed at us. “Now girls, don’t delay. Time is of the essence.”
My new friend was allowed to pass in front of him but I was detained by an arm on my waist.
“Are you having fun, my dear?” he smirked. “I believe this is your first time? Well Jennifer, or is it Jenny? I have to say, you have made quite an impression so far.”
His hand on my waist strayed downwards. “Anything you need just let me know.”
I gave an involuntary start as my butt was treated to a little squeeze. “Anything at all!”
Carrie, who had witnessed this little exchange looked archly at him. “Now Mr Gardner, don’t get confused!” she chided drolly. “Sixteen is her number, not her age, you know!”
She was rewarded by his looking somewhat discomfited. She giggled “You can find bigger fish to fry, I’m sure,” and she wiggled her ‘tail’ provocatively at him before disappearing through the changing room door.
Self-preservation uppermost in my mind, I quickly followed into the room and found my mother waiting and looking just a tad impatient. “Quick now, girl!” I was ushered behind a screen where she helped me out of the pink costume. Well used to taking care of such delicate items, I peeled the hose from my legs carefully so they didn’t get snagged. Standing in just my panty-girdle I took the swimsuit which I was to wear for the next part of the pageant from my mother. It was in a shiny material with a bold pattern and looked expensive. There were two parts to it: high rise briefs and a halter bikini top. The latter had had padded inserts sewn into it, no doubt Mom’s handiwork. It only took moments to wriggle into the briefs but she spent what seemed an age fiddling with them to even out any wrinkles and make sure nothing showed beneath. She spent almost as long adjusting the top to perfect the shape of my ‘breasts’ and maximise my cleavage. White open-toed sandals which showed off my pretty pink toe-nails completed the ensemble.

Having given my makeup and hair another once-over, Mom drug me over to a full length mirror. My reflection showed perfectly the image of a pretty teenage miss on her way to the pool. Where had Rob disappeared to? Even though I was so scantily clad, there wasn’t the smallest hint of my boyhood visible that I could see.
“Honey! You look amazing!” exclaimed my parent excitedly. She seemed like a little girl having a birthday. I smiled anxiously back at her, trying to match her mood. Just then we were ushered out towards the stage again. One by one we had to walk across to one wing, bob a curtsy, then across to the other, curtsy again, then back to the centre where we were to revolve slowly and finally perform another bob before joining the other girls at the back of the stage. Such parades are no longer deemed correct these days, but they were everyday happenings back then. It certainly taught me something. I got a first-hand understanding how a prize animal must have felt being led around the ring at the show. At least I wasn’t about to get eaten afterwards. Unless Percy had his way of course!
After my entrance, I had ample time to glance around the auditorium and see if there was anyone I recognised. There were a couple of teachers from the high school, and Delia, my hair stylist, but that was about it. There was no hint of recognition from either of the former but a double thumbs-up from the latter when I caught her eye. Then a woman’s face in the row behind her made me look again. She seemed to be watching me with an intent gaze and that seemed somehow familiar. Before I could reach any conclusion, this part of the pageant ended with some earnest deliberations from the row of judges in the front row of the audience and then we contestants filed off stage to prepare for the final section. As we did so I realised the woman I’d noticed was the elegant female I’d seen at the salon and who had taken such an interest in me.
Back in the changing room Janet called for everyone’s attention and read out the numbers of the girls whom the judges had selected as finalists. She announced them out in numerical sequence and when she got to 19 I wasn’t too displeased to realise that I hadn’t made the cut. Before I could express relief, however, a glance at Mom’s face changed my feelings to those of genuine disappointment. She looked so deflated. This competition obviously meant a great deal to her and I felt I’d somehow let her down. Then Janet got to the end of her list and the final number called was mine after all. While my parent was clearly overjoyed at this surprising turn, it was quite an effort for me to mirror her pleasure. This whole thing was getting way too scary.
The thought that started to occupy my mind was what indeed would happen if I were actually to win. I had seen photographers in the lobby and the press were obviously around. My secret started to weigh more heavily on me. Having my photo in the local paper with a full exposé was my worst nightmare! What about the state-wide contest which would follow? There was no way I could face that!
It was too late to turn back now so all I could do was to plough on and just hope that I wouldn’t be humiliated too much; also to pray! I busied myself with getting ready. To accompany my new dress were a pair of very high evening shoes with little pieces of diamante attached. I suspected my mom’s ingenuity again because they exactly matched the earrings and bracelet I was also given to wear. Underneath my dress, a waist nipping garter belt supported some very sheer hose. Its slimming effect drew attention to my ‘bust’ to which the padded bodice of the dress gave an even more prominent cleavage.
When I’d completed changing, Delia joined us to my surprise and pleasure. It felt like there was another person on my side and I was hugged and complimented all over again. There was an underlying purpose however. She took out a little bun hairpiece and clipped it in place on top of my head and spent some time rearranging my hair to suit this new addition.

When I looked in the mirror, my hair had been beautifully rearranged in a style popularised by Audrey Hepburn. Wow! I was finally ready so I took a deep breath and made my way out to the stage with the other nine girls. Just like in the bathing beauty section, when our name was announced we had to make our way to each of the wings, then do a twirl in the centre and bob a curtsy, before joining the others. As before my reception was as enthusiastic as anyone’s and louder than most. I could only wait anxiously while the results were debated among the judges. I was about ready to collapse from the nervous exhaustion of it all. Part of me dreaded being singled out any further but I was also harbouring a lurking desire to win. Finding myself entertaining such a wish was something I would never have expected.
Finally, after what seemed an age, the announcements came. Percy made a, mercifully short, speech walking up and down the line of us and leering at each girl in turn.
Then, “And in reverse order, our winners: in third place we have our blonde bombshell, number 11, Patricia.” The girl so named stepped forward to receive her award, beaming with delight.
“In second place, looking as if she’s just come from Hollywood, it’s Jennifer, number sweet 16!”
Totally shocked at the reality of this, I could only gape, frozen in disbelief. After a moment I was pushed forward by the girls on either side to stand like a rabbit caught in the headlights and take my award: a rosette pinned on by Janet, a bouquet of flowers and a prize envelope.
The rest of the ceremony on stage was a blur. The only thing I took in was that my new friend Carrie was the overall winner. I was delighted for her and when the three of us winners exchanged hugs, my embraces were genuinely heartfelt. It was quite natural. Both my companions on the podium were curvy and attractive in the extreme and I experienced an intense and embarrassing tingling down below as they pressed themselves up against me. I was grateful that everything had been taped away so securely. As if I didn’t have enough to deal with! After the applause had died down and the cameras had stopped flashing we were escorted off stage by our host. Mom met me in the lobby looking proud and happy and for once was speechless. After she’d hugged me I handed her my prize envelope and flowers for safe keeping. It felt so good that I was able to give her something back for all her pains.
After a few minutes, we were ushered into a tiny press room where several photographers took shot after shot of us three winners, both singly and together. Then they wanted pictures of us with our parents. Alarm bells flashed in my head at this. A photo of my mother with a ‘daughter’ she didn’t actually have in our local newspaper would blow my secret sky high. It was too much and desperate measures were called for. While Carrie and her dad were being posed for the cameras I made a hasty exit, whispering “Bathroom! Bathroom!” in explanation to anyone who looked at me questioningly.
Once I’d escaped and was safely locked in my cubicle I sat and leant back against the partition exhausted. I must have remained there for twenty minutes while people entered and left the outer room. Eventually the sound of Mom’s voice made her presence known. “Jennifer! Jennifer! Are you in here?”
“It’s okay, Mom.” I emerged, not a little anxious as to how she would view my cowardly disappearance. I was reassured to see that she merely looked worried rather than cross, and the scolding I half-expected didn’t materialise.
“Is it safe to go out there? Have the reporters gone? Don’t be mad, Mom. I just couldn’t face them.”
She looked at me in disbelief and then leaned back against the counter laughing weakly.
“So you didn’t fancy an interview? Now that’s a shame! Any ‘girl’ worth her salt would just die to have her name in a press cutting to show off to all her friends.”
“That’s just it, Mom. I would literally die!” I really meant it too.
“Come on sweetie, we’ll get you home. You’ve done plenty for one day and deserve a treat. How about a nice ice-cream soda and a slice of your favourite cake?”
“Gee thanks. That would be heaven. Oh, Mom!” I felt so close to her, my eyes felt moist.
“What is it, my precious?”
I just melted. She had never called me anything like that before and a tear rolled down my cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t win. I tried my best, really I did. I know how much you wanted me to.”
I was rewarded by being enfolded in a huge hug. After all the breath had been squeezed from me she pulled back and held me by both arms.
“Listen, sweetie. I couldn’t be more proud of you. As far as I’m concerned you did win. Absolutely!”
The following day was a school holiday, and I was allowed to lie in as long as I wanted. When I eventually came downstairs I could see that my mother was seated outside, reading the paper in the mild sunshine. The autumn flowers in the border danced in the gentle breeze and birds were singing. I fixed myself some fruit and cereal for breakfast, and set the percolator going as I ate. After I had poured us each a coffee I took it out to Mom in anticipation of her wants. The events of the day before seemed unreal and I stood staring at the flower bed opposite while absently recalling them. After a while I became aware that a silence had enveloped us. This lifted me abruptly from my reverie and I realised that my mom had been looking at me intently for some time. She was smiling but also her face was tinged with something I didn’t see there very often. It almost seemed that it might be interpreted as admiration. That was totally unexpected and not a little unnerving!
“Mom?”
“Come sit with me, Jennifer” was her opening remark, and I obeyed. Beside her was my brush and comb which she took up. Seated next to her it was pleasant to have her brush out my hair and play with it. First she tried one style and then another.
“You know, Jennifer” she murmured. “It would be a real shame to lose these extensions. There’s so much scope with it like this. Let’s see if we can arrange it nicely so it will be fine for school on Monday.”
Really?! She now had my full attention.
“How much have you thought about yesterday, sweetie?” she asked gently. “Do you realise the significance of what you did?”
Wondering which bit of the day she was referring to, doubtless I looked mystified, so she went on “You did something which only a female could do. Not just any female either. How does that make you feel?”
“I dunno….” I mumbled.
“Well I know, and I’m proud of you. You realise what this means, Jennifer. It means we are going to have to take things a bit more seriously. You have the potential to go much further than just dressing like a girl now and then.” Now and then?! “It’s important that you do fulfil that potential, if you decide you want to.”
I must have looked confused, not having a clue as to what she was driving at.
“Let me put it simply. At the moment you are having to deal with two sets of feelings. You are attracted to boys.”
I started to protest but was overruled. “Oh yes, it’s obvious that you are; Chris, for instance, and Dennis. That’s only natural in a girl your age.”
But I’m a boy! What is she talking about?
Ignoring my somewhat rebellious look, Mom continued serenely “Also I can see you are still turned on by girls. Liking both isn’t that uncommon you know, but it will be much more difficult for you to deal with the feelings that arise. Girls are very tactile and always touching and hugging each other, as you are already finding. Your body’s response to that is embarrassing for you. Yes?
I blushed but, recalling the presentation ceremony yesterday, could make no denial.
“Now… wouldn’t you prefer it if that little thing of yours was more under your control?”
I hesitated, but in the end I was forced to see some sense in this rather tortuous logic. I nodded dumbly.
“I’m glad we agree,” she looked pleased and slightly relieved. “What I’m going to suggest is an easy way for you to deal with the whole matter. The ‘vitamins’ you are already taking are essential for a ‘girl’ like you, but there’s another kind of pill you can take in addition. It’s called an anti-androgen and will help you say goodbye to those embarrassing ‘problems’ you keep having down below. They won’t go away altogether but it will take a lot more stimulus to start one off. Also, if you do experience one it won’t be as strong, so will be easier to hide. Either way you ought to find that all to the good. There may be some other little effects. Your chest may become a little tender, especially at your time of the month. You might feel a little flushed occasionally too but that’s easily accommodated. What do you think, Jennifer? You’re reaching an age where you need to make these decisions for yourself.”
My mom’s face bore a winning smile and an even deeper accord between us seemed to be on offer. All I had to do was go along with her suggestion. I thought for a few minutes. There didn’t seem to be any valid objection I could make and I was anxious to remain in her favour. The merits of her argument were overpowering.
“You know best, Mom.” I acquiesced. While not fully understanding what had just been decided, I did have a sense that one more vestige of my manhood was being stripped away from me. However, this further step seemed inevitable. I was too far along the road to put up the kind of fight which would be required to enable me to turn back. It might be better to be spared having to endure some of those humiliating erections I was getting, especially as they stood so little chance of being fulfilled.
The alteration to my medication started the next day. I took the new extra pill along with my others without a murmur. Nothing seemed to change immediately and some weeks went by before I noticed anything different.

Reluctant Diva 7
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 7 – Changes
In one of the history lessons at school I remembered reading about some ancient Greek guy who had to perform one feat of endurance after another to atone for doing some pretty bad stuff. It seemed I was fated to follow the same path, though I beg to point out that the stuff I might have done and was certainly paying for was no way in the same league as his.
The following Saturday evening I was midway through prepping the vegetables for supper when I heard Mom on the phone in the hallway. Listening intently, I could overhear only the odd phrase or two, but even that was enough to fill me with dread.
“…been dying to go out with you again…. It’s been ages, Karen.” This was followed by a lot of clandestine discussion that I couldn’t make out, accompanied by much sly merriment. Call me paranoid, but it sounded ominous. Before Mom made her reappearance, the call ended with “Don’t worry! I’ll make sure ‘she’ is there. Bye!” There was heavy emphasis on the pronoun.
She made her announcement straight away. “Now you will be pleased to learn that I’ve arranged a nice treat for you with your little girlfriend. I’ve noticed how you’ve been neglecting each other. It’ll be tomorrow night. She’s really excited over how well you did in the pageant and is just dying to hear first-hand how it all went.”
I stared in disbelief. The source of more pain than pleasure, this was one relationship I had been trying to play down for some time. Karen Morris had been a sort of girlfriend, but I had soon realised that in between her dates with me, she had been seeing at least one of the jocks from the junior football team and I had given up trying to compete. Well, almost. She could be quite hard to resist when she chose to be nice. A single glance from her puppy-dog eyes always made me melt.
“Now don’t thank me!” was Mom’s parting shot as she left me to my chores.
It had been at the fancy dress day at school that Karen and I had first got together. Although it was strange to start a relationship when she was dressed as a boy and I as a girl, we’d had a lot of fun that day, one way and another. Being taller than me and confident with it, she had actually saved me from being picked on by a couple of school bullies, Lee Rafferty and his black sidekick, Abe. For me that was a definite highlight in our relationship and afterwards I always felt I owed her, which was something she had taken full advantage of. In the weeks that followed, when I had been crazy about her, it turned out that the only time she was interested in me was when I was being 'Jennifer'. Dressed as she invariably was in pants and t-shirt and wearing her hair cut short, we made a perfect couple. I guess it could have been viewed as an ideal boy-girl relationship. Except that I never got to be the boy!
At first I was so desperate to go out with her that I reluctantly agreed to dress the way she wished me to. We would go to the coffee bar where most kids of our age liked to meet. Sunday evenings were best because others might be at church service with their parents or doing last minute homework. There were few customers and we could always find empty booths which were ideal for making out. A plus for me was that the scarcity of patrons reduced the chance I'd be seen by someone who knew me. All the same, I found it completely nerve-wracking, and that seemed only to add to Karen’s enjoyment! After the first couple of such evenings it was understandable that my ardour had cooled considerably.
I couldn’t understand why Karen was now wanting to revive our relationship. It was puzzling. The next question I had to face was what to wear. When I had delivered that parcel of hand-me downs to Mrs Morris, she had responded in kind, not wanting to be outdone in curtesy. I hadn’t had any curiosity about what had been sent over, but Mom took a different view, as I discovered when she told me that it was time to get ready.
“Everything you will need is laid out on the bed for you. I’ve picked you out a pretty dress and top that were Karen’s. You will definitely be in her good books if she sees you are wearing them.”
Any new way of endearing myself to my fickle paramour was welcome and I found my mom’s logic convincing enough, though there was an amused glint in her eye which should have given me pause. I hesitated but was given no time to consider. “They may need a little pressing so you had better jump to it.”

Obediently I went upstairs and found a pink cotton tea-dress on my bed with a matching bolero jacket. The pairing was crumpled and looked fairly ordinary. When I’d ironed them there was a real transformation, which put me in a good mood. I found ironing satisfying and I have to say my standards were very high, which was no doubt due to the amount of practice I got. Even so, with its circle skirt and attached paper nylon petticoats, pressing this extremely bouffant dress took me forever. It was adorned with a dainty white collar and little puff sleeves. I smiled to myself as I worked, supposing that it would please my date if I were to be wearing something so pretty.

On the bed were some other items I hadn’t worn before. As a gift to celebrate my success in the pageant, my mother had bought me some expensive lingerie “for evening wear”. Gee, thanks Mom! I examined it again curiously. There were a pair of tap pants and a matching garter belt and bra. They were in a white silky material and were so flimsy they might have been made of cobwebs. My Mary-Jane heels were arrayed by the vanity on which were a pair of pink hair ribbons and a roll of surgical tape. There were no doubts in my mind as to the purpose for which the latter was intended.

Doubtless my mom had her own reasons for choosing this ensemble but it seemed as always that the best option was to play along. She knew best, I guess. When I slipped into them, the floaty tap pants felt like… well… just nothing. Similarly I was also conscious of the way the thin silky bra caressed my budding ‘breasts’. It made me feel fragile and defenceless and the sensuous nature of that feeling surprised me. There was also relief not to have to wear my restricting girdle but without its accustomed security down below it was reassuring to know that I had everything safely taped away.

I finished dressing and checked myself in the mirror. The garter belt cinched my waist in tightly and the dress fitted closely in that area too. The combination of the two made the full layers of skirts flare, standing out dramatically from my hips which looked larger in consequence. I gave a twirl in front of the glass. The material of the dress flowed beautifully as I moved. It was a lovely sensation and my head was full of happy thoughts as I sat to work on my make-up. When I clopped down the stairs to show her my outfit, my parent voiced her unqualified approval “Pretty, pretty girl!”

I handed her the hair ribbons to tie in for me. With my extensions still in place she had plenty of options as to how my hair could be arranged. As ever, Mom seemed to find putting the finishing touches to my attire fascinating. When finally satisfied “There that’s better, now, isn’t it!” she crooned dotingly, sliding her arm around my waist. Times like these between us were special.

However, I was given no time to dwell in the moment but was hurried straight out to the station wagon. From where Mom set me down I had to walk the last few blocks to the coffee bar, serving to heighten my sense of vulnerability on this occasion. My ever-present fear was of being recognised. Fortunately dusk was falling early now the season was so advanced and I could keep to the pools of darkness between the street lamps. Disconcertingly, there seemed to be more people around than I had hoped to encounter. The skirts of my dress were calf-length and extremely full. I’d expected that the shape would serve to conceal the way my hips moved as I walked in my heels. This hope was completely unfounded, however, even when I tried walking slowly. The dress’s skirt swayed uncontrollably with each step I took, accentuating the motion. That was bound to attract attention and the rustling of its paper nylon petticoats made matters worse. To my fevered imagination every head seemed to be turned in my direction. Embarrassing!

Though I was a few minutes late, Karen was even later. Standing outside the coffee bar I attracted stares from other customers who went in ahead of me. It slowly began to dawn on me that I was more than a fraction overdressed for this downbeat type of venue. T-shirt and jeans would have been nicely inconspicuous. The realisation hit me that though Mom must have been fully aware of the incongruity of my outfit, she had persisted in choosing it. Why would she want to subject me to public curiosity like that?

After what seemed like hours but in reality can’t have been more than a few minutes, my date appeared. Karen was dressed in loose pants, casual jacket and a white t-shirt and with her short hair and absence of makeup she looked very much like a boy. Of course when you looked closer, her pretty features, full lips and wide eyes gave her away. She greeted me with the broadest of smiles and assured me how cute I looked. Attempting to return her compliment I stammered that she looked good too.

She gave a smirk, “I’m glad you are getting some use out of that old thing. I only ever wore it once… to a fancy dress ball! But you’re such a pretty boy you can get away with anything! Tonight you can be my little princess!” she giggled at my discomfiture.

I was consoled a little when my date next slipped a protective arm around me and drew me close. She was now trying her hardest to be nice, telling me again how she liked having such a pretty girlfriend. She was taller than me even with my heels so when she pulled me to her and kissed me on the mouth I had to reach up to her. It made me feel even more like the girl in our relationship.

Once inside the café, Karen sat me down in an empty booth right at the back. Mercifully, it was dimly lit in that corner. Relaxing a little, I took off my jacket and smoothed the folds of my dress while she fetched us our drinks, my favourite hot chocolate and her black coffee. She put some coins in the jukebox then sat down next to me. It was starting to look like the evening might go better than I had originally hoped. We seemed to be getting on really well. This was so nice! She wanted to hear all about the Thanksgiving parade. She let me know that she and Mom had put their heads together to plan my cigar girl costume. It was clear she wanted to bask a little in the reflected glory of my success, while I was somewhat piqued that she had been involved in putting me through that ordeal. I let it pass however.

After a while the conversation turned to how long it had been since we had been out together.
“So much has happened. I gather that I have a rival for Jennifer’s affections these days?” she grinned mischievously.

I wasn’t sure who she was referring to, but in my haste to reassure her I found myself bursting out with, “If you mean Dennis, he’s just a friend, only Mom likes to make a thing of it.” I coloured as I said this, hoping my mother had not revealed any other ‘rival’ when they had put their heads together on one of those long phone conversations, someone that I actually had some feelings for.

My denial did me little good. She laughed archly “Jennifer, you’re such a little fibber! Yes, that weirdo Dennis, and it wasn’t your mom, I have other sources!”

Oh no, Sandra must have revealed all! I tried again to pass it off, unsuccessfully. “He’s just a friend!”

“Liar! I’ll bet you were all over each other. No making out then? ”

“No… Course not… We may have kissed.” Why did I blurt that out? Her eyes narrowed, in a manner worryingly like my mother’s.

“I knew it! You can’t stay away from the boys, can you? Horny little sissy!”

Ah yes, Dennis and Sandra! I need to clarify. Well, Dennis was just a friend from the sophomore year at high school and we did some stuff together. That’s about it really. Well… There was a bit more to it than that. Actually a lot more! Okay, here’s what happened.
That fancy dress day when I attended school in girl’s clothes was the start of a number of things. Besides signalling Karen’s interest in me and mine in her, something else got started, though inadvertently. I was noticed, and in particular, the expertise with which I handled my girlish attire got noticed. Someone spotted that here was a boy who was unusually au-fait with lipstick, mascara and walking in heels. Now who would notice a thing like that? That’s right; another boy who had similar experience!
A few days later, I was joined at table one lunch break by a sophomore who introduced himself as Dennis. I remembered him as one of the boys who had cross-dressed on the fancy dress day. In doing so he had looked very authentic but had seemed extremely shy. Smaller than me, he was of slender build, had dark hair and a lot of freckles. As we ate lunch, he was full of questions about how I’d managed to be dressed with such attention to detail. I tried to pass this off as one of my mom’s little games but he was persistent and couldn’t believe that my transformation was all down to my manipulating parent. It turned out that he was a self-confessed sissy and I couldn’t shake his assumption that I was “just like him”.
Apparently he was fascinated by anything and everything female and in his case it was entirely from choice! He lived with his aunt and Sandra, the younger of his two sisters, who I knew to be in her freshman year like me. He was allowed to dress whichever way he pleased and at home, as I was to learn, that was mainly as his alter ego ‘Denise’!
Over the next few weeks we spent a bit of time at school together. I was pretty much starved of friendship just then, especially with another guy, even if he was rather a strange one. He invariably wanted to turn our conversation to subjects like make-up, dresses and lingerie instead of talking about action men or football. Also he was demonstrably affectionate towards me, embarrassingly so at times. However, at least I had a buddy and that meant a lot to me, lonely as I was. Mom seemed to approve of our friendship and even allowed me to go over to his house one Friday evening. I’d had to use the pretext that he was helping me with my math and she was more than happy with that. My grades certainly were in dire need of some extra tuition and it was his best subject. At the time I was surprised she allowed me to go but, in retrospect, perhaps she knew a little more about Dennis and his propensities than I did. I often wondered what was exchanged in all the time she spent on the phone with Karen and later I tumbled to it that she was privy to all the school gossip.
It was on my visit there that events took a turn that I hadn’t anticipated. Dennis’s aunt was out so he and Sandra were alone in the house with his elder sister being away at college. They had the run of her room including access to her party dresses, underwear, make-up, heels, you name it! It was mind-blowing! I was inured to the trappings of femininity by this time but the full extent of my new friend’s cross-dressing activities shook me. That and his feelings for me which were totally unexpected. And unwelcome!
The term ‘gay’ had other meanings back then but its present usage would now aptly describe both Dennis and, as it later turned out, his sister Sandra too. It was the first time I had encountered anyone who openly owned up to such ‘tendencies’ and I had to suppress my instinctive recoil from such things so as not to offend either of them. This was the 1950s, remember.
The visit progressed from initial embarrassment to total humiliation. First-off the siblings wheedled me into showing them my skills with make-up. They seemed genuinely awestruck by my expertise. I was flattered by their praise and this led to my performing a full makeover on myself and then on Dennis. It was child’s play and I began feeling pretty proud of myself. To complete the look we tried on some of their sister’s outfits. It was quite a laugh seeing their amazement at the transformation achieved. When Sandra slipped out of the room, ostensibly to get us drinks, next thing I knew her brother had grabbed my hands and pulling me to him was kissing me full on the lips.

Completely taken aback, I simply froze and stood there waiting for him to stop. Well… he didn’t. The kiss went on and on. I remember thinking that the sensation was quite different to anything I’d experienced before. I found myself kinda liking it, strangely, and when he eventually pulled back I didn’t know how to react. My ‘friend’ on the other hand knew exactly what he wanted and repeated the experiment, this time with tongues! Eugh Yuk! Yes, but I have to admit thinking it was nice too!
Then I was startled by a bright flash. No! It wasn’t one of the effects of kissing a boy upon my confused senses! Out of the corner of my eye I could see Sandra in the doorway holding a camera. She had a greedy expression on her face, and was taking picture after picture. The subject matter was me apparently making out with her brother. Aaargh! No way! That changed the group dynamic somewhat and for the rest of the evening I was forced to do whatever they wanted under the threat of those photos being circulated around the whole of our school. I’d like to forget the rest. Suffice it to say we explored to the fullest the contents their big sister’s wardrobe, trying look after look on me, and him. In the midst of this prolonged makeover session their aunt returned. She didn’t seem to mind but could it get more humiliating? Well, yes, actually!
Unimaginably, in the middle of it all, Mom turned up to check on me. As a result she was able to confirm with her own eyes that I had a ‘boyfriend’. I would never be allowed to forget this fact and was more completely in her power than ever!

Back to my present date with my so-called true-love; “Please Karen, don’t be mean. I only want to be with you, but I never get the chance.” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Well, don’t get upset, sissy boy! I just haven’t had any time since I started dating Louis.” She had a gleam in her eye as she let fall the name of the quarterback I’d seen her with. Trying to avoid showing my disappointment, I listened in horror while she went on to extol his chiselled features, huge shoulders, strong hands and how tall and manly he was.
“He really makes me feel like a woman, you know” she confided, and unwillingly I heard about the effect he had on her when they kissed. His other endowments were also alluded to in some detail, much to my chagrin. This was way too much information!
“But I hear you know all about that kind of thing now” she continued slyly. “You and that Dennis!”
I tried to look as if I didn't know what she meant but without success. “Come on now, don’t act so innocent! We both know what you really like!”
As if to illustrate her meaning, Karen pulled me to her roughly and started to kiss me full on the mouth. That was okay and at first I gladly surrendered to her. While her lips fiercely made play, her tongue darted in and out wickedly, leaving me gasping for breath. She began running her hands over my ‘bust’ which was only protected by the layers of flimsy material. It was fortunate that our corner was in the shadows. Her mouth was clamped over mine and her fingers squeezed my poor boobs, tweaking my nipples and not gently. I could make no sound in protest. I had never been as strong as her, and now less so than ever, it seemed. I squirmed in attempted revolt, all the while conscious of a sensation down below which felt intensely pleasurable. Oh no! That was something I really didn’t need! As if she read my mind, she leaned back and sweeping her hand up my skirt, began to explore. I gasped in a mixture of horror and ecstasy.
“Aagh! Karen! Nooo!” I whispered, but to no avail. Those silky panties offered no protection and I found myself moaning from the conflicting emotions I was experiencing.

“That’s right, little girl! You want it, don’t you?” she murmured in my ear. Trying to resist her, I squeezed my legs tightly together but with an evil glint in her eye she continued, leaning back to watch the effect it was having on me.
In response to her manipulations, I was close to losing control but summoning the last remnants of strength I could muster I took hold of her hands and pushed them away. It was a struggle but once free, I lay back in the booth and feebly covered myself up. It seemed a miracle that we hadn’t attracted the attention of the other occupants of the coffee bar, but the merciful darkness and the loud music must have kept us from notice. Karen just sat there pretending smugly that nothing had happened that could have caused me any distress.
“This is interesting! Now we know what you’re really like, we can have some proper fun.” Her laugh was just nasty. “I must get you on a date with one of Louis’s buddies. Or perhaps with Louis” she tittered. “Who knows? It might be more fun if we swap! He’s quite something, I can tell you. Wouldn’t you like…?”
What she whispered in my ear made me freeze. Dully I found myself wondering “How might that feel? It would…” Then I realised what she had actually said!! Ewk! No! That was so disgusting!
Hating myself for being so weak, I made a supreme effort to halt the train of thought she had started. I fervently wished I had never set eyes on my erstwhile heart-throb whose taunting looks were so painful to me. To gain some respite from her goading, I told her I needed the restroom and pushed past her. Once alone I sorted out my dress and my makeup in an attempt to regain something like composure. I was strangely relieved to find that my flimsy underwear had withstood her probing fingers surprisingly well and was undamaged. As if that mattered! The rest of the evening passed interminably slowly. There was an uncomfortable hour I somehow got through before Mom’s station wagon drew up to collect me again. On the way back home I made a firm resolve that I’d never go on another date with her. Never again!
At school the following day there came a further humiliation. You can guess my horror when I saw Karen and Sandra sitting together during lunch and the latter staring at me mockingly while Karen smirked in that evil way she had. I almost dropped my lunch tray when I realized what they must have been discussing. Talk about an unholy alliance. Wasn’t there anyone on my side? The remainder of the week passed without things getting any better. When it ended I was faced with something even more worrying. It was all to do with the impact of my new medication. The effects of my new ‘regime’ as Mom called it, hadn’t been felt immediately, but when they kicked in they were drastic. The first thing that I noticed occurred when I had my first hot flash. It happened in the course of one of my part-time jobs. As a maid!
“Isn’t it warm today?” I said to Rachel as I arrived at her house to do my chores on one particular afternoon, a few weeks after Thanksgiving. “Can I have a glass of water?”
She looked at me with immediate concern, kind as ever. “Are you feeling ill? You must leave that work for now”. She was training to be a nurse and my plight immediately brought her caring nature to the fore. She made me sit down on the sofa next to her. There was a worried expression on her lovely face and her big eyes were full of sympathy. Feeling quite sorry for myself, I could feel the tears welling up. Next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a hug and had the exquisite sensation of her large and shapely breasts pressed tightly against me. That did nothing to cool me down! On the contrary I felt warmer than ever, but it felt so nice all the same.
After a moment I returned the squeeze in kind. She pulled away and looked at me critically, smiling wryly “Hmm. Well I think you’ll live this time!” Slightly embarrassed, after sitting with her a few minutes more I said I ought to get on with my duties. I thought about the incident on the way back home and how much I liked cuddling up to Rachel. It was only then that I realised that in the days leading up to this I had been missing my usual physical reaction when I had let my thoughts dwell on girls and their bodies. The ‘normal’ pressure from my private area on my panty-girdle had been notably absent of late no matter what the stimuli. My body’s reaction on this occasion had only been triggered because she had squeezed herself up against me so intimately, that plus my warm feelings for Rachel which weren’t just about her gorgeous physical attributes. My previous lack of arousal really was disturbing and I pondered about it all the rest of the way home.
When I got to my room and could be alone, I took out one of my teen magazines as an experiment. It was one of those Mom had ordered for me with the subscription in my male name. At the time that was yet another source of humiliation, but it had shrunk into insignificance these days, as so much more was happening to me. I turned to a bra commercial which had caught my eye a few days before and I allowed myself to stare at the picture. The girl was pretty and the photo showed off her curvy body, revealing enough to get the imagination working. It was pleasurable to mentally run my hands over those soft curves; quite exciting in fact. They seemed so real that I could imagine just how they would feel to the touch! Strangely, I got no response from down below. Just nothing! This was a new departure for me and altogether confusing.
The following week I noticed how sensitive my ‘bust’ had become. To prevent undue attention being drawn to the swelling mounds on my chest, I had taken to wearing a tight singlet for school which flattened that area as much as possible. On this occasion I was in the corridor and there was the usual scrum for the lockers. In the ensuing press, I took an elbow in my chest which hurt like hell and left me sore there for the rest of the day. I showed the bruise to Mom that evening but was told unsympathetically that I needed to be more careful. Oh, and it was tiresome but it looked as if I’d outgrown my bra, again, and we should have to go for a fitting later in the week. I also pointed out that my panty-girdles, purchased new at the start of the school term, had also become way too tight. Though this statement was dismissed with initial disbelief, she checked me with her tape measure and reluctantly had to agree.
As arranged, on the Friday Mom picked me up from school and by the time we reached the shops I had performed my change-in-the-back-of-the-car routine and was wearing one of my day dresses. Instead of going into Sears, Mom led the way to a small store which displayed items of lingerie in the window. It looked a bit old fashioned and the interior smelled a little on the musty side.
We entered and waited while the manageress finished up serving a middle-aged woman ahead of us. It seemed to take her an age and I idly gazed around at the many shelves with their boxes and boxes until Mom’s none too gentle tug on my arm abruptly dragged me from my reverie.
The woman behind the counter seemed ancient and wore heavy makeup. As we approached we were greeted by “Madame’s daughter requires a fitting? That is easy to see.”
I was ushered into a curtained-off area and when bidden I unbuttoned my dress, unhooked my bra and stood while the woman ran her tape measure over me. As I looked in the mirror it was obvious how much more of me there was than a few weeks before, at least in one area.
“Since your old brassiere was fitted, you have gained more than a cup size” she remarked after checking the label. “A lot of growth even at your age, but what is less usual is that you seem to have lost some inches under your bust, if your last fitting was correct. You will need a band size which is smaller.” She gazed at me curiously and I flushed hotly. Apparently she made sense of what was happening to my body even if I could not. I felt like some kind of freak. My chest was slimmer but my bust was bigger. How was that happening?
The woman next inspected the long-legged panty girdle I was wearing. It felt comfortable enough around my waist but it was stretched tight across my butt and thighs. With a satisfied smile she declared. “This is the wrong shape for Miss. You require a girdle from our Curvy range.” She left me and returned with a couple of bras for me to try. Mom was called in to examine the results and eventually a pretty bra by Formfit was selected.

In shape it was somewhere between an everyday bra and the pointy bullet bras fashionable for evening wear in those days. My mother told the woman we would take two in the new size in white and also two corresponding ‘curvy’ girdles.
Everything a growing boy could need!

Reluctant Diva 8
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 8 – A new deal
Life continued along these lines as New Year came and went pretty much like any other year. It was when getting ready for school one morning in early spring that my next significant crisis arose. I ought to have expected it because I’d had another growing spurt. Not just upwards, I might add. On this particular morning I was downstairs first and setting out breakfast as usual, dressed in my school clothes over my girlie under-things. To minimise the femininity of my figure, my ever increasing bust was squeezed tightly into my singlet to restrain it as much as possible. Getting dressed I’d found it more of a struggle than ever to pull up my school pants over the obligatory panty-girdle. Though the new ‘curvy’ model fitted me better and pulled in my waist, my pants remained uncomfortably tight. The waistband was loose but that problem was easy to fix with a belt from my drawer. Around my butt and across the top of my thighs it was another matter.

When I’d completed my chores, I sat down to join Mom at the breakfast table. I flopped down next to her with relief and as I did so, there was a loud tearing noise. The back-seam on my pants gave way! Oh no! Horrified I looked across at Mom, only to see an amused smirk on her face. Tom was rolling about in his chair with uncontrolled mirth. How I longed to wipe the grin from his cheeky face.

“Oh dear” she sighed. Then with complete unconcern, “You certainly are filling out nicely, Jennifer. Better change, perhaps?”

“But Mom!” I protested. “These are the only school pants that fit me.”

“Correction!” she laughed. “They clearly don’t fit you, now do they? Stand up.”

“There’s no way I can go to school!” I wailed as I obeyed.

“Hmm” she pondered. “I don’t want you taking time out from your studies. You had better wear some of Jennifer’s things.”

“Mom! Nooo…” I was horrified. Jennifer’s wardrobe certainly didn’t run to anything that resembled school pants. “I’ll get killed!”

“Well there isn’t time to mend those right now. I can’t see any alternative.” She reflected calmly. Then… “I remember. I may still have a pair of black pants that I don’t wear. You had better borrow them.”

Dashing upstairs in alarm I hastily searched and finally locating the offending garment in her bottom drawer, took it to my room to try on. The pants were several inches too long. The cut was full and high-waisted and the material was thin and smooth unlike that of any boy’s pants ever made. They pulled up tightly between the cheeks of my butt, accentuating the size of it and giving an unmistakably feminine shape to my rear. Worse, there was no fly fastening at the front; they zipped up at the side!

“They will do fine. You can tape up the hems to the right length.” Mom called, looking in from the doorway.

I glanced back in horror but she had gone, leaving me to my own devices. I turned back and looked at my reflection with dismay. How can this be happening?!
In a daze I fetched the sticky tape and attended to the hems. Even with them shortened the pants didn’t look like anything a boy would wear. In desperation I untucked my white shirt over them in an attempt to hide the waist. The result was too untidy and would probably attract critical attention from the teachers. I could imagine being called out and told to tuck in my shirt under the gaze of the entire class. Finally I resolved on wearing a white sweatshirt instead of my shirt as this would be worn untucked. It ought to perform some of the work of concealment and was within the school’s dress code.

Attired thus and muffled in the longer of my coats I set off for the bus with some trepidation. Initially the day went better than I could have hoped. No-one remarked on my wide-legged trousers and I thought I had gotten away with it, until at the close when heading for the bus, a voice I dreaded sounded behind me.

“Well if it isn’t the fairy boy. Now ain’t that dandy?!” Lee Rafferty’s words struck doom into my heart.

It was the one of the two bullies who had given me such a hard time the previous term, when Karen had come to my rescue. I’d been at pains to avoid them since then but it sounded like today my luck had run out. I turned my head to confirm my fears. The tall boy’s face leered down at me unpleasantly and as I broke into a run to get away, I collided with something hard. The other half of the pair, my nemesis Abe, had grabbed me and next thing I was pushed against the wall and held firmly against it. My bag fell to the floor, its contents strewn everywhere.

“What’s the hurry? Pussy!” the latter’s face was inches from my own. “It’s been too long.”

‘Never’ would be too soon!

“Hey buddy!” this to Lee, while Abe’s huge hands pawed me up and down, pulling my coat aside. “She sure has grown. Get a load of this ass!”

The other bully joined him, screening me from the view of other kids passing by. Their hands were roaming freely and I couldn’t tell which was whose. My sweatshirt was lifted revealing the flat front and side zipper of my borrowed pants. They practically crowed over their discovery that I was wearing something that was unmistakeably a woman’s garment.
Lee grabbed at my waistband and yanked it downwards. The thin material ripped in his hand revealing my panty-girdle.
“Hey, what have we here? Man, get a load…” their delight was almost palpable as they pawed at me. Fortunately it was to prove to be short-lived.

WHAM!!

Hit hard in the stomach, Lee was doubled over and gasping in pain. Next, Abe was roughly hauled off me and pinned against the wall in his turn.

“You all right Rob? These freaks bothering you?” The sound of Chris Bennett’s voice was never more welcome. Wide-eyed, I could only stand and look my gratitude.

Abe writhed but was held fast by my saviour who had him under full control. “You want some more? Just try it! This is a friend of mine, see?”

The two bullies looked cowed. There was no way they would take on someone they recognised as a member of the junior football team. My friend looked over at me, checking I was all right. “Better run or you’ll miss your bus,” he grinned at me encouragingly.

Shaking, I pulled my sweatshirt down over the top of the torn pants and fastened my coat. I picked up my books and school-bag and beamed to express my gratitude. “Gee, thanks Chris!”

“Don’t mention it. Go, now! See you.” as he turned back to face the pair of them down.

“Yeah, see you. Soon!” I need have no hesitation in leaving matters in his capable hands so I ran and just made the bus. As I was the last kid to get on, it was easy to choose a seat to myself. I needed space to recover without having to answer any questions. Shaken by the incident, I nevertheless felt a warm glow about my rescuer. For once I hadn’t had to fight my battles all by myself. The whole of the bus ride home I kept thinking about Chris and how he’d saved my ass from being well and truly kicked. I even caught myself feeling an impulse to hug and kiss him, as had happened once before somehow. When I realised what I was thinking I managed to thrust the idea from my mind. Eww!! No way! Another thing was certain, however. I couldn’t face going to school tomorrow. My life there was turning into hell. How could I make Mom understand how impossible it was for me to deal with all of this stress?

Fortunately Mom herself had finished work early and was already home by the time I’d collected Tom from the neighbours and walked the rest of the way back. The torn waistband of my pants was evidence enough that my borrowed attire had been the subject of an incident. Suspicious as ever that I had somehow got myself into a fight, my mother was initially unsympathetic. When I described how Chris had stepped in and rescued me from a beating by two bigger boys, her attitude changed.

“Tomorrow I’m going right in to that school to make an official complaint” was her angry resolve. “There’s no way that they should tolerate intimidation like that.”

With a sinking feeling I knew that if she raised some kind of fuss as she threatened, it was only going to leave me to face more humiliation. How could I dissuade her? “Gee Mom, please don’t.”

“Don’t! I’m not going to stand for this. Someone is going to have to pay for a new pair of pants, at the very least.”

“But Mom! That will just mean everyone will see me as a sissy boy that can’t fend for himself. I’ll get picked on even more, you’ll see!”

She frowned angrily, but paused just long enough to let me continue. “I don’t want to be the school’s sissy boy. I can’t go to that school any more. I’ve thought it all out.”

“Just what have your thought?” she snapped.

The conclusion I’d reached was that trying to gain acceptance at school as a boy was impossible under my ‘regime’. There only seemed to be one viable option remaining for me.

“I’d rather just be a girl all the time.” That got her attention and I was able to explain myself without further interruption. “From now on, I’ll go to school as Jennifer. It’s what you really want for me isn’t it? Only… only there’s one thing. I’ll need to change schools.”

For once Mom didn’t have a quick-fire answer. She drew a deep breath and sat herself down at the kitchen table while an ominous silence prevailed. Not knowing what to do with myself I just stood there looking at her anxiously.

“Oh! Go and change!” she burst out eventually. “You’ll be late for Mrs Martin and I need to think!”

Glad to be free of the brooding atmosphere that pervaded the room I needed no second bidding. Later, on my return from my job, the mood within the house still hadn’t improved any. I could see that Mom’s nerves were in a delicate state by the marked furrow in between her eyebrows. Silently I slipped up to my room and got out of my maid’s uniform before sitting down to some homework. Half an hour later there was a tap on my door. I looked up to see Mom’s head peering around it. She paused before entering. Grateful that I was not to be yelled at, at least in the immediate future, I looked up and smiled, “Hey Mom!”
She didn’t speak but came into the room and sat on my bed.

“I’ve nearly done, so if there’s anything you need….” There was a silence. I put down my pen. “Mom, I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking, sweetie” came her surprisingly gentle reply.

“It’s this bedroom. I was wondering if we could change it to be a little more grown up, if it didn’t cost too much. It’s… well… it’s a little girl’s room.”

Next minute I felt Mom’s arms around my neck, and was surprised to realise she was crying. Concerned, I turned and hugged her. “What…”
She put her head down on top of mine and sobbed.

This was worrying. Mom never let us see if she was upset as a rule. I was mystified and just held her to let her have her cry. There seemed nothing else to do. She responded by holding me tightly to her, pulling my head down against her bosom. I reached up to stroke her neck to comfort her. She rocked gently from side to side and we remained like that for some time. Her sobs stopped, for which I was relieved, and her breathing became slow and regular. My head was still pressed against her and her breast felt soft and warm against my cheek. That was a nice sensation and I could have stayed like that for ever.

“I’m sorry” she sniffed.

“It’s okay, Mom.”

She pulled away and sat down next to me. “No. It’s not okay. I need to get a hold of myself.”

After a few moments silence she continued. “I think I’m the one who knows what’s best for you, and then it all goes wrong. I should never have started you off being ‘Jennifer’.” Mom’s words should have been music to my ears but now, somehow, they filled me with doubts instead.

“Do you hate me?” she asked anxiously.

“No! Mom! No. Course I don’t. You’re the best.”

More tears rolled down her cheek. Somehow, words I thought I’d never say then crossed my lips. “I even think ‘Jennifer’ may probably be for the best.”
!!! What am I saying?!!

She turned me so she could look directly at me through the tears.

Looking down at the floor, “I mean it, Mom!” Although I’d blurted it out without thinking, I realised that I actually did. “It’s like you always said. I make a better girl than I do a boy. Actually I even enjoy some of being Jennifer. Some... Only… only I’d like to make some more of my own choices. I think I’m old enough now.”

“Oh yes! Like what?” she started to sound more like her usual assertive self.
“Well like... What dresses I wear. And… who my friends are. I never want to date that Karen again! I would like to spend time with Rachel though, and maybe… Chris? I’m growing up, I guess.”

Mom’s shoulders started shaking. At first I thought she was crying again but soon I realised she was convulsed with laughter instead.

“Mom? Can I?”

“Oh my word,” when she could finally speak. “I’ve got a regular teenage girl to deal with, I can see.” Then more seriously, “Oh Jennifer! Yes, yes, yes! You can be allowed some choices. As long as I have the last word, mind!” There was a hint of desperation in her voice which for some reason pleased me no end.

“Oh Mom! You really are the best!” and I hugged her. Seized by a mad impulse I kissed her cheek, leaving a big red imprint for all to see and pulling her to her feet, danced her around the room.
When we had come to a stop, we both sat down on the bed out of breath and laughing. On impulse I thought it a good moment to ask the question that was bothering me most. My “Mom, can I ask you something?” was greeted with an understanding nod. How to start?

“I’m confused, Mom” I dove right in. “Just recently I keep catching myself noticing things.”

“Okay. What kind of things?” she looked at me steadily.

“Well… things about boys… men… both… It’s bothering me.”

“How so?” there was a hint of something in her eye which told me she wasn’t displeased about this.

Nevertheless I ploughed on miserably “I seem to be thinking about them in a way I don’t want to… you know… I don’t want to but I keep finding myself doing just that. Mom, I keep trying to control myself, but…. I guess I must just be trashy.”

“Now Jennifer, calm yourself” said Mom patiently. “You are not trashy and you mustn’t go getting upset over this. It’s perfectly normal for a growing girl to find herself… interested in the opposite sex. It’s how you deal with it that counts.”
Opposite sex? I’m not a girl!!

I considered her words “But it just seems all wrong to me. Is it really like that for every girl?”
“Let’s say it’s not unusual” she smiled, sounding sympathetic.
“But, Jennifer” her voice was serious as she went on. “You must learn not to show it. You should never let men know if they have an effect on you. The woman always has to be in control because men think about only one thing, as you know yourself.”

I nodded in agreement. No argument there!
She continued fiercely, “If you can’t control yourself, you can’t have any control over them and you will end up being the plaything of any man that has a fancy. You may not have to worry so much about getting into trouble as most girls do, but you will still end up a cheap little slut that no-one respects. Is that what you want to be?”

“No ma’am.” I knew what she meant and definitely didn’t want that.

“There’s a great deal to be said for waiting until you’re married before going all the way” she wisely concluded.
Until I’m married!! Going all the way!!

“It isn’t easy, and there will be times when you are tempted, but plenty of girls manage it, and I don’t see why you should be any different.”
Even if I am different?!

As if she had heard my thought she answered, “Yes, even if you are different in some ways! The same applies to any woman. She needs to keep something back so that it can be special for her husband. Think about it!”

This conversation hadn’t taken the direction I might have expected and I stared at her, eyes wide in disbelief. She promptly changed the subject.

“Now, my girl, we need to decide about your schooling.” She had clearly reached a decision. “I agree that it would be best for you to attend school as Jennifer full time now. That’s plain. But I can’t think of a way for you to change schools. The only other high schools in this town are St Jude’s for boys. No good,” she smiled “and St Margaret’s for girls. That would be the one you might attend. They’re both Roman Catholic and I do know that St Margaret’s is very old-fashioned in its views. I can make enquiries but it’s highly doubtful that you would be admitted there. Changing schools looks like being out, honey. We need to make some different plans.”

“But Mom….”

My desperate interruption was ignored, however. My mother’s mind was already set, apparently. “You will start tomorrow as Jennifer at this same school. I will go in and explain to your teachers. It will need to be a complete new beginning. For the immediate future I will give you a ride to school so you don’t have to sit on the school bus. That’s just until your classmates have got used to the idea. After that you shouldn’t have any trouble, unless you go looking for it.”
I opened my mouth to protest but she was in full flow. “You can swap some of your classes and change your homeroom too so you will be mixing with a different crowd. That will make things easy for you. I’ve picked out from the curriculum some of the things every girl ought to be studying. Let’s see. You can elect for social studies, needlecraft, homemaking, cooking and family planning.”
Family planning!
Horrified I could only gape at her.

Finally, “and you will have to make sure that you keep close to your friends to stop you from being isolated and picked on in between classes. There’s Chris, Dennis and Sandra and there’s Karen too. I’m sure they will all want to help. I don’t know why you are so down on Karen. You should value her more.”

I was stunned into silence. Chris, I didn’t mind at all, Dennis possibly, Sandra perhaps, but Karen…!

Mom seemed to take this as assent. “Good, that’s all settled then. Let’s pick you out some clothes for tomorrow.”

Reluctant Diva 9
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 9 – A new life
The very next day, dressed in the checked skirt, plain blouse and cardigan which we had selected the evening before, Mom took me to school as promised. A moderate degree of makeup was allowed within the school’s dress code and I had carefully applied the fullest amount within those limits. My fingernails were painted a pale pink and my hair neatly arranged with bangs. We arrived early and after Mom’s interview with the principal I was left to my own devices.

Mom had been quite forceful in the meeting, making full play of the recent bullying to which I had been subjected. She had even got her way in that I was to be addressed as Jennifer by the staff. One sticking point had been the use of restrooms. Fortunately, to provide for special-needs children, one of the staff toilets was designated for their use and on Mom’s insistence I had been granted permission to use it for my own “special needs”. It would be a ‘relief’ to know that I wouldn’t need to use the girls’ restroom or undergo the ordeal of using the boys’ room!

My parent had warned me not to get isolated and I needed no reminding. Accordingly I hung around where other kids were milling about waiting for classes to start. After the buses arrived and discharged their load of students, how fully my appearance was altered was dramatically brought home to me. It was weird to see most of my former classmates walk right past me, evidently seeing only a new girl that they didn’t recognise. Karen was fully in the know, of course. Mom had phoned her, in the course of which it had been impressed on her that she was expected to be supportive. This support translated into a brief “Hi!” as she strode past me. After that she had as little to do with me as possible. But that suited me just fine.

At the beginning of my new homeroom lesson my ordeal began in earnest. What took place was what I had been dreading most, my introduction to the new class. As it happened it was a non-event, fortunately. The teacher Miss Baker announced “We have a new girl starting with us today, Jennifer Cartwright. I hope you will all make her welcome.”

There were some whispers and sniggers but even then not everyone got the fact that they actually knew me already, but as Robert. For those that did, indifference seemed to be the most common reaction. After all, it wasn’t the first time my fellow students had seen me dressed as a girl. When we split up for my first elective lesson, the topic was homemaking. Unsurprisingly there were no other boys attending that class and as I made my way down the corridor, I was accosted by three or four of the girls.

I was immediately faced with a barrage of questions and comments. “Why are you dressed like that?” “It’s sick!” “Yes, why?”

I’d expected this and after much deliberation had come up with a rationale that I thought might buy me some time. “Well, it’s simple. Nobody seems to be sure whether I’m a boy or a girl. It wasn’t working being a boy so now I have to try being a girl.”

This was greeted by looks of shock and disbelief but at least I was allowed to walk on while they put their heads together to debate my reply and I reached the classroom without further inquisition. The rest of the day turned out to be similar. Most people didn’t seem to notice me and the rest avoided me. Perhaps I might survive till tomorrow! The lunch break was the part I was most fearful of but it was then that I actually got some welcome support. Chris saw me standing in the line and came and stood next to me, chatting and asking me how my morning had gone. A popular student as he was, I appreciated he was risking being ostracised himself by associating with me. I told him so but he simply shrugged.

He sat with me all through lunch and while we got some hostile stares, it had the desired effect as far as I was concerned. There was nothing worse. At the end of the day Chris was waiting to meet me after my final lesson. He walked me to the school gates where there was a welcome respite from my overcharged feelings when I saw Mom’s car parked up. I thanked him twice over and got in beside her. As I watched him turn back for football practice I felt some concern over what sort of reception he might get from the rest of the team because of me. He was too good a friend for me to allow him to lose out for my sake. I found it impossible to reach any sort of conclusion about this while answering Mom’s barrage of questions on the drive home. It wasn’t until later that I had the opportunity to marshal my thoughts about it. The decision that I came to was that I ought to try and fight my own battles in future.

The following day was a pattern of the day before. I was mostly successful in avoiding comment from my classmates and even being noticed. Karen ignored me completely and a lot of the others followed her lead. So while I didn’t get any active support from her, the overall result was actually to my benefit. All I really wanted to do was to just survive! At lunch Chris joined me in the line as on the day before but I’d made up my mind I wasn’t going to drag him down with me.
After we’d been chatting a few minutes I asked the question uppermost in my thoughts. “Will you be able to walk me to the gates again today?”

“Sure thing. No problem!” he said.

“Thanks. Now, I want to see if I can get through lunch on my own. Is that okay?”

He looked puzzled.
“It’s gotta happen sometime. I’ll be okay. You go and sit with your usual crowd.” I smiled with a confidence I didn’t really feel.

“Really? You sure?”

“Yes, sure. See you later, Chris.”

Hesitantly he made off and I was glad to see him join his friends in another part of the line. The hall was already nearly full when I went to find a table. There were empty spaces at one near the front that was always last to be filled, due to its proximity to the staff table. As I made my way over there, I stumbled and almost fell. My lunch went skating across the floor and as I tried to save myself from accompanying it, my skirt went flying up to reveal my girdle clad bottom.

There was a loud hoot of laughter and I realised as I recovered my balance and went to retrieve my lunch that I’d been deliberately tripped up. Not wishing to make a big thing of it, I didn’t look around to see whose foot had caused my stumble, but hastened over to my chosen seat. However, the perpetrator of the crime was not so lucky as to escape the consequences. My lunch pail had landed at the feet of Mr Grainger, the vice-principal. He was on supervision duty that day and had been ideally placed to witness the whole thing. Though I tried to appear not to notice, out of the corner of my eye I could see him standing berating one of Lee’s cronies. I could hear the terms “disgusting”, “respect” and “the weaker sex” floating across the hall to me. His lecture terminated with heavy emphasis on the word “detention”!

I seated myself at the table and hastily occupied myself with eating my lunch. When finished I slipped away from the dining hall as unobtrusively as I could and made my way to the library. There at least I might have a chance of staying safe until classes started again. I chose a book to read more or less at random and seated myself by the librarian’s desk for added security. Looking more closely, I realised that I’d picked Virginia Woolf’s “Orlando” as reading material, of all things!
Oh well! It figures!

I was glad when I left my final class at the end of the day to find Chris waiting there to walk me to Mom’s car. At the end of the following day the same welcome sight greeted me. As there was no ball practice that afternoon, he accepted the ride home which we offered him. We stopped outside the Bennett’s house for him to alight and as he did so I realised I was getting a series of significant glances from my parent. She seemed to be motioning with her head in his direction while giving me a sideways glance at the same time.

“What?” I breathed, somewhat mystified as to her meaning.

“Aren’t you going to thank your friend nicely, Jennifer?” she hinted. In our family, the word ‘nicely’ meant that the ‘thank-you’ would be accompanied with a hug or a kiss, so at last I understood her signals. While I wasn’t in any way disinclined, I felt bashful about doing something so personal under my parent’s prompting and gaze. Shyly I got myself out of the car and trotted across to where my friend was standing, an inquiring smile on his face.

“I just remembered that I hadn’t said thank-you.” I felt really awkward, conscious that I had coloured to the roots of my hair.

Chris looked equally confused. “Oh…. Er…. No big deal.”

When I got out of the car I had fully intended to plant a kiss on his cheek (again!) but the moment had passed, it seemed. We shook hands rather lamely, instead. He turned with a wave and I resumed my seat. If my mother was disappointed in the banality of this outcome she was careful not to show it. In any case I was able to satisfy her with a detailed account of my day, as we drove the rest of the way.

When we got home, I went to put on my uniform before going to Mrs Martin’s. While thus engaged, I couldn’t get thoughts of my protector, as I thought of him, out of my mind. Imaginings of what might have happened if Mom hadn’t been there watching our every move kept recurring. Eventually in desperation I took the opportunity to slip into the bathroom. I had to get some release from the pent-up energy that was coursing through my confused body. Suffice to say that ten minutes later I felt completely relaxed, though I had to hurry to complete my change of clothes. When I ran downstairs I could see that Mom was looking at me inquisitively. No doubt she was wondering at the delay, but I was out the door before her curiosity could be translated into actual questions.

My following day at school was largely uneventful. I had been counting on remaining invisible and my hopes seemed to be fulfilled for all the attention I was receiving. I continued to tread carefully and by the end of the week I had started become more confident, although as it turned out, all too soon. It was in the family planning class on the Friday that things fell apart. The format of these lessons was first a text which the teacher read out from her course book, followed by a time for questions and discussion. There were two or three boys taking the class, but the majority of the students were girls, as might be expected in those unenlightened times.

The subject material of the lesson that day dealt with the benefits to be had from family planning. The text seemed easy to follow, but pretty boring, and I was not the only one in the class who had trouble concentrating. It was at question time that the trouble started for me. Shirley Addison, one of the more confident girls in the class and a friend of my past self, had been staring at me all through the lesson.
The teacher was also our homeroom teacher, Miss Baker, and she had picked up on the girl’s inattention. To remedy it she directed the opening question at her. “Now Shirley, what do you understand as the main benefit described here?”

There was a lengthy pause in which I could almost see the girl’s mind whirling to fix on a suitable reply. The outcome of her deliberations was unfavourable as far as I was concerned.

Outspoken as she generally was, her eventual response was no exception on this occasion. “Well I can see the benefits for women,” a pause, “and for men but” pointing at me “what has it to do with freaks like her… him… it?”

There was a buzz around the room that seemed to show that she wasn’t alone in thinking along these lines.

“Shirley! That is no way to refer to a classmate! That is most unkind. Apologise to er.... Jennifer, please!” The teacher sounded genuinely shocked.

“Sorry” the girl chanted insincerely. Then “I still don’t see what ‘she’ is here for!”

“Well now” Miss Baker strove to regain control. “We are all here to learn. This isn’t just about conceiving or not conceiving children, but also how we can define the needs of families and provide for those needs.”

Although as she went on, her explanation became more and more vague and seemed to wander from the crucial point, at least its length was of benefit. As the class’s attention level dropped once more, the uncomfortable situation was defused. At the end of the lesson, Miss Baker asked me to stay behind. She began “I hope you realise that it will take time for your classmates to accept the changes you are undergoing and have undergone.”

I shifted my weight uncomfortably, “I guess.”

She continued “I think you will be well advised to play down these sorts of incidents as much as you can; at least while everyone adjusts. I do sympathise with the pressures you have been facing but please let this one go rather than make an issue of it.”
It dawned on me that she might be concerned over the fuss my mom would make if what had passed got back to her. Why not?! She could be scary!

I nodded my assent and the teacher looked relieved. Once dismissed I made my way to my next class with some food for thought. Life hadn’t got any less complicated. The reverse was true, but I couldn’t see any choice other than to continue going to school as a girl.

The lesson was just starting as I arrived and I quickly found a seat next to Dennis’s sister, Sandra. Her brother had fallen out with me when I had briefly rebelled against everything girlie after my visit with Dad. One of his pipedreams he’d shared with me had been to open his own hair salon and apparently having my hair cut so brutally short had particularly offended his sensibilities; that and my uncompromising attitude. This tiff had never been mended and as a result I was uncertain how his sister would behave with me on this occasion, but she actually looked pleased to see me and gave me a big smile. It was good to have even one friendly face after the ordeal of the previous class and the lesson went okay. Counting as I was on Chris to see me safely to Mom’s car at the end of the day, I could be hopeful that I had survived probably the most stressful week of my school life.

Reluctant Diva 10
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 10 – The movies
The following week was largely uneventful though marred by the inevitable cold stares, taunts and sneers from some of my fellow pupils. I took care to avoid situations where I could be the victim of anything worse and stuck close to the teachers whenever possible. In this I was successful in the main, though it was a near thing on a couple of occasions. The strain of exercising this vigilance day after day was exhausting so that by the end of the week I was wondering how long I would be able to sustain it.

On the Monday when I had been taking refuge in the library after lunch, I was joined by none other than my sophomore friend Dennis himself.
“Hi there, Rob!” His whispered greeting sounded strange in my ears and I had to perform a mental jump to realise that he meant me.
“It’s Jennifer these days, actually!” my words weren’t intended as a reproof but my companion looked crestfallen. To compensate I smiled at him encouragingly. Though the difference in our ages was the other way, it often seemed that somehow I was the senior of the two of us. I had to help him out further, “I’m Jennifer all the time now.”

“Right… Yes... Sandra told me. Well you look fantastic!” He still seemed uncomfortable. “Your hair is amazing for one thing and… well you really make a great girl.”

“Let’s move into the corner so we can talk.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see that the teacher on duty was glaring in our direction.
As we chatted I explained how things had panned out and what had led to my life-style change. “I just didn’t fit my boy clothes any more for one thing. It’s okay, I guess, except that I have to be always on my guard. I have to make sure that I don’t get cornered but so far I’ve gotten away with it. Chris has been brilliant. He’s really taken care of me.”

The boy’s face fell at these last words. “Chris, from the year above me? Football player, Chris?”

“Yes. He’s a real friend. Every ‘girl’ needs a protector!” My attempt to lighten the mood fell flat as a pancake.

“I thought you and me were friends” pouted the sophomore boy. His sulky look made him seem more immature than ever and I found his obvious jealousy tedious. I needed all the allies I could find however.

“So we are too!” I hoped my smile would reassure him, but it seemed that it wasn’t going to prove so easy.

“You really have changed!” he stormed petulantly. “I thought you were special but you’ve become just like every other girl. You only have eyes for the ball players!”

I tried to deny it, but thoughts of Chris intruded and there was too much truth in his accusation for me to be convincing. I wanted to prevent a scene if I could but his eyes were wet and he actually stifled a sob.

“It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends” I put my hand on his arm but he shook it off. “You’re right, I guess, but I can’t help what I’ve become. I am too much a girl, now. Please say you understand.”

The bell rang for lessons at this juncture and we both got up to leave. I grabbed both his hands. “See you around?” I pleaded.

Dennis looked at me reluctantly and nodded. “I guess” he said heavily and I had to be content with that.

Little did I know it but a new challenge was facing me which put my difficulties at school into the shade. It was on the way home from school that Mom dropped another bombshell. It being Friday, we had just left Chris at the Bennett’s house and I had caught myself reflecting pleasantly on the things I liked about him. His interest in me and the care he continued to show for me made me feel more than grateful. This was all due to the vulnerability of my situation of course. Though I hated being this dependent most of the time, I had managed to identify one benefit. My ‘femininity’ seemed more genuine, somehow, and that made me feel more complete as a person. I was trying to make myself take some comfort in this thought when Mom broke in upon my musings.

“Now, I’ve arranged a treat for you tomorrow, Jennifer” she informed me. “I understand how hard this settling in period at school must be for you, so here is something to take your mind off everything. A treat for you. Karen called to say she wants to take you to a movie tomorrow night. They’re showing It Happened To Jane…. starring your idol Doris Day…. You’ll absolutely love it.”

“Er Mom… Sounds nice but… Not with Karen!” My mood of pleasant reverie had abruptly been dispelled.

“Don’t be so down on Karen” she scolded. “She must be one of your oldest friends and you need all the friends you can get right now at that school of yours. I think it’s very kind of her to offer to take you and you should be thankful.”

Mindful of how our last date went, I was still inclined to object. “But Mom. You agreed to let me make my choices now.”

“Some choices, yes” was her retort. “Well okay then. How’s this? You can wear whatever you like tomorrow night. Deal?”

This small concession did nothing to allay my concerns, but I could see the tell-tale narrowing of Mom’s eyes. I was so used to being dictated to by her that there didn’t seem anything I could say to get out of the invitation without starting a conflict I knew from experience that I wouldn’t win.
“I guess” I conceded, reflecting that I ought to be safe enough with Karen in a public place. As always, memories of how nice she could be if she tried softened my resistance. Perhaps I should give her another chance. I would wear a trouser suit that Rachel had lent me, I decided. It ought to prove capable of resisting even her attentions.

My anxiety was pacified by this decision and I wasn’t unduly concerned when we arrived home. However despite our agreement Mom took the first opportunity that presented to ‘influence’ the choice of outfit for my date.
“I bought you something nice, too!” She handed me a package which I opened with some trepidation, expecting the worst. Inside it was a dress, however, and when I held it up I could see it was such a pretty dress that my fears were immediately forgotten. I’m ashamed to admit that I actually squealed with delight, to my parent’s intense amusement and my own consternation.

True it was on the short side and the bust was supported only by flimsy shoulder straps, but it was the sort of thing any girl would want to wear.
Even this kind of girl!!
I ran upstairs to try it on and as I gazed in the mirror, I was immediately lost in a dream. Imaginings of wearing this and being held in Chris’s strong arms floated through my mind. What had happened to me?!
I was rudely awakened by Mom impatiently calling to me and I ran downstairs to show myself off to her.

“Oh Jennifer!” was all she could say as I gave her a twirl and I tripped across to hug her.

“Gee Mom! This is wonderful!” I exclaimed. “Thanks a million!”

“It’s you that looks wonderful” she laughed. “You will certainly turn some heads tomorrow. Karen is sure to approve.”
Hastily she added “If you choose to wear it, naturally.”

My face clouded as I wondered how best to announce that I’d opted for a different choice. “Oh it’s too nice for tomorrow” I eventually stumbled out with. “I was thinking that my trouser suit would be ideal for then.”

“Oh, if only I’d known.” Her face assumed what might be interpreted as a look of regret. “I returned it to Mrs Bennett last week. I’m sure you will find something else, however. There’s plenty of time for you to decide.”

As I gaped at her open-mouthed, I realised that getting my own way was once again going to prove elusive.

The following day was filled with my usual chores in the morning, followed by serving drinks for Mrs Martin’s bridge party in the afternoon. It wasn’t until later in the day that I had time to consider further what I might wear that evening. The weather was unseasonably warm for this time of year so something cool was essential. I would have been happy in jeans or pants and t-shirt but unaccountably Mom had washed both my pairs of jeans and my capri pants that morning so neither were available to me.

With reluctance, as I walked home I came to the conclusion that my new dress was my best bet. No doubt I was influenced by that part of me which was dying to wear it. When I announced the choice I’d made to Mom, she seemed quite unconcerned. That at least was a relief, though as she turned away I had a suspicion that she might have been trying to hide a smile. Unsettling.
I got myself ready in plenty of time. Underneath such a skimpy dress I needed to put on a bra with removable straps lest they should show. I chose a white one which, I decided, would be less visible under the pale fabric of the dress.

I didn’t like the idea of wearing a panty girdle and it always felt special to coordinate my underwear so I chose a garter belt which matched the bra instead. It would have been nice to pick out the corresponding panties from my top drawer but they were nowhere near robust enough. Although wearing matching lingerie was one of the things that helped lessen the feeling that my female persona was a sham, I was mindful of Karen’s ‘attentions’ to me on our last evening out. Her track record was against her. My dress was so short too. I selected some full cut panties with security in mind and under which I’d use tape to tuck everything away. Once this had been resolved on, all I needed was nude hose and white strappy heels to complete my outfit.

Mom came in toward the end of my preparations and silently assisted me with my hair. She checked my makeup and nails then added some finishing touches – earrings, a different pendant on a fine chain and bangles on my wrist. These were followed by a generous spray of perfume – across my chest, behind my ears, on my wrists, my elbows and lastly behind my knees. I would certainly smell good! I glanced back over my shoulder to see my reflection in the mirror. The tightness of the garter belt round my waist served to draw attention to the roundness of my rear end under the clinging material of the dress. As I shifted my weight I was horrified to see that my rear appeared to move of its own volition, unrestrained.

“Mom, I can’t wear this!” I wailed. “It’s way too short and my butt is way too big!” I looked in the mirror despairingly. The dress barely covered the tops of my hose and my thighs looked simply huge too!

She dismissed my protest peremptorily. “Nonsense! It’s just the sort of thing that looks cute on a girl your age.”
A girl my age?!

“Quickly now! You will need to go any minute.”

As I followed her down, I realised that once again, and without intending it, I was absolutely dressed to kill!

I was surprised to see that Mom herself wasn’t ready to go out. She was still in her housecoat and slippers and I would need her to drive me to the movie theatre. This was strange as she hated tardiness but in the event her explanation proved simple enough. “Karen is getting a ride with friends so she will be calling for you.”

I had just digested this information when the doorbell rang and opening it I beheld my ‘date’.

“Wow! You look stunning, Jennifer!” she greeted me, but Karen looked pretty amazing herself. Gone were the boyish outfits she had worn to our previous ‘dates’. Tall and elegant, she was clad in a lacy figure-hugging dress which accentuated her slim figure. Somehow she effortlessly achieved a degree of sophistication which I couldn’t begin to approach, or so it seemed to me. Her makeup was flawless, her hair was perfect and she looked years older than me.

“Have fun! Be good!” called Mom as I closed the door behind me. It was a mild night and I carried my wrap over one arm holding my purse in the other as I followed my ‘date’ out to the waiting car. Karen got in the rear seat and slid over for me to get in beside her. Conscious of the shortness of my skirt I remembered to park my butt on the seat first before swivelling my legs in, to make sure I wasn’t giving anyone a free show. This was all the more important because I was acutely aware that my entrance was being closely watched by the two guys who were occupying the front seats.
Karen did the introductions “Jennifer this is Louis, my boyfriend. Louis, Jennifer.” Her boyfriend!!

I managed to smile shyly at Louis who I’d actually glimpsed with her on the occasion when I was first invited to her house. I’d known he was in junior high, and there and then I’d given up on any chance of being able to compete for her attentions. That seemed ages ago and here I was finally being introduced to him, but as a girl. It sort of sealed the hopelessness of my earlier aspirations to make her mine. He sat behind the wheel, tall, athletic and good-looking and there was worse. On his square-jawed face I caught a knowing grin which he exchanged with a similar one on Karen’s. Instantly I deduced that he was in on my secret. I hadn’t time to swallow this however because in the meantime she had done the honours with the other boy and I had to dig into my memory to recall what she had said his name was.

“Hi… err… Brett” I stammered. “Nice to meet you!”

Brett seemed enormous. He sported a similar crewcut to Louis’s but was several inches taller and much broader. He reached for my hand and squeezed it till it went numb, dwarfed in his great paw. I looked at Karen for reassurance but she seemed blissfully ignorant of my discomfort. We set off and during the drive, she kept up a flow of chatter with me, asking about my makeup, commenting how well my dress suited me and the like. This was fortunate as I felt too nervous to hazard much conversation. Louis was driving and said little and Brett seemed to have nothing to contribute. Clearly he was the strong, silent type!
We were passing through a part of town that was unfamiliar to me when we turned in through a gateway into a huge parking lot and parked up between a pick-up and a large sedan. Confused, I turned to question Karen. “Why have we stopped here? Where is this?”

“We’re at the movies, silly!” and seeing my blank expression pointed though the windshield, “the drive-in! Where did you think we were?”

Finally I twigged. Consternation coursed through me as the realisation that I’d been set up once again took hold. Mom and Karen had doubtless been plotting together and the result was that here I was, in a strange location, wearing the skimpiest of outfits, on a double-date with a couple of huge guys and a ‘friend’ with an undoubtedly mean streak. I was tempted to get out of the car and make a run for it, but instinctively I knew that this would end in worse trouble for me so I sat there frozen to my seat. I wasn’t even sure of the way home.

My erstwhile ‘date’ must have sensed what was going through my mind because she put an arm round my waist and pulled me close to her. She gave me her sweetest smile.
“Don’t be such a baby” she chided softly in my ear. “This is going to be fun!”

She knew just the way to make me feel good. At first it seemed she might be right, and when the waitress came around on her roller skates Louis ordered popcorn, candy and drinks for all of us. It was getting dusk when the movie started and it felt nice to be snug in the back seat, with our favourite eats, watching the film. At the intermission there was a change however. The waitresses came around again and when ours had brought our order, Karen whispered to me. “I’m going to sit with Louis for a while. I can see he’s feeling lonely.”

She slipped out of the car and motioned to Brett to make way for her. He got out and held the door while Karen daintily stepped in and slid over close to her boyfriend. The car was wide enough for three to sit across but instead of resuming his seat he closed the door after her. Next thing I knew the back door opened and the huge guy hauled himself inside. He grinned at me as he plonked himself down on the seat. He took up a lot of room but even so he seemed to be sitting unnecessarily close.
“You’re sassy” he grunted by way of starting a conversation and when I didn’t answer, “You smell real nice too!”

I let it pass and slid farther away to the edge of the seat. It was fully dark outside now and when the second half of the movie came on, the distant screen provided the only illumination. I could just discern Karen’s eyes in the rear view mirror and I could see she was watching me greedily. I was still wondering why when I found myself grabbed by my companion. I tried to push him away but was helpless as he pulled me into a close embrace and clamped his mouth right over mine.

“Aah! Brett! No!” I gasped when after what seemed an eternity we came up for air, only to be submerged again almost immediately. This was awful. His breath smelled none too good and his chin needed a closer shave than it had received that day, but what was really repellent was his free hand which had moved up from my waist and had started to massage my left ‘breast’ vigorously. Screwing my head round as far as I could I tried to catch Karen’s gaze in the mirror to signal for help, but all I saw was a fleeting amused glance from her before she disappeared from view. She had clearly wrapped herself around Louis and from the ensuing sounds some fierce making-out was taking place in the front seat. I had too much to worry about myself to take any interest in what they were up to, however.

The necking I was having to endure wasn’t pleasant, especially when Brett began to explore my mouth with his tongue. What really bothered me though were his hands, one of which had progressed down my body to rub my leg. After contenting himself for a while with running it up and down my thigh, he pushed his fingers under my garter strap and up inside my panties to squeeze my ass cheek. He began to explore further and I was thankful that my private area was so securely taped away. The distaste I felt for him fortunately prevented the least arousal I might otherwise have felt from these attentions. That meant I could single-mindedly focus on ridding myself of my unwanted admirer. Things were getting out of control and I knew I had to assert myself somehow. He was way too strong for me to fight off altogether so in desperation I took the lead. Instead of pulling away from his mouth I started to kiss him back. He relaxed and I took advantage of the respite by fastening my teeth onto his lower lip.

That got his attention! I had the feeling that not too many girls had responded to his advances so forcefully. Seizing the moment, I grabbed his hand and took it from my butt, raised myself on my right leg and jerked my left knee up between his legs as hard as I could. “Euargh!” he grunted, his breath slowly exhaling. It reminded me of a blimp deflating. I was at last able to free myself from his grip and push him away to the other side of the seat.

“When I say no, I mean no!” Suddenly I knew how to take control. “Don’t you know how to behave?”

He looked crestfallen, like a little boy caught with the cookie jar. “Geez sorry” he finally muttered. “I thought we’d have some fun, you lookin’ so hot an’ all.”

“Well you thought wrong! Just sit there and watch the movie!”

Though sotto voce, this exchange had evidently attracted the attention of our car’s other occupants. The sounds from the front seat had become stilled. The silence was uncanny and Karen cautiously lifted her head above the seat back. Her eyes darted from myself to Brett and then back to myself again out of curiosity.

“You guys okay?” she asked tentatively.

I was busy straightening my dress and made no attempt to hide my anger. “We’re fine thanks” I answered stiffly. I reached in my purse for tissues and my lipstick and she watched as I fixed my face. There was just enough light from the distant screen for someone as practiced as I was to perform this operation. When it was completed to my satisfaction I turned my attention back to the movie.

An awkward silence continued for the rest of the show which I did nothing to dispel. I derived considerable pleasure in seeing Karen looking so uncomfortable, interspersing glances at her boyfriend with a pretence of watching the entertainment.

When the film was over I decided I would take charge. “Thank-you Louis, that was most interesting” I coolly remarked. “Please drive me home now.”
The youth was plainly nonplussed and mutely sought guidance from my erstwhile ‘date’, but Karen just shrugged her shoulders and tried not to seem fazed by the chilly atmosphere. During the drive home little was said and that only by the front seat occupants. I still felt too angry to try and make things easy for my companions and Brett remained dumb, in more ways than one. I had him firmly pegged as all brawn and no brain.
When the car drew up outside our house I reached in my purse and retrieved a couple of dollar bills. I handed them to Louis saying “Thanks once again. I can’t let you pay for me, so here. Bye.”

He looked surprised but before he could refuse I slipped out of the car. As I walked up the driveway I heard steps behind me and half-way to the front door, Karen caught up with me.

She pulled me round to face her and trying to act all concerned and innocent, asked what was wrong, but I cut her short. “You set me up with that jerk and you know it. If I want to go on a double date I can choose my own partner, thank-you.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake, it was just a bit of fun.” She tried to carry it off with her usual high-handed manner. “Lighten up, will you?”

“No! I don’t want to lighten up!” I retorted reaching inside my purse for my latch key. “If you want to be my friend, Karen, you need to try a lot harder!”

With that I turned and stalked to my door leaving her standing with a shocked expression clouding her pretty face. She was still stood there when I went inside which gave me some small satisfaction. I was still mad however and not just with my former girlfriend.

As I heard the car drive away, I went through to the lounge and Mom greeted me with her usual curiosity. “You’re back nice and early. How was your date?”

She was all smiles but I didn’t feel like playing along. “Did you know that we were going to the drive-in?”

She looked surprised “Well yes I did as a matter of fact. You would have too if you had looked to see where the movie was showing. Is something the matter?”

“What could be the matter? Did you know that it was a double date with her real boyfriend and some gorilla from the football team?” I managed to keep my voice even but I was so angry with her that I felt like shouting.

“I don’t like your tone, Jennifer. Actually I did know that Karen had found a nice friend for you.” As I should have expected, Mom was going to be anything but conciliatory. “And how did it go?”

“It wasn’t a lot of fun. He wasn’t nice, but I handled it!” I looked at her defiantly. How could I trust her after this?

“You handled it?” she was actually smiling. “Well, well! I thought you would.”

“Mom!”

“Listen sweetie, you need to calm down! Come sit here.” She motioned to a place beside her on the sofa.

Reluctantly I obeyed and she took both my hands in hers. “Why do think I wanted you to go on this date tonight?”

“I dunno. I can’t imagine!” Probably it was some perverse desire to humiliate me!

She was squeezing my hands so tight it hurt.

“Oww!”

Her eyes had narrowed dangerously and I knew that she was teetering on the edge of losing it. She went on in a patient tone, “You told me you are growing up and you want to choose your own friends? Okay, that’s fine by me. Most of the time. But now and then you will make a mistake. It’s going to happen. One of your so-called ‘friends’ will turn out to be… let’s say, not what you expected. I need to know whether you can deal with it.”

I stared at her, trying to make sense of her explanation. “But Mom, the way I’m dressed! I had to fight this guy off wearing just this!” I pulled at the hem of my skimpy dress to illustrate its shortness. “His hands were everywhere. Oh and his tongue… ughh! Well, if I’d known, I’d have worn something different. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Don’t you see that’s the whole point” she came back at me. “If you expect something to happen you can prepare yourself for it. You need to be able to deal with things you don’t expect. It’s always nice to get prettied up, but you’ll find it can bring out the worst in some of the people you’re with.”
I reflected some more, thinking of not just Brett, but my earlier experiences with the ‘opposite’ sex! I could see that there could be a kind of strange logic to her argument, which minutes ago didn’t seem possible.

“It was horrible, Mom!” was my conclusion. “I still feel kinda dirty.”

“Well we can deal with that too” she said brightly. “Go and hang that dress up and I’ll draw your bath.”

As usual I had no choice but to go with the flow. An hour later I was feeling better, washed and soaped all over and clean "inside and out". As I dried myself Mom called me into her bedroom. Wearing just her nightdress, she towelled and brushed out my hair, while I perched on the edge of her bed in my birthday suit. Next came copious amounts of scented lotion followed by a liberal dusting of powder. I liked her to make a fuss of me this way and when she had done no nook or crevice had been left unattended. The intimacy felt so nice and we seemed so close. Pampering like this almost made up for the humiliation I continually had to undergo. Almost!

Reluctant Diva 11
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 11 – A new ride
The following morning I was looking forward to a quiet Sunday with no new ordeals for me to face. I was in my bra and panty girdle and had just decided which of my tea dresses to put on when Mom briefly appeared in the doorway.
Her cryptic utterance “You might wanted wear something a little more ‘everyday’ this morning.” sounded more like an instruction than advice.
Completely mystified though I was, I made no objection and chose a simple day dress instead of the one I had already selected. When I came downstairs the rationale became clear. Through the open kitchen doorway I could see a shiny blue girl’s bicycle in the backyard. I gazed at it wondering where it had appeared from.

“Rachel brought it around for you yesterday evening.” Mom went on to explain. “I will be on different shifts at work this week so you will need to make your own way to school. I was chatting to the Bennetts on the phone and it occurred to Rachel that you may prefer cycling there instead of catching the school-bus. You have a very thoughtful friend.”

“She’s wonderful!” I agreed. I meant it wholeheartedly although my mind was already whirling once more. I hadn’t ridden a bicycle for a couple of years now and my old boy’s bike was way too small. After Dad had left us Mom hadn’t been able to afford to buy us new ones as we grew. They do say that cycling was something you never forget, but I wasn’t entirely convinced that riding in a dress and girl’s shoes would be so simple. Somehow I didn’t seem to have any confidence any more when it came to trying anything unfamiliar. Unhappily I reflected on what a “big girl” I’d become lately!

I need not have worried. After breakfast, telling Mom I wouldn’t be long, I took my newly loaned wheels out to the roadway and set off for the park. With a few preliminary wobbles, the technique soon came back to me and I found myself speeding along in the sunshine.

This was like a dream. I’d had no opportunity to take part in any outdoor activities for so long that the invigorating exercise in the fresh air was a real joy to me. After riding twice around the park I determined that I would call to see my benefactor on the way home. I sped gaily along, all my cares forgotten. By the time I reached the Bennett’s, my face was glowing. The trip had seemed to take no time. Trying to get my breath back I dismounted demurely and pushed the bike up the driveway to the door.

I was still rather breathless when it was opened to me, “Hello Mrs Bennett, is Rachel in?”

“Oh, you want Rachel, do you” she laughed. “At first I thought you had mixed up your days and come here to do some work. You still can if you like, you know, even if you’re not dressed for it!”

My cleaning job took me there twice a week when I would be attired as a maid. I was always thankful that Chris was usually out at ball practice and so far he hadn’t got to see me in my ‘uniform’.

“No, I’ve come to say thank-you” I smiled. “She’s the best friend a girl… I mean, anyone could have.”

“Stick with ‘girl’ dearie” she corrected. “You are a special one to me!”

For some reason this made me feel all warm inside and on impulse I hugged her. When she hugged me back, I burst into tears.

“There, there” she soothed, holding me to her ample bosom and patting my head.

“I’m sorry” I sniffed. “I don’t know why I’m crying. You’re all so nice to me.” I blinked back my tears.

“It’s just teenage hormones” she smiled. “Rachel was just the same. Run through and see her now. She’s in the yard.”

I did as I was bid and found my idol sitting in the sun reading her magazine. On my approach she started up and hugged me. There was such a smile on her pretty face and the skimpy little sundress she wore outlined her figure to perfection. To me she looked like an angel and when we hugged I was nearly overcome with tears all over again. As she pressed her shapely breasts against mine she had her usual effect on me and I even experienced that familiar tingling sensation in my nether regions.

“I’ve come to say thanks for the loan of the bike” I managed to blurt out, in an effort to overcome my confusion.

“Oh that’s okay. I hardly ever ride it now. Keep it as long as you like.” Rachel grabbed my hands and twirled me round. “This is fun! Let’s spend the day together. Chris is at football practice so you will have to make do with me, I’m afraid.”

“Really? Oh I’d love to! But I’d better tell Mom.” I had no wish for her to see that I would be asking permission but mentally I revised ‘tell’ to ‘ask’. “Can I use the phone?”

“Sure thing. You know where it is. I’ll let mother know you will be here for lunch.”

When I made the call, I took care that my friend couldn’t overhear. “Hi Mom. I thought I’d better let you know I rode over to the Bennett’s to say thanks for loaning me the bike.”

Thankfully she seemed pleased. “Well done, Jennifer. That was thoughtful.”

“They would like me to stay and have lunch. Is that okay with you?”

As I half-expected the proposal was not best received. As she hesitated, I found time to wonder if her response revealed a reluctance to loosen those strings of hers which seemed to control me.
“I don’t know about that. It isn’t right to impose yourself on Mrs Bennett when they have been so kind to you.”

However I had my attempt at persuasion all worked out. “Oh I know Mom. But I’ll help her with the meal and clear up afterwards so she won’t have any trouble.”

“And what about our lunch? Who will get that?” As usual she had an unanswerable argument. It was one of my regular tasks to make lunch on Sundays.

Crestfallen, I hadn’t a counter for that one. “Oh sure. I’ll tell them ‘no’ then.”

My disappointment was short-lived however. “Well if you will really be a help to Mrs Bennett, then you can stay this once. I shall expect you to make our supper instead. Back by 4:30 mind.”

As I normally did most of the prepping for our evening meal this was hardly any extra imposition.
“Gee thanks, Mom! You really are the best!”

All obstacles removed, Rachel and I spent the morning happily in the garden. I was able to bring her up to speed with the events of the previous evening. She was shocked to hear how I’d been tricked into a double date with someone I didn’t know.

“You need to stay away from mean girls” she chided, but she looked her admiration at the way I had got myself out of my sticky situation. We were so engrossed that I forgot how time was passing and it was fortunate that I caught the sound of her mother being busy in the kitchen. Lunch!

“Gotta help your mom!” I gasped to Rachel before running in to offer my services. Looking back I could see her laughing at the panic-stricken expression on my face.

“Oh Mrs Bennett, you must let me make lunch for you” I panted. “It’s the least I can do.”

She was surprised at the urgency in my voice but seemed pleased too. “Well that’s really kind of you, dearie! It will be nice to have help for a change.” More loudly “My good-for-nothing girl is far too lazy to be of any use to me.”

Through the window I could see Rachel smiling back at us pretending she couldn’t hear, her fingers stuck ostentatiously in her ears. Relieved that Mom was likely to get a favourable report, I set to work making sandwiches and preparing drinks. After we’d eaten I cleared away with alacrity, despite my hostess’s protests. Rachel came to help me with the dishes so we could continue our heart to heart. She started to tell me of the trainee pharmacist who had recently started at her place of work and with whom her mind was filled. She made me blush to hear how she felt about some of his better ‘features’.

“His name is George. I think he likes me too, but I don’t know,” she hazarded at one point in our conversation.

Her diffidence took me a little by surprise. I couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. I guess I didn’t want to share my friend’s attention with anyone else. “Of course he likes you!” I tried to reassure her. “He’s not blind, is he?”

She shook her head but looked unconvinced.

I turned back to the sink. “Even if you weren’t so devastatingly gorgeous, he is bound to like you. You’re the nicest person I know!” and I meant every word.

Glancing over my shoulder at her I could see her colour up at this praise, but she looked happier. My reward for my declaration was to feel her arms encircle my waist in another hug. There followed by an unexpected request. “Just say, if he were to ask me out, would you double date with me?”
She continued slyly, “You and Chris?”

It was my turn to blush and I had to stand for a moment thinking. “I… I guess so. If Chris wanted me to. He might, as he’s such a good friend. It would probably be okay.” Then, trying to keep my disappointment out of my voice, “but he’s bound to want to date a real girl not… well not someone like me.”

One of Rachel’s hands slid down and gave my butt a friendly squeeze. I could do nothing with my hands in the sink and was starting to let myself enjoy the sensation when next thing I nearly jumped out of my skin as she gave my bottom a sharp pinch. “Oww!”

“He’s crazy about you, silly!” and she turned me around to face her, suds flying everywhere. “Seriously! I mean it.”

Just then Chris himself entered the room. Rachel’s eyes and mine met in alarm and I spun back to the sink.

“Er… Hi Chris!” I stammered, colouring to the roots of my hair.

“Hi er… Hi you two!” He sounded surprised I was there but seemed pleased as well, which reassured me.

Rachel was equal to the situation. “Hungry? We saved you all the nicest sandwiches from lunch. I wasn’t going to, but your little girlie friend here insisted” she lied. “Isn’t she a sweetheart?”

He didn’t seem fazed by this attack “Mmm, thanks Jennifer. I’m starving!”

Prompted by a nudge and meaning look from his sister, I dried my hands and retrieved the plate of food from the refrigerator. I removed the cover and held it out to him, smiling. “Well I hope you approve of my selection.” I gave him what I hoped was an arch look. “My aim is to please.”

He looked a little conscious as he took the food from me and placed it on the table. Returning to stand next to Rachel, I received another nudge from her and an admiring glance. “Nice work!” she murmured.

I was encouraged by her approval. “Can I get you something to drink? We had fruit juice but I believe there’s Seven-Up too.”

“Oh, fruit juice is fine. But I’ll get it. Don’t trouble.” He sounded a little flustered.

“No trouble” I tripped past him to the fridge once more. Then selecting a tall glass I stood directly before him and held it up high while I poured the drink. “Say when!”

He was definitely distracted now. The glass was full nearly to the brim before he collected himself to say “Oh! When!”

I placed it next to his plate giving him with another of my best smiles. “Have you everything you want?”

“Oh! Er… Yeah, thanks” he muttered hesitantly.

I returned to stand by my friend who decided to take charge at that point and motioned me to follow her into the back yard.
“Come Jennifer, let’s leave Chris to refresh himself. We have things to discuss.”

Once outside she burst into giggles. When she had recovered somewhat “Well that was delicate. I can see I have little to teach you about the art of flirting. Where did you learn to be so coy?”

“I dunno” and I really didn’t. “I just did whatever came into my head.”

“Well you’re a natural, let me tell you! You definitely got his attention!” and still giggling to herself now and then, she found me a magazine and sat me down next to her.

When Chris emerged from the house he had showered and changed. His hair was neatly parted. He sat himself down on the grass in front of me.

“Thanks for lunch. I was ready for that, I can tell you.” He went on “Coach works us pretty hard”.

“Oh, is my little brother tired, then?” his sister crooned in mock sympathy. “Don’t listen to him, Jennifer. He’s only playing up because he wants your interest.”

He looked a little nettled at this sisterly jibe, but I was ready to provide the necessary balm.

“Well he doesn’t need to do anything special to get my attention” was my rejoinder “because he already deserves it. Chris, you have been so good to me, looking after me at school these last two weeks. Don’t think I’m not grateful. Every ‘girl’ needs a knight errant, sometimes, and you have been mine.”

“That’s okay. It was nothing.” He looked deeply embarrassed.

“No, it wasn’t nothing” I insisted. “You stood up for me and made me feel safe."
"Anyway, from now on I should be all right” I continued. “With Rachel’s bike I won’t need to travel on the school-bus to get to school. When I’m at school I can stay close to the teachers. At the end of the day I only have to get the bike from the rack and ride home. I’ll be fine.”

Rachel looked concerned at this. “She’ll be fine? Chris, will she be fine?”

He looked doubtful.

“Honestly, you two. It will be okay.” I tried to feel convinced by my own words.

To change the subject I asked innocently, “Are you good at all sports, Chris?” I’d noticed a tall spike stuck into the lawn with a metal coil at the top from which hung a tennis ball on a length of cord.

He looked pleased. “Pretty fair” he answered modestly.

“He’s rubbish at swing-ball” chimed in his sister, following my gaze. “I can beat him any time!”

“Hah! Not true!”

“Prove it!”

The result of this spat was a contest between us all. The competition started off light-heartedly but soon became deadly serious. I was a novice at the game but between brother and sister there was little to choose. Chris was much stronger of course but Rachel was faster so they were evenly matched. Thus happily engaged, the time flew past and looking at my watch I realised I would soon have to leave if I were to meet Mom’s deadline. I said so and thanked them once again for all their kindnesses. As I made to depart, I hugged Chris first. The feel of his strong hands on my waist was delicious and impulsively I left the imprint of my lips on his cheek once again.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Rachel grinning from ear to ear. When it was her turn, “Hussy!” she whispered so only I could hear. Then she folded me in her arms as if she would never let me go. This was heaven!

At this point Rachel clapped her hand to her forehead. “Oh I nearly forgot. I sorted out some of my old school clothes for you. Now that Jennifer is at school full time, she can’t have so many skirts that fall within the school dress code. They are nearly new but if you don’t like them just give them to Goodwill.”

She ran upstairs and returned with a parcel which she wedged into the bike basket before waving me off. I found the thought of wearing anything that had graced my glamorous friend’s body intoxicating and it occupied my mind all the way home. I couldn’t wait to try them, although it was later in the evening when I got the chance. It was intoxicating to conduct my own little fashion show. As I tried skirts and tops to see which combination I liked best, I could imagine how Rachel would have looked in each outfit. My goal, if not a very attainable one, was to imitate her style as closely as I could. I did find two or three looks with which I was satisfied and wearing the best of these I ran down to show Mom.

The one I had on, my favourite pairing, was a white skinny rib sweater which accentuated my bustline and a flared skater skirt in a deep pink. She seemed to approve and when I asked her if I could wear it the next day, she nodded and said it suited me. She went on to express the concern that it might not fall within the dress-code. The skirt ended well above the knee it was true, but it was high-waisted so didn’t look all that short, which I presumed was how Rachel had managed to get away with wearing it to school.

“You will certainly turn some heads in that. If they send you home, don’t say I didn’t warn you” she chided but from her accompanying smile I guessed she thought it would probably be okay.
I should have heeded the glint in her eye, however. That was always a warning!

Reluctant Diva 12
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 12 – A new friend
Duly attired in my new outfit, I set off in good time the following morning, with my school-bag in the bike basket. My coat was folded over the top of it as the weather was so warm. I hadn’t bargained on the wind however which was blustery and in my face the whole way. It made for slow going and to make matters worse my new skirt kept riding up. What with having to stop pedalling to pull it down again and my seeming inability to progress at more than a walking pace, the buses had already arrived and disembarked their load of students before I turned in at the school gates. Not wishing to be penalised for tardiness I pedalled furiously up the driveway.

It wasn’t uncommon for pupils to cycle to school, so I was surprised at the number of stares I was getting, particularly, I noticed, from the boys. Some even nudged their companions and pointed at me and I heard one or two whistles. Glancing down, the reason for this unexpected attention was immediately plain. Once I had turned in, the wind was blowing across me and had mischievously lifted my skirt around my waist thus revealing the tops of my hose, my garters and my frilly panty-girdle for anyone to see. I needed to get out of the public eye and fast, but the dilemma I faced was whether I should stop and rearrange my clothing, with an unknown degree of success, or simply pedal to the area where bicycles were parked as fast as I could. Rightly or wrongly I chose the latter course. By the time I reached the cycle racks I was wondering ruefully whether there was anyone in the entire school who had remained unacquainted with the finer details of my under things.

Hastily dismounting and locking the bike in place, I ran back to the entrance clutching my bag and coat to my chest with one hand and holding my skirt down with the other. I was the last to enter the homeroom and with only seconds to spare closed the door behind me. There were some muted cheers and even a little applause as I turned to hurry to my seat, and all the faces I could see seemed to be wearing the most expressive smiles. Talk about making an entrance!

The day went by in pretty much the same way as in the previous week. I did have an anxious moment at the start of class when Miss Baker looked me over with something like disapproval in her expression. My skirt! She was disposed to let its shortness go without comment on this occasion, much to my relief. Perhaps it was because she was reluctant to cross my scary mother! As it happened, courting censure in this way gave me the unexpected benefit of raising my standing considerably with some of my female classmates.

Shirley, outspoken as usual, accosted me with “How on earth did you get away with that skirt? I’m so envious! Mom won’t hear of me having anything even slightly above my knees.”

“Me neither!” another girl, Paula, chimed in.

“You certainly know how to get the boys’ attention” went on the former. “Kyle can’t take his eyes off your legs!” she giggled.

“Or your boobs!” agreed her friend. “That sweater. Cool!”

Established as I had become in their estimation as ‘cool’, some of the other girls followed their lead and were friendlier than they had formerly been. At lunch I was actually asked to sit at table with a group of them. With some trepidation I did as invited and even managed to boost my new-found credibility. On being asked who my best friend was, there were some awe-struck stares when I told them it was Rachel. She was well-remembered in school as an outstanding prom queen and there were photos of her down the corridor to the hall. As we chattered I noticed that when Karen walked past our table she couldn’t take her eyes off me. She looked quite disconcerted to see that I had apparently gained acceptance by a new bunch of friends. I kept my face expressionless, and when she saw I had seen her staring, she hastily turned away. Fine with me! After Saturday night I wasn’t ready to make the running in renewing our former friendship.

When it came to home time, I was pleasantly surprised to find Chris waiting outside my class to escort me down to the bicycle sheds. When I had parked my bike there in the morning it had struck me quite forcibly that this was an isolated part of school. I definitely wouldn’t want to hang around for long. The same idea about my vulnerability had apparently crossed his mind and he had waited to walk me there en-route to his ball-practice. That was sweet of him! As we made our way over, a couple of the boys from my homeroom caught us up and walked alongside too, Kyle and his side-kick Peter. I knew they cycled to school but I was uncertain what to make of their newfound attention to me. It turned out that my spectacular entrance that morning had something to do with increasing my popularity in this quarter also.

Catching my eye, Kyle remarked admiringly “Nice bike! I saw you this morning.”

“Yeah!” said his friend.

“Thanks, I like it too! I responded. “It actually belongs to Chris’s sister and she loaned it to me. Kind of her.”

Chris nodded to them both. They looked impressed to even be noticed by a member of the junior football team.
“Yeah!” repeated the second boy.

“So…. will you be cycling to school all the time?” Kyle was taller and more confident than his friend.

“I guess” I remarked indifferently.

“You can ride along with us if you like.” It was strange to be thus in demand after such a long period of neglect but it felt nice all the same.

I looked at Chris to see if he approved. He merely shrugged.

“Okay” I answered coolly as we reached the racks. Chris helped me unlock my bike and held it while I loaded my belongings. By the time I’d said my goodbyes to him the others were waiting to set off. They let me lead the way and followed.

The wind was still blustery but I was starting to feel much more at home on the bike. I was able to control my wayward clothing with one hand while steering with the other. Sometimes the breeze got the better of me but in the main I won. I felt sure that my companions were treated to no more than the occasional glimpse of the top of my hose before our ways parted. As I rode the last few blocks on my own I reflected that I didn’t mind their stares at all. If the boys were interested in my legs so much the better. I needed to hang on to as many friends as I could, by whatever means!

When Mom came home she couldn’t hide her curiosity about how my day had gone. Her interest seemed to be focussed on the potential reaction to my apparel from my teachers, and when I recounted how my little skirt had passed without comment I detected a transitory look of surprise on her face, as if she couldn’t believe my luck. I went on to tell her how its brevity had worked in my favour and that I was now considered by some of my classmates as trendy enough to sit with. She dumbly regarded me while I mentioned how the wind had caught my skirt while riding into school. “It was so embarrassing Mom. Everyone must have seen my undies!”

There was a definitely a glint of triumph in her eye at this as she remarked “Well if you will choose a skirt that’s so short and full to wear in this sort of weather, you must take the consequences.”

Slightly crestfallen, I decided against relating how my immodest display had secured me friendships among the boys too. She went upstairs to change out of her work clothes, leaving me mystified. Why did it seem like she was happy if I were uncomfortable or humiliated? I thought we might be on the same page now. It remained a puzzle.

It had been curious that mentioning Rachel’s friendship to my classmates had increased my standing with them. I went over to the bookshelf to fetch the photo album. I knew that it held a picture of her when she was prom queen and sure enough there she was, a happy smile on her pretty face and looking like a teenage movie star. She had matured since into a beautiful young woman but it struck me how much more serious was her expression these days. I guessed the cares of growing up were taking their toll, and I was glad she hadn’t outgrown her teasing sense of humour. Idly I flicked back through the pages dedicated to the Bennett family and I was startled to find a photo of my friend wearing the exact same skirt I had worn today. She must then have been a couple of years older than me but was noticeably smaller and slimmer. Whereas I perforce was wearing her passed-on garment high on my waist, in the photograph it sat on her hips and as a result the hem was level with her knees. So that was how she got away with wearing it.

Going upstairs to change my clothes I was struck with further misgivings. I went to my closet and compared the skirts which she had passed on to me. They were all of a muchness in size and length and would therefore be short on me as she no doubt had realised. My best friend had revealed her mischievous streak once again! She might have warned me! Actually I didn’t mind her playfulness in the least. I knew that her teasing originated from a sense of fun that I treasured. I reckoned it was totally different to the underlying desire by which my mother seemed to be motivated…. to embarrass me at every turn. As I mused on this the paper with which Rachel had wrapped my parcel caught my eye. In my haste I had laid it on my dressing table. When I picked it up to crumple and put in the trash, to my surprise, a roll of paper fell out. Curiously I smoothed it out. It was a poster and contained a frontal photo of a handsome guy wearing just the briefest of swimming trunks. His muscles rippled and there was much more than a hint of his other ‘endowments’! I realised to my horror that my body was actually experiencing a tingling down there as I gazed at it. Eww! How could I?!

Wondering why she had included it, I remembered how Rachel had dwelt on the bodily attributes of the young pharmacist she admired. That helped me get past my initial disgust and made me smile. With all her little foibles she was a wonderful friend and I resisted my first impulse to toss the poster in the trash along with the wrapping paper. Sharing such an ‘interest’ with my idol made our friendship feel somehow intimate and I decided that I ought to give it a place on my bedroom wall. I pinned it up next to another poster which she had given me the year before. That had been her little joke on my fourteenth birthday. It was a photo of the naked rears of some body-builder guys stretched out in the sun under the caption “Hot Buns”. Despite my protests, my mother had of course insisted on it being placed above my bed. The sight had disturbed my sleep ever since!

Later on in the night I woke in the middle of a vivid dream. Rachel and her gorgeous body had featured in it all too prominently. I flicked on my bedside light and lay for a while trying to calm myself. Dully I found myself gazing at my posters. As I studied them again, a deep longing crept over me. I was experiencing that familiar tingling down there, most unusually since my altered medication. I tried to ignore it but it was no good and I remained sleepless. At last in desperation I went to the bathroom and took out my douche and a jar of lotion from the cabinet. Provocative images from my dream, of Chris, of the body-builders, then the guy in the poster alternated through my mind. When I returned to bed I was able to sleep at last.

To explain how I could even think of making use of this tantalising device, well…. Following that first introductory session, the humiliation I associated with douching didn’t diminish, but my ‘time’ each month became associated with at least as much pleasure as shame. Eventually, all I had to do was just think about it and I’d become excited. Far from making a fuss about this my mom seemed to hold the view that what was happening to me was quite natural for a ‘girl’! This mental jump was incomprehensible to me considering how violently she had objected to my doing…. well, the sort of things that teenage boys get up to in secret. Those practices were totally unacceptable to her but now, she didn’t seem to care. She just ensured I had plenty of pads and panty-liners to protect my girlish under-things, though as time went by they became less and less necessary.

It’s clear to me now that the hormones I had been taking for some months were having a more intense effect on me. The increased dose of ‘vitamins’ and the daily anti-androgen had really kicked in. What was most noticeable was the way my body kept developing with shrinking waist and swelling butt, hips and thighs. My body hair was almost non-existent and my prominent boobs were tender all the time. Constantly wearing a bra gave the benefit of support which was much-needed in that area. Another consequence was that my poor little member kept diminishing in size as well as sensitivity. I half-expected it to shrivel away to nothing any time soon! To get a response down there, the only effective stimuli I could count on were my douche sessions. At least the new avenue of pleasure which had opened was some consolation for the closure of the other one. Totally confusing!

I was faced with a dilemma when getting ready for school next morning. I was anxious to retain the popularity which my unintended flouting of the dress-code had brought me. If I broke the rules too obviously, one of the teachers might object and I might then have to suffer the indignity of being called out before the class and sent home to change. That was definitely something to avoid. However, acceptance by my school mates was something I valued more, despite the risk of censure. If I obeyed the strict dress code by wearing one of my own skirts and blouses, I’d prove to be an also-ran in the class credibility stakes. While, I didn’t want a reprimand, on balance it was less to be feared than losing my new-found friends. I made my choice and searched through the hand-me-downs Rachel had passed on to see if I could come up with another winning combination.

In the hope that my arrival would be a little less dramatic I set off a little earlier, wearing a dark grey pleated skirt which had formerly graced my friend’s lovely body. Its hem was well above my knees but the waistband was stretchy. My thinking was that if I eased the skirt down so that its waist sat on my hips, the overall length would be just about acceptable to the teaching staff. I would then hitch it up again when the inspection was over and it should be short enough to give the impression that I was some kind of trend-setter.

The blustery weather had subsided and as I rode along I made better progress. I wasn’t far from school when I was hailed. “Hi Jennifer!”

Hearing Kyle’s voice I looked over my shoulder and greeted him and Peter with a smile. “Hi guys!”

I slowed to let them catch up with me. It felt good to be able to count on some friendly company. To get the bike going again and ascend the last rise that led to the school gates I had to stand on the pedals. Although I expected that the boys would overtake me easily, they remained following a few yards behind me and it wasn’t until we arrived at the school itself that I twigged what the reason might be. Ruefully I realised that owing to the shortness of my skirt, for the last few blocks my companions had been treated to a free view of my panty clad butt! Teenage boys of their age were unlikely to pass up such a golden opportunity as I well understood. While they probably regarded me as more of an object than a real friend, all in all their attentions were very welcome, especially to someone in my vulnerable situation.

After we parked our bikes up, we walked back to the entrance together. I was secretly delighted when Kyle asked if I would ride along with them again on the way home. I considered for a moment, as if it mattered little to me, before coolly agreeing to meet up with them at the end of the day. Once this was settled we parted company. Minutes later I was accosted by Shirley and her friends who were making their way over from their school-bus. I could see that the leader of this little group was eyeing me up and down. It was some relief when the result was apparently favourable, and she and her friends fell in beside me as we walked to the entrance together.

Shirley’s opening remark was made with an almost accusatory tone. “You’re getting very friendly with Kyle.” As he was one of the taller and more athletic boys in my homeroom I wondered if I detected a hint of jealously behind her observation.

“He’s okay” I replied trying to assume an air of indifference. “I only know him because he rides to school as well.”

She stopped and looked at me thoughtfully as if evaluating my answer.

Trying to be a friend in need I hazarded a suggestion. “You could ride in, too. If you wanted to, that is.”

She considered a moment before declaring “I might just do that.” She sounded happier at the idea.

“That would be awesome” I smiled at her, and was rewarded by her linking arms with me.

Glancing down as we resumed our walk, I noticed that her skirt was nearly as short as mine today. I tried not to smile, and when I followed her up the steps I saw the reason for its abbreviated length. She had turned the waistband over on itself a few times. It gave me quite a thrill to know that one of the leaders of my peer group was trying to emulate ‘my’ style of dress. When we joined the line which had formed to enter the classroom, I put my bag on the floor and giving a meaning smile to Shirley, took the stretchy waistband of my skirt in both hands and wriggled it down onto my hips. The hem now came just above my knee. The significance of my action wasn’t lost on her but headstrong as always, she merely shrugged and tossed her head. It was clear that she had no desire to be so obvious as to follow a lead from me.

We entered the class and I could see Miss Baker giving me her full attention once more, checking on the suitability of my attire no doubt. She seemed satisfied and I made my way to my seat. My new-found friend wasn’t so fortunate and was called over to the teacher. When she finally was allowed to take her place, she wore a sulky expression and her skirt had resumed its regulation length. Fearing my comparative success might spoil our budding friendship I tried to give her what sympathy I could.

“That was so unfair!” I mouthed across the room.

With another shrug of her shoulders and a grin, Shirley signalled her indifference. Cautiously I was inclined to hope that our being on good terms hadn’t suffered unduly from my more favourable treatment at the teacher’s hands.

At the end of the day I set off with Kyle and Peter to walk down to the bike sheds as arranged. I was surprised when who should be waiting for me outside my classroom but Chris. This was extra kind of him. I knew he had football practice that night so he was in danger of missing the start of it. I whispered to him that I would be okay but he turned to walk with us anyway. While the other two led the way he slowed his pace a little and I kept in step with him giving us the chance for a tete-a-tete.

Our situation held promise of something more, but we both seemed a little tongue-tied. My thoughts ran riot. Perhaps he was going to ask me out. What would I say? What am I thinking? I don’t date guys! We walked on for some minutes in virtual silence. I could see the other two had turned and were waiting for us to catch up and the moment had gone. Reluctantly quickening my pace again I reminded him “Your practice. You’ll miss it!”

He checked his watch and nodded apologetically “I’d better run.”

“Yes, go. Bye!”

Thus bidden he dashed away while I caught Kyle and his friend up. “Sorry guys! Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Feeling flustered and a more than a little frustrated I quickly got myself ready to ride home. I just didn’t know what I wanted. Dating a boy. How could I even consider that?! In my haste I mounted the bike, forgetting to keep my skirt under control. It didn’t go unnoticed and I saw that both boys’ eyes were glued to my rear end once again!

“No problem” said Kyle, failing to keep the enthusiasm out of his voice!

I wasn’t too upset, however. In fact it made me feel a little better. Got to keep them interested!

Reluctant Diva 13
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 13 – The little details
One evening later that spring Mom returned from work in a strange mood. She was clearly preoccupied by something but as usual was being mysterious about it. I reckoned that this was one of her methods of keeping control of my life. After supper however, all was revealed.

“Now Jennifer, I have something to tell which will interest you” she began. “You remember me mentioning Jane Wilkins at work. She can be rather a shrinking violet but today we got to chatting about the pageant and what a success you were and she really opened up to me. She kept fretting about her son, Marty. She’s worried about him and I can sympathise. It’s hard bringing up a family on your own, as I know only too well.” she added bitterly.

After a pause she continued, “He’s still in his teens and already it seems he goes through girlfriends like a chorus girl through nylons. He’s really been quite mean to some of them too, from what she tells me. If he carries on the way he’s headed, she thinks he’ll end up a real womaniser, just like his father, and some other men I could mention.” She broke off and I guessed she was occupied with unhappy memories. Pulling herself together with an almost visible effort she continued, “He needs to be taken down a peg or two. Well…. I think I know just the girl to do it.”

When she had concluded she was looking at me significantly.
“Err…. Mom...” I started to protest instinctively. Trust Mom to take things way out of my comfort zone. But then I thought for a minute and it occurred to me that whatever she was planning for me might be a means to establish myself in her good books more permanently.
Screwing up my resolve, I looked back at her directly. “What have you got in mind?”

Our eyes met, and she came over and put her hands on my shoulders. “There’s my girl” she said softly “I can see you are beginning to trust your poor old mother.” Hearing such approval from her lips meant a lot to me. It was another of those special moments.

After a few seconds thus she went on, “So… I’m going to suggest to Jane that perhaps you and Marty ought to go on a date. I think her son might be in for a little surprise. Are you with me?”

I gulped and nodded dumbly. This was taking things to a whole new level and I stared down at the carpet trying to visualise what just might be entailed. I felt her hands on my shoulders again and then she gently lifted my chin so I faced her penetrating gaze. “What’s going on in that head, little miss?”

I knew I’d have to level with her. “It’s a bit scary” I started. “Do you think I can even get a boy like that to go out with me?”
I thought about it some more. “But it’s more than that. If I did, what would people think?”

“Like who?” she rejoined.

“Well. Like… Chris?”

“Oh honey!” my openness was rewarded with a hug “How sweet are you?! You’ve really got the hots for that boy, haven’t you?”

“Eww Mom, don’t!” I protested. “I just like him, that’s all.”
That got me a ‘playful’ tap on the butt.

“Okay it’s a bit more than that” I admitted. “Well… I wouldn’t want Chris thinking I liked someone more than him. He might not give a cuss, I don’t know, but if he did it might make him feel sad. Or he might think I’m trashy and not worth bothering with.”

“Young love!” exclaimed my Mom, laughing. “Oh honey. You have got it bad!” She snuggled my head down onto her bosom, and held me tight.
“Don’t worry, sweetie” she comforted. “We’ll let the Bennetts in on the secret, including your little ‘boyfriend’. They can be a help, too. I’ll take care nothing upsets that precious relationship you’re getting started. Or hoping to!” The last words really stung but she carried on seemingly oblivious to my feelings. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. Jane knows all about ‘Jennifer’ of course.” Why of course?! “But she tells me that Marty has no notion. They live outside of town and he’s already left high school, so he won’t have seen you there or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Okay, but how am I to get to meet him if he’s over there and I’m over here?” I asked doubtfully and was rewarded with another not altogether playful slap on my butt,
“Ouch!”

“Silly goose! Leave that to me. It will be easy for Jane and me to come up with something, you’ll see,” came the confident rejoinder.

The following evening Mom came home wearing a jubilant expression. Later, when we were preparing the meal in the kitchen, she let me in on the reason for her triumphant mood. “We’re invited to Jane’s for supper tomorrow. I’ll ask Rachel to babysit your brother. It’s all fixed!”

Jeepers-creepers! “Oh good!” I tried to sound pleased. All fixed! What have I got myself into now?
Ignoring the look of consternation on my face, she continued “After dinner tonight we’ll go through your wardrobe. It will be essential to make the right first impression, Jennifer. When you have your eye on a young man, there’s not much that you can leave to chance. It’s easy enough to attract them but you must never look too available.”
Attractive but not too available. Right!

She smiled at me, “Rest assured. You are in safe hands. I was never in want of a beau before I met your father.” Her expression changed at the unhappy reflections to which this memory was leading her, so I slipped my arm round her waist and gave her a squeeze. It was necessary to divert this train of thought before her mood settled into a worse one.

“You are such a looker, Mom. I can imagine how stunning you must have been in your teens.” I said and was rewarded by a returned squeeze and a peck on the cheek.

“Well it’s nice to have at least one fan”, she laughed.

Later she called me up to her room. “Now Jennifer, I don’t think you have anything in your closet that hits the right note” she started. “It’s an evening look we want, but party dresses just won’t cut it and of course day dresses are out. But… here are a couple of things of mine that don’t fit me anymore and I only wore once or twice at the very most.” She indicated a blouse and skirt that were laid out on the bed. “Try these on.”

Obediently I unzipped my dress and took it off.

“We’ll have to do something about that panty-girdle” she said thoughtfully “but it’s okay for now”. I put the blouse over my head, my arms through the armholes and pulled it down over my bra. It was in a white chiffon-like material, high-necked but completely sleeveless. It had a wide yoke of black cloth around the neck and there were two cloth covered buttons that went into loops behind the head which I fastened with some difficulty. There were cute thin strips of black piping at the shoulders, running down from the yoke and under the armpits.

The skirt was in a black material with a soft sheen to it, matching the yoke of the blouse. It was tightly fitted and had a very high waist. I stepped into it, tucking the loose hem of the blouse into the waist. It was hard to get the material even, but with Mom’s assistance, I managed to arrange it well enough. When zipped up the skirt hugged me tightly, and I mean tightly, from just below my bra to the top of my thighs. It fell to just above my knees with a slit 7 or 8 inches up the left thigh to enable the wearer to walk. A contrast strip of white material edged the front of this slit and ran up from the hem, continuing on to the waist where it was finished with a neat bow.

Mom handed me a pair of her black high-heels to wear so she could see the finished effect. They were a little too big but I slipped my feet into them and then gazed into the mirror, startled to see how curvy was the figure reflected therein. Eye-catching? The outfit was a head-turner! Though completely unlike what girls were wearing just then the style was elegant and timeless.

“It’s a little too loose up top.” Really! “And your straps are showing but with different under-things…. perfect!” exclaimed Mom. “I’ll meet you at the lingerie store after school tomorrow and we’ll do some shopping. We can put your bike in the trunk to save you riding home afterwards.”

True to her word the following afternoon Mom’s station wagon was already waiting outside when I rode up to the old-fashioned lingerie store which we’d visited before. Mom led the way inside.
“My daughter needs a new bra” said Mom in her most decided manner, speaking to the woman who seemed to run the store single-handed. “We’re looking for a strapless style or a halter.”

“We stock both” said the woman. “A good fit will be essential so perhaps the young lady would step in here to be measured.” She indicated the curtained-off area.

I did as I was asked, the woman accompanying me.

“Your blouse” she said in a calm voice. I undid the buttons and slipped it off.
“And this too” indicating my bra. I unfastened it behind my back and she took hold of the shoulder straps and pulled it off, without batting an eyelid.

In two minutes she had measured around me under my ‘bust’ and across my exposed nipples and the distance down from my shoulder too. Looking at the size label of my bra she called out to Mom “As I thought, she has outgrown her present size” and then to me “Wait a moment”.

She went back out through the curtain and I could hear her and Mom discussing various styles for some time. After what seemed an age the curtain flicked back and she entered, carrying several boxes. “This is one your mother has picked out for you which she thinks suitable”, she sniffed, expressing her disapproval of this choice quite eloquently even if without words. She took out a white longline bra in a shiny fabric. The cups were stitched round and round to form a perfectly conical shape. “It is pretty. The straps can be removed or fitted as one pleases” she explained.

She adjusted the length of the straps with a practiced eye and helped me into it. “Although “bullet bras” have become fashionable these days, you may not fill the cups quite enough” she mused doubtfully.

Mom drew back the curtain a little. “I believe there are pads which would deal with that problem” she said firmly.

“Indeed, we stock those too” and the woman disappeared to return with a pair of pads each stitched to form a small solid cone. There was even a round bead sewn onto the top of each. I guessed that this would ensure the tip of each cup was as padded out as possible.

She expertly slipped them into the cups of my bra and pushed them into position. Looking in the mirror I could see that with the pads in place I now filled the pointy cups of the bra perfectly. Dramatically I had a classic conical bust, just like in the Chansonette commercials in my mom’s magazines.

“That’s exactly the look we want” was the summary from my mother.

“Er Mom!” I wasn’t sure about this. I was ignored.

“We’ll take two – one in white and one in black. Have you panties that match? A high-cut style, I think, and she’ll need garters.”

While I dressed myself again, examples of these were duly produced and, after close inspection by my mother, a pair of both in each colour was chosen. Not only were the legs of the panties cut high but the only material at the back was a tiny vee at the waist. Known these days as a thong, the design was quite unusual back then. With the garter belts, my new underpinnings in their boxes formed quite a pile on the counter when we were done. My mother winced when the amount was rung up on the till but paid up nevertheless.

“Come Jennifer!” exclaimed Mom and marched me briskly from the store.

Next we visited the shoe department at Sears and after some trial and error, a pair of black patent pumps with 3 inch heels and a single ankle strap was selected for me. We made some purchases from the hosiery counter then, before I knew it, we were in the car and driving home with my head spinning. My parent seemed in an altogether light-hearted mood. “You couldn’t win another beauty pageant, could you, sweetie?” she joked. “Teenage girls are a tad too expensive for my purse!”

Missing the humour I looked at her aghast. For a brief moment, I thought she was serious!

Stopping briefly to collect Tom from our neighbour’s house, it was soon plain that we were on a tight schedule.
“Now Tom, Rachel will be here at 7pm to babysit you”, said Mom “so have your bath and into your PJs while Jennifer fixes your dinner.”

I made Mom and me drinks while she picked out what she would be wearing for the evening and then I prepared Tom’s dinner. She had gone into her own bathroom and called me there as soon as she was out of the tub. With only a towel wrapped round her, while I got ready to bathe she sat at the counter as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She laughed at my raised eyebrows, “This is what we girls do. Get used to it!”

I hastily stepped into the tub and bathed myself, conscious of my naked ‘bust’ but thankful that at least my private area was hidden by the water and perfumed foam. The towel round Mom looked none too secure and it was hard for me to concentrate on my ablutions. She was working on her eyebrows when it slipped down completely at one side, heightening my confusion. Instead of adjusting it to preserve her modesty she merely grinned flirtatiously in my direction. Next she stood up to check the mirror more closely and the towel fell to her waist, serving to remind me what a ‘real’ woman’s bust looked like.

“Just think, sweetie, this is how yours will be one of these days” she smiled.

She came over to the tub and leaned over me, running one hand under one of my budding mounds and then across to cup the other one. “Before very long too, I can see!”

Her naked bosom was inches from my eyes. My startled gaze dropped to my own developing chest which she stroked and tweaked. The effect on me was electric. With a smirk she straightened up and restored the towel to regain her modesty.

She left to get dressed, saying “No time to take care of that before we go out. You won’t want me to, I’m sure!” pointing to where my slender arousal was hidden below the water.

All it would have needed was for me to continue squeezing and stroking where she had left off while mentally conjuring the image of her naked breasts which had been so recently imprinted on my mind. That would have provided my highly-sensitised body with much-needed release.

It was not to be and ruefully I hurried to finish getting washed and dried as bidden. When Mom called me into her bedroom, she was ‘decent’ again in her bra and girdle, whereas I hadn’t a stitch on. She looked me up and down and turned me around to complete her inspection. My embarrassment at this did nothing to soothe the jangled state of my nerves.

“You have some important lessons to learn this evening Jennifer.” Her face bore its secretive expression. “The next 24 hours will prove a real education. You will thank me later on, you’ll see.” More mystery!

Well, I could take some comfort in seeing that my compliance with her plans seemed to be keeping me in her good graces, so that was something. It became evident that my parent hadn’t been idle herself in the meantime. She motioned to me to sit on the bed next to her. When I’d done so she held out me one of the pairs of panties we had purchased only that afternoon. They were white, high-cut and high-waisted and the minimal coverage at the rear amounted to a simple vee.

“See what I’ve done here” she said.

I could see that the cotton gusset inside them where the material was doubled had been unstitched at either end, both front and back. Mom had then neatly hemmed it so it couldn’t fray.

“You can guess what goes in here” she said, indicating the resulting sort of tunnel which had been formed. “A girdle would spoil the look of your butt in this skirt, or full cut panties, so tonight you won’t be wearing either. We want that cute round tush of yours to be free to fill out your skirt naturally. You may not know it, but the shape of a woman’s rear is at least as important as any of her other assets. Especially when she wants to attract the opposite sex.” Like that was just what I wanted!
“To avoid any unsightly bulges, you will need to tuck yourself in here. We bought this particular style because while it should be tight enough to hold everything in place, it won’t be squeezing that pretty derrière out of shape. Try them now.”

My face was crimson but I knew I’d better do as I was told. It took a little while to arrange myself in the intended way but the altered panties worked just like she said they would.

Mom beamed at me in triumph, pleased with her own ingenuity. “To save time, you will find that when you sit to pee, you should be able to slide them just a little way down and still keep yourself in there."

The tunnel was narrow but my little member was easily accommodated and held firmly in place and I showed a completely flat front. I wondered why all this trouble had been necessary when I could have used the surgical tape method for tucking like before. It was disconcerting to realise that I was wearing the tiniest, flimsiest pair of silky, lacy panties.

“They feel nice” I found myself saying, though the fragility of what was holding everything in was worrying me. With my butt cheeks so exposed, the feeling was more like I was wearing nothing at all!

I said so, but Mom had a ready answer as I ought to have expected. “It will serve to remind you how vulnerable a girl often can be. Something you need to keep in mind. Now the rest of your underwear.”

She handed me one of the new bras; the white one. Once she had made sure it was correctly positioned, Mom removed the shoulder straps completely. She took one of them, altered its length and re-attached it to the top of a bra cup. Then she led it around the back of my neck and clipped it to the other cup. Finally she inserted the little pads and fiddled with the halter thus formed until she was satisfied.

The effect on my bust was even more striking than it had been in the store. The halter strap lifted my prominent breasts skywards, or so it seemed, making them look bigger and pointier than ever. Next came the garter belt. Mom wrapped this around me and fastened it at the back on the tightest row of hooks. It had the effect of cinching in my waist so I could barely breathe. The mirror showed me a womanly pair of hips which were complemented perfectly by the roundness of my butt. Suddenly, instead of my natural curves, my figure formed a true hour-glass.

My mom tucked the suspender tabs in below my panties and handed me a pair of nylons.
“Careful not to snag those” she warned me. “They’re very sheer and don’t come cheap. Go and do your toenails first” handing me a bottle of bright red polish.
By the time I had finished my make-up routine, choosing a lipstick to match the polish, my toenails were dry enough for me to slip on the hose. They were nearly flesh-coloured and made my legs look totally bare but elegant and soft as well. I had taken care to make sure my fingernails were free of catches beforehand. I stood and gazed at the image of the girl in the mirror in awe. I couldn’t help but find her attractive, though the knowledge it was my own reflection made that seem weird.

My mom was ready herself by this time, wearing a shift dress in the palest blue which hid her figure but hinted at its curves. There was a matching jacket and she was wearing her pearls. She looked wonderful and smelt good too!

“Oh Mom!” I started to express my admiration but she wasn’t to be distracted. She helped me into my blouse and skirt, carefully adjusting the former’s folds so they were gathered evenly around my waist.

Next she brushed my hair and attached the hairpiece I’d worn to the pageant. She tugged and pulled till it was finally positioned to her satisfaction. As before, it gave the appearance of an elegant ‘up-do’. Earrings and bracelets that had been borrowed from her own dressing table followed. Finally I slipped on my new heels and stood in front of the mirror. What would be the result of all this preparation?
There before me was revealed a stunning young woman dressed up to the nines, albeit with a shocked expression on her face. Could this really be me?! So this was how to look attractive but not too available?
Viewing the image, the blouse was so sheer that, barely concealed by the thin material, the outline of a pair of pointed breasts immediately grabbed the attention. It was hard to get past them but as the eye travelled downwards, it was arrested by the tightness of the skirt which clung all the way down from just below the upward tilted bust-line. The skirt curved enticingly past a narrow waist, full hips and butt to the thighs, its split drawing attention to the roundness of the latter. To my doubtless inexperienced eyes, my reflection just screamed sex. Sex-on-legs!

She snapped her fingers and pointed to the top of my nylon which could just be seen in the slit, so taking the hint, I adjusted the garter tabs and smoothed the skirt down again.
I revolved before in the mirror again realising as I did so that the outline of each item of my underwear could be discerned beneath my outfit. Mom applied a generous spritz of her own perfume behind my ears and on my wrists, when the doorbell rang.

“There’s Rachel. Your fingernails now, and sharp about it” she commanded as she left the room.

As I stared at my reflection on the mirror, my private area was tingling in a familiar response. The little details! As I sat to apply the nail polish I reflected on how it was that nothing had been “left to chance”.

Reluctant Diva 14
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 14 – Supper date
When my nails had had their second coat applied I got up and walked about the room while the polish dried. As I passed the full length mirror, I couldn’t help but stop and admire my reflection again. I’d have put the sophisticated girl looking back at me in her late teens at the very youngest. The combination of the glamorous hair, dramatic makeup and the smart skirt and top was cool and chic. The ensemble was very sexy but in a refined sort of way.

I practiced some expressions in the glass. A smile – it was as if the sun had come out. The come-hither, sidelong, up-from-under glance with head tilted could have a devastating effect. I’d have to remember that one. Best of all though was an unconcerned stare achieved with a slight curl of the upper lip. That was supremely disdainful. It felt empowering to realise how impossible it would be to get beneath the image this girl chose to portray. Whatever feelings she might be experiencing at any given time would always be veiled in mystery. That was something that ought to give me a little more confidence.

A joyful squeal interrupted my reverie. Rachel was standing in the open doorway, delight all over her lovely face. Clad in skinny ribbed top and white jeans she looked pretty sensational herself. “Jennifer, sweetie! What in the world have you done to yourself?!” she cried. “Oh my!” She ran over and gazed at me awestruck, looking me up and down. “I mustn’t muss you, I know, but I could eat you right up, right now! Oh this is just perfect”.

My erstwhile babysitter bade me turn round and gasped again. “Walk over there and back again” she commanded. I complied and she squealed again.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Wrong!” she giggled “Here!” and, holding up the hand mirror so I could see my rear view reflected in the full length one, made me walk towards her again. “Get a load of that ass!”

I realised what she meant. The thin material of the skirt hid nothing and without its confining girdle, my rear end looked larger and rounder than ever. As I moved my weight from one leg to the other my buttocks wiggled provocatively, seeming to dance in response to the motion.

“Chris would have a heart attack if he could only see you now” she laughed. “Oh, are you going to have fun with that Marty?!” Then with more venom than I ever expected to hear from my gentle friend’s lips, “Serve him right too!”

Mystified, I stared at her in shocked disbelief, but Mom called me to hurry at that point so I recovered myself and made to go. Rachel grabbed me as I passed and gave me a huge hug. Her magnificent breasts, squashing up against my own prominent and pointy bust, squeezed all the breath out of me.

“Ouch! Careful with those things” she laughed as she straightened my outfit again. “They’re dangerous!” and mischievously adopting a mock-judicious pose she added, “I reckon you might get three scoops of ice-cream in each one!”

Tickled, I grinned back at her and clopped down to where Mom was waiting.

“Come on, girl, it’s rude to be late” she chided, then struck with a sudden idea, she ran up to her room. Seconds later she returned with what looked like a little gold bracelet. As she snapped it round my wrist I saw that it was a tiny watch, delicate and pretty.

“Now there’s no excuse for losing track of time” she said and she was smiling. “It’s a good one, so take care of it. I used to wear it on my dates, years ago.”

I looked at her gratefully, my eyes welling up a little. “Gee Mom, you’re the best” I whispered. “It’s beautiful!”

“Yes, well and so are you, sweetie. Tonight I couldn’t be more proud of my pretty ‘daughter’.” Her eyes seemed a little moist. “Now let’s go!”

It was a good twenty minute drive across the town and out the other side to where Mrs Wilkins lived. On the way Mom told me that Mrs Bennett would be one of the party, and another woman friend, Madeleine Bell. “There’ll be just the five of us ‘girls’” she said.

“And Marty?” I queried.

“At some point” was the reply. “I gather he usually goes out with the guys on a Friday night.”

What was still exercising my brain was Rachel’s manner earlier on. Always so gentle, her hostility to my intended ‘date’ seemed completely out of character. As innocently as I could I asked my mother if Rachel knew Marty.

“Why do you ask?” replied Mom.

“She doesn’t seem to like him much” I said.

She gave a short laugh. “You could say that! The whole family are angry with him. He and Rachel dated for a while and, well…. he didn’t treat her very nicely. They will all be so grateful to you if you can take him down a rung or two. Or three!”
“And I mean all the members of that family” she ended significantly. “Nearly there now.”

I blushed as I registered her emphasis on the word. Though I took her meaning, my thoughts quickly moved back from my own concerns to those of my best friend. What my mom had just revealed rankled not a little with me. I’d known Rachel for ever it seemed. Teasing apart, she was always kind to me and I looked up to her as my standard of well…. perfection, near enough. I’d also had a huge crush on her for so long that I couldn’t remember when it started. Her welfare mattered to me as much as that of anyone else in my little world. It seemed incomprehensible that anyone could do anything to hurt her. I felt so protective of my childhood idol that at that moment I harboured no small amount of malice towards this Marty. It made what I’d been talked into doing personal.
As we alighted from the car I looked across at Mom uncertainly. What had I agreed to do? I had no idea of how the evening was going to go. Noticing my hesitancy, she smiled encouragingly.

“You look perfect, so relax” she whispered as she rang the doorbell. “Just don’t be too easily pleased”.
Small chance of that!

It was Mrs Bennett who answered the door for us. Rachel had driven her there on her way to our house, so she could help with the supper. She greeted Mom and then did a double-take when she caught a glimpse of me. “O my saints, is that…?” was her exclamation, stifled just in time by my mother’s hand on her mouth.

“Now, Wilma” Mom warned sotto voce, “You nearly gave the game away! Just be more careful”.

The other looked horrified. “Oh my stars! That was a near thing. I just wasn’t expecting…. her… looking like that” she whispered.

Behind Rachel’s mom were our hostess and another lady I didn’t recognise. Composing herself with an effort, Mrs Bennett did the introductions. Turning to Mrs Wilkins, “Jane, this is Jennifer. You haven’t met? Well here she is, and looking like a movie star! Jennifer… Jane” she tittered.

“No I don’t know ‘Jennifer’” beamed Mrs Wilkins as she came forward. She hugged me briefly then Mom as well. She winked at us both “What a pretty ‘daughter’ you have, Dorothy dear. She’s just gorgeous. It’s so nice to have such a charming young thing to liven up our evening.”

“Jennifer, this is Mrs Bell. Madeleine, Dorothy’s ‘daughter’.”

Mrs Bell was tall and elegant and her face seemed familiar. She looked older than the other women with her hair done up in a style my mom called a French roll. Then memory stirred. Of course; the woman at the beauty parlour with the air of authority. The name should have given me a clue. Belle Boutique. It was close enough, she perhaps was the salon’s owner.

The woman just introduced was wearing a figure-hugging trouser suit that showed off a body that could have belonged to a much younger person. She smiled as if to reassure me though her eyes contained a knowing gleam that was disconcerting. “I think I may have seen you before... at the salon sometimes? I’ve heard all about you, my dear. You look just wonderful. You certainly know how to catch the eye!”

As the centre of attention, I had to do some rapid thinking as to how to deal with all this acclamation. Instinctively I attempted a nonchalant manner. “Thank-you, kind people” I smiled, as if all this fuss was an everyday occurrence. It seemed to give my audience pause, so inspired by its reception I took my assumed pose a step further. I lifted my skirt an inch or so and dropped a little curtsy, inclining my head at the same time. Mrs Bennett collapsed back against the lady of the house giggling helplessly at the incongruity of this little act and had to be duly quietened by her friends. I was surprised by how much fun I was having, despite my unusual situation.

We were ushered through into the sitting room for drinks. There followed an awkward silence and my nervousness returned.

“I like that dress, Jane. It looks brand new” said my parent after a moment or two.
Her compliment broke the ice and the conversation turned to what we were all wearing and became general. I’d have preferred to fade into the background but once again the focus of attention became centred on me. Was there to be no escape?

In a little while I was made to stand up and walk up and down before them all to have my outfit approved. After overcoming my reluctance, I started to enjoy myself again... Well just a little bit… Okay, actually, a whole lot! Who wouldn’t want to be so admired?

It was just at this point that the door of the room opened and a boy in his late teens put his head around it. “See you later, Ma. Just going.”
He was tall and dark, had fine cut features and a confident manner. His hair was slicked back with an elaborate coif and he was wearing a black leather bomber jacket and jeans.

“Oh Marty, there you are” exclaimed his mother. “Come and say hello, before you disappear. Where are you off to tonight, anyway?”

“Just meeting the guys down at the track, y’ know. Hi, everybody” he responded, glancing around the room.

When his gaze rested on me, he just froze. To see the change of expression on his face was quite comical. “Well!” he came further into the room and looked me up and down. “So…. What y’all up to, this fine evening?”

I had to admire the speed of his recovery, but I could see he had been surprised by the presence of a ‘girl’ seemingly around his own age. I turned away and looked over at Mrs Wilkins. She introduced him to her supper guests, Mrs Bell, my Mom and then me. He obviously knew Mrs Bennett already. I held out my hand and he shook it but then made to hold on to it. I smiled and slid it deliberately from his grasp.

With a “Hey, I think I know you from somewhere” he started to list possible places he and I might have met.

Looking bored, I politely negatived each one “No. No, I’m sure. I really don’t think so.”

He regarded me for a while, then laughed “Yeah, you’ve heard that all before. I’m just talking, don’t mind me.”

Though conscious that everyone in the room was paying attention, my pique rose up against him and what came into my head took me by surprise. Out of my lips came the retort “I don’t mind you “just talking”, as long as you don’t mind me “not listening”!”

He had to think about that one, but took it on the chin. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “You got me! Okay. Well… I really gotta go.”

He turned back at the door. “Say… what was it? Jennifer? You don’t want to be wasting a fine evening like this. Why not come and have some fun? Come on down to the track and meet the guys. We’d really be cookin’.”

I stood there, as if considering.

“Jennifer, it’s very nice of Marty to offer to take you. It’s entirely up to you, if you want to go” chimed in my mother. “Would you like to go with him?”

Where had I heard that question before? “Would you like to go with him?” I blushed as a memorable evening was recalled to my mind. It had occurred at the end of the last visit with my dad and my step-mother. She had made me up and dressed me up to the nines and taken me out to a restaurant on that occasion. The ‘him’ she had invited me to go with was one of a pair of middle-aged businessmen who were trying to pick the both of us up. Mine was obviously having trouble dealing with the effect my feminised body was having on him. Basically the guy had made no secret that he had the hots for me and my step-mom had no end of fun teasing me and making the most of watching me squirm. How Mom would have hated to be told she sounded a lot like Marnie just then!

Recovering my poise, I glanced back at the older teen and chose to wear the disdainful look I’d practiced in the mirror earlier. “Thanks, Marty, but I’m not dressed for the track” I said coolly. “And I’ve only just met your mother and Mrs Bell. We girls have lots to talk about. Another time perhaps.”

With attempted nonchalance, “Suit yourself” he smiled, but he looked a little ruffled. “It would have been cool.”
“Bye all!” he called and next minute the street door banged to and he was gone.

I noticed Mom looking at me but I couldn’t read her expression so wasn’t sure if I’d done the right thing or not in refusing. I eased myself gently down into a chair, remembering to arrange my skirt neatly with its thigh-high split. At least the way I performed that operation ought to be right with her.

“Poor Marty will be disappointed” sighed his mother sadly, and then to me, “I wouldn’t have minded if you’d gone with him, you know.”

“No, it might do him some good” commented Mrs Bennett. “Playing hard to get will make him a bit more interested, that’s all!” she said winking at me, and the other women all joined in the laughter.

When we got to eat, it was a cold supper but very pleasant, with a few dishes that were new to me. There was plenty to talk about and I seemed to be getting on really well being treated as one of the ‘girls’, much to my relief. I frequently had to remind myself that I was the only male present. The evening flew and we had had dessert and were finishing up our coffees, when the street door opened and next thing Marty’s voice was heard from the hallway. “It’s only me!”

“I wonder what he’s forgotten” said his mother. “He’s not back till much later as a rule.”

Next moment he was there in the room. “Hi, everyone!” he exclaimed, but flashing a smile directly at me. He came over and drug a chair up next to mine. “Nothing much happening over at the track, so I thought I’d keep y’all company, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, of course it is. If you go over to the table, you’ll find there’s a few of your favourite sweets left” his mother fussed. “There’s key-lime pie. I’m sure Jennifer can manage a little more, too!”

“Thank-you Mrs Wilkins, but I couldn’t eat another thing” I responded, getting up and walking delicately to the table. “I don’t mind helping out though” and turning to Marty, whose eyes I could feel boring holes in my butt, “What can I get, you?” I gave him the sidelong glance.

His jaw fell open and you could see it took a real effort to change his point of focus from the curves of my rear end back to the table. “Er… key-lime pie is fine” he gulped. “Thanks.”

Sweetly smiling I handed him a generous serving, carrying it over as if I lived for no other pleasure. Then I went across and sat with Mrs Bennett and Mrs Bell, leaving him to make small talk with his mother and mine. I could see Rachel’s mom was struggling to suppress a fit of giggles, so to steady her I asked about her daughter. “I didn’t have time to chat with Rachel tonight before we left. Tell me, how is she doing?”

Immediately serious, “Well… She’s okay now” came the guarded reply. Sotto voce she added, “and it’s no thanks to some people I could name.” She went on to give me the benefit of her worries for her daughter’s present state of mind, stemming from the tough time she’d had the previous year. Absorbed as I was in our tete-a-tete, I could only vaguely hear what was being said by the others. It seemed that my mom was well in charge of the conversation, however.

After a while I heard my name mentioned. My attention was arrested as I could hear Mom saying gaily to Marty, “Oh yes. Jennifer loves movies. I’m sure she would be thrilled to go with you.”

Inwardly cringing, just what was I being committed to?, I looked up and smiled across at her, resolved to carry it off with a high hand. “Now Mom! Are you giving away all my little secrets? That’s not fair when I’m not there to defend myself, you know!”

Mom laughed and continued recounting how many films I’d watched in the last two weeks alone. Of course, she omitted to mention that my diet of chick-flicks had been purely down to her choice. “Those were all re-runs on TV of course. Getting to the movie theatre is a rare occurrence for her. Jennifer never seems to have anyone to go with, and I’m usually too busy. It’s such a shame!”

“I can’t believe that!” was the gallant response from Marty, my would-be escort.

“That Mom’s busy?” I exclaimed, wanting to make him struggle for it. “Oh yes. She never seems to have any free time, what with working shifts, and then looking after me and my brother. She’s the best!” I gave him another arch look. He would have to do better! This kind of flirtatious riposte seemed to come easily to me and again I impressed myself.

Marty looked a little flurried, as I intended, and corrected me. “No I meant you, of course. A doll like you must have the guys fighting over you all the time.”

“Oh no! That’s never happened. I hate violence.” I went on seriously. “There’s too much of it in this world. I would just walk away.” I hoped my eyes were round with pretended awe. “A doll! That sounds a bit flashy. I’m happy with a quiet life.”

“Sure thing. You’re so right.” Marty looked slightly bemused.

“I hope you don’t get into fights.” I continued.

“Er...”

“It’s the people that start them I think are to blame.” I went on serenely. That proved to be a slip on my part however. My opponent immediately knew what to say.

“I don’t start fights” he said smugly. “But I can finish them, if I need to. A chick’s safe as houses if she’s with me.”

That was supposed to impress me, of course. I played along, looking at him wide-eyed.

“Say, baby.” He went on, encouraged by the last exchange. “How about we take in a movie at the drive-in tomorrow night? You doing anything? Mom will let me have the car.”

“It’s Jennifer.” I corrected him, determined to be in control, but remembering the purpose of all this, “No, I don’t think I’ve any plans for tomorrow, have I, Mother? Would I be okay to go out?”

“It’s all right by me, if you’d like to go” she affirmed.

“It might depend on what’s on. I know that “Pillow Talk” is showing at The Majestic. I love Doris Day, don’t you? She’s really glamorous but so nice, and so funny. I could watch her all day.”

Marty looked doubtful. “That sounds a bit mushy. I was thinking of somethin’ with more action. “A Bucket of Blood” and “The Wasp Woman” are showing at the drive-in. That would be a blast!”

Deciding to appear bored, I put on my disdainful face. “Really! Wouldn’t they be more for kids? My little brother and his friends like that sort of thing. Perhaps we have different tastes.”

“Hey. No. It’s okay. “Pillow Talk” will be fine, I guess. It’s a date. When shall I pick you up?”

It could be awkward if he called for me at home, I foresaw, so I hesitated. Mom apparently was of like mind. “Thanks Marty, but no need. I’ll be driving down-town, anyway. She’ll meet you at the theatre at 7pm.”

Our visit didn’t last long after this conversation. Mrs Wilkins hugged us all goodbye and Marty followed suit, leaving me till last. He gave me a warmer hug than I was expecting though I had a hand ready on his shoulder to fend off if need be. Being embraced by such a good-looking boy felt nice and I could have let myself enjoy it my nerves hadn’t been so keyed up. Just in time I remembered that I needed to stay in charge. I coolly received the kiss on my cheek that followed and resisted the urge to return it. Then I was outta there at last, breathing a deep sigh of relief. All too soon!

Originally it had been arranged that we would take Mrs Bennett back with us so our baby-sitter could drive them on home. Before we got in the car, however, I was made aware of a change in plan. My parent had apparently been plotting with her friends and the outcome was that I found myself being urged to go and stay over at Mrs Bell’s house. Mom insisted that I would benefit by spending time there before my forthcoming date with Marty. The sleep-over was to allow us plenty of time to talk.

My intended hostess supported her. “I would so like you to come and stay.” Smiling sweetly she continued “I’m sure you I can find you some night things. Before she left home my daughter was just about your size.”

Stepping off into the unknown like this was likely to give me a heart attack. “Oh Mom…!” I started to object.

Mom was quietly insistent. “You did really well tonight, Jennifer, but there’s something you need to learn before going on a date with a boy like Marty. He knows just how to get his way with girls, so it’s important you understand a lot more than you do right now and about a women’s body in particular.”
She continued in a confidential tone “There are no secrets that this lady can’t let you in on and you will be in excellent hands.” and as an after-thought “She would be so glad of the company too.”

That stopped my protest. Coaxing me further she whispered, “She’s widowed and has no family with her now.”

I didn’t see how I could refuse that appeal. Once again, it seemed, I was being pushed way beyond my comfort zone. Mrs Bell gave Mom a hug goodbye in which a lot of whispering took place which I couldn’t make out. To cap it all Mom retrieved from the car and handed me an overnight bag which she just ‘happened’ to have brought along for just such an eventuality! Oh really?!
She left with a surreptitious wink at my new friend and a last word to me. “Now you be sure to do exactly what Mrs Bell tells you.”

I suspected I was being set-up. In fact I was certain I was, but I was intrigued to understand the depth of my parent’s scheming so I didn’t put up any resistance. It would probably have been a futile gesture in any case but, as so often can happen, my curiosity got the better of my judgement.

Reluctant Diva 15
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 15 – A learning experience
It was around noon the following day when Mrs Bell drove me back home. The events of the previous evening were already hazy in my recollection.
“See you again, honey!” My hostess smiled, as I made to open the car door. “And soon, I hope!” she whispered conspiratorially, winking and placing her hand on my thigh. Her action triggered thoughts of the previous evening, giving rise to deep blushes and an immediate tingle down there.

I swung my legs sideways to alight, remembering in time to leave the car in a ladylike manner. My day-dress was none too long, not enough to cover any mistakes anyway. With my luck Mom would be sure to be watching and I wanted to remain in her good books as much as possible. I waved goodbye to my erstwhile hostess, who gave me a warm smile in return, accompanied with another of the slyest of winks. I could feel my cheeks glowing as I tripped delicately up the path to our front door.

I had been preoccupied with a burning question all the way home. What was I going to tell my parent? Knowing Mom, she would be sure to demand an account in the minutest particular. I couldn’t face revisiting all my experiences with her and was wondering how I might avoid doing so. I wanted to skate over what had taken place as much as possible. Perhaps I could appeal to her discretion? That seemed a long shot. What had actually happened?

By the time we had gotten to the house the previous evening, with the all the novelty and tension that the day had afforded I was mentally exhausted. The building itself seemed huge, on a different scale altogether from ours. Her maid, a stocky middle-aged woman named Maria, welcomed us at the door and ushered us in. She looked and sounded to me as if she might be of Spanish origin.

Hard-featured and olive skinned, her black hair was very short. I had her pegged as just another vaguely unattractive female in her plain black uniform dress with starched white apron over it. However, I was grateful to her when she bustled away to the kitchen and brought us both a cup of chocolate. I eased down onto the couch with a sigh and slipped out of my shoes. “Am I glad to be out of these heels” I murmured. I looked up to see my hostess watching me thoughtfully.

“You handled yourself really well tonight, Jennifer” she said with an encouraging smile. “You had that boy completely taken in and if I’m not mistaken, he can be eating out of your hand before very long. Have your drink while I get a few things ready” she bade me and she left the room.

It was twenty minutes later when she called me and obediently I made my way upstairs. My mind was performing somersaults trying to imagine what was to happen. She was wearing a full length quilted robe and took me first to see the bedroom I had been assigned. It was a pretty room, “My daughter’s before she got married. You needn’t call me Mrs Bell, you know” she smiled. “It’s Madeleine. Before bed there’s something I want to show you. I’ll send Maria to help you prepare.”

When the maid duly appeared she immediately took charge of me. She removed my hairpiece then helped me out of my blouse and skirt, chattering volubly all the time. The woman was so matter of fact that I felt no embarrassment even when standing before her in my undergarments. Amazingly, I wasn’t fazed when she admired my pointy bra, illustrating her approval by running her hands over the shiny material. The action seemed completely natural in her. On unfastening the garment and sliding the straps down my arms exclaiming “Oh! Nice boobies for such a little miss!”

Finally Maria knelt, her face inches from my private area, to remove the garter belt and hose and I found myself just standing before her, quite happy to let it happen. I guessed what made the situation okay was because…. it seemed like it was what she did. She helped me into a robe, very like Madeleine’s, and then told me to refresh my makeup. She rolled her eyes as she left me “Now you go to mistress room. She ready for you!”

Only a few minutes later I tapped on my hostess’s door, self-consciously aware I was clad only in my skimpy panties under my borrowed robe. I entered it with some trepidation but although we’d only met earlier that evening, Madeleine’s friendliness was disarming. She told me to sit next to her on the bed. Her manner seemed like that of a long lost auntie or something. Before very long I felt completely comfortable being with her.
Just when I had gotten totally relaxed and was wondering whether I could excuse myself and turn in, Madeleine made a request. “Now Jennifer, there’s something I need to show you. Take off your robe please!”

That got my attention! I complied hesitantly and slipped it off my shoulders. Instinctively I tried to conceal my naked chest, but she disregarded my embarrassment. “What lovely breasts” she admired. “They are developing nicely; and so shapely, it’s a pity to cover them up!”

Nonetheless I kept my hands over them. Completely taken aback, I sat wondering what my hostess had in store for me next. This wasn’t supposed to be happening!

Madeleine faced me, looking right in my eyes, “You need to understand how a woman’s body responds, so this may seem strange, but trust me it will be okay. For a man to get her in the mood, it’s all about timing and being sensitive to where she is at. Bodies have what are called erogenous zones, places where it’s exciting when they’re touched. Yours won’t be quite the same as mine just yet, but given time…” She seemed amused by this thought and paused, a knowing smile played over her face.

She continued reassuringly “Tonight you are allowed to make use of mine. We are fortunate that in this State you have already reached the legal age of consent, so it will be okay for you to do exactly as I show you; if you’re happy about it, that is. I’ll provide the explanations afterwards.”

She rose to her feet and standing directly in front of me took off her robe. The effect was dramatic, for underneath she was wearing a nightgown the like of which I’d never seen before, not even in magazines. It was black, full-length and completely transparent. Under it she wore nothing at all!

The only light was from a table lamp, so the room was dimly lit but a headband sparkled against her skin, matched by an armlet and earrings. Alarmed, I sat there transfixed by the outline of her heavy, shapely breasts, and the full curve of her hips and thighs. The dark vee of her crotch was equally discernible. Madeleine’s figure was elastic and youthful in its movements and in the soft light she looked like a dream. The woman’s face bore a proud smile, consciously letting my eyes run over her and take in all I could see.

She reached up and undid her hair so that it fell in a long wavy cascade down her shoulders and back. I felt my body respond familiarly to this sensual vision, but everything was held securely in place by those silky panties I was wearing. Flimsy as I had thought them, they kept everything under control.

“Safely tucked, are we?” she asked softly, as if reading my mind.

“Yes Mrs B… er... Madeleine” I stammered, shocked at the directness of her question.

Ignoring my confusion she continued. “Good. That’s very important. Now lie here next to me”

I nodded and obeyed her, wide-eyed with anticipation. Anything she said to do was all right with me just then.

My ‘lesson’ then began in earnest and my tutor didn’t confine herself to theory; what she taught was put into practice. Though I’d fantasised about an encounter like this often enough, the reality of it actually happening with such a mature and sophisticated woman was unbelievable. The whole experience was intensely exciting. For me it ended all too soon, leaving me with unfulfilled desires, unlike my partner in intimacy!

“Jennifer, dear” said Madeleine after a space of several minutes. “That was very, very good! I want you to understand what just took place. What we just did might be a prelude to full intercourse. It’s called fore-play and is a good way to prepare for sex. You performed your part very well. I can’t tell you how well… But that’s all that’s going to happen!”

She continued serenely “It takes some time for a woman to get to the place where she needs to be. Also that doesn’t always happen in love-making because sometimes the man can be too selfish to care whether the woman is having fun, or to give her the time she needs, as long as he gets his pleasure?”

I nodded dumbly. I thought I understood her what she was getting at, but what was really occupying my thoughts was…. What were we going to do next?!
Nothing, it seemed!

“Thank-you Jennifer. You are a fast learner and really did very well” she smiled. “It’s time for you to sleep now.”

Sleep!!! I longed to strip off those panties that were restricting me, mount on top of her and take possession of that luxurious body, not that I felt sure I would be able to. Despite my self-doubt, every nerve in me was crying out for some kind of release. However, it seemed that it was not to be.

I was dismissed and rose reluctantly. Madeleine lay immodestly on the bed and gave me my final instructions. “You must sleep just as you are Jennifer. I’ll know if you don’t. I will explain why that’s important in the morning. On your way to your bedroom call Maria for me. Good-night dear.”

Thus bidden I picked up my robe and made my way disconsolately from the room. There was no need for me to call the maid. She was standing at the head of the stairs apparently awaiting her mistress’s summons.

“Good night, little miss” she smiled slyly as I passed her. “You see. She want Maria now!”

Having a maid at one’s beck and call seemed the height of luxury to me and this one now proved to be of a most exotic kind. She had removed her uniform dress and was clad in a little black slip trimmed with lots of lace. The effect was eye-catching. I turned to look back at her as I entered my bedroom. She grinned, mischievously wiggling her hips so that her minuscule petticoat did little to preserve her modesty.

As the door closed on that provocative vision, it was hard to focus my attention on my own situation. The room I was to sleep in was adorned with feminine frills and flounces draping the furniture. Madeleine’s perfume pervaded all, keeping fresh in my mind what had, and hadn’t, just happened. My senses were was spinning and in the end I threw myself down on the bed to try and settle for sleep.

The room was softly lit by a skylight with the glow from the moon and stars streaming in. I lay there confused and tired but unable to drift off. Being tucked into those little panties didn’t help and I couldn’t get comfortable. My dismissal with so little ceremony rankled in my mind and I couldn’t help but wonder why Maria was wanted just then. I knew I had been excluded from something even if I didn’t know from what.

What chance was there of rest? When I closed my eyes I seemed to see Madeleine’s body so close to me that I could study those wonderful breasts and curves that I longed to touch again. The disturbing image Maria had made was imprinted on my mind. Perfume seemed to engulf me. The night was an endless one that I would remember long afterwards and it was nearly morning before I finally fell asleep.

Mercifully Madeleine let me lie late and she had already bathed, dressed and breakfasted by the time she woke me. I was thankful that her body was decently covered in a modest top and trousers when she entered my bedroom. I needed no further excitement and hastily covered my chest with one of the pillows.

“I hope you like my daughter’s room; it’s such a pretty room. Sleep well?” she asked with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

“Err…” I stammered.

“Guess not too well, then.” The twinkle grew into a grin. “Never mind, dear. You may have learned something which you will find useful, even so!”

I must have looked my puzzlement because unasked she went on to elaborate. “I hope you have learned how a woman’s body responds to… stimuli. You were an eager student last night, so I feel sure you have. But even more important for a woman, you need to know how to control that response. That’s why I didn’t want you to untuck yourself and I’m pleased you did as I asked. I’m hoping that having to exercise self-control all through the night will have made a lasting impression on you.”

Her logic made some kind of sense; in a twisted sort of way.

Leaving me to digest her words she remarked “I’ll send Maria to you to now.”

I sat on the bed and stretched myself lazily. I needed more rest but just then the maid entered. Her entrance was unheralded and without preliminary she came directly over to me. Again I hastily tried to cover myself. Even though she was fully clothed in her uniform dress, I found her presence disturbing this morning, unlike yesterday. Last night’s image of her was still vivid in my memory and I was newly aware of her femininity and attracted by it. What was I thinking?!
Ignoring my embarrassment Maria unceremoniously pulled me to my feet, chattering as she did so about how late it was and how much there was to do. Dazed by these attentions I allowed her to wrap me in a robe and lead me to the bathroom. The bathtub was already filled with steaming scented foam.

She took off my robe and started to remove my panties. “No, it’s okay, really!” I protested. To escape this treatment and hide my shame I wriggled away from her, slid them off and got myself into the water. The maid was quite unconcerned at my prudish behaviour and kneeling down beside me began to soap me all over like a baby.

“How old are you, my pretty one?” The all too intimate ablutions completed, Maria posed her question as I stepped out of the tub to be engulfed in a huge warm towel.

“Er… fourteen.”

“When you fifteen?”

“In two months. Why?” Her curiosity sparked my own.

“Ah, two month! Little miss is then a woman. Big party! Pretty clothes! Fun with boys, yes?”

What?!

I was mystified but even more disconcerting was her parting remark, “When you are woman, you come see me. Lots of fun! For you and for me!” With that she twirled around and flounced out.

While I was drying myself the thought struck me how differently I had reacted this morning. Whereas the previous evening I had regarded Maria with something close to repulsion, now my thoughts about her were totally different and would ill bear recounting. When I returned to the bedroom the woman of my thoughts had been busy and I found the clothes which my mom must have packed up for me laid out on the bed. Maria helped me get into my bra, panty-girdle and hose and despite my confused feelings towards her I enjoyed letting her pamper me.

Just as I was about to be helped into my day dress, Madeleine re-entered the room. She was carrying an unfamiliar item of clothing. “You might like to try this on. It’s something my daughter won’t wear anymore and could be just the thing for your date tonight.”

I took it and could see it was a black all-in-one piece in a soft material; pants below a halter top. Maria held it for me as I stepped into it and then she adjusted and fastened the strap behind my neck.

The jump suit was tailored to fit the waist closely, and while it was tight on my legs and hips, it was loose around my rear. The top gave me a generous cleavage and left my shoulders exposed.

“Using the powder room may take you a little longer, but on the other hand you may find this style has some advantages when you are out with a boy.” My mentor’s advice seemed to make sense. “With the right underpinnings your rear end is going to look sensational too, believe me. Your butt will fill this out beautifully if you don’t spoil the shape with that panty-girdle. Do you have any more little briefs like the ones you had on yesterday?”

I nodded, remembering Mom buying both colours, black and white.

“Wonderful. Take this with you and wear it tonight, unless of course your mom has any other plans for you. Here! You might like to wear this underneath. It’s to get that all-important hourglass figure.”

She handed me something like a wide elasticated belt. The ‘cincher’ as it was called, was black and fastened with a several rows of hooks and eyes. I shivered slightly, wondering anxiously how constricting this might prove to be on my protesting body. However when it came to choice of attire in such a delicate instance as a date with a boy, I decided it was preferable to trust Madeleine. On balance Mom’s recent record of selecting my outfits didn’t fill me with confidence. Ignoring my restless night, my new friend seemed to be more consistently on my side than my parent. I managed a smile and mumbled my thanks.

What was now occupying my mind, to the exclusion of pretty much all else was, that I would be having my first date with a boy that evening, and a red-blooded one at that! Just the thought was enough to take away my appetite.

“Now you had better finish getting ready,” she smiled. “I told your mom I’d have you back by lunchtime. Perhaps just skip breakfast? Okay.”

Predictably, as soon as I got home, Mom wanted to know everything that had happened since I had left her. I tried the best I could to give her an honest account without going into every last detail.

She was very interested in what Madeleine had worn and immediately pointed out its intended purpose. “Now you will understand how a woman feels, when she has spared no pains to make herself pleasing to a man.” was her conclusion. “Just think about how vulnerable she has made herself and how easy it is for her feelings to be hurt. It’s quite often something that is hard to forget.” she ended ruefully.

All I knew about her own marriage to Dad was that it had been one of those wartime quickies. As was true of so many of them, it hadn’t lasted and scars had been left behind. After a few moments of unhappy reflection Mom wanted to know “what else had I learned?”

I’d expected this and attempted to gloss over the subject as much as possible. I aimed to try and summarise my experiences if I was allowed to. How to do so was less clear! “Well, you won’t want me to spell out what we did in detail, in fairness to Madeleine.”

Her eyebrows rose at my familiar use of the name.

“We didn’t go all the way, of course, but she showed me exactly how women respond to… well… how they respond” I faltered. Mom’s eyes were wide and staring, but she didn’t look displeased. Taking advantage of the ensuing pause, I tried to close the embarrassing subject. “I realise now how different it is for a woman. It takes so much more for her to be ready, for example.”

I continued sorrowfully, “The only thing was that I couldn’t get to sleep afterwards. It was torture!”

Her eyebrows rose further at this and I put in quickly “That’s because there was something else that I was supposed to learn. A girl needs to be able to say no, and to her own body’s desires as well as to those of her date.”

Mom looked at me very seriously and emphasised the point. “That’s what makes all the difference between nice girls and trash. Think about it. A ‘real’ female is expected to be able to respond to any suitable advances from males favourably but has to be ready to reject any that aren’t so suitable. See how tough that can be?”

The implied slight on my dubious girlhood hit home. I recognised that I was nowhere near the level of self-control that was being asked of me and my eyes filled at the seeming hopelessness of attaining it. I stood there dejectedly but next minute I felt Mom’s arms round me. She squeezed me tight then pulled away and looked me in the eyes.

“I didn’t mean to be hard on you. You handled Marty very well. You did mostly all right” she said with a kind of pride, and I was so relieved that I burst into tears.

My emotions seemed to be all over everywhere these days. I sobbed and had to be hugged again and the following half-hour was kinda nice. It was good to feel really close to her and it sort of made up for some of the bizarre things she continually put me through – well, almost!

I made us some coffee and the opportunity arose to settle a question that had been bothering me all day. “Mom.”

The inquiring look I received was enough encouragement to continue.

“Did you know Madeleine has a maid?”

“Yes, sweetie. She owns her own business and is quite well off. Why?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just Maria sounds foreign, that’s all.”

My mother laughed at my ignorance. “Maria isn’t foreign. She’s Hispanic. Her people came from Mexico when she was a girl. There are quite a few Latino families around here. There’s a little church over the other side of town. San Bernardo’s. What did you think of her?”

I shrugged. “She seemed okay, I guess. She wanted to know when I was fifteen. She thought that’s when I would be a… well… a woman. Why a woman? It sounds so permanent. Why would she say that?”

“Oh that would be because it’s a tradition they have in their community.” Choosing to ignore my worry over what had been implied about a lasting gender change, Mom preferred to supply comprehensive details relating to the Latin culture. “The girl is then termed a quinceañera, as they call her, and they have a big celebration for her fifteenth birthday. The girl gets to wear a lavish dress and they do all kinds of stuff to symbolise her transition from being a child to being a woman. It’s like a coming out ball. Nice idea, don’t you think?”

“I thought coming of age was sixteen.”

“Well yes, in almost every State it is” she clarified, “though in ours the legal age of consent is actually still fourteen. It’s time they changed the law around here, but it’s why I could let you er… spend time with Mrs Bell.”

By now I was confused. “So why fifteen?”

“It’s just their way. When I came of age I had a “sweet sixteen” party to mark the occasion. Nothing like as elaborate as this though. In the Latin tradition it’s a much bigger thing. Wouldn’t it be great for you to have something like that?”

I didn’t like the sound of what I was hearing! Her eyes sparkled and she looked thoughtful. Was I right to be worried?!

Reluctant Diva 16
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 16 – My first date
Even after we had drunk our coffee, I was still trying to sort out my muddled feelings, but I was brought back to reality with a rude jerk. Without ceremony my mother broke in upon my thoughts. “Now young lady, there’s a lot to do before this evening.”

“I’ll get my apron.” I sighed.

“Forget the chores. I meant that you need to be ready for your date.” She sounded serious. This exchange introduced me to a scarier set of thoughts and had the instant effect of banishing all else from my head. She led the way to my bedroom. “There’s so much to do. First we need to think what you will wear.”

While she paused to consider, I took the opportunity to say “I thought something along the lines of what Rachel was wearing last night might be the right kind of thing. She looked stunning in that sweater.”

“Of course she did, but with her curves she would look stunning in a potato sack. We need to be sure of holding your date’s interest and although your figure is coming along very nicely, your ‘assets’ aren’t in the same league as Rachel’s. No, we want something sexy, but with staying power. With Marty, you may find that you have your hands full!”

My eyes widened in alarm.

“It’s no good. We’ll just have to go shopping,” she concluded.

I wasn’t sure I could face a trip to a clothing store, but thankfully recalling the events of the morning, “Oh, I’ve just remembered.”

“What?” Mom’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Madeleine loaned me something. She thought it would… would do well for tonight,” I said hesitantly. I ran over to my bag and retrieved the black jumpsuit and the waist cincher. “It’s a little creased, but when it’s pressed…... What do you think?”

“Well that is one woman who is worth listening to, so we’d better check it out.” Mom said.

I held it up but she shook her head. “No, I need to see what it does for you. Slip it on, silly! Now those shoes we bought yesterday would be perfect to go with it and one of your new bras, also those panties.” She went to my underwear drawer and took out the new black underwear. “It means I will need to alter these like I did the white ones you wore yesterday. For now better put those back on so I can see the overall effect.”

She made no move to allow me the privacy to get changed so self-consciously I retrieved the panties from the laundry and then slipped my dress and bra off. While she watched attentively, I altered the straps on the black bullet bra we had bought the day before to a halter style and put it on. I was immediately aware of the dramatic effect it had on my breasts while Mom looked on approvingly. I removed my panty-girdle and I slipped on the panties. It took some time fiddling around with my private parts to achieve the desired tuck and under scrutiny that was more than a little embarrassing! I managed the task and at last everything was in place. My mother picked up the cincher which Madeleine had also loaned me.

“Breathe in!” commanded my parent with a sly grin on her face, and looped it around my waist. She fastened the hooks and eyes at the front on the tightest row. It made me catch my breath. Glancing in the mirror I could see that though my waist had indeed shrunk to a noticeably smaller circumference, the most dramatic effect of this new undergarment was to draw attention to my boobs and butt. She pulled the hem of the bra down so there were no gaps and adjusted my cleavage for best effect.

She stood back to admire the result. Her summary, “That gives you the wow factor!” showed her complete satisfaction. At least one of us was happy!

She held out the jumpsuit for me to unzip and wriggle into. It took a while but finally I had it positioned as it should be. I slipped on my high-heeled pumps.
“Turn around, Jennifer,” she commanded. “And again.”

Gesturing to me to wait she went out and I could hear her searching in her own room. After a few moments she returned with a short pink jacket and handed it to me. It had no fastening across the front and had sleeves which stopped just past the elbow. “Something else I don’t wear any more” she sighed. The little jacket fitted me well enough, though to my concern it didn’t do anything to hide my cleavage beneath it.

“That’s perfect! The secret is to accentuate exactly what you’ve got without making your intentions too obvious. I hoped you thanked Madeleine again?”

I nodded dumbly. Not obvious?!

“You had better press this suit and can leave the rest of the ironing for another day,” she instructed. “Then we’ll sort out your nails and hair – that little wig again, I think. You can leave supper to me on this occasion. Look sharp now!”

Duly admonished, I ignored the sick feeling of apprehension in my stomach and stirred myself into action. I had completed the ironing but was still in my bathrobe when Mom called me into her room. “Here, Jennifer” she said smugly. There was a twinkle in her eye as she showed me the black pair of panties she had now altered to be the same as the white ones, with a neat tunnel in the gusset. “You had better try them on.”

More embarrassment, and when I had done so, “Now I want you to be clear about this evening.”
She continued “It’s your first date with that boy so there are some unwritten rules you should keep in mind. Until a girl knows her date a lot better than you do she will be on her guard. That’s why it’s usual to double-date a few times before going solo. Boys have only one thing on their minds, as you know yourself only too well. They will always try things at any opportunity”

“I guess” I faltered. “But how…. What…. I mean…. it’s not the same for me, is it?”

Mum glowered angrily at me. “It’s close enough. This is important, so before you finish getting ready we need to clarify something. Although you may be ‘different’ you would definitely enjoy certain things a girl might like. Want me to demonstrate?”

Abashed, I shook my head.

She continued her scolding. “A street-wise boy like Marty is bound to know how to push your buttons. You need to be mindful of that so you don’t give way at the first temptation, like any little slut! What have you just learned about self-control?.... Oh, go get ready!”

Needing no second bidding, I fled to my room. I really wanted just to curl up on the bed and stay there for a long, long time. But no chance of that! Only moments later it seemed, any ideas about relaxing were dispelled on Mom’s entering the room, unannounced. Seating me firmly at my dressing table she started to work on my hair. She fastened the wig on top of my head then spent some time fluffing out my bangs and styling it to her satisfaction. Duly coiffed and perfumed, I donned the black pointy bra that matched my panties.

Smiling with satisfaction, my parent hooked me into the cincher. “Breathe in!” she said again, gleefully. The effect she desired was immediately visible.

“Stunning! There’s no way that boy will be able to keep his hands off you.” She gave me another severe look. “So be warned!” she chided. “You will have to be the one who decides how far things go! And, remember! We’re doing all this to teach him a lesson!”

“Right! Got it!” I assented, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt.

Under Mom’s critical gaze I put on the jumpsuit, now carefully pressed. I took extra care over my nails, lipstick and mascara and with thirty minutes to go I was attired in my selected outfit and as ready as I ever would be. My nails and lipstick matched the colour of the jacket and the whole was set off with my pretty pendant necklace, earrings, bracelets and Mom’s little gold watch. While I was putting the finishing touches to my attire, she had been on the telephone and I guessed from snippets of conversation I could overhear that Mrs Bennett was the party on the other end of the line. She was being given full details of my planned evening, although the intricacies of the theatre time-table seemed an odd topic of conversation. By the time the receiver was put down, Rachel’s mom probably possessed a clearer idea of the evening’s programme than I did.

When we set off down-town in the station wagon, to say I felt nervous could have been the biggest understatement of my life. With my severely compressed waistline, I had not wanted to eat any supper and yet my stomach was performing somersaults. My agitation must have been obvious and Mom told me to calm myself more than once.

“Remember, Jennifer!” she warned as the car drew to a halt outside the theatre. “Any girl would be thrilled to have a date with a good-looking boy like Marty. All you have to do is have a little fun, relax and be nice to him. Be a lady, and the rest will take care of itself. I’ll pick you up here around 10pm.”

Gee thanks Mom!

Has she forgotten I’m a boy?

“Okay Mom” I muttered as I got out of the car.

She drove away leaving me standing disconsolately there. Pulling myself together, I glanced around and realised Marty was already waiting in the doorway. He’d seen me, so to give me time to collect myself, I turned and pretended to wave in my mother’s direction before forcing a smile and tottering towards him on my heels.

“Hi doll!” was his greeting as he came over to me. He eyed me up and down. “Don't take this the wrong way, but you sure got a classy chassis." He took my arm at the elbow.

“Hi Marty! Why thank-you. You look nice too, but it’s ‘Jennifer’, remember!” My response combined firmness with I hoped, a modicum of coyness. I gave him what I intended as my sidelong glance. The thought struck me again quite forcibly, what a very good-looking boy he was. I couldn’t help feeling that to be escorted by him was quite something.

Now we were together my nerves had all evaporated and my confidence was starting to return. “I don’t mind ‘Jenny’, if you prefer it.”
Removing his hand from my elbow I fell into step beside him. “It’s early, but let’s get our tickets right away so we can get good seats. I do like to be able to see.” The actual purpose of my request was to try and avoid being seated on the back row, where I’d worried that we might be too well hidden from general view for my comfort.

Marty looked a little confused and replied vaguely, “Yeah, sure.” We walked through the lobby to the ticket kiosk, where he paid for the tickets. He was very attentive, which I found nice. “Care for some popcorn? Some candy?”

We walked over to the stall in the lobby and spent the next five minutes deciding. So far this was working out okay. The architecture and ornamentation of the Majestic were impressive and there was plenty in our surroundings to capture our attention if our conversation had lagged; but it didn’t. I started to relax some more as we chatted about what we liked. He could be quite funny and had me giggling over some of the droll things he came out with.

As we made our way into the auditorium, there was still ten minutes before the feature film “Pillow Talk” was due to start. They had some newsreel or other on screen when we were shown to our seats. Marty handed the tickets to the usherette who shone her little torch and I was dismayed to see how near they were to the back. True, not on the back row itself, but only a couple of rows further forward, and I was concerned that the evening’s ‘entertainment’ might not depend altogether on the film.

“Oh, I was hoping to be a bit closer to the screen,” I said, pouting a little. The reproach intended in this complaint seemed to be lost on him in the darkness, however.

“These were the best seats they had.” His airy reassurance was not that convincing and his next words went to reinforce my impression that I was in the presence of a smooth operator. “It’s cool, honey. We’ll be able to please ourselves here, when the film starts.” That sounded a little ominous to me and my nervousness returned in full force.

However, it seemed that I needn’t have worried, at least to begin with. Chatting and eating popcorn until the feature came on turned out to be a breeze, and I started to relax again and even enjoy myself. He was wearing some cologne which smelled nice and he looked so good. Once again, I was impressed that the ‘girl’ in company with him was actually me. If they could have witnessed it I would have been the envy of half the girls in my class.

We were well into the first half of “Pillow Talk” before my alarm bells started ringing, faintly at first. Appearing to be absorbed in the film Marty had slumped down. Stretching he sat up again and placed his arms across the back of my seat and the vacant one on the other side of him. After a little he turned and smiled, resting his arm across my shoulders. I smiled back and replaced his arm onto the back of the seat again. This little pantomime took place at least twice more.
The next time he did it he reached across and took my other hand, so I couldn’t free myself without undue fuss.

“This is nice” he smiled reassuringly. “You know you look sensational, Jennifer. I’d rather look at you than at the movie!” It was warm in there and we had taken our jackets off when we sat down. The hand on my shoulder started to stroke gently in a manner which recalled to mind Mom’s warning only a couple of hours before. His touch felt nice and it would have been all too easy to let him continue. Remembering the object of the evening, however, I resisted the temptation and turned to protest. As I did so he leaned over and kissed me full on the mouth. I was so stunned I just sat there and let it happen. He was a good kisser and I was starting to enjoy the sensation before I realised I had to do something and pulled away.

“Marty! No!” I whispered in protest. “Please! What do you take me for?”

“Hey! You liked it too. I could tell.” came the reply and before I knew it we were locked in a clinch again. This time the kiss was with tongues and my senses swam with pleasure as I found myself responding. Marty’s hands began roving everywhere. That felt good too and it took some moments before I remembered I shouldn’t be letting this happen. What was I doing?! The expression “like an octopus” sprang into my mind and now took on a clearer meaning. By the time I had recollected myself it was all I could do to keep him from caressing my most sensitive zones. His hands seemed to be magnetically attracted to my bust, the top of my thighs and my butt. At least those were his present limits, as I was prudently keeping my legs firmly together.

It was a losing struggle. Besides kissing my mouth, he was running his lips over my face, my neck, my ears and throat. The bodily sensations I was experiencing weren’t helping much and each time I thought I was getting things under control, he kissed my lips again and my knees would tremble and go weak.
My companion varied these attentions with verbal assurances of my bodily perfections, what he would like to do to me and how hot I was making him. He emphasised this final assertion by taking my hand and pressing it against the front of his pants. Ewkk! I froze in shock. In order to recover some semblance of control I had to clear my head of mental comparisons with my own small endowment in that area. I was just wondering if I could hold out any longer and was internally debating whether I should make a run for it when the theatre lights went up for the interval.

With a final effort I pushed Marty off me and sat up to straighten my disarranged clothing. Offering up a silent thank-you to Madeleine for the resilience of the jumpsuit, I stood up and smoothed myself down. Marty smirked at me and similarly stood to sort out his own clothes. His self-satisfaction was short-lived however.

“Why Marty!” exclaimed a well-known voice from the row behind us. “Who’s that you are with now?”

We both turned to face the speaker. Smiling brightly from her seat was… oh no… RACHEL!

How come?!!
I twigged – this was Mom’s scheming, the phone call and all! Looking as stunning as ever, there sat my idol together with another girl that I didn’t know. In attendance were two guys who again I hadn’t seen before. They looked like they were all on a joint date together.
Struck dumb, I could only stare. My escort seemed to be struggling to recover his breathing let alone his composure.

“Er... Hi Rachel” Marty muttered eventually. Then recognising the rest of the party he brightened, glad to see some people he must have recognised as friends.

“Hey! Frank, Jimmy, Cheryl. How’s it going?”

“Marty! Hey man! Hi!”

I couldn’t take my eyes from Rachel, who sat there smiling while these greetings took place. She resumed, “I can see you must have been going steady for a while, you two. That sure was some fierce making out!”

Embarrassed by her directness, Marty mumbled an introduction. “Oh, Jennifer, this is Rachel. We go way back,” he recovered uncomfortably. “Rachel, this is Jennifer”.

“Yeah. Right!” was my friend’s knowing response. “You are kidding! Right?!”

Marty stood looking from me to her, clearly confused to be the source of her amusement. Rachel laughed “Oh come on! Marty! I never knew you liked boys!”

“What?” he exclaimed. Heads started to turn in our direction. “What are you saying, you dumb….?”

“Well I can see you must really like boys from the way you two were making out!”

She turned to me “Hi Rob. Love the outfit”.

“What?!!!” my date shouted.

Rachel twisted to face her party, who were gaping at this exchange in open amazement. “This is Robert. Rob! I used to babysit him when he was younger.”
Turning to face me she gave me a warm smile “You’re brave to take on Marty, sweetie. He’s like the giant squid!”

Next I found myself spun around and gazing into the blazing eyes of my escort. “What…..? Who are you?” He hissed at me. “Is she right?”

Scared as I was, all I could do was nod my assent.

“But…. But…” he looked me up and down. “Well you had me fooled! You look like a chick. You even smell like a chick….”

“And he tastes like a chick too, seemingly!” put in Rachel brightly. The other girl, Cheryl, collapsed into giggles. Frank and Jimmy were struggling not to laugh out loud.

“I’m amazed a big man like you doesn’t know the difference. Oh Marty!” Rachel’s peals of laughter joined with the other girl’s.

He stood there dumbly for some time before eventually blurting out “Okay. I get it.”
Then “You’ve had your fun. I’m out of here” and summoning the remaining shreds of his dignity, he turned on his heel and stalked out, to ringing sounds of mirth from the whole group. I couldn’t join in, but stood there wishing the ground would swallow me.

“Oh, he’ll never live that down!” exclaimed Rachel. She leant across and gave me the warmest of hugs. “Thank-you, thank-you! You’re my hero in shining armour!” then she giggled “Jennifer!”

Reluctant Diva 17
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 17 – Consequences
The next couple of hours passed in an unreal blur. I remember phoning Mom from the lobby of the theatre and asking her to collect me; also the drive home which seemed to take no time at all. She didn’t seem altogether pleased that my evening out had been cut short and was unimpressed that my date had left me to fend for myself. She didn’t speak until we got back. Predictably she then wanted to know every detail of what had happened but I wasn’t up to providing it. Eventually, when she was satisfied that Marty had been duly humiliated and that the virtue of her ‘daughter’ had remained unsullied, she recognised that I was emotionally drained from my experiences, although the fact that I had shared in the humiliation just about as much as our intended target didn’t seem to cross her mind.

“Bed, young lady!” she ordered firmly, but then relented enough to give me a hug before I stumbled gratefully up the stairs.

It was a huge relief to kick off my heels, take off the wig and get out of my constricting outfit. In a daze I somehow found myself in the bathroom automatically removing my makeup. Once done I fell into bed. I was exhausted by the day and the previous night’s wakefulness and fell asleep immediately. I didn’t wake till after 9am as Mom had mercifully let me lie later than was usual. I rose and mechanically drew myself a bath and laid out one of my tea dresses, it being Sunday. It was heaven to bathe in the warm scented water and I took full advantage of the opportunity to let the stress from yesterday’s events wash away.
I finished dressing and put on my on makeup. While waiting for my nails to dry, I became aware that there was something that didn’t seem right. It was niggling away at the back of my mind and to begin with I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. It wasn’t until I had finished getting myself ready that I finally understood what was bothering me. Marty! Remembering his hurt parting look last night, and the dignity with which he had borne himself, made me feel uncomfortable. I couldn’t quite reconcile taking revenge on behalf of my best friend with the hand which had been dealt to that young man.

My good opinion of Rachel was somehow lessened too. I couldn’t help feeling that she might have done better to have risen above her injuries, whatever they might be. That she had been hurt I didn’t doubt. Else why would she have contemplated putting me through an ordeal of my own. It seemed so out of character for her to be insensitive to my feelings.

I also started to wonder how being on the receiving end of a humiliating experience would help my date grow into a more considerate and caring person. To my mind it didn’t seem very likely. I was confused and vaguely unhappy. In the end I resolved to put the whole business out of my mind. After all, it wasn’t as if I would ever encounter Marty again, especially after what had happened the previous night.
How wrong can you be? The very next day something unexpected occurred which undid my resolution to forget all about it. My mother had yet to return from work, Tom was watching TV, and I was just finishing putting on my maid’s uniform before heading off for my job at Mrs Martin’s, when the telephone rang.

“Answer that please, Tom”, I called, but there was no response from him so I trudged across the hallway to pick it up myself, silently cursing my lazy brother. I guessed it might be my mom saying she would be late in from work so I fixed a smile on my face and made an effort to be bright and cheery when I answered. But it wasn’t Mom!

“Hey, er… Jennifer?” said the party on the other end of the line.

I was stunned into silence.

“Er, hello. Hello, who am I talking to?” continued the voice.

“Marty?!” I stammered.
Omigosh! What does he want?!

“Hey it’s you, Jennifer. Boy, am I glad it’s you.” His lack of composure gave me a small measure of confidence.

“Marty! Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?” I tried to sound starchy. The door from the hallway to the lounge was closed and I felt hopeful that the noise from the TV would cover my words so Tom wouldn’t hear.

“I looked in my mom’s purse. Listen! Jennifer! I have to see you. When can you meet me?” His voice sounded urgent.

“I don’t know.” I temporised. “I have to work, to help out Mrs M... a friend of my mother’s. Mom will be home when I’m done. I don’t know that I want to meet you.”

“That was low what you did on Saturday night, real low. You owe me! Listen, I have to see you” he urged. “Tell me where you will be and what time you finish and I’ll give you a ride home.”

I hesitated some more then gave in. I felt I did owe him something. I gave him directions and said I had to go or I would be late for my job.

When I got to Mrs Martin’s, I was dismayed to find a longer list of chores than usual awaiting me. I tried to hurry through them as quickly as I could, but by the time I was halfway down the list I could see that I would be late leaving and there was no way I could catch up.

Then the doorbell rang. I answered it to find a cab driver on the porch doorstep. Mrs Martin appeared in the hallway behind me with coat and gloves on and holding her purse.

“Quickly now, girl” she ordered. “Have you forgotten that I have a bridge evening. You will have to finish that list next time you come. Get your things so I can lock up after you have gone.”

This was an unexpected turn of events. I would be finished twenty minutes earlier than expected. Perhaps I would have time to see Marty after all.
I obeyed my employer with alacrity and trotted down the driveway. I wondered whether I should try to find somewhere out of sight in case I had to wait for him to put in an appearance, but Mrs Martin’s cab passed me before I reached the roadway. I would be able to remain concealed just inside the gates if necessary. As it happened, I found that there was no need to wait. I could see a car parked up opposite the entrance, with… and my heart missed a beat as I recognised Marty at the wheel. He hadn’t seen me yet and I paused to gather up some courage.

Against all my expectations I couldn’t help feeling a little glad to see him. All right! Quite glad. Okay then, have it your way, I was excited! I couldn’t understand myself. Well he was a very good looking boy; that’s all I could put it down to. I wrapped my coat tightly round me so as not to reveal the nature of the uniform I wore underneath it and crossed the road.

Marty saw me, and got out to open the door for me. He handed me in with, “Er, I wasn’t sure I’d be seeing Jennifer, or is it ‘Robert’?” and got in the driver’s side.
“It’s always Jennifer, even at school, these days.” I sighed.

“I don’t get it. What are you, girl or boy?” His bluntness made things easier somehow and I could be open in replying.

“It’s a long story and we only have about fifteen minutes. I don’t know how my mother will feel about my meeting you, so I can’t be late.”

I sighed again and continued “It started when I was small. When I misbehaved, Mom would dress me as a girl as a way of controlling me. Dad had left us and she was on her own. I hated it but every time I kicked against it she would make the punishment more and more complete. In the end I found it easier to give in and after a time I started to like, well, some of it. Just recently I’ve begun to agree with her that I make a better girl than I do a boy. That’s about it.”

“Okay… I get it, I think. So why take it out on me? Who put you up to it?” Thankfully he didn’t sound that mad, more… curious.

“Oh, well, I feel bad about that” I said. “I’ve known Rachel for ever and she’s kinda special to me, like she really can’t do any wrong in my eyes. I was told you had been mean to her and it was partly to get back at you, for her. Your mom was in on it, too. I think she’s concerned that you haven’t always been… the perfect gentleman… with your dates. That’s what I heard. Mothers!! “

He gave a rueful smile in agreement.

I felt so much relief when I saw how well he was taking my explanation, I positively gushed to reassure him. “You’re right though, it was a low trick and I’m sorry for it. I wasn’t faking how I felt all of the time though. I enjoyed myself, mostly.”

He sat there thinking for a while, then “I must be crazy but I liked being with you too. I liked it a lot. Listen. Can we go out again? Please?”

My heart did that skip-a-beat thing again, but I knew that I was supposed to try and keep myself under strict control. “I don’t know. Maybe. Perhaps sometime. I’ll have to talk to Mom.” This was scary. I was way out of my depth. “Look, I have to get home.”

Marty stared at me for a full minute then started the engine and I told him to drive me to within two blocks of my house. We drove in silence until we were there. He stopped the car and turned to face me, but I was prepared.

“Thanks for the ride. You can call me next week, perhaps. Unless you hear otherwise in the meantime.” I said, as I reached to pick up my purse.

He grabbed my hand and grinned. “Okay, Jennifer. Can’t wait.” Next he leaned over and planted a kiss on my lips.

But instinctively I knew how to handle these attentions. Frowning, I pushed him back gently but firmly. He looked a little crestfallen to be rebuffed.

Then I warmed up and gave him my best smile accompanied by the coy look I’d been rehearsing. “Bye, Marty!”

I got out of the car and walked quickly away. I guess he must have sat and watched me, as I heard the car start and drive off only when I turned the block. I could almost feel his eyes glued to my rear end, concealed beneath my coat though it was. I found myself dwelling on what a good kisser he was and wishing I’d kissed him back, before mentally recoiling from the image that thought conjured.
Kissing a boy! What am I thinking of?
Mom looked at me curiously when I entered the kitchen where she was busy. I was tempted to say nothing but I detected a look in her eye that made the red warning lights flash in my head. I had learned from bitter experience that any attempt at secrecy was likely to be unsuccessful, leading to another argument which I would lose, inevitably. Besides, I needed my mom’s advice.
Having resolved to come clean, my opening remark aimed to defuse the tension manifest in the air. “Guess what happened to me.”

“Well I know you had a phone call.” came my mother’s response and I thanked the stars that I had decided to be open with her.

She listened in frosty silence as I began to tell her the details of the call. Her glare intensified as I went on, rapidly blurting out in my alarm a description of what happened on my way home. I had been planning to make her aware of how mixed-up my feelings were, especially towards Marty, but there was no chance of that.

“What do you mean by seeing a boy without asking me first?” was her opening salvo.

Panicking, I scrabbled around mentally for means to divert her anger. Adopting an air of helplessness seemed my only possible escape.
“Oh Mom!” I wailed. “Don’t be mad! I didn’t know what to do!”

She stalked across the room and took me by the shoulders and shook me vigorously. “Then you should have done nothing.” she ground out through gritted teeth. “I despair of you sometimes!”

She was genuinely angry. My tears had started to flow and they weren’t feigned either. I was really scared. Not only that, I could see all my plans to keep in her good books unravelling. After a little my unaffected distress seemed to be having some softening effect. I made the most of it. “Oh Mom. It was so difficult. I wanted you to be here. Really I did.”

She dropped her hands and turned away from me. My heartfelt pleas seemed to be working. Her silence was hard to interpret, but I hoped she was calming down.

“I’ve been feeling so bad about Marty, ever since Saturday night.” I sniffed. “What I did seemed so mean and then when he phoned me, I didn’t know what to do. I was sorry for him, I guess”.

“That old trick! Men are always pulling that one, and you fell for it. Oh, you’ve got so much to learn, my girl.” The direction her anger was now taking seemed a little less dangerous. Whew!

“Do you see now, why you need me to be in the know before you go rushing in like that?”

“Yes, yes, I do, Mom. Really I do. Please help me. I’ll do anything you say.”

Her arms folded, she stood frowning at me. “You’d better. Anything? I’ll be holding you to that, Jennifer and don’t you forget it.”
Her words sent a shiver down my spine, but there was no taking back what I’d committed myself to.
“Well then. What do you need my help with?” she continued.

“What do you think I should do? Should I see him again?” I asked her, relieved to have her on side again and not feeling competent to make this decision all by myself in any case.

She looked at me intently “He’s a handful, a real handful”, she reflected. “Have you stopped to wonder why he wants to see you?”

“I… I dunno….”

“Really? He knows now that you’re not the same as anyone else he’s dated.” She considered for a moment.
“That must be quite a novelty. Hmm…. Think about it, Jennifer. He’s either just curious about you, or he might want to get his own back on you for tricking him. Or he might… just might… be genuine, but that’s the least likely. Do you really want to see him?”

“Yes.” The spontaneity of my response came as a surprise to me “Er… I guess so.”

Mom frowned at this and I knew I’d better open up to her some more. “Part of me really wants to, but I feel bad about that too.”

She looked a little mollified by my frankness. “Here’s what you’ll do. Let’s leave it that he can phone you, for now. After a couple more weeks perhaps another meeting – not alone this time. That way if it’s only curiosity, he’ll have lost interest, and the question will have gone away.”

“What will I say to him if he phones and asks me to see him?” I really did want to know how to handle this.

“I’ll be seeing his Mom and I can let her know. I’ll tell her that you’re too far behind with your schoolwork right now to be dating. It’s true enough! Also he’s a good few years your senior so it will sound quite natural for me to be wary of your dating an older boy. However, she’ll be pleased if you do start seeing him. She’s already told me that you might just be the steadying influence he needs. I’m not so sure.”

“Oh and I hope you’re not forgetting Chris!” was her next disturbing remark. That opened up a whole new line of confused thoughts and feelings. Gee, was this complicated?!

“Okay, Mom. What you said” denoted my total acquiescence.

I didn’t hear anything more of Marty until the following Monday. Although I had forgotten about her bridge parties, I arrived at Mrs Martin’s to find that once again she had an engagement that evening. The prospect of a shorter cleaning session was very welcome after a long day at school, although trying to condense all my tasks into a smaller space of time would be demanding.

“Be sharp about those chores, now!” my employer urged. “I don’t pay you good money for nothing.”

So I bustled about and actually I was able to complete more jobs than either she or I expected. Pleased to get praise instead of censure, I waved her off and tripped happily down the driveway. This was great. I wouldn’t normally leave for home for another half-hour. After making my way a little distance along the sidewalk I passed a quiet street that led to the park. A car was parked up there and you can imagine my shock when I saw what vehicle it was and the identity of the all too familiar figure standing beside it. Marty!!

He raised his hand in a nonchalant greeting. How did he know I would leave early from work this evening? I guessed that in fact he didn’t but had assumed I always finished around this time. I instinctively wrapped my coat tightly around me as he opened the car door and held it for me. “Like a ride home, doll!”

Struggling to take some kind of control of the situation, “Doll?” I queried.

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Sorry! Jennifer. Okay?” he laughed.

Disarmed, I found myself smiling back at him and plumped myself down on the passenger seat.

He got in the driver’s side and turned to face me. “Let’s talk.”

It felt so nice to be receiving the attentions of such a good looking young man. I tried not to show how much I was liking this. There were some alarm bells ringing in the back of my head, like what would my scary mother make of this unauthorised meeting? I knew I had better get some ground rules established at the outset. “Thanks for the ride, but I have to be home by ten to the hour at the latest.”

He glanced at his watch and seemed unperturbed by the time limit. He evidently didn’t want to waste the opportunity as, next thing I knew, I was enveloped in a clinch and being subjected to a make-out session which continued from where the one in the movie theatre left off. Eww! This can’t be happening. Nooooo!

Actually once I got past the idea of being kissed by him, it wasn’t all that bad. As we kissed… well, yes, it seemed only polite to kiss him back… it struck me again what a good kisser he was and I found myself really getting into it. When he tried to unbutton my coat though I knew I had to take control. If he found I was wearing just my skimpy maid’s uniform, the situation might not be retrievable! For some reason, both my current panty-girdles had been in the laundry basket and I was wearing just a flimsy pair of panties under my little black dress. These would offer zero protection against any exploration by my amorous companion. I had to take charge, if his hands were not to be free to roam pretty much everywhere.

I placed a restraining palm on his chest and pushed firmly. I couldn’t think what I should say. The only protest that came into my mind was along the lines of “There isn’t time for this!” That might have given away far too much about the conflict of emotions within me as I really didn’t want him to stop what he was doing. Instead I pursed my lips and tried as hard as I could to give the kind of reproving glance my mother was so practised at. To my amazement it actually worked.

“Gee, Jennifer, I’m sorry” he muttered shame-facedly.

The follow-up was easy, as long as I controlled the lurking desire to be held, kissed and caressed for as long as I could. “We were supposed to be having a talk!”

“I know. I’m sorry” he repeated. “It’s crazy, but you really get to me, you know.”

His words left me feeling surprisingly content. Aware as I was that my new ‘friend’ had always been the object of interest and even competition among teenage girls, it was gratifying to know that I had secured the attentions of the most desirable boy around. It was evident that my ‘charms’ had been sufficient to arouse his carnal desires and that was strangely satisfying too. How could I even think that? Well, he was just a boy I liked, right? Except that I was experiencing the kind of impulses which were more to be expected of a horny teenage girl. Why were they occupying my confused brain? How could I have feelings for Marty? What about Chris?!

I had more pressing matters in hand. The solution to handling my current situation was based on guesswork but what I had hit on seemed to be effective so far. I followed my instinct. “You’ll live!” I coolly remarked.

He looked crestfallen, so I softened my words by leaning forward and planting a kiss on his lips again, then pulling away before he could respond.

“No thanks to you, you little tease!”

I laughed back at him, secretly delighted. Then, “Marty, I have to go!” It was really hard to say the words against my present inclinations, which I was ashamed to admit to myself.

Although he did his best to look hurt and disappointed, I steeled myself and took out my compact to check my make-up. It gave me an air of decision. When I had repaired my face and tidied my hair, he started the car. We drove to the block near home where I had alighted the week before.

A final kiss on my cheek then “Next week? Same time, same place.” His parting words filled me with elation and other feelings that I didn’t want to analyse.

What to tell my parent? The question gave me pause but I still trod on air the rest of the way home. Perhaps nothing might be noticed. As I entered, my mom was in her favourite chair, reading. She looked up and straightaway her curiosity showed in her face. It told me I hadn’t been successful in my half-hearted attempt to appear as if nothing had happened. There was nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns. “Er… Mom. I had a ride home tonight.”

That got her full attention. “Oh, really!”

“Yes. I was just on my way back from Mrs Martin’s when I saw Marty was waiting for me in his mom’s car. Imagine! I didn’t know he would be there. He must have guessed where I’d be. Anyway, I thought it ought to be okay just to get a ride home. Was that all right?”

My mother was staring at me intently. I couldn’t read her expression, so waited on tenterhooks until eventually she came out with, “That depends. What did I tell you about dating, Jennifer?” This was intimidating. I could see that the warning furrows had appeared over her eyes.

“Oh Mom. It wasn’t a date. I had to make a decision on the spot and it would have seemed so rude to refuse.”

Her face still bore an impenetrable demeanour. By now, my carefree mood had evaporated completely.
After a long silence “I’m waiting to hear what happened. Did you come straight home?”

“Well… No… He wanted to talk.”

“And…”

“We talked some…”

“And…” She was becoming impatient with my stalling, so I knew I had better come clean.

“We kissed some…”

“I knew it!” Though she had just been proved right so could be allowed some satisfaction, Mom’s tone was more triumphant than I would have expected. “I can’t let you out of my sight without you going and making up to boys.”

I got a strong sense that she was trying hard to avoid looking pleased. Why couldn’t she be straight with me? This was a poor return for my openness and I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“Oh well! No need to cry about it. It looks like you survived.” She definitely looked pleased!

“Yes, ma’am.” I kept my voice low. Why did she have to be so mean? I could never hope to escape revealing to her everything that I’d prefer to keep hidden, and when I did there was no sympathy.

She turned back to her reading.

“Er… Mom.”

“Well?”

“What if it happens again? What should I do?”

“Well what do you want to do? Did you like being kissed?”

I stared at her “It was okay… I guess.”

She smiled mysteriously and shrugged her shoulders, before resuming her magazine.

Thus dismissed I ran upstairs to change and tackle my homework. As I did so my buoyant mood returned in full sway despite my inward protest. I was into girls; women; right? But… I had myself a boyfriend! A real boyfriend!
Why did that thought thrill me?!

Reluctant Diva 18
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 18 – Unveiled
A couple of weeks later, events took another turn in my life. It was Saturday morning and I’d just completed my chores when the doorbell rang. Wondering who this might be, I tripped over to the hallway mirror before answering the door like any self-respecting young girl would, except I wasn’t a girl! My make-up needed a quick retouch and few stray locks of my hair required tidying. While I was fixing them the bell went again. I smoothed my dress, a simple shirt waist affair but in a pretty pale blue material with little white flowers that set off the white buttons and belt. It was one of my favourites.

White flat shoes completed my ensemble and having satisfied myself with my appearance I stepped confidently to the door and opened it. Standing in front of me was the last person I expected, or wanted, to see. My Dad! Oh no! This can’t be happening!
I’m unsure who was the more disconcerted, he or I. For me the emotion was more in the nature of panic, while he could only gape, speechless, at the person stood before him!

Eventually he managed to croak, “Rob… Robert? Is that you?!”

I could only nod dumbly in reply. After a few moments I recovered enough to ask him to come in.

At least he didn’t seem mad at the sight of me. “What has that woman done to you? She’s got you dressed up again. Some kind of punishment? Listen son, you don’t have to let her do this to you.”

I didn’t know what to answer, but he needed to know. I finally plucked up the courage to say “No, Dad. This is me; my choice. It’s the way I am these days.”

He looked at me aghast. I shrugged and showed him inside to where Tom was seated watching TV.

My brother’s face lit up at the unexpected sight of his father and leaving the two exchanging greetings, I made my exit with a hesitant “Er… I’ll call Mom.”

Anxiously wondering what her reaction to this impromptu visit was likely to be, I ran through to the back yard where she was arranging flowers on the patio table.
“Er… Mom!” I braced myself for the impending storm. “Dad’s here!”

It was easy to see that this was as much a shock for her as it had been for me.
I continued “He’s in the parlour with Tom.”

My mother’s powers of recovery were much more rapid than I could have expected. “How nice of him to call” That was the only remark she made as she calmly made her way through the house, with myself trailing unhappily in her wake.
“Well this is a surprise” Mom had forced a smile as she entered the room. “You should have let us know you were coming. To what do we owe the pleasure?” Nervously I followed her in.

Dad glanced uncertainly from her to me then back again. “Just passing through. I was over in the next town on business yesterday and stopped the night. I thought I would look you all up as I drove back.” His voice sounded natural enough though his face looked rather strained.

“How thoughtful!” Mom wasn’t to be outdone in curtesy. “Leave us for a little while, you two, please,” looking at Tom and me. “Your father and I have some things to discuss.”

The door closed ominously behind us and Tom looked at me questioningly. I just shrugged, not knowing any more than he did. He vanished upstairs to play in his room. On tenterhooks, I went and sat in the sunny yard, uneasily wondering what was being talked about, and worrying how I should behave before Dad when their tête-à-tête was done. I lost track of time and was only aroused from my thoughts by the sound of someone’s approach. When I looked up I saw my father anxiously regarding me.

“Well, you certainly look the complete young lady.” He sighed and shook his head. “Your mother tells me that this is your decision. Is that right?”

I nodded. “I guess. Sorry, Dad. It wasn’t my first choice and I know it’s not what you want for me, but life is better like this, believe me. We’re all happier.”

He stared at me again, then “If I had my way… ” and stopped short in mid-sentence.

“But you’re not around, Dad. You’re with Marnie and you know I can’t come and live with you.”

He had no answer to that. Eventually he shook his head again in resignation. “To think a son of mine…

I looked away. This was painful.

Finally he shrugged his shoulders “I guess I’ll have to get used to it.”

I seized on this reluctant conclusion like a lifeline. “Yes, Dad. You’ll get used to it. I have.”

There was an awkward silence. What was there to say? Eventually he muttered something about needing to get back and that he’d see me around. Our eyes met for an instant before he turned to go.
“Bye, son. Bye, er… Jennifer!” I wasn’t sure who felt the shock of hearing that name from his lips more, him or me!

“Bye, Dad. See you soon… I hope.” A tear made its way down my cheek. I hastily wiped it away hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He nodded and as I watched walked to his car; a last wave and then he was gone. It was sad that things had to be the way they were. He was my dad, after all. Somehow, though the goodbye seemed so final, the overriding feeling I had was one of relief; relief that he knew and that there was some kind of acceptance.

The following afternoon I was sitting with my mother. Like her I was wearing one of my Sunday dresses and the subject of his visit came up.

“So, your father wasn’t too pleased when he heard that you are now ‘Jennifer’ full time. The nerve he has! To come here unannounced! I don’t need his interference and neither do you, my girl. He’s made his bed and now he has to lie in it!”

“No, Mom.” I sat with downcast eyes. It was best to agree before she built up a head of steam.

In a few moments I was pleased to see her face change from a look of anger to one of concern. “Did you find it very upsetting, sweetie?”

“Well… To start with I was surprised and it wasn’t easy. I was just thankful that he seemed to accept things the way they are. It’s a lot for him to get used to.”

She looked uncertain as to whether she agreed with me or not.

I managed a wan smile. “Anyway, it’s a relief. At least I won’t be anxious about seeing him again.”

I could see her considering. It was a moment before she spoke. “Well, you may be right.”

It was reassuring that we were in sync but my comfortable feelings were soon dispelled by her next words.
“Perhaps we should put that to the test. It’s your birthday in six weeks. I’ve got some ideas about how we’ll celebrate it.”
Oh no! I didn’t like the sound of that.

She continued with that air of mystery which so often before had heralded my downfall in the form of a new ordeal. “And one of them is for your no-good father to play his rightful part for once.”

Wondering what she could possibly be planning, I remained uneasy the rest of the day. There was nothing I could do, so I just had to wait and see what she had in mind for me. As it happened I wouldn’t be kept in suspense for too long and the next day events were set in train which those few short weeks later found me in a situation I couldn’t have imagined in my worst nightmare. In a little church hall the other side of town, the double doors before me opened and I caught my breath. As the birthday girl, I knew I had to make a grand entrance. It would be into an unfamiliar room where every eye was upon me because I was the star attraction. How had I ended up in this situation?! I took a hesitant step forward and as I did so there was universal applause. The hall was decorated with streamers, ribbons and balloons and seemed to be filled with people whom my fevered brain hardly recognised.

I felt as if I’d been decorated like a tree at Christmas. My hair was elaborately coiffed and sparkled with diamante studs surmounted by a rhinestone tiara. My wrists and throat were similarly adorned. My make-up was flawless; my lengthened eyelashes fluttered with mascara, and my finger and toenails glittered with polish which exactly matched the shade of my painted lips. That shade had been chosen to complement the gown I had been squeezed into in the final moments of preparation. Constructed in a shimmering satin over voluminous layers of silk and taffeta in a delicate lilac colour and glittering with ornament, the dress formed a dazzling showpiece which caught the eye, and wouldn’t let go.

The waist seemed impossibly narrow and served to draw attention the prominent breasts above it which were emphasised instead of concealed. When I’d checked in the mirror, I hadn’t recognise my reflection in the least. Was that hourglass figure and décolletage really me? How had my admittedly girlish body undergone such a transformation? Long story!

The Saturday following my father’s visit, on my return from work at Mrs Martin’s, Mom told me to keep my coat on as there was a place we had to be and drug me out to the station wagon. I was glad that my maid’s dress remained hidden beneath my coat as it really wasn’t something I wanted to be seen in; by anyone at all! The familiarity of the neighbourhoods we passed through soon led me to guess that we were paying another visit to Mrs Bell or Madeleine as I now thought of her. In the weeks since my last time there, the idea of being on first name terms with such a sophisticated lady had gradually stopped being weird, even if she was older than my mom. Despite this apparent familiarity, however, I was experiencing some trepidation as to just what might be in store for me. That was on top of my uneasiness about going anywhere in my uniform of course. As things panned out my fears were entirely justified!

We were greeted by the maid opening the door for us. Maria took Mom’s coat and ushered her into the parlour before attending to me. When mine was removed she gave a cry of surprise and pleasure to see that I was attired similarly to herself.
“Little miss is little maid! Very sweet!”

She stood close to me and compared the length of our dresses. Of the two mine was easily the shorter. “Very sexy!” was her conclusion.

But then she drew attention to our necklines. Mine showed just a hint of décolletage while hers revealed her ample bosom. “Not so sexy! I teach you, yes?” and saying which, she pulled the little cap sleeves of my dress off my shoulders with the resulting display of much more cleavage. Naturally enough I was embarrassed by her action but even more so when her hands carried on to smooth the material over my breasts.

“Nice boobies!” Her fingers lingered on that sensitive area and my body reacted to her touch in a way which was far from usual these days. I had come to expect hardly any response down there and it was unnerving to find that Maria’s proximity had this effect on me, entirely uncalled for. A memory came to my mind of the time during my previous visit when Maria had ‘helped’ me bathe. That had also triggered some kind of animal attraction in me to her stocky body. There had to be something that was making my breathing short and my pulse quicken.

I coloured up in confusion and the maid grinned knowingly at my blushes. She finally allowed me to follow my parent who was already deep in conversation with Madeleine. When we were seated and Maria had brought us coffee and retired to her kitchen, Mom’s manner became business-like.

“Now, as Madeleine and I have discussed, Jennifer, you are about to turn fifteen. In some cultures that is an important milestone in a young lady’s life and we should mark this birthday with a fitting celebration. Can you ring for Maria, please?”
My parent continued “In many traditions there is a celebration that marks the passage from girlhood to womanhood. On entering the world of adults it’s important to be surrounded by the love of family, friends and community.”

The maid came into the room at this point and our hostess asked her to be seated. With a mischievous air, Maria did as she was bid, and perched herself demurely on the sofa next to me. Two maids together!

Madeleine took charge. “Maria. You know that Jennifer here is about to be fifteen. Quince años. Tell us how you celebrate this in your family.”

The maid’s manner became instantly animated. “Ah yes!” she rolled her eyes at me. “Little miss will soon be woman. She will be the quinceañera. Big party! Beautiful dress! Lot of fun!” and I gave an involuntary gasp as she placed her hand firmly on my thigh.

Her mistress gave her a reproving look. “Tell our guests all about this celebration for the quinceañera. We understand that it’s her coming of age party, but what takes place?”

The next twenty minutes made my head spin as Maria elaborated on the events that made up such parties. It was hard to understand all she recounted but I gathered that there was a religious ceremony followed by a reception for all the friends and relatives. There would be food, music, and dancing, with the girl accompanied by her “court” of damas (“maids of honour”) and chambelánes (“chamberlains or male attendants”). She listed a variety of symbolic activities which took place too, all of which had a special meaning for the girl at the centre of all this festivity. It went way over my head but Mom was making notes and Madeleine seemed to be taking it all in. I was more occupied by worrying over the thought that the girl at the centre was intended to be me!

When the maid got to describe what I would be wearing, words were inadequate. That the dress would be very full, elaborately ornamented and floor length like a wedding gown was quickly established. From there her description was accomplished more by gesture and touch and when she used her hands to emphasise that my waist should look tiny and my bust be prominently displayed, I found myself blushing deeply yet again. I could only hope that the other two were too preoccupied to notice my confusion. Maria’s suggestive smile indicated that she herself understood my bodily reaction only too well!

Madeleine and my mother had become engrossed in looking at an exclusive catalogue of ball-gowns, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the various styles. While they were so engaged, the maid took the opportunity to turn her back on them and give her undivided attention to me. She slid her hand all the way up my leg, with an expressive grin. “Little miss soon be woman. Fun!” she mouthed to me.

I tried to ignore the sensations this provoked. I found it irritating that Maria had this effect on me, not to mention embarrassing. I closed my legs together tightly to safeguard myself with what little dignity I could still muster, ignoring my body’s traitorous response as much as possible. It came as quite a relief when Mom eventually called me over to look at the various dresses she had short-listed and after a little time I was able to regain some of my composure. There were some fabulous creations pictured there and it was unsettling to find myself becoming enraptured at the thought of wearing just about any of them. Hey I’m a guy! What am I thinking?! When I saw the price tag of the gown that was finally chosen I gaped in wonder and I could only nod in approval.

At our hostess’s prompting the next task was to measure me for size and she undertook this herself, carefully noting the circumference of my bust, under-bust and waist. The skirt of the dress was so full that my size below the waist didn’t matter. My expectations from past experience of buying dresses was that the size purchased would be based directly on my measurements. In this case, however, it seemed to matter more what my mentors calculated I would be measuring on the day. Weird! Apparently, it was expected that I’d be much bigger up top and smaller around my waist by then. I didn’t comprehend, though Madeleine stressed the point several times. There was no point in protesting. Perhaps it might become clear as time went on.

As we prepared to leave for home the evening held a further unwelcome surprise. At Mom’s bidding the maid took a suitcase from the rear of our car and deposited it in the hallway.

At my questioning look, “Madeleine has kindly offered for you to stay with her this weekend” my mother informed me. “It’s to help you start your preparations for your big day, so naturally I’ve accepted for you. Don’t forget to thank her.”

I was so shocked I could only stare at her dumbly.

My mother smiled slyly. “I’ve packed everything you will need,” she continued decidedly. “Well, girl! Don’t just stand there!”

Reluctant Diva 19
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 19 – My assets
Still dazed by the speed of events, I waved my mom goodbye somewhat anxiously and followed Maria into the house. Madeleine told the maid to take my things up. “You know which room is Miss Jennifer’s. Now, dear, some refreshments before bed?”
It was already late so I was about to decline but my hostess was insistent. “Just have a milky drink before you sleep. I’ll send it up with Maria when she comes to help you get ready for bed.”

Help me?! Getting changed for bed was not something that I needed help with, or indeed wanted. As ever, the thought of Maria’s attendance on me was unsettling and I would be much happier if she kept her distance. I was too tired to object and decided on the path of least resistance. I would merely to go up and get undressed by myself. When I had done so and was searching in my case for a nightdress or p-j’s to put on, the maid appeared. Although she had seen me naked before, I still couldn’t help colouring up at her entrance.

“Oh Maria. Have you unpacked my night things?” There had been no sign of any night attire in my case and neither in the closet or the drawers.

“Little miss has lots to do before bed. She has to get in shape for beautiful dress. First is exercise.”

Used as I was to complying with my mother’s continually strange demands I found it difficult to protest at this new departure. Besides it’s hard to raise objections effectively when you haven’t a stitch on! Resignedly I followed her to the bathroom where there was a flat couch against one wall. There I was put through a rigorous work-out. I had to perform wall presses, push-ups and chest press extensions. I was not to do many repetitions but instead to hold each position for several seconds, finally adopting something called the cobra pose for what seemed an eternity. I learned later that this type of routine was intended to build body tissue.

After the exercises Maria led me over to the tub and bathed me. She was thorough. I have to confess it felt so good to be pampered that I didn’t mind too much, even when she made sure I was clean absolutely everywhere! She then dried me and massaged my unprotesting body vigorously with a perfumed lotion. I soon got used to this level of intimacy. Perhaps it was less of a big deal because she was so well versed in her role as attendant. That made it all seem perfectly natural.

Back in my room the maid prepared me for bed, by helping me into a short chemise. It was in a fine cotton lawn material that felt wonderfully soft. That was heaven. Not so what was to follow. My assistant grinned at my consternation as she looped a steel-boned corset around my waist as if this was completely normal. What?! Before I could object, she expertly clipped the front together. It gripped my torso from just under my bust to just above my crotch.

“But… but… I can’t sleep in this!”

My feeble protest was brushed aside. “Yes, yes!” Maria chided airily as if I was talking nonsense, while tightening the laces. “You see. We start like so. Not too much.”

That reassurance was of a kind I had grown to have little faith in, but I didn’t seem to be given any choice. Once the laces were secured I was handed a tall glass of some kind of creamy nightcap. It was vaguely like a milkshake and she watched me to make sure I drank it all down before she left. Exhausted after such an unusual day, I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

Next thing I knew it was morning and Maria was throwing back the drapes to let in the daylight. She helped me out of my night attire and then we followed a ritual to get ready for the day that was an exact repetition of the previous night’s preparation. After exercise and massage, I was attired in bra and panties, a fresh chemise and then the corset. Inevitably and as I had feared, it was laced tighter this time. A shirt-waist dress which buttoned down my back went on over the top. Feeling like a child in a nursery, I had to ask Maria to fasten it. I was allowed to do my own make-up and arrange my own hair before joining Madeleine at the breakfast table. Doing so made me feel a little less helpless, though not much.

As we ate my hostess explained the purpose of all this rigmarole to which I was being subjected. “It’s to ensure the success of your preparation for womanhood. Physical assets are so important because used to advantage they can give women much of what little power they have over men. The discipline you are being introduced to will certainly help you make the most of your looks. You will discover that, as a woman, if you are to be successful you must neglect no opportunity. At your coming of age party where you will be the centre of attention this will be absolutely vital.”

None of this was what I wanted to hear.

“So you see. By taking a few simple steps, you are going to be able to, shall we say, fill out your dress to the best advantage.”

As her meaning dawned on me I blushed deeply. I’d never thought of my growing chest as one of my assets! Being one of the most developed of any of the ‘girls’ in my school-year, up to now I’d looked on it as something to hide as much as possible.

She went on to elaborate “While it isn’t possible to enlarge your bust directly by exercise or massage, this regime should be very effective in building the pectoral muscles underneath your breasts; also those of your back and shoulders. This support will make your bosom firmer and appear larger.”
Her argument seemed unanswerable.

However, “I can understand that, but why must I wear a corset?” I interjected. That was the part that was bothering me most.

“A well-designed corset will gently but firmly compress your waist. Any excess tissue will tend to settle above and below it. That will have the effect of accentuating your figure forming the true hourglass shape which is so attractive in a woman. After a period of continual wear, these bodily changes will be retained for some time. Trust me, I know this from experience. Take my word for it, your bosom is going to look stunning when you wear that party dress.”
Though the desirability of these changes was what I found hard to accept, I couldn’t disagree. Besides, I was occupied by the thought that the shape of my body must be something of an obsession for my hostess, and unnaturally so. However, what really struck me from this conversation were the lengths that Madeleine seemed prepared to take in moulding me into something I was not. Strange!

Oblivious of my conclusions, she continued serenely, “Now, being tight-laced may restrict your appetite a little so you may prefer to eat smaller meals. I’d advise four or five smaller ones each day instead of the usual three. After your party you can decide how much you will continue with this regime. You will then of course be a woman and such things will be entirely up to you.”

I wished I could believe that last declaration. Would my mother see it that way? Doubtful! More worryingly, her last sentence implied a permanent change in my life. There was no way I was wishing for that to happen.

Following our breakfast together, I spent a pleasant day with my hostess before I was taken home. Sophisticated, clever and funny, she could be very good company. So when Mom let me know that she had arranged for me to spend each of the remaining weekends before my birthday there, I was fairly relaxed about it, though less so when I next learned that I would be subjected to my new corseting regime full time. There was a small concession that I wouldn’t be faced with this degree of constriction while I was at school or at work. There I might wear a waist cincher instead so at least I would be able to bend in the middle! The rest of the time I was to be laced as tight as either Maria or my parent chose. That really was a scary thought!

During the following weeks my mother spent much of her time on the seemingly endless arrangements for my birthday party. For myself, I had precious little opportunity for worrying about what was ahead of me, what with school, homework, my jobs and my chores. That was just as well, as the mere contemplation of the role I would be expected to play made my stomach turn somersaults.

When it came to deciding the invitations, the number who were going to be there terrified me. Apparently I needed a court of ten attendants. There weren’t so many friends I could choose from. Rachel, naturally, would be my principal maid of honour and Chris the leading male. My first thought had been Marty but when my mother pointed out how unpleasant that might be for the Bennett family, I had to agree that he shouldn’t be asked to take that role. Was life complicated or what? With my school-friends and their respective parents and siblings and with Mom’s social circle, it promised to be quite a gathering; way too much of one for my comfort. Where would my much sought anonymity go? I didn’t like to think how many people were going to witness my “transition to womanhood”.

A set of elegant little cards had been printed and sent around bearing the wording, Mrs Dorothy Cartwright invites you to the “fiesta de quince años” of her daughter Jennifer etc etc. Inserted in each envelope was a sheet of hand-pressed paper. It described the programme for the day for the benefit of those who were unfamiliar with such events. That was just about everybody, including me! Fortunately all the principal invitees accepted. One last invitation had been sent to my Dad and step-mother. I raised my eye-brows in surprise on hearing this but my mother, who generally hated to have anything to do with either her ex or his new wife, was adamant.

“Oh, yes! The father has a special part to play at your coming of age celebration. There’s no way that man is going to slide out of his responsibilities again if I have anything to do with it. Don’t you worry, he’s going to be the star of the show!” I wished that were true, but reckoned the likelihood was that that role would be filled by myself!

With just two weeks to go before the event itself, Mom dropped another bombshell. From now on I was to stay with Madeleine full time. Nothing I might say in protest was even heard, let alone considered. Though I felt sure I would have the perfect hostess while I was there, I looked on the prospect of Maria’s constant attendance as an ordeal I could do without.

As it happened there was an up-side. I quickly got used to being waited on and it made a welcome change from the myriad chores which usually fell to my lot. Other aspects weren’t so good. The constant tight-lacing seemed to be having its predicted effect with the unlooked for consequence that my bras were now too small. Also, though the diameter of my waist was decreasing, extra inches had gone on my butt, hips and thighs. I was loaned some of Madeleine’s exotic lingerie which fitted me better. I have to admit that the knowledge that I was sharing intimate items of clothing with her gave me quite a thrill, but I began to worry that I was starting to become just as obsessive over my bodily attributes as my hostess and her maid evidently were.

Together with my respite from my cleaning jobs came the luxury of evenings free from chores. While I had supposed that my hostess’s time would be taken up with her social life, in fact she seemed to want to involve me in it. That came as a novel though daunting departure. I found that she devoted lots of attention to me and it was flattering to be made so much of by this elegant woman. Before our evening meals we would dress formally, in my case borrowing one of her daughter’s gowns, of which my closet held an extensive variety. Madeleine herself was effortlessly stylish usually wearing smart evening trousers teamed with an ornate top. With expensive jewellery and skilfully applied make-up, her looks were always bound to make an impact.

Each evening just before going down to dinner, she would stand before me to be admired. She liked me to critique her outfit and it really seemed as if my opinion was important to her. At the table she was affectionate and would sit close to me, often resting her hand on my arm or touching my thigh. Conscious of her wonderful perfume I enjoyed her proximity.

My introduction to her social circle took place one evening when I accompanied Madeleine to see a play. There were cocktails beforehand and we entered the bar to mingle with a throng of well-heeled theatre-goers. Drink was flowing and the buzz of voices was almost deafening. For the occasion I had been lent an elaborate evening dress in palest pink. The neckline wasn’t low but I was conscious that its filmy material was draped across my breasts in a way that drew attention to them.

My companion introduced me to several of her friends. There was a broad-chested bearded guy called Roddy and a younger man called Tam who seemed to be couple. While the latter prattled away in a rather high-pitched voice, the other couldn’t take his eyes off me, or embarrassingly, my ‘assets’. I felt self-conscious and ill at ease. I just didn’t know how to deal with such overt attention. The rest of her friends were women and equally as disconcerting. All were strikingly dressed. There was Joan, a high-bosomed female with improbable bleached blonde hair and a permanently disdainful expression. A tiny woman by the name of Greta smoked black cigarettes in a long holder. Neither seemed to have a partner and while busily chatting to Madeleine, they continually eyed me with an appraising look. It was a little like being a specimen under the microscope. I couldn’t relax.

My companion herself was possessed of effortless poise. She was the queen of the evening, wearing a black jumpsuit with diamante trim and a short tuxedo over it. Her hair was dragged tightly back into a bun, giving her a profile that was quite regal. On her arm I felt like some kind of little bauble that was being displayed to her admiring circle. Perhaps it ought to have been demeaning to be so treated, but actually I found being her protégé affirming. I was in the company of self-assured people with whom I was expected to socialise, so to be under the protection of someone with such composure made me feel much more comfortable, especially as she was being so kind and attentive to my wants. This way I thought I could enjoy the high life; well almost!

In the interval before the third act of the drama we congregated in the bar. I remained rather tongue-tied amid all the sophisticated talk, but I could enjoy observing the interactions among the group. Initially I would have summed up her friends as artistic types, but I saw that there was more to it than that. I came away with the impression that they were all trying to prove themselves to be ‘different’. They clearly were on familiar terms with Madeleine but any curiosity they showed about me she deigned to deflect. When the evening ended, knowing glances were exchanged among them all as we took our leave. A disturbing idea occurred to me that I was being carried away like some kind of trophy, which was unsettling. However, once we were on our own, relaxing in her company quickly soothed my ruffled nerves.

The day before my party, I was treated to another trip to the salon and came away with dramatically extended nails and elaborate hair. Much longer extensions to the latter had been fixed in place to allow more scope for styling it. While Delia was busy with me, she was full of questions about the forthcoming celebration and it was hard to satisfy her curiosity over what being a quinceañera entailed. It was difficult with my own understanding of the role being still quite sketchy.

On my return from the salon I had to face another unnerving experience, the final fitting of my gown. I had been eagerly waiting to try on this wonderful creation for so long that the anticipation had become scarcely bearable. My mom was present to judge the result and that added to the tension. Having removed everything except my panties, I allowed myself to be helped into it. It felt amazing! While final adjustments were debated, I gazed down at the layers of delicate material. The bodice was so close fitting that it seemed to be part of me, or I of it, I wasn’t sure which. Below that were sensuous tiers upon tiers of slippery satin. Suffice it to say I was lost in wonder. I tentatively twirled around and the skirts and petticoats followed my every movement. Their silken folds caressed my thighs in the most sensuous manner and I was enthralled again. I remained in that moment for I don’t know how long.

When I was stood before the mirror to take in the overall effect, I first noticed that the narrowness of my waist was accentuated by the skin-tightness of the bodice. It was totally feminine and literally took my breath away. My gaze travelled upwards and what was reflected there hit me between the eyes and riveted my attention to the exclusion of all else! The sight made me wonder if the mirror was of the distorting kind found at fairgrounds!

The mounds on my chest which admittedly had been developing over the preceding weeks were pushed impossibly upwards and forwards by the gown, which supported and framed them. To my fevered mind my reflected image was all about only one thing. Sex! I looked like a complete nymphette. Aghast, I turned to my mother in panic. Did she really expect me to appear in public like this?

Actually, I was startled to see that she seemed to be equally moved. Sadly however, it appeared that her emotions weren’t in sympathy with mine. She expressed how she was feeling with words I could hardly believe I was hearing. “That is just the look I was hoping for!!!”
Then noticing the expression on my face “Don’t worry. No-one will be able to take their eyes off you.” Then, seeing that my anxiety was still unrelieved, “Well just remember, in the church you will be wearing a veil over everything!

Gee thanks! I tried to take comfort in that thought, but without any success.

For the last two weeks, apart from at school, I’d spent all of my time at Madeleine’s and of course, that meant that Marty and I didn’t get to have our little meetings. Not only that, he wasn’t to be invited to my party. When it came to it I’d had the perfect excuse for not seeing him until afterwards. I really would be staying with friends! I did feel sorry about it and particularly so on his account. I liked him too much to want him to suffer.

Also, I was concerned over whether our relationship would survive this setback? While to my inexperienced mind he seemed genuinely smitten, the probability of losing him loomed large in my thoughts. There was quite an age difference between us and it seemed very likely that such a desirable boyfriend would have no trouble in finding someone else, whenever he chose. On reflection however, I found that this idea wasn’t too upsetting. Though I enjoyed our ‘dates’ and wasn’t ready for us to break up any time soon, it began to dawn on me that I wasn’t really romantically attached to him after all. Phew! For some reason it was a relief to know that.

Over the preceding weeks, seeing him had continued as regular as clockwork. Without my mother’s permission more adventurous meetings weren’t possible but every Monday we had our ‘date’ that wasn’t a date! Sometimes we’d talk but in general it was more physical than that and each night I came away with unfulfilled yearnings. In my head I couldn’t reconcile these with how I thought of myself. Deep down I was still a boy and I liked girls, right? Right!

Anyway, our make-out sessions grew lengthier as the weeks went by and my returns home became tardier. Surprisingly my parent made only a token objection.
“Late again, Jennifer!” she would tut, but her sly smile belied the severity of the mock scolding.

The second Monday had been a pattern of the first but as our relationship progressed so did our degree of intimacy. Suffice it to say that the following week I’d had occasion to be more forceful to fend off my professed lover. After the fourth week I found myself wondering how I was going to continue to keep control and at the same time retain Marty’s interest. A request for parental guidance didn’t provide much in the way of assistance. My mother’s response when asked how to handle his advances was vague and unhelpful. “I’m sure a resourceful girl like you can come up with something.”

In desperation I took a path reportedly trodden by many before me – the next time we met I pretended I was ill! I told him he needed to be gentle with me as my head ached so, and unbidden I put my arms around his neck and rested my head against his shoulder with a pitiful. “Just hold me, please.”

Amazingly, it worked and my boyfriend was induced to care for my pretended needs. He was all consideration and I could relax and enjoy his soothing attentions, even if they weren’t strictly necessary! I remembered that his mother had been telling Mum how much more considerate he had become recently. Perhaps I could flatter myself that some of this improvement might be down to my influence. I’d have liked to think so, but who knows? Now that I’d bought myself some breathing space, it wasn’t too hard to retrace the steps the degree of our physical intimacy had been taking. Over the next few weeks I managed to keep my amorous admirer in check, even if at times my inclinations were in the other direction.
What was I thinking?!

Reluctant Diva 20
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 20 – Coming of age

The following morning I was awoken early by Maria. Following the customary massage and bathe, my attendant fetched a roll of surgical tape and kneeling before me, she taped my privates upwards and backwards using the familiar method, before holding a pair of tiny panties adorned with delicate Chantilly for me to step into. Next she laced me into a new corset that was elaborately trimmed with lace to match the panties and though it resembled the decorative kind which ornament bridal catalogues I could testify to the efficacy of its steel boning.

When I turned to check in the full length mirror, I could see no sign of any thing male down there. With my swelling boobs, compressed waist and rounded hips and thighs, my image looked voluptuously feminine and the absence of anything visible between my legs somehow seemed to make me more complete rather than less.

At this point, my hostess came in to take charge, and with a robe around my shoulders for a semblance of modesty, I was seated before the vanity and treated to a lengthy beauty session by Madeleine herself. She chose a shade of lipstick to complement the lilac colour of my dress, I think she called it heliotrope, and the nail polish selected was an exact match. Her skills as a beautician surpassed anything I had witnessed before. When her work was completed, the two women declared themselves satisfied that my hair, nails and make-up were each as perfect as art could make them. I could only gaze wonderingly in the mirror.

“Stand up, dear, so we can finish dressing you.” I obeyed and with expensive hose and flat shoes, the voluminous petticoats which would fill out the skirt of my gown followed. Then that garment itself and when Madeleine had finished positioning my breasts within the bodice, I seemed to have more cleavage on show than ever. The next few minutes were occupied with the maid kneeling to straighten my petticoats and arrange the folds of my skirt, while her mistress primped and pushed at my bosom to display it to best advantage.

Glimpsing my reflected image once more, I realised that I had been transformed so that I didn’t recognise myself. I could have been anyone; anyone that is who looked like a movie-star! Whereas only the previous day my pleasure in wearing this beautiful creation was tempered by my fears over all the attention I would be receiving, now it was as if a switch had been flicked in my head. It seemed to have had a curious effect on my mood. I felt light-headed, almost fey! Whereas only yesterday I had been uncomfortably self-conscious over the amount of décolletage I was displaying, my thoughts now ran diametrically in the opposite direction.

Madeleine had lifted each of my breasts in turn so they were resting almost on top of the gown’s padded cups instead of inside them and the result was barely decent. Nevertheless, I found myself pulling my shoulders back and thrusting my chest forward immodestly, as if to assist her efforts!

When Maria surfaced from her attentions down below she was voluble in her approval. “Oh! Las tetas! Las tetas grandes! Now you are real woman, all the boys like!” She smiled slyly and mouthed “Mistress like!” broadly hinting at my hostess’s apparent fixation. Wearing this gown would definitely transform me into a dazzling showpiece, but instead of being daunted by the prospect of all the attention I would be receiving I found myself welcoming it.

I twisted around, lifted an arm and stretched and arched my back to show off my ‘assets’ for the maid’s further admiration! While I posed for her she applauded my every move!

My posturing was soon halted by Madeleine who called to our attention that time was passing. My veil, headdress and jewellery were quickly attended to. The lilac theme of my ensemble was continued in the finishing touches; my long lacy sleeves and the flowers in my bouquet.

“You are wearing this colour as an expression of your personality” she clarified. “It’s delicate, feminine and pretty but also a little ambiguous, somewhere between blue and pink, which are of course the traditional colours for boys and for girls.”
That figured!

It more than figured and suddenly I felt okay with this, more than okay. The occasion of the Thanksgiving parade all those months ago came to my mind and a similar realisation took hold of me to the one that had hit me then. No-one could possibly recognise the real me which lay deeply hidden beneath all these layers of cosmetics and petticoats and frills and flounces. I was an actor, correction, an actress! I had only to play the part cast for me.

That resolution set the mood that carried me through the entire “festival of Quince años” which was enacted to the smallest detail. At the little white church that was to host the ceremony, an ornate building with lots of white plaster and decorative brickwork where a silver-toned bell tolled from the tower, I was greeted by a sea of faces, all wreathed with smiles, apart from my father and his spouse. That was a breeze! I was transported throughout all the complicated religious ceremonial that followed, receiving my first bouquet of flowers and placing it on the altar, the gifts of a symbolic ring and the satin pillow embroidered with my name inside a circle of flowers. These were a delight!
The comical spectacle of my dad, of all people, kneeling before me, admittedly at the third time of asking, to remove my flat shoes and fasten around my ankles the straps of my ‘first’ high heels. That was just a walk in the park!

And then in the church hall, being the focus of attention during the festive meal, cutting the many tiered cake to the singing of Las Mañanitas, presenting my action man (the closest thing to a doll I possessed) to Tom and nearly bursting out of my dress in breaking the fifteen piñatas. I revelled in it all!

Even the part I had dreaded most I could take in my stride, literally. I had to get up in front of everyone and dance! First with my dad, unbelievably. Then there was a formally scripted routine with my ‘court’ and finally I was expected to dance with each person in the room.
But it was all a joy and I revelled in every bit of it. The skirts of my gown frothed and rustled around me. I twirled and spun. I was in heaven!

It was late by the time the dancing finished. I had played my part out to the last, even remembering to thank everyone individually, and had run out of adrenalin. I was exhausted physically and emotionally. Mom had agreed with Madeleine that I should spend a final night at the latter’s house and I was in no state to argue. I said my goodbyes and waved to everyone gathered there as the car drew away. Before I knew it we were there and Maria was helping me manage my skirts to alight. Madeleine, who had been most attentive throughout the ceremony, continued to be so now. But once safely inside I was grateful most of all to hear the word “Bed!”

I was assisted up the stairs to my room by the maid who drew a scented bath before helping me off with my clothes. My party dress was hung up reverently. I found myself wondering dully if I would ever wear anything as beautiful ever again. The corset and the rest of my things were quickly stripped from me and in the bathroom Maria eased off the tapes that had hidden away my last little bit of maleness so efficiently. Next she bathed and soaped me and some of the tiredness slipped away. Totally relaxed, I was towelled dry and powdered and pampered to my heart’s content. I was grateful for all her kindness and thanked her with a hug and a kiss which left the imprint of my lips on her cheek. Back in the bedroom, the maid stood there hovering, to see if I needed anything. Turning my back on her I threw myself across the bed, naked as I was. In my exhaustion I was asleep in an instant.

When I awoke it was still night. I’d been dreaming a vivid dream. The guy in bathers from one of the posters on my bedroom wall at home featured in it, I remembered. In my dream I was curled on my side but close up behind me I could feel the warmth of another body. That same guy! I could feel the coarse roughness of his leg against my thighs and his body hair tickled my butt. It felt nice! I surfaced gradually into semi-wakefulness, to the realisation that this was no dream. I was not alone!

Instantly I guessed that my bedfellow must be Maria. She too was naked. Her arm was stretched over me and across my chest, protectively it seemed, except that between her thumb and forefinger one of my nipples was being stroked and squeezed. While this was gentle and pleasant enough, the sensation had been sufficient to wake me. One of her thighs lay over mine. It felt nice and I would have drifted back into sleep if her gentle teasing of my breast hadn’t prevented me. I stretched luxuriously and idly wondered why her legs were nowhere near as hairless or as soft as mine. I drowsily moved my leg up and down to explore. The scratchy hair which pressed against my butt felt sensual and involuntarily I pressed myself against her broad hips.

At this movement, Maria ran her hand down my side and over my hip and thigh. She pulled me hard against her and in an instant I was wide awake.
Omigosh!

Though in general I found her unattractive, her mere proximity was sufficient to arouse me, the more so in the state we were now. From her irregular breathing I could sense her own suppressed excitement. As I lay there, random thoughts flooded my mind in which anxiety and desire alternated. I had only to press my butt against her again to signal that I was ready for a new experience in bodily pleasure. After the whirlwind of sensations I’d been subjected to all day my body was burning up with cravings. There was little doubt in my mind that Maria could provide me with the release my pent up emotions longed for. As far as my body was concerned it couldn’t happen fast enough.

But hard on the heels of this temptation came the realisation that I wasn’t ready to give it all away so easily. After my conversation with Mom about ‘waiting’, I had resolved I would keep something of me in reserve for the “real thing”, if ever that happened and whatever that might turn out to be. Knowing that I would hate myself if I let these cravings have sway over me helped me come to a decision. Albeit reluctantly, I eased my leg from under her thigh to free myself and turned to face her.
She smiled a wicked smile at me.
“Now! You ready to take what Maria’s got! Come, little miss. Now you are little woman, Maria make a real woman of you!”

I shook my head and moved across the bed away from her.

“Come!” she coaxed some more and reached out to place her hand on my crotch. I’d been able to hide the beginnings of an erection between my legs up to now but my little member traitorously chose this moment to spring up under her touch.

“You see, she knows you want me!” the coaxing continued and she started to stroke. This was torture to try and resist. It would be so easy to give in to what I was desiring but I was shaken by the look of unbridled lust that was spread across her face. It served to rally me and I shook my head vigorously.
No way!

She continued to stroke for a while but seeing my continued resistance, she laughed and sat up. “Okay, little woman! Have it your way! Soon you change your mind and then you are begging me!” She stood up and flounced across the room.

Whew! To my intense relief I would be able to spend the rest of the night on my own even if sleep was likely to be a stranger to me. As my companion reached the door, however, I saw something that glistened on the edge of her cheek which arrested my attention.

“Maria?” I called out to her. I should have let her go but couldn’t help myself.

She turned her head to look at me and the unmistakable track of a tear was visible below her eye.

“Maria, come here.”

She hesitantly approached the bed and, modesty forgotten, instinctively I held out my arms to her. Next moment they were full of sobbing female. I pulled her head down onto my bosom and held her close to comfort her, at the same time wondering in consternation where this might lead and what was going to happen next.

How did I get myself into these situations?

Reluctant Diva 21
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 21 – A New Perspective
After a few moments the woman’s sobs ceased and we lay still, wrapped around each other. This was exciting, but totally scary! I knew I had somehow to take charge if I was ever going to. “I do want you, Maria, though not in the way you mean” I tried to reassure her. “You can stay here with me tonight. First, let’s get comfortable.”

With an effort I extricated myself and went over to rummage in the dresser. I found one of the night chemises I had worn under my corset. That ought to serve. I held it out to her and like a child she reached up her arms so I could slip it over her head. Now one of us was decent! For myself something similar was needed but I searched in vain. In desperation I took the bed sheet and wound it around myself so that at least it afforded some covering for my nakedness, even if precariously. Back on the bed I held her close to me once more with her head resting against my chest. Ruefully, I reflected on how that part of my anatomy now formed a more than adequate pillow!

We were both wide-awake, and the air seemed supercharged with emotion. I needed to defuse the tension somehow. I clutched at the first thing that came into my head. “Tell me about when you were a quinceañera, Maria. I bet you looked amazing.”

“Ah, yes. Then I was young and so pretty. Not so big… ” and she placed her hand on one of my breasts to illustrate her meaning. “Very pretty. All the boys chase me! Paulo! Aah! Yes, he say I very sexy!”

She went on to describe the members of her ‘court’ further, dwelling on some of their physical attributes. Sensing that our conversation wasn’t taking the direction I’d hoped, I sought to deflect it onto safer ground. “What colour was your dress?”

Animated once again and her tearfulness forgotten, my bedfellow was induced to describe her party dress in the minutest detail, then her shoes and her headdress and from there the venue and the food served. Gradually, as she talked, her voice sank into a monotone until… at length… silence. She slept. She lay like a babe in my arms. This was a role I hadn’t experienced before. Given the strangeness of my situation it took me longer to settle, but eventually I too must have succumbed and drifted off to sleep.

It was late when I woke next morning. Madeleine was gently shaking me. “Come on sleepyhead! It’s long past time you were up.”

Drowsily I propped myself on my pillows, still tangled in my bedsheet. Maria had evidently left me at some point in the night without disturbing my slumbers. A welcome sight met my eyes. My hostess had brought me a cup of coffee herself. As I drank, she chatted to me about the events of yesterday. She complimented me that I had carried my role off so gracefully and commented that she had never seen me enjoying myself quite so much.

“I don’t know what came over me” I tried to explain. “Up until yesterday morning I’d been dreading everything about the party, but suddenly it seemed like it was all going to be okay; and it was great.”

“How strange. That was a huge emotional change. Have you ever felt anything like that before?”

To be scrutinised like this when I was only half awake was uncomfortable, but I thought I could recall similar times, like the Thanksgiving parade. “Well, I hadn’t thought of it like that, but I guess so.”

“Mmm. Well I’m not totally surprised. It’s quite usual for a woman to get what are called mood swings.” What she then went on to ask surprised me, “You’ve been taking your meds for nearly a year; I believe you already have a “time of the month” established?”

I gulped in shock. Was there nothing my mother hadn’t told her?!

I understood that what she was asking referred to my so called ‘period’. This was something which my parent, thorough in every detail, had originally nominated for me as one week in every four. That was a year or so ago when I began taking those salmon coloured pills every day. Even now I’m not entirely clear what was in them. Though she had specified that I would have a four week cycle, in actuality the one my body had settled into was closer to five weeks. During my 'period', first my chest would become extra-sensitive and I would sometimes feel nauseous. The following day I’d endure more nausea and some abdominal cramps and hot flushes. I’d have headaches and feel tired and moody. The symptoms were mild, thankfully, but this would go on for about six or seven days.

Madeleine attempted to enlighten my understanding further. “If you are watchful, you may observe some differences in your emotions at different times in your cycle. While during your ‘period’ you may find yourself not wishing to be quite as social as usual, in the week that follows, your mood may then be quite the opposite. You might feel light-headed and find yourself behaving unpredictably. I’m guessing that yesterday would fall within your second week, yes?”

I nodded.

“It’s helpful for a woman to understand what her mood is likely to be. Otherwise it may be unsettling. If she can anticipate her needs, it may help her come to terms with them. Just be observant and think about what I’ve said.”

Though it was true that right now I was at the point in my ‘cycle’ to which she had alluded, her explanation didn’t mean much to me. It was to make more sense later.
When I’d drunk my coffee, Madeleine left me to make my own ablutions without Maria’s assistance. I was grateful for that. After the previous night I wasn’t sure whether I could cope with the maid’s wide-ranging set of emotions. Anyway it meant I could take as much time in my bath as I pleased today. There was no school, it being the half-term break. Relaxing in the tub I reflected on the events of the last twenty-four hours. They seemed surreal, as if it were all a dream. My memories would take some digesting, but in the main they were pleasant ones.

Back to reality, when I returned to the bedroom I found a new outfit had been laid out for me beside my birthday present of a new pair of heels, given me yesterday by Madeleine along with matching purse. It was a white blouse and a short straight wool skirt in a hound’s tooth pattern that caught the eye.

The skirt looked both tight and tiny. There was a little cardigan to go over the ensemble which was in shocking pink and finished just above the waist. Thankfully there was no sign of a corset such as I had worn twenty-four seven during the previous weeks. No panty-girdle was in evidence today either and the bra and panties which were laid alongside these clothes I recognised as new. It was a set similar to the ones Madeleine had loaned me previously. There was another new addition too; some sheer pantyhose in a neutral shade.

I’d only worn pantyhose once before, on my visit when I spent the day with Marnie. These products had only become generally available the previous year, and they were about to make shorter skirts practicable for everyday wear. I was examining them and the rest of the outfit at my leisure with only a towel wrapped around me when my hostess reappeared.

Her manner had now become brisk and business-like. “Maria has breakfast ready, so finish getting dressed quickly. I need to call in at the salon today. There can be no dallying if we’re to be out of the house in good time. Hurry now!” and she left me to get dressed.

It didn’t take too long to apply tape to my private area before donning my panties and slipping into the pantyhose. The result was the flat feminine front which would be essential if I was to wear such a tight little skirt. To put my recently extended hair up took longer. Fully dressed, I checked in the mirror and could see nothing amiss in that direction. Besides the brevity of my tiny skirt I could see that the blouse was stretched tightly across my breasts, and though I tugged at the material fruitlessly, their outline was all too visible. Well if I was to be a woman, why not?

By the time I got to the table there were only a few minutes left for me to eat some breakfast.

“Everything okay, honey?” asked Madeleine. She was primping in front of the mirror and nearly ready to leave.

I hastily poured myself another cup of coffee and grabbed a piece of toast. Still standing I took a hasty bite, shifting my weight from one foot to another uncomfortably. “Oh, it’s these shoes. I love them, but they’re still new and this skirt is so tight, especially when I walk” I complained.

“Oh, is that all?” she laughed. “You need to swing your legs more from the hip. You know, like a girl! You just need a little practice.”

I took her word for it. I seemed to have little choice in any case. I made my farewells to Maria who seemed subdued over my leave taking. She really seemed to feel sad at my going and I shared that feeling too, well sort of. In the main I felt relief to be out of there, though we had become quite close in the past fortnight.

Once we were in the car, I was enlightened about my programme for the day. “I have to go straight to my salon” said Madeleine as she drove. “Your mom has some errands for you to run. She wants you to change some library books for her on your way home, so I’ll set you down close by. Oh, there are a few things she wants you to get her from the drugstore too. There’s a list of it all in your purse.”

I could see the books on the rear seat next to my case and my other belongings, which my mentor told me I could leave in the car. She would deliver them to my mother later. When we pulled to a halt some blocks away from the library, I looked my surprise that she didn’t park up any nearer that building, but she didn’t explain and only smiled back at me, knowingly. Then she took me in her arms and I was enveloped in her perfume once more as she kissed me goodbye. My eyes were misty at this fond parting.

“You know, I will really miss you, but I know we’ll meet soon. Bye, sweetie!” As I got out of the car she called, “You’re going to have such fun today!!”
Fun?! Why did that word inspire dread in me?!

Feeling extremely self-conscious in my tiny skirt (mini-skirts were yet to become a common sight), and my too tight blouse, I made my way down the street, carrying the pink cardigan over my arm as the day was warm. I encountered plenty of people on the sidewalk and walking in my tall heels and hip hugging skirt was a whole new experience. Trying to swing my legs as Madeleine had advised me helped some, but that itself had an unwanted side effect. My butt seemed to sway from side to side like a pendulum, the more freely as I wasn’t wearing a panty-girdle. I was self-conscious about the prominence of my bust too. Sure enough, I found that I was getting more attention than I looked for in this busy street. What else should anyone expect, wiggling their ass in such a tight little skirt? It wasn’t just boys my age that took a second look as I passed but men old enough to be my dad turned their heads. Eww! There was even a whistle from a passing car.

The thing which really took me unawares, however, was the novel affect this attention was having on me. I found I was actually enjoying the idea that I was being looked at. Also I realised that I seemed to be conscious of something about men that I’d seldom noticed before. I caught myself looking at a handsome guy in his thirties getting out of a car and recoiled internally when I found myself checking out not just his broad shoulders, his hair and face, but the front of his pants. What am I doing?!

Why was I feeling like this? Was this one of those mood things that Madeleine had been referring to? It didn’t happen just that once either. A young couple approached me and what got my attention was not the girl, who had a curvy figure and was pretty, but her partner. His trousers bulged suggestively in a way I wasn’t in the habit of noticing ordinarily. Thankfully I made it to the library without incident and paused in the doorway to get my head back together before going inside. Here I ought to find a sanctuary where I might be out of the public gaze for a while. Breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief, I wiggled my little skirt over to the desk to hand in Mom’s books. Just my luck! The librarian on duty was someone I recognised only too well. It was Mr McShane, the tall dark-haired guy who had expressed his interest in me on previous visits and today I could see that he couldn’t take his eyes off my... er… attributes. Now I knew from experience what it felt like to be mentally undressed.

He took quite a while over retrieving Mom’s tickets, smiling and making some lame efforts at conversation; like he was on the same wavelength as a teenage girl! Eventually I made my escape and went in search of the books I’d been asked to get. There was to be no respite, however. Ignoring the woman who had entered after me and was waiting to return her own borrowings, the librarian followed me down the row. When he smilingly called to me that he could help me find what I wanted, I wasn’t entirely sure he had reading material in mind!

Searching fruitlessly as I walked, I made slow progress and he soon caught me up. To get away, I slipped around the corner at the end of the aisle. Mistake! Where I had headed was into an alcove that led nowhere and when he followed me I realised that I couldn’t escape. McShane smiled and asked to see the list of books I was looking for, but he already had his hand on my arm and was standing way too close as we talked. All I wanted was to get away and be left alone, but I couldn’t free myself without pushing past him, which would be difficult. My boobs were simply in the way!

I found myself glancing down at his pants (what is it with me?!) and saw that one of us was fully aroused and it wasn’t me! Well, okay perhaps me too… Maybe just a little bit… Okay have it your own way, a whole lot! However, it was in a different way than formerly. My body seemed to be tingling all over and I was very conscious of the soft material of my blouse stretched over my prominent bosom. This was all wrong! I needed to get out of there. As I made to slide past, I missed my step and staggered against him. It was a golden opportunity for him to grab me. He took it with both hands, one on my waist and the other around my back.

“Whoaa! Steady there, honey!” he chortled, and held me tighter, at the same time sliding the hand which was on my waist down to cup my butt.

Noooo! Worse, that actually felt nice! A wave of pleasure swept through me. My chest was heaving and my breath was getting shorter by the second. I could feel my breasts touching him and I knew part of me wanted this to continue. I had to resist an urge to press myself up against him even closer! Perhaps if I did, he would give my ass the squeeze I was longing for; with both hands. I just had to tilt my head up and he’d kiss me… Eewk!! Why was I even thinking this?! Finally in panic I handed him off and managed somehow to wriggle free.

“Thanks! Sorry! I got to go!” I cried and just fled. Mom would have to do without those books she wanted. Self-preservation was more important! At the desk the woman was still waiting there and as I passed she glared at me. She must have guessed what had been going on but even so I got no sympathy from her direction.

I heard her mutter something about, “dressed like that, you’re just asking for it, missy!” She was probably right. Part of me at least had been craving… something!

In my haste to leave the building, my new purse slipped off my shoulder as I pushed through the revolving door. It fell, the contents cascading onto the pavement and in attempting to prevent it doing so, I too went sprawling. I saw that it had slid away and had come to rest at the feet of a young man who was watching me with amusement and something more. I could tell that from my involuntary glance at his crotch. There I go again! Oh no! He can see that I’m looking! I quickly averted my eyes.

He knelt to help me while I focussed on trying vainly to retrieve what was left of my modesty. With a grin all over his face he smoothed down my tiny skirt and I coloured to the roots of my hair.

I got to my feet, crammed as many of my things as I could into the purse and without even a thank-you I ran for it blindly.

It took a few minutes before the realisation of what a sight I must look hit me, clattering along in my tight little outfit and heels while clutching the random belongings which remained in my hand. I stopped and, turning, saw that my rescuer hadn’t followed me. Whew! I could see him in the distance standing and watching me, still with that broad grin. I tried to collect myself before continuing along the street. There were several more blocks to pass before I reached the store I was headed for and how I got there I couldn’t say. I went inside and instead of going to the pharmacy counter, found a nearby aisle to hide in. I leaned back against the shelves and closed my eyes. I still had shopping to get and then I needed to be home to change for my job at Mrs Martin’s in the evening. I didn’t see how I could face all that.

Then “Jennifer? Is that you? What are you doing down there?”
Help!

Reluctant Diva 22
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 22 – Girl Talk
“What are you doing down there?”

Rachel’s voice, filled with concern, roused me from my trance. I opened my eyes and discovered I was standing in the section of the drugstore which stocked exclusively male items. “Are you okay?”

Next thing I knew I was enveloped in a warm hug and at this sign of sympathy I burst into tears. Anxiously my friend hurried me into the back room and sat me down on a chair. The next minutes were heaven. It was wonderful to have her fussing over me. She got me a glass of water and some tissues and helped me sort out my makeup. I eventually managed to give her a weak smile.

“What happened to you? You’re a sight for sore eyes and no mistake” she wryly remarked.

“I was at the library and this guy hit on me!” I sniffed. “His hands… Ugh!”

“That’s awful!” my defender cried. “You are dressed to kill, but it’s still awful, you poor thing!”
She thought for a minute, then “Listen! It’s my lunch in ten minutes. You stay quietly in here till then and I’ll be able to give you a ride home. I have to get back to the store.”

Grateful for the respite I was more than happy to stay where I was. Ten minutes later I was still trying to get my head clear after the events of the morning when Rachel hurriedly came back into the room.

“Change of plan, sweetie!” she exclaimed. “I was worried so I phoned your mom and explained how you are. She thinks you’re probably famished and I imagine that yesterday was just too much for you. She wants you to come with me back to our house and stay there until she can get home from work. I’ve taken the afternoon off as the store owes me some time. There’ll be no-one in the house but you and me. Oh, and she’s going to phone Mrs Martin and tell her you’re not well enough to work this evening.” Rachel paused for breath. “You okay with all that?”

I nodded with relief. It suited me just fine. In what seemed no time my rescuer was swapping her white overall for her jacket. She put her hand under my arm and led me out to where her car was parked up. Five minutes later we were in the Bennett household. Rachel took me straight up to her room and then went downstairs to make us both a coffee. I got to use the bathroom and felt immediately more like myself.

Back in Rachel’s room I perched on the end of the bed. I was familiar with the Bennett’s house from my cleaning job, but with leisure to look about me I thought I could detect my rescuer’s personality in the way her bedroom was arranged. It was decorated in a young and modern fashion and like herself it was stylish, pretty and feminine. I found myself wondering how Mom would respond if I asked to have my own room done up like this. Perhaps it need not be too expensive. I made some mental notes of the sort of things I might like for myself. It occurred to me that if more momentous things hadn’t happened over the last few weeks, I might have found myself worrying that wanting a more feminine room was another step down the road that led away from my masculinity but now it couldn’t have mattered less!

When she came back, Rachel was carrying a tray with drinks and sandwiches on it. She set it down and took charge.
“Okay, into bed with you!” was her first command. “And let’s have you out of those tight clothes.”

She took my cardigan from me and busied herself undoing the buttons of my blouse. After helping me out of the sleeves, she peeled it off before unzipping my skirt and letting it fall to the floor. She pushed me back on to the bed and knelt down to remove my shoes. Reaching up she pulled my pantyhose off my butt and down my legs and eased them off my feet. Her face was inches from my panty clad crotch during these exertions but I was confident that nothing showed down there. She reached around my back and unfastened my new bra.

“That looks nice” she commented after taking it off and holding it up. “It’s so pretty. I’d love to get one just like it.” Then, holding up my pantyhose, “Where did you get these?”

I explained that they and the lingerie had been birthday gifts from Madeleine. I thanked her again for hers which had been a make-up compact, dainty and useful at the same time.

It was strange to be sitting before her in only my panties, so I made no protest when she lifted the bedclothes and scooped my legs up onto the bed, covered me over and plumped some pillows behind my head. I could see that Rachel’s nursing skills had come to the fore.

“I only changed the bed-linen yesterday, so it will have to do” she grinned at me. The sheets smelled nice, just like her, and that was all right by me. I smiled back at her happily. She handed me my mug of coffee and I sipped it gratefully.

“Hungry?” She gave me a plate so I could make a selection from the sandwiches she had prepared. Delicately cut into triangles, they looked inviting. I realised that Mom’s diagnosis had been correct. I had hardly eaten yesterday and today had only had a mouthful of toast. I was so empty that my plateful disappeared while Rachel was eating her first sandwich. Embarrassed by my poor manners I started to apologise, but she put her finger on my lips and filled my plate again. To be pampered like this was a dream!

When we had eaten, “Now we can have a real heart-to-heart. Just girls together!” Saying this she stood up and unfastened her dress. It was a simple button down shirt-dress and needless to say looked stunning on her.

She slipped it off and turning to face me, I could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Even without any support her breasts were firm and shapely. The effect of seeing her in her panties, garter belt and hose was startling and I tried not to stare. Smiling confidently, she unhooked her robe from inside the closet door and wrapped it around her. Then she lifted the sheet and slid into the bed beside me. She rearranged the pillows and squeezed up next to me. Her proximity immediately resulted in a pressure down below as my private area strove against its bonds. It seemed that it wasn’t only Maria who had this stimulating effect on me!

“That perfume smells wonderful. Mmmm! It really does. Now do you feel like telling me what’s been happening?” and she gazed at me, her eyes wide. “Only if you want to, mind. I was expecting we’d have a long talk about yesterday as it was such a brilliant day for you, but I can see there’s something more important for you to get off your… chest.” Her hesitation and downward glance at that area of my body defused any tension. We both collapsed into giggles, but were soon serious again.

As I knew it would be, it was such a relief to talk to someone who truly sympathised. I’d always trusted Rachel more than anybody, despite her occasional teasing, like giving me those suggestive male posters. I knew that it was just her love of playfulness. Now I found her kind as ever so I set about giving her every detail of the fortnight with Madeleine before my party. “I stayed there last night as well” I concluded.

“She must be a very good friend of yours?”

“Well, sort of.” I hesitated. “It’s more she’s been kind of teaching me.”

“Madeleine Bell? Teaching you? That must have been some education!” My friend’s sympathy and concern was evident as she gently elicited from me the experiences I’d gone through in the last few weeks. Though I had no intention of being so open, even with her, by the time we had done there were few details she either didn’t know or couldn’t surmise.

Rachel’s eyes widened as I touched on my first visit there too and when I had concluded, all she said was, “I don’t think you can have anything more to learn. I can see I’ll be coming to you for tuition!” Then rather gravely, “If I was your mother, I definitely wouldn’t have chosen Madeleine as your mentor, her and that maid! But I’d better not say anything else about that right now.”

She thought for a moment then asked what meds I was taking, and drew in her breath when I told her. Then after further reflection “Don’t think too badly of your mom. I expect she only wants what she considers the best for you.”

Rachel’s emphasis of the verb spoke volumes to me. As we were being so frank, I went on to tell her the uppermost worry that persistently haunted me. I had reached the conclusion by now that I would never be able to give satisfaction in the bedroom department and that made me feel that I was “damaged goods". She was a good listener and passed no comment as I talked, but she placed her arm around my waist and squeezed tighter against me.

I felt better for having told someone even if it didn’t give me much peace of mind. Seeing this, she changed the subject. “Now something happened today that really upset you. Do you want to tell me about it?”

Haltingly I told her about the walk to the library and what took place there. She totally agreed with me that the incident with the librarian was outrageous.
Right then, Rachel seemed so connected to me, just like a big sister. I felt I could confide anything, like how mixed-up I felt when the man at the library touched me.

“I didn’t ask him to! I just wanted out of there. But… it felt kinda nice all the same. Really nice! I didn’t want it to stop. How come?! That’s disgusting, right?”

She immediately consoled me, “No way! The only thing that should have mattered is that you didn’t invite him to touch you. That man was so out of line! Next time you go to that place, I’m coming with you” she promised. “He won’t go near you again!”

Emboldened by this I let her know about the guilt I was feeling over my new and unwanted interest in male bodies and how I kept looking at them. My own body seemed to want to act independently of my mind. Laughingly she assured me that she didn’t share that experience herself. Apparently her wonderful body and lovely mind were in full agreement with each other over the role to be played by the opposite sex in her life!

In this respect I got some very direct advice, “Oh pooh! Tell your mind to listen to that body of yours,” she giggled. “We all have physical ‘needs’ and so do you, just as much as anyone else. You should stay away from these mean girls and crazy women and find yourself a nice boy to take care of you, and of your ‘needs’ too. Now you know Chris is just wild about you! I can tell you like him too. He just needs a prod. Shall I give him a few hints?!”

Then she stopped abruptly in the midst of her laughter, her face suddenly clouded. “Who am I to be advising you on your love-life, when mine’s such a disaster? But hey, let’s not talk about that.”

There was an awkward pause. I was impressed that someone so much older and more experienced than me felt she could confide in me in her turn, and, not wishing to change the subject, I asked her what was happening with George, the guy from work she’d seemed so keen on.

“Oh, nothing. So far. I think he may have someone.” Her tone was listless.

“How did your double date go?” I asked tentatively, thinking of the night I saw “Pillow Talk” or some of it, though I was conscious that I might be approaching sensitive ground.

“Oh, okay” she shrugged. “Frank and Jimmy. They’re nice guys, but I can’t get enthusiastic over either.

We were silent for a while then, encouraged by the intimacy of our conversation, I blurted out, “You’re still upset over Marty, aren’t you?”

Rachel didn’t answer and looked away. I put my arms around her and hugged her tightly. Embarrassingly, the cover fell away from my bare boobs as I squeezed her against me. She glanced down at them as she smiled bravely at me. She clearly wanted to try and lighten the mood and joked, “Wow! They’re going to be as big as mine before long!”

She unwrapped her robe and turned to hold her naked bust next to mine. Stunned, I gasped in ecstasy, wondering if my birthday had come around again. There was no comparing our busts for either size or shape but to feel her perfect bosom against mine was totally thrilling. Rachel smiled proudly at my reaction and the end result was that we both collapsed in fits of laughter again, before I hastily pulled the sheet back up to make myself decent.

Covering herself with her robe again, “Seriously, I guess I still have some feelings for Marty. Like I could cheerfully kill him! He was only after one thing, however. I was stupid enough to let him have his way. After we’d broken up, what you did that time helped me some, though I did feel a little mean about it afterwards.”

“Me too!” I agreed, and then, “You… you let him!”

“Don’t look at me like that! I knew I was being a fool. But I really liked him and… he’s so good-looking and…” She fell silent and there was an awkward pause.

“He’s a great kisser” I put in.

She regarded me for a while, her eyebrows raised. “I hear you’ve seen him since your date?” she voiced the eventual question that was hanging there.

“Sort of… He phoned me the next day and asked to meet me. I didn’t want it to happen, honestly, but I felt sorry for him so I couldn’t say no. He’s called me a few times, and given me a few rides home from Mrs Martin’s. I even wondered about inviting him to the party as one of my attendants yesterday, but that didn’t seem fair to you.”

Her eyebrows went up even higher!

I gulped and went on, “It would have been too complicated. Oh Rachel, I don’t know what to do about him. I still don’t get why he wants to see me, when he knows about… you know. Help me please!”

She considered for a while before declaring. “Okay. I’ll level with you. Marty has had it way too easy. His mother dotes on his every step and each girl he dates just falls at his feet.”
“Me included” she added ruefully. “But I’ll get over it. Given time. Even if he came crawling back, I wouldn’t take him. I could just never trust him.”

After a pause she continued, “So, go for it if you like. You’re different to anyone he’s ever dated, I guess, and you actually got the better of him, so there are two novelty factors in your favour. You look pretty amazing too, don’t forget! If he had seen you yesterday in all your finery... Wow! He’d have been completely lost! Why shouldn’t you succeed where everyone else has failed? Who knows? Now you’re officially a woman, it may turn out that you may be more of one than any of us. Ouch! That’s a scary thought!” She laughed heartily and pulled down the bedclothes to uncover my bust again. “Even if your boobs aren’t quite as big as mine yet!”

I wrestled the sheet from her to regain some of my modesty while she teased. “Have you been checking out the front of his pants too? Oh Jennifer, where will it all end?!”
More seriously, “But watch yourself. You will definitely have to be the one who says no! If you decide to go out with Marty, it’s okay with me. But you had better keep him guessing or you’ll be the one that loses. Got that. Play it cool, at least until you have had enough of him, which may not be too long.”

This made me feel a whole lot better and I told her so. Not long after this I said I was ready to go and would be okay to walk home. I started to get dressed again while she watched me anxiously.

“You sure now? I can drive you.”

“No, I’ll be all right. I should be, as I’m so much a woman!” We both dissolved into giggles. “The air will do me good too. Thank-you for everything. You’re the best friend a ‘girl’ could have!”

Dressed in the same clothes as before and with makeup freshly applied, I hugged Rachel gratefully and kissed her cheek. In return, I got a friendly squeeze of my butt. “Doesn’t that feel good?” she smiled cupping it with both hands.

It did! I blushed deeply again. Before leaving I went into the bathroom. When I was done, on looking in the mirror I saw that she had left a big lipstick mark on my cheek. My idol certainly loved to tease me.

My journey home from Rachel’s turned out to be something I was well able to cope with. One thing was in my favour, the streets I had to travel were quieter than down-town, so there weren’t as many eyes upon me. After a while walking in the heels and tight skirt became easier and I was less conscious of that distracting wiggle. On the other hand, my outfit still attracted notice from the males that I passed, but after my heart-to-heart with Rachel, their interest somehow seemed to be a good thing. I actually began to relish it.

The idea Rachel had given me, that it was okay for my body to have ‘needs’, was responsible for this alteration in my feelings. Perhaps my new ‘interest’ was only to be expected of someone who was as female as I had begun to think myself! By the time I reached home without further adventure, I was in a better state of mind. Then the sight of Mom’s car in the driveway gave me pause. I wasn’t looking forward to the interrogation I was likely to face when I went in.

I had to stop and take a deep breath to prepare myself before I entered.

Reluctant Diva 23
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 23 – The watershed
To my surprise, instead of getting the usual third degree from Mom, all I had to face were a few cursory questions that were easy to skate over or supply a partial answer to. She seemed genuinely concerned that I was okay, but evidently her head was full of yesterday’s celebration. After telling me several times how well I had done and how proud I had made her, she went on to enthuse over my dancing. Apparently much of the event had been captured by the Bennetts’ cine camera and we had been invited to visit there one evening for the first viewing. In the meantime my parent showed me some stills she had taken with her instant camera, which I couldn’t wait to see. I leafed through them eagerly.

“I was pleased you remembered something from your dance lessons in 7th grade” she remarked, as I examined a photo of my waltz with Dad. “All that effort and expense weren’t a total waste. Your posture is really quite good in that snap.”

The snapshot vividly recalled to my mind the hush which had descended on the room when it was announced. “Señoras y señores, por favor. Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please! And now, for the first waltz! The proud father!”

Dad had complied without hesitation and walked out to the centre of the floor. I wasn’t surprised at his willingness, because though it was something of a family joke, he fancied himself as a great dancer, often to our embarrassment. Standing there alone, he had looked around expectantly to see who would be his partner. He might have preferred to be with Marnie while steeling himself to dancing with Mom as second best, but when I had been led out to the middle instead and my hand had been placed in his, my father’s mingled surprise and reluctance had been only too obvious.

By then it had been too late for him to refuse. The band had struck up the first notes and we’d started automatically. Dad hadn’t been able to look me in the face but that didn’t matter because holding his head away from his partner had given him the natural posture for a waltz, or so I’d recalled being taught by our dance tutor. I knew that the woman’s ideal pose was similarly to look away from the man while arching herself back as far as she could, so I’d done my best to adopt it. How successful this had been is a matter for conjecture. One immediate result had been that my prominent bosom had come dangerously close to bursting out of my dress for the duration of the entire dance. With that possibility imminent I guessed that no-one would have had eyes for my footwork or that of my dance partner.

In the photo my dad had been caught in a flamboyant pose. The ‘female’ he was holding could only have been me, although my face wasn’t too distinguishable. My posture appeared to defy gravity and it seemed a miracle that my bust had remained decently covered.
In hindsight the best probably that can be said is that the dance itself had been mercifully short. After we’d promenaded twice around the floor the music had come to a close and it had been over. Once we’d separated I’d given a twirl amid resounding applause and returned to my seat.

Despite the fixed smile on her face, the look in my stepmother’s eyes as I’d passed her would have curdled milk. I’d been close enough to hear her hiss to my father “We’re leaving!” as he had rejoined her. Out of the corner of my eye I’d also seen the look of triumph on my mother’s face but there hadn’t been time for me to dwell on that. There had been much more dancing ahead of me.

“I will allow that your father knows his way around a dance floor… though I don’t think anyone was looking at him” my other parent remarked drily. “I will remember the look on the face of that trollop he brought with him for a good long time. Why she thought she ought to come, I can’t imagine!” her face clouded over at this thought, but to my relief she shook off the unwelcome recollection with an effort.

“I really owe you, my love!” She leaned forward and pressed my knee gratefully. “I can’t remember feeling this good in ages. I’ve had to wait years to get one over on her, but yesterday really was payback time!”

Well, at least one of my parents was happy. I could almost see the undercurrent of excitement bubbling inside her as she spoke again. “While you were away last week, sweetie, I made a couple of changes. Come and see if you approve!” She seemed excited like a little girl!

This was new. Imagine my approval being sought about… well, about anything! Mom led the way upstairs and into her room. It had been completely made over. The walls were prettily decorated with contrasting curtains and the wainscot and door were newly painted. The colour scheme was white and lilac. The furniture was also new, in white with delicate mouldings, as was the bed. The head of the latter was hung with lacy drapes and prominent amongst the pillows was the one from my party, embroidered with my name.

I was getting the impression that my mother’s enthusiasm for commemorating yesterday’s celebration was without limits, for there in pride of place, my quinceañera dress was tastefully displayed in one corner of the room.

I turned to my mother in delight. “Oh Mom! This is wonderful! You should have treated yourself like this long before now. It’s all so pretty, I can see that you’re going to love this room.”

“You are perfectly right” she smiled back. There was a mischievous glint in her eye which should have warned me she had something up her sleeve. “I have treated myself in doing all this, and I am going to just adore… your new room!” She pointed to the mirror over the top of which the name ‘Jennifer’ was picked out in an ornate script.

I didn’t understand the meaning of her words or her gesture and looked to be enlightened. Was she hinting that she had had something similar done to my room as well?

“Happy Birthday! This is your bedroom now, sweetie. I’m so pleased you like it.”

As the penny dropped, I was stunned into silence. My room! While I tried to recover, she pointed out all the thoughtful little details that had been applied and showed me around the adjoining bathroom, which was now my bathroom. This must all have cost her dearly. Finally she led the way to what was now my former room. That had also been newly decorated though in a more traditional style. More expense! Her old furniture just fitted within the smaller dimensions. I couldn’t understand why she had exchanged rooms with me.

“Since our home now has a beautiful young woman, my daughter, belonging to it” she explained, “it’s only fitting that she should take precedence. She will have the best there is, while ever she lives here. I shall be quite happy in this space.”

Mom’s emotions bubbled over at this point. She clasped me to her in a hug and then, stifling what might have been a sob, she left me to return downstairs. Back in my new room I sat on the bed and tried to take in what this all meant. My new bedroom was by far the best room in the house and I couldn’t get over my pleasure and surprise at my mother’s generosity in making it over to me. I would never have expected anything like this and it made me re-evaluate the basis of our relationship. It seemed that in my mom’s eyes, Jennifer was quite special, after all!

There had been something odd about her words. What had they been? “The best there is, while ever she lives here.” That was a strange way to express herself. Where else would I live?

As I sat there, I tried to take stock of my life mentally. The end of my first high school year was only weeks away and Jennifer was pretty much accepted there. I had a circle of friends which was admittedly quite small but that was enough for me. I didn’t need to be universally popular, just safe! More to the point there were only a few people I needed to stay wary of at school. Lee and Abe and their cronies headed up that category, but mostly they were in a different part of the school. Karen and her buddies weren’t far behind. So far I’d been able to avoid them as much as I could.

There were other positives. Though enjoying Madeleine’s patronage had sometimes been uncomfortable, it had opened my eyes to a world of sophistication I hadn't encountered before. As a ‘girl’, my sight, touch and smell were continually assaulted with new and exquisite sensations. To be honest I couldn’t get enough of them. Amazingly I had an attentive boyfriend who was an object of envy to all my school friends. Despite our enforced separation over recent weeks he had remembered to send me a birthday gift; also flowers and a card. It felt good to be so admired.
Incredibly enough, I was content with the way I looked. Okay… more than content. A glance in the mirror was no longer something to be dreaded and though I couldn’t help be constantly aware of the curviness of my body, I’d begun to revel in it. My inclination these days was to lift my head and pull my shoulders back, instead of trying to hide. I actually liked being looked at!

Best of all, though, was the way my relationship with Mom had changed. Not only was I no longer constantly yelled at or even scolded very often, but we were close a lot of the time. That was special and meant more to me than anything. There weren’t too many clouds on the horizon. With the optimism of my years I reflected, what could possibly go wrong?

Reluctant Diva 24
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 24 – In the mood
It took some days to become acclimatised to my new sleeping arrangements. More than once I found myself running up to my old room by mistake. It seemed there were some other changes which were harder to get used to if, in my mother’s eyes, I were to lead the life of a young woman as fully as possible. One which was less welcome was that my constricting corset should be a permanent feature of my night attire.

My mother was insistent however. “Your two weeks with Madeleine have done wonders for your figure, Jennifer dear. We mustn’t let that slip.” We?! I didn’t like where this was going.
Ignoring my look of concern, she continued “Now I don’t think it’s realistic for you to be laced into a corset all day; not if you are to lead the active life of the young miss you have become. A cincher or panty-girdle will have to do in school time.”

My relief at hearing this was short-lived. Picking up one of the corsets, “At night however, there’s no reason that you can’t continue to sleep in these to maintain that pretty waist. You have gained such lovely curves now, it would be a pity to lose them. You will thank me when you have some special date to go to and find you can wear just whatever you like.”

No argument came to my mind to counter my mother’s logic and she went on, “I will show you how to fan-lace it to help you put it on without assistance. How does that sound?”

The novelty of being asked rather than told came as such a welcome surprise that I didn’t take the opportunity of raising an objection. This new degree of curtesy I was being treated to stopped me in my tracks and when I saw the modified garment, I had to admit that lacing it up by myself would be child’s play. My curiosity got the better of me and I allowed Mom to go ahead and show me how to fit it on.

When I got ready for bed that evening, I found that once I had looped the corset around me and clipped the front together there were just two straps to pull and fasten off in order to tighten the laces. Simple! What was less to my liking was that its degree of tightness was out of my control. Mom came in to assist and laced me as tight as I thought possible and then some. She marked the straps off accordingly. I knew she would be able to check against these marks all too easily, so with a sinking heart, I realised there would be no relaxing its steel-boned grip.

Another change was in the nature of my employment. I was informed that as a ‘woman’ I would be expected to contribute something towards the household expenses. I was to look for an all-day Saturday job. Mom felt sure there would be no shortage of suitable vacancies available. I could give up one of my cleaning jobs, but keep on with the other one working three evenings a week instead of two. That would give me time to keep up with all my chores at home and do my schoolwork as well. Really?!

She pointed out that as Mrs Martin paid the best, I might want to continue with her and stop cleaning for Mrs Bennett. That suggestion was welcome as I’d always dreaded the chance of Chris seeing me dressed as a maid. So far I’d avoided letting him do so and had worried how long that state of affairs might continue, even though Mom had thoughtfully provided me with a new uniform dress. I was pleased to see it was in a more dignified style than its skimpy predecessor, perhaps in keeping with how I was now regarded as a ‘woman’.

During our prolonged break, I’d reconciled myself to the likelihood that Marty would have lost interest in me. It had been nearly a month since I’d seen him. However he had remembered to send me a birthday gift which was thoughtful. An unexpected thrill ran through me when I opened the parcel and found it to contain some pretty lingerie. It was elegant if a little on the naughty side and I couldn’t fault his choice. It must have cost plenty. From Mom’s arch smile when I showed it to her, I guessed that he’d had some help selecting it, especially as the bra was in exactly my new size!

I wasn’t too surprised therefore, on the Monday a week after my party, to find him waiting in the usual spot to give me a ride home after work. I was feeling quite confident in my looks. My hair, nails and make-up still bore the benefit of my visit to the salon. Predictably, however, what most caught my paramour’s attention was the alteration in my figure.

“Hey Jennifer! Missed you!” he grinned as he got out of the car to open my door for me.

The day was warm and I wasn’t wearing anything over my new uniform dress. In plain black trimmed with a modicum of lace, it had a full skirt and fitted bodice which showed off my curves. After we’d hugged, he stood back and with undisguised astonishment ran his eyes up and down me from head to toe. Smilingly, I basked in the unqualified approval that my figure was getting. After all, it had taken a lot of work to achieve the waist and bust-line I was now blessed with.

“Now Marty!” I laughed in mock reproof. “Were you never told, it’s rude to stare?”

My boyfriend seemed uncharacteristically dumbstruck. He couldn’t take his eyes off my boobs and continued to gape at them goggle-eyed. “How did you get…?”

I slipped into the seat, laughing at his gaucheness. “I’ve missed you too!” I was surprised to discover how much I had. It felt so nice to be with him.
Then overconfidence led to my downfall. “They are real, you know! You can touch them if you want to!”

The words slipped out unintentionally but then I thought, why not? We hadn’t seen each other for more than three weeks and I had prepared myself to allow him a little more licence than usual. Recovering more swiftly than I could have imagined, Marty needed no second bidding and while I was enjoying his kisses, I could feel his hand massaging my chest. That was okay, but next thing I knew, the zipper on my dress was undone and its bodice was down around my waist. That was no more than I was expecting, though things were happening way too fast!

In getting changed for work that evening, I’d decided on wearing his birthday gift under my uniform. It wasn’t a difficult choice. I’d become accustomed to wearing some of Madeleine’s exotic underwear and I loved the sensual feel of satin against my skin. My boyfriend had chosen a set in that material; a push-up bra, with garters and French knickers to match. The colour was a vibrant red and the style made the most of my curvy bust.

I’d chosen to wear it on the principle that knowing I was sexy underneath would give me confidence, while my companion needn’t be any the wiser. The problem was that now my boyfriend could see my erotic underpinnings he was bound to get the wrong impression! Actually it was the right impression but not the one I wanted him to get. I think. You know what I mean!

Even when we came up for air he couldn’t take his hand from my satin clad breasts.
“Wow!” he cried in delight. Then “Are you’re wearing the rest…?”

I nodded and immediately could almost see what was going on in his mind. He was thinking that Christmas had come early. I felt some irritation at the question. Men are so predictable!

He managed to stammer out “Baby, are you hot?!”

I wasn’t in disagreement. I was hot in more senses of the word than the one he was meaning but I was more concerned that he himself might be getting too hot to handle. I needed desperately to cool things down again. Although I had been prepared to allow a little more intimacy than normal this evening, now it came to it I really wasn’t in the mood.

I heard myself remark in a conversational tone “Oh yes, thanks again for this pretty underwear! You were clever to choose it. Now let me think, who helped you? Was it my mom?”

Marty looked taken aback by my directness and his sheepish expression confirmed the accuracy of my guess. “Your mom?”

“Yes, I could tell, but don’t worry. I do like it! You should see the stuff she wears, though. So matronly!”

If I was hoping to keep his ardour in check by conjuring up some dampening images in his mind, it seemed to be working. Managing the situation might have been tricky but I couldn’t believe how easy I was finding it. From the stunned silence that ensued, I decided that things were back under some kind of control and I could cut Marty a little more slack. All I had to do was to reach behind me, unfasten my bra and let its contents spill across him to rekindle the flame. That wasn’t going to happen.

Instead I smiled encouragingly at my deflated boyfriend. “Well, as we’ve been missing each other so much… I did say you are allowed to touch. Nothing below the waist, mind!”

It was later than usual by the time I had made myself decent again. I set to work to restore my make-up and hair. Marty’s eyes had a glazed look as he drove me home. Secretly I took satisfaction in the awareness that I could be enough of a ‘woman’ for him. I knew that I could have provided for his needs if I chose, but it was better to keep him guessing. However this feeling of elation was diluted by the realisation that I wasn’t fully into this relationship. Perhaps it would be fairer to end it. I couldn’t decide.

As I entered the house another concern hit me. What would my mother’s reaction be?

I needn’t have worried. When I walked in she was smirking all over her face at my tardiness. As I was about to head upstairs to change, she called knowingly to me. “You and Marty had a lot to ‘say’ to each other, then?”

My face flushed as I guessed her meaning and her smirk became a delighted laugh. She clearly assumed more to have happened than actually had. I was happy not to enlighten her and to avoid giving a direct answer I lifted the hem of my dress to show her that I was wearing the birthday gift my boyfriend had given me.

“Very exotic!” she laughed. “How thoughtful of him to buy you that set” she gloated. “You seem to have got him just where you want him, Jennifer!”

I had to agree with her, before escaping to my room. Once alone I started to change out of my working dress. My eye was caught by a blaze of red reflected in the mirror. I stood and gazed at the image. In a deep crimson satin of liquid glossiness, the lingerie framed my curvy body in a way that was certainly startling. I twirled provocatively before the glass. If I had been in the right mood I would have loved to have shown it off. But this evening that had eluded me.

Why hadn’t I wanted to let my boyfriend see me this way? It was curious. My emotions had been widely different to those I’d experienced only one week before. On that occasion part of me wanted to go much further, but not now, even with a companion I found much more acceptable than the amorous librarian. What came to my mind was the term Madeleine had used; “mood swings”. Yes, that must be the reason.

The following afternoon I had a job interview after school. It seemed that my mother had been overly optimistic, underestimating the difficulty of securing part-time work. In actuality there was a lot of competition about for a limited number of positions. After trying and failing all week to get anything, I was reduced to applying for a vacancy at, yes, you guessed it, the library! Yes, I know, but it was my last resort.

Very tentatively I sent in my application and it was with no little trepidation that I heard that I was on their shortlist. When I told Rachel, she immediately renewed her promise to come with me for moral support. Perhaps I wouldn’t be successful and part of me hoped for that outcome. However, being interviewed by Mrs Harris and Mr McShane, who both knew me, inevitably worked in my favour. The former of my prospective employers was the aunt that Dennis and Sandra lived with and I knew would be predisposed towards me. And the latter? After my latest visit there, it was no surprise to me that he was agreeable to having me around; or maybe just having me!

When we were completing the formalities my friend was careful to make one thing clear. When I was asked my age, Rachel interrupted with “Jennifer is fifteen. Just fifteen, although she looks older. I hope that’s understood.”

Her tone was much sterner than I could have believed my sweet natured friend capable of delivering. It was also accompanied by a significant look in the man’s direction. He was more than twice my age, and his look of confusion showed that her intended meaning had struck a chord. In the meantime his colleague seemed to be hiding a smile. I was offered the job there and then. Surely I would be okay with Mrs Harris around. I accepted.

On top of the expense of my new uniform for my work as a maid, my mom had determined that my new Saturday job would require yet another purchase. The dress we settled on was similar in style to the black one but in a bright polka dot pattern. Fun and flirty, I loved wearing it. Both dresses were full skirted and a little shorter than the norm but as Mom pointed out, I had good legs and ought to make the most of my ‘assets’.

I was relieved when my first day working at the library went well, with nothing that I couldn’t cope with. The building was fairly quiet, I didn’t have a lot to do and the time dragged a little. As the weeks went by the library got busier. Besides the scattering of borrowers, there were a number of regulars who called in to sit at the tables reading. I was often singled out to assist finding what they wanted. With my lack of experience I couldn’t always help, but that didn’t seem to deter them from asking and some became quite familiar faces.

I was determined to make a success of my role so was always happy to search high and low when required. True, the brevity of my dress often meant that the tops of my hose must have been on display but I remembered what my mother had said about my legs. Knowing they might be seen to advantage gave me no end of satisfaction.

One of my regular tasks was to take a turn in replacing the returned books on the shelves in their proper places. Unaccountably it seemed that when Adrian, as Mr McShane preferred me to call him, was on duty, most of the ones that fell to my lot to deal with were for subjects occupying the top rows of the shelves.

Just the luck of the draw I guess! My efforts always attracted attention from the male readers, but again, I didn’t mind too much. Although generally I tried to be a model, and modest, employee, knowing my legs and ass were getting favourably noticed was some compensation for a boy with the weird lifestyle I’d settled for. I imagine I can’t have been the only ‘girl’ to be reassured by the knowledge she was appreciated by the male sex!

Reluctant Diva 25
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 25 – Sisters
The mid-term vacation after my birthday came at a good time; I needed the break to recover! Life at school then settled into a regular pattern and happily my ‘female’ status continued to be accepted by most of the school, or at least the part I had most contact with, and I ought to have been satisfied with my life, but inevitably there were a couple of things that bothered me. The most disturbing of these was that since my party, the friendship between Shirley’s group of friends and myself seemed to have cooled. This was bad news for me as their acceptance of me had been a lifeline and I valued it as highly as anything. Even though I hadn’t desired to be the prima-donna on the day, I imagined that from the amount of attention I’d received it might have looked that way. That was likely to be a source of irritation to my peers. Alternatively the reason could be simply that, when all was said, I was a boy and didn’t fit in. In either case, I didn’t know what I could do to restore the relationship. I was fresh out of ideas.

The other fly in the ointment that had been quietly buzzing away in my head for some time concerned an area of activity which was closed to me. Sport. Though I had been dropped from the baseball team long enough ago for it to be a distant if painful memory, there remained a gap in my life which from time to time I felt unhappy about. Since going to watch a football game with Mom all those months ago I’d had no involvement at all. My former aspirations to athletic endeavour had long been forgotten and the limited exercise provided by riding Rachel’s bike to school each day was unlikely to revive them.

At the end of one day not long before the end of term, my walk to the bicycle shed with Kyle and Peter ended differently. While I was occupied unlocking my bike the two boys had their heads together and were debating something intensely.

“Coming?” I said with what I hoped was my most winning smile.

I was ready to set off directly but was anxious not to leave without them. For weeks they had been happy to keep me company and I felt safer having them around. I didn’t want to lose their friendship. When their huddle came to an end, the debate between them apparently remained unresolved. Kyle returned my smile and moved towards his bicycle while Peter stood there frowning.

“What is it?” I smiled encouragingly. “Is something the matter?”

Peter coloured up before blurting “It’s Shirley. She and her mates have put their names down for the try-outs. They are going to practice after school and said that Kyle and me could go and watch. We should support them.” Usually so reticent, the boy was surprisingly emphatic.

“What try-outs?” I asked, still mystified.

“You know, the cheerleading try-outs.”

The penny finally dropped. I had heard that these would be happening about now, but the girls hadn’t let me in on their decision to get involved. If anything, it confirmed my guess that they looked on me as too much of a diva to be included in their little group. That was better than because I was ‘different’, but worrying all the same.

“Oh, okay” I shrugged, trying not to show any disappointment. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Well, why don’t you come with us?” proposed the taller boy.

I hesitated, considering. His suggestion was quite appealing. Since I’d started cycling to school I had been relieved of the duty of collecting Tom on my way home so I could spare half an hour if I chose. A big plus was that if I went along to support, it might prove to be a way of repairing my friendship with Shirley and co, and that seemed to be in dire need of mending. Also I had a hunch that Mom might actually approve, though I couldn’t have said why. Finally, wary of situations where I could be found alone and vulnerable, it would be safer for me to tag along with them.

One thing made me hesitate further. I knew that Shirley was definitely ‘interested’ in Kyle and might resent me as some kind of rival, if I showed up with him. It was no secret that he seemed to like me, even though he and she had been very thick together at my party. I didn’t want to make matters worse and I was torn with indecision. In the end I decided to tag along with the boys but to keep in mind that I might be treading on eggshells.

“I suppose I could, just for a little while.” I said, as carelessly as I could manage.

Once this was settled we picked up our bikes and wheeled them across to the sports pavilion. Intentionally I pressed ahead and left the pair behind. We wouldn’t be seen to arrive together. I picked out Shirley from a distance. As I came closer I could see she was wearing what I took to be the cheerleading uniform and actually looking a little nervous. That was most unusual for her. I leaned my bike against a rail and ran over to her.

“Hi!” I greeted her. “I heard that you’re all practising for the try-outs. Good for you! Can I stay and watch?”

“Why not? It’s a free country.” She tried not to look too pleased, but I could see that my presence wasn’t unwelcome.

“I know you’ll be just great! I noticed you dancing at the party.” She beamed with pleasure at this. Phew! I’d said the right thing. What’s more, it was true!

The boys had hung back and were standing awkwardly a little way off as this was a predominantly female affair. When Shirley saw them, she waved excitedly, and they returned the greeting more diffidently. Two of her friends were nearby and attired similarly; Audrey, a slim curly-haired girl, and Rosanne who was taller. The coach stood a little farther away. She kept looking at her watch, clearly waiting with some impatience. The final member of the prospective squad needed to be there before they could make a start. I ran an approving eye over the three of them, as in the complete cheerleader’s strip they were quite eye-catching. Their skirts were high-waisted and the hemlines were well above the knee. I could easily understand the boys’ motives in coming to support them!

After a few moments more Shirley’s best friend made her appearance. To everyone’s concern Paula was hobbling along with a heavy strapping on her ankle. She must have sprained it badly and there would be no way she could take part. In view of the team now being one member down it was decided that the practice couldn’t go ahead. Anyone could see that the injured girl was close to tears and I joined Shirley in trying to cheer her up. We sat with arms around her while it was agreed that, for now, coach would merely demonstrate some moves so the girls could step them through. They would return another afternoon to try out.

Coach ran through various moves; a cheer, side-line and dance. After several repetitions, she called a halt, looking serious. “You will almost certainly need another team member” she advised. “Although very experienced squads might be okay with three members, four is considered the minimum here.”

“Oh no!” wailed Shirley, “that’s so unfair. There just isn’t anyone else I can ask.” Then to coach, “Don’t worry. We will find a fourth. We’ll be here tomorrow.”

The teacher smiled encouragingly and departed. Meanwhile Paula had burst into tears and had to be reassured some more. “I only meant that we’ll get a sub just for a week or two until your ankle is better!” her friend soothed. “We won’t leave you out, I promise.”

For several minutes, the girls stood around helplessly looking completely forlorn. Then Audrey whispered something in Shirley’s ear and gestured in my direction. Her companions stared at her before they gathered to put their heads together earnestly. The outcome of this conclave was not long in being revealed.

“Jennifer! You will have to cover for Paula until she is better” said Shirley decidedly.

“Me!” I gasped, dumbstruck. The mere idea was terrifying. To be a cheerleader would be really cool, of course. Just about every ‘real’ girl aspired to the role but this was a long way outside my comfort zone. Did I want to put myself on display in front of the whole school? How could I hope to keep my ‘secret’ from becoming common knowledge.

“Yes, of course you! Were you following the moves that coach showed us just now?”

I quailed internally at the prospect opening up before me. “I guess…”

“That’s okay then. Paula has agreed you can borrow her uniform.” She thrust a sports bag into my hands. “Be here tomorrow. All right?”

“I... er... okay. As long as my Mom agrees.”

“You had better see she does. You’re supposed to be our friend, so be a real friend.”

“Okay, okay! I will” I acquiesced. It appeared that I had little choice in the matter.

When I arrived home Mom had already returned from work. As I hastily entered the lounge, I could see a warning furrow etched between her brows. Breathlessly I plunged into a halting explanation of what had made me later than usual. The pending storm was deferred for the moment and when I showed her Paula’s uniform she actually looked pleased. My parent’s eyes started to sparkle with mirth as she mused “A cheerleader! Whatever next? Well I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised!”

I was unsure what she was hinting, but she answered my unspoken question before it was asked, “It must run in the family. You are looking at a high-school squad captain!”

Holding up first the vest top and then the little skirt of my borrowed strip, she criticised, “We didn’t wear anything as skimpy as this back then, nothing like it, and we still got our fair share of admirers. We did that without looking cheap!”

The pom-poms and tiny shorts came under Mom’s scrutiny next, until with undisguised excitement she exclaimed, “Well let’s see how you look then. Quickly girl!”

I took the clothes from her and ran upstairs to my room, where I lay them on the bed. I gazed at the pleasing effect of the matching set spellbound. Then I remembered that my mother’s impatience might be growing, so I hastily stripped out of my school clothes and squeezed myself into the uniform. It was immediately obvious that, while by no means slender, there was a lot less of Paula than there was of me in some areas. The little blue skirt fitted well enough around my waist. The accompanying top was stretched too tightly for comfort across my well-developed bust, however. I was wearing one of those bras with conical cups and its shape wasn’t helping. As for the matching shorts, essential for modesty under such a revealing skirt, it was all I could do to squeeze into them, let alone zip them up at the side.

As I was struggling to fasten them Mom appeared in the doorway wearing her satisfied smile. “Is that big butt of yours getting you into trouble again, Jennifer?”

“These are all too small for me!” I wailed. “I can’t possibly wear any of them!”

“Nonsense, girl!” she chided. “The top will be okay with perhaps a little less definition to your bust. Try it with a different bra. The skirt is fine if a trifle short, but you have good legs. You will just need to wear something different underneath. I think I know just the thing.”

Leaving me to rummage vainly through my underwear drawer for a bra which might give me a less curvy silhouette, she disappeared. Returning a few minutes later, her hands held some unfamiliar items which I could only imagine had been at the back of her bottom drawer for some time. I’d never seen them in the laundry.

“Here. Try these!” handing me a pair of blue panties. “They are cut quite full and were mine in the days before childbearing took its toll on me.”
She mused ruefully “I don’t know why I’ve kept them as they will always be too small for me now. After having Tom I did manage to get my figure back up top, but from the waist down it’s been a different story. See what ‘real’ women have to go through to have children!”

I looked at the underwear doubtfully. The panties were in a delicate slippery satin and the colour was an electric blue, a much paler shade than the shorts I’d been wrestling with. I didn’t want to raise any objection. Mom’s emotions were running high. Anyway, the feel of the soft material as I slid the panties up my legs was delicious. The sizing was about right, although the cut was definitely on the ‘cheeky’ side and it was likely that the coverage might not be all that I could wish. I reflected with dismay how well padded my rear end must have become to make it possible for my mother to trade underwear with me. Having a butt as large and well-rounded as a full grown woman’s wasn’t something I had ever aspired to!

“Perfect!” was Mom’s overly optimistic comment. I gazed in the mirror questioningly but she carried on gaily “After all, most of the time the skirt will be covering them.” This was said with that glint in her eye which I always found disquieting. My view was that the glossiness of the material would make the merest glimpse of them attract the attention of every onlooker.

“Have you found a bra yet? No?” she asked smugly. “Well I never thought I’d be saying this, but this bra of mine ought to be just right for you! I’ll be glad to pass it on. Okay?”

The one in her hand matched those borrowed panties, forming a set. She held it up for me to slip my arms through the straps before turning me around and fastening it behind me. After a little tweaking and adjusting, “There! The cups on this will minimise and distribute your breast tissue more evenly. It will create a flatter shape so it ought to help.”

She stood back critically, “You know, though you are a good deal slimmer under your bust than I am, the cups are just right for your breasts. All I needed to do was to fasten it on the tightest row of hooks and it fits perfectly. Congratulations, sweetie! Welcome to the world of real women!”

If I’d had time to think it would have been disturbing to reflect that even though my butt might still be a little smaller than my mother’s, my boobs were about the same size as hers!
Aargh!!

I remained full of doubt, but trying on the top again showed some improvement. It just about fit. That left the footwear. Paula’s shoes were definitely too small, but Mom was unfazed, “We can buy some saddle shoes if your cheerleading career takes off. Your white socks and sneakers will have to do for now.”

She stood back and looked me over critically. From her reaction, I assumed that the result was favourable!
Giggling like a schoolgirl, she hitched her skirt around her waist and picked up the pom-poms. “Go Jennifer! Go!” Her cheer was accompanied by a perfect spread-eagle and then she collapsed back onto the bed laughing at the look of surprise and consternation which was spread across my face! My parent seemed to have become a teenager again. Her enthusiasm was infectious and I caught her mood, although in the back of my mind I couldn’t help wondering where it all might end.

In the midst of this hilarity, Mom sat up abruptly, her face suffused with delight. “You realise what this means, Jennifer, don’t you?!” Taking my hand she drug me across to her bedroom and stood me in the centre. She went over to a small dresser tucked away in a corner. I’d always believed it contained bric-a-brac. She proceeded to unlock it and pull open two of the lower drawers.

“Here’s a sight for sore eyes, Jennifer dear!” she exclaimed. “These are all pretty things that I hardly wore and I never wear any more. Some of them were presents from the time we were first wed and your father was stationed in Italy. I absolutely adored them; far too much to give them away.”
She hesitated at the recollection, then shook her head as if to clear it before continuing. “Now they’re yours. Welcome to your new trousseau!” Trousseau?! “I can see now I must have been saving them for the daughter I never had. They will be the just right size now. These lovely things will look even better on you than ever they did on me, with that little girl’s waist of yours. Oh, this is perfect! Are we going to have fun?!”
She disappeared while I could only stand and stare at the contents of the drawers, dumbfounded. A range of bras were neatly arrayed in one and in the other were matching panties and garter belts. It looked like there was every colour; whites, ivories, blacks, reds, pinks. Most were adorned either with beautiful embroidery or with lace, and quite often with both.

The visual effect was spectacular. Enchanted, I ran my fingers among them feeling the softness of the silks and satins. Mom returned as I did so and smiled with glee at my awestruck expression. She was carrying two large refuse sacks.

“Here, girl!” handing them to me. “Go and fill them with all your old boy clothes and take them downstairs. Every one! They can all go to Goodwill tomorrow.”

Somewhat shocked by the drastic nature of this command and the fey mood that seemed to have taken hold of my parent, instinctively I opened my mouth to protest. But the words died. I could think of no valid objection and after a pause I had to obey. When I returned, Mom was in my room transferring the contents of her lingerie drawers to the newly emptied ones of mine. She opened one and then another to show me my new underwear neatly arrayed. A third drawer now contained some of her strappy tops and slinky camisoles. The doors of one of my closets stood open and I gaped to see a row of sheer blouses and silky shirts now arrayed there. Three or four of Mom’s cocktail dresses had also been added to the rail.

“You can expect to be going out more often now, so you will be needing a wider selection of outfits for your dates! These are some that haven’t gone out of style.”

“Mom, this is too much!” I exclaimed, taken aback by the extravagance of the gesture. “What clothes will you be left with?”

“I haven’t worn a single one of these in ten years. Longer!” Her tone was decisive. “It’s a crying shame, but I know I never will. Now I have some space, I can go shopping!”

Her eyes misted over again. “It will do me good to see you in them, Jennifer. Also, you should remember that it’s not just what’s visible on the outside that matters to a woman. The knowledge that you are elegant underneath ought to give you tremendous confidence. It’s called empowerment!”

The rescheduled practice session took place the following afternoon. I made my way over to the sports field and met with the other girls at the locker room. Captained by Shirley, our squad was Audrey and Rosanne, with yours truly standing in to cover for the injured Paula. The latter was still limping disconsolately. I was carrying my borrowed strip but hesitated to go in with the others. If I got changed alongside the rest of them I foresaw problems!

“Don’t dawdle Jennifer!” our captain admonished me. “We don’t get very long for practice as it is.”

“I thought I had better change after you all were ready” I explained.

“Don’t be silly! There isn’t time!” as she hustled me into the locker room.

We unpacked our kit and the girls quickly stripped down to their underwear. I made sure I faced away so as not to be seen to be staring at any of the others. Though I had already taken the precaution of taping myself away, I needed to swap my bra and panty-girdle for the bright blue items Mom had selected. I somehow contrived to slip the panties on discreetly without taking off my school skirt. I was just congratulating myself on the successful accomplishment of this manoeuvre when I realised that I was being closely observed by Paula. She had seated herself on a bench and couldn’t seem to take her eyes off me. When I unhooked my bra and bent over to pick up the blue one, I heard her gasp in amazement.

“Your boobs are awesome! At the party I noticed how much bigger they looked than mine and I put it down to what you were wearing. But they really are! It’s not as if you are overweight. How did you get like that?”

Her remarks may have been entirely artless in their intent but had the effect of stopping her companions in their tracks. I was conscious that all eyes were fixed on my naked chest. Next moment I found myself surrounded by three curious teenage girls in various stages of undress. My situation ought to have been arousing in the extreme, but I didn’t experience the slightest tingle. Well perhaps just a little. Well, okay, I was turned on, but I was too busy trying to preserve my modesty to give any attention to that area. As I tried vainly to cover my chest, I blushed deeply in embarrassment.

Shirley took charge and surprisingly gently she took hold of my wrists. “You don’t need to be shy. You’re one of us! We’re not being mean. Let us see. Please.”

A little reassured by her words I yielded and let her pull my hands away.

“Wow!” she exclaimed and the reaction of the others mirrored her own.

She reached her hand out as if to touch. “You really are a girl, aren’t you? Can I?”

Then “Wait! It’s only fair!” Shirley quickly undid her own bra, slipped out of it and came closer. I hesitated then nodded my assent. My chest was instantly subjected to the closest scrutiny. First one then another of the girls touched and stroked.

Shirley took both my hands and placed them on her own perky breasts. They felt softer than mine and, yes, really nice. She smiled dreamily as I ran my fingers over her.

Try-outs seemed to have been forgotten but we were called to order by Paula. “Come on, you freaks! There isn’t time for this!”

“You’re not getting away with it” was Shirley’s instant reaction. “Everyone! You, as well!”

Crossly, her friend frowned at her, but at the other’s insistence she had to obey. She hobbled over to join the rest of us and I was included as they linked arms in a group hug. “Sisters!” they chanted in unison.

“All of us!” Shirley was looking at me and I joined in the chant as it was repeated. “Sisters!”

Giggling self-consciously, we broke apart to continue getting changed. I felt as if I was glowing all over following my new-found inclusion in the ‘sisterhood’. I still found it a squeeze getting into my borrowed top and it took me a while. The others were ready by the time I’d removed my skirt and was bending to pick up the cheer-leading one.

“Why aren’t you wearing my shorts?” Paula’s voice sounded a discordant note once again. Her question had the effect of drawing unwelcome attention to my posterior.

“Er… They didn’t quite fit” I shrugged. “There wasn’t time to go out and buy any that did.”

Shirley stood staring at me with hands on hips. She motioned me to turn around and around for all to see. Wanting the floor to open and swallow me up, I obeyed wordlessly. Now I, and especially my rear end, was getting way too much attention.

Inspection completed, she made her pronouncement. “Not just boobs; she’s got the hips and waist as well! We have to face it, ladies, we are in the presence of a true hour-glass. Jennifer, I hate to admit it but… your figure is girlier than any of ours!”

That really wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I was saved from further embarrassment by coach putting her head in the door.
“Not ready yet, girls!” she chided. “Hurry up now!”

They filed out leaving me to finish changing and follow. I slipped into the skirt and zipped it up. Checking in the mirror I could see that the size of my hips and ass made it flare outwards even when I was stood still. What price modesty now? To be seen dressed as I was would be courting disaster. The idea of putting myself into the limelight was crazy!
What was I thinking?!

Reluctant Diva 26
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 26 – Working girl
It was with deep misgivings that I ran after the other girls and caught up with Paula as she hobbled after the rest. It didn’t do anything for my confidence when she didn’t return my smile either. Instead she left me abruptly to sit over on the bleachers and join Kyle and Peter and a little knot of supporters from our home room. Coach began by taking the squad through the various routines. Under Mom’s guidance I’d practiced some of the basic moves the previous evening and to my relief I was easily able to keep up with the others. In fact I was pleased to see I wasn’t the least proficient by any means.

Although I was oblivious at first, Paula’s sulky looks soon made it plain that she wasn’t happy to be left out, even temporarily. Perhaps she was harbouring fears that, despite the repeated assurances of her best friend, she wouldn’t get back in the squad once her ankle was recovered. I was lost in the moment, however. It was so liberating to be enjoying some kind of physical activity after all this time. It was only late in the session when we were getting individual coaching that I finally saw that something was upsetting her. Before that I had been too absorbed following coach’s instructions.

Eventually I noticed how anxiously the injured girl was watching me. What was worse her dismay was being fuelled by the enthusiasm of the two boys who were sitting close by her. As I threw myself into each of the moves, and jumped or spun around, I realised that my skirt flipped up as high as my waist. I must be treating my audience to a free show of my exotic nether garment. After each move an exclamation of approval escaped my self-appointed “fan club”.

I didn’t try to gain their approval of course. Well, perhaps just a little. At first. Until I became aware of Paula’s reaction, that is. Shirley had gone over to sit with her and was once more encouraging her discontented friend. I caught the gist of a few complaints which set my alarm bells ringing. “Showing off and prancing about… That butt… What’s with those panties?”

My first concern had to be to preserve my popularity with my classmates, if possible. While it had been thrilling just to be included in their group, I would have to find some way of avoiding alienating any of them. During the time-out for drinks which followed the practice, my fears returned. Aspiring to be a cheerleader was putting myself too much in the public eye but I didn’t see how I could avoid that now. It was Mom’s enthusiasm that had carried me along this far. Now, I started to wonder, could I trust her motives? Was this simply a chance to relive her happier years though me, or another golden opportunity to let me court disaster?

I knew from experience that there was no way she would hear of me backing out in either case. She didn’t seem to understand, or was it care, that though I might be tolerated in my class, seeking the limelight like this was expecting too much. How could I avoid putting myself on show before the whole school? I cudgelled my brains frantically and was congratulating myself that at least my parent wasn’t there to complicate matters… when I saw someone who had been watching from a distance now making her way towards us. It couldn’t be! I recognised the familiar figure as that of Mom herself! She was still in her work uniform and had clearly stopped by on her way home. Oh no!!

I panicked. It seemed to my fevered imagination that I had only seconds if I was to escape total notoriety and probably the derision of the entire school. In an instinct of self-preservation, I ran across to where Paula and Shirley were sitting and threw myself down in front of them.

“Listen you two!” I hissed, so that only they might hear. “I can’t do this. I don’t mean the practicing; that’s all right. But, to be in the squad for real. I just can’t! Okay!”

The eyes of both my hearers were round as saucers.

“My mom will be here in a minute. You’ve got to tell her I’m just not good enough. Please! She’ll want me to be some kind of star otherwise.”

They still looked bemused.

I turned to Paula desperately, “If you want to be certain of your place in the team, then help me! You don’t know her. She doesn’t take prisoners!”
When Mom was within earshot, I straightened up and put on what I hoped looked like a brave smile. “So thanks for letting me try, Shirley” I said aloud. “Sorry I wasn’t up to it. I’ll keep filling in until Paula here is fully fit. If you want me, that is” I finished breathlessly, then turning, “Hi Mom! Thanks for coming to support me. That’s so nice!”

To my momentary relief Shirley caught on quicker than her friend and pretended to reassure me, “That’s okay, Jennifer. Don’t fret. It good that you’re able to help at all.”

“What’s this?” Mom’s smile had frozen and the warning furrows were showing between her eyes. “Is something wrong? You looked okay to me.” I saw that my guess about her opposition to my backing out had been correct.

Before either of my friends could speak again, however, another voice intervened. Coach had decided to take the situation out of our hands. “Your, er… daughter is suffering a few nerves, Mrs Cartwright!”
She continued “I can assure you that she is a natural for the squad. I think she’s just worried that her friend Paula here might be missing out. But there’s no need at all. There’s room for both of them in the team. Five are just as good as four; better perhaps! The only problem is… she does need a uniform more her size.”

The two women were soon deep in conversation while we three ‘girls’ made our way toward the locker room. Shirley looked at me and shrugged her shoulders. It seemed there was to be no escape and I would have to bow to the inevitable. I went and sat beside Paula.

“Sorry!” the latter murmured.

I put my arm around her waist and squeezed. “That’s okay. It wouldn’t have made any difference anyway. I guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Well I have to admit, I’m glad” said our captain.

“Me too!” said Paula, squeezing me in return. “Sisters, right?”

Shirley came over and pulled us to our feet for another group hug. We were friends again, so at least my appeal to them had allayed one set of my anxieties. That was reassuring.

When the summer term finally came to a close I was firmly established in Shirley’s cheer-leading squad, though we had yet to support an actual game. That ordeal could be left until after the long vacation. How my mother managed to afford it I don’t know, but she somehow kitted me out with a complete new uniform that actually fitted me, right down to the saddle shoes.

Even with school finally out for summer, I had little free time at my disposal. The other staff at the library were taking their annual breaks and I was often asked to cover for them so I found myself working there several days a week. There was enough to do to keep me occupied, and it pleased me that I was able to help Mom with the weekly budget and give her further reason to be happy with me. As things panned out my job there didn’t last very long. While my constant hope was that nothing untoward would arise, sadly that was too much to expect, and my decision to move on was hastened by events. What actually happened took place a couple of weeks into the vacation and owed nothing my mother’s schemes. To my shame, it was almost entirely my own fault, I have to admit.

My past admirer, Mr McShane, or Adrian as he’d told me to call him, had behaved very properly since I started there. He never laid a hand on me, though he certainly might have watched me a lot. It amused me to see him avert his eyes hurriedly when I caught him staring. As time went by, it became a sort of game for me to twist his tail a little. To flirt with him would be just a bit of harmless fun, or so I thought. This came to a head towards the end of one hot day when he and I had been virtually alone all afternoon. The last customer had left and I was occupied in putting the returned books back on the shelves as usual. There were several volumes for the higher shelves so feeling mischievous – yes, you’re right, it was during that ‘unpredictable’ week which followed my ‘time’ that month – an idea occurred to me. Having tried, and failed, to resist the temptation, I placed a pile of books on the top of a step-ladder in full view of the librarian’s desk and climbed up.

Slipping the edge of my skirt under the pile, “Oh!” I exclaimed in pretended chagrin. “Wrong section!” I turned to smile disarmingly at my colleague before slowly descending the steps.

As I had contrived, the hem of my skirt remained caught under the books on top of the ladder and when I stepped down, it was gradually lifted to reveal my thighs, the top of my hose and garters and then my pantie-clad butt. I was aware that I was wearing an ornate lacy pair of briefs that day. Well, I often chose some of my fancy underwear when employed at the library. It wasn’t unusual for me to be looked at there, and a ‘girl’ always needs to be prepared; to put her best butt forward, so to speak! Sorry. Couldn’t resist!

“Oh!” I cried again in feigned surprise, and hastily attempted to free my skirt. Amazingly it took more than one attempt. Just imagine! A covert glance at my colleague revealed him to be gaping open mouthed. Doing my best to hide my smiles I hastily trotted around to the correct section for my books, not daring to meet Adrian’s eyes. I knew he’d had more than a glimpse of what I’d intended him to see, but fortunately it was closing time and I could quickly grab my purse, take leave and be out the door before he had time to do anything about it. I giggled to myself all the way home. There had to be a fun side to my feminised lifestyle and to my way of thinking the over-sexed librarian deserved everything he got.

The following day the library was closed for the afternoon. Mrs Harris and I were scheduled to be reorganising some of the bookshelves so I felt safe from any repercussions from my teasing behaviour of the day before. When I arrived at work however, I was a discomfited to learn that somehow she and Adrian had swapped shifts and I had the unwelcome prospect of his sole company for the duration. It occurred to me that I might now have to deal with the consequences of having led him on yesterday, but there was nothing I could do. At midday the doors of the library closed and hearing the door-bolts being shot home gave rise to a whole series of emotions. I felt vulnerable, trapped even, but also fluttered; both nervous and, unaccountably, excited. How was that? Surely if nothing were to happen I would just be thankful, right? Right. But why did that hope make me feel let down also?

Fortunately in anticipation that the afternoon would be spent shifting books around I had brought a change of clothes. In the powder room I hastily slipped out of my dress, panties, hose and garters and put on a panty-girdle, tank top and crop pants. True the pants were tight over my butt and the strappy top, which was one Mom had passed on to me, was skimpier than ideally I would have chosen but in my reckoning, the ensemble offered an improvement in coverage over my dress. I was now ready to do any amount of climbing and to retrieve books from the highest shelves if required.

I found out that Adrian had other ideas however. His face might have betrayed some disappointment over my change of attire but in the event he was ahead of me. He told me that I should sit and write up the catalogue of books while he handed the volumes down to me. Situated thus I was soon aware that he had given himself the best possible view of my endowments, especially as I found that I had to reach forward to take the books from him. I silently cursed the revealing nature of my little top.

He too had brought a change of clothing and was now wearing just a t-shirt and shorts. Covered in dark hair his muscular arms and legs were like a magnet for my eyes as was the bulge in the front of his lower garment. This was frequently at the exact level of my face and I was aware that I was caught staring at it more than once. I had to struggle to keep myself from wondering how his hairy body would feel pressed against the smooth skin of my legs, and even…!
Ewkk!

I sensed that we were both fully aware of the flirtatious game we had engaged in but neither wanted to admit to. Provided that it stayed on a visual rather than tactile level, however, that was okay by me. My confidence returning, I could even enjoy myself a little. This was fun! On a mad impulse and with the pretext of needing the powder room I slipped away to return minutes later with a small amendment to my attire. While in there I had removed my bra! The stretchy tank top just about contained my swollen breasts. Only just! If I was wondering how long it would be before Adrian would notice, I might have saved myself the trouble. The effect on him was instantaneous!

As he looked down at me it was as if his whole body had received an electric shock. I could hear him breathing heavily while from his vantage point he gazed at my overexposed chest without disguise. Inches from my face the outline of his arousal was clearly discernible and the awareness of this heightened my own excitement. That was something I hadn’t bargained for and in consternation I averted my eyes with the realisation I might have pushed things too far.

My breasts rose and fell with every breath and I was conscious of them pressing hard against the thin material of my top. After a full minute of this Adrian hesitantly descended the ladder. Seemingly without volition I couldn’t help myself rising to face him. We stood for a pregnant moment face to face and only inches apart. My heaving bosom brushed against his chest and I didn’t even want this to stop though I knew by now that things had gotten way out of control. What might happen next would be anyone’s guess. Given my hidden ‘secret’ there was no saying what the outcome would be.

Mercifully, I was never to know. At that moment, a key was pushed into the lock of the building’s side door and the sound of it turning broke the tension between us. We had just seconds to adopt a less compromising stance before the door opened and Mrs Harris walked in.

“I was just passing and thought I’d look in and see what progress you were making.” She looked at each of us curiously. “It doesn’t seem that you have got very far.”

I was unable to look at my colleague to see how he appeared but I could feel myself blushing to the roots of my hair.

Tactfully appearing not to notice anything she continued. “Well, this sort of reorganisation always takes longer than you imagine. Fortunately I’m at a loose end. I’ll stay and help.”

“Oh… Er… Thanks. If you can. That would be so much appreciated,” Adrian replied heartily; much too heartily! It seemed to my fevered mind that his awkward manner spoke volumes.

The rest of the afternoon passed quickly and without further incident. By my other employer’s fortunate intervention I had escaped the consequences of my own thoughtless frivolity, for the present. The escape might only be temporary but it was welcome nevertheless. What the future of my time at the library would have held was to remain a mystery as it happened. How things might have developed further is hard to say because there was another surprise in store for me on my return home.

“Lucky girl!” Mom greeted me. “Madeleine phoned today. She has offered you a part-time job at her salon. Won’t that be wonderful?”

I gazed at her, dumbly. I was thankful she couldn’t read my mind.

“You can start straight away. It will pay much better than the library and be so much more varied and interesting too. With your experience of make-up, you will have no trouble learning the job and just think how your skills will improve. It will save you a fortune in cosmetics. Who knows, it might even lead to a career. Think of that!”

What I welcomed most about my mother’s suggestion was that here was a ready-made solution to the librarian problem I’d just created for myself. A wave of relief swept through me, although I was ashamed to notice it was tinged with disappointment. I would never know…

Mom phoned Mrs Harris to tell her that I would be leaving. She apologised for the lack of notice and between them they agreed that I needn’t go in again. I started the job at the salon next day and over the summer vacation I was kept busy there. Actually I did call at the library in my lunch break to thank my former employers for their kindnesses. I told myself it didn’t seem right just to disappear without a word. Mrs Harris was very gracious though there might have been a knowing look in her eyes. I was both relieved and disappointed to find Adrian wasn’t there. I couldn’t decide how much of each emotion prevailed. However as I walked away I knew I wouldn’t be going there again.

My narrow escape ought to have provided a salutary lesson for me. Well I guess it did, though not one altogether to my benefit. Something that I now knew about myself didn’t augur too well for my ongoing safety or future peace of mind. I had to admit there would be times when I was given to uncontrollable impulses. No other explanation could account for my shameless behaviour. This was not a comfortable thought, but to some extent another discovery provided compensation.
Flirting could be so much fun!

Reluctant Diva 27
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 27 – Poolside
Working several days each week at the salon entailed long hours, but all in all I enjoyed myself there. Delia and the other women that were employed in the hair studio and beauty parlour were friendly and fun. We had a lot of laughs, often at the clients’ expense. Of course that was after they had gone and when the manageress wasn’t within earshot. Though the staff were aware of my ‘secret’, the customers generally remained oblivious. Madeleine would often look in and spend time with me which made me feel special. In particular she was instrumental in helping me learn new make-up skills.

When I began I was restricted to working at the nail counter. That was an area where I was already quite proficient and I soon progressed further. Gradually I was given more scope and under expert tutelage I learned much about make-up, both in selecting the right products to use and the finer arts of their application. Whereas dramatic make-overs were preferred by many of the clientele, particularly the older women, the lightest application could achieve a more subtle look. I gained both knowledge and skill to become confident enough to recommend to them how best to bring out their natural skin tones. I applied the same techniques with my own make-up.
My mentor often reminded me, “Your young complexion only needs the gentlest enhancement. I envy you your charms.”
I was allowed to take home any partially used cosmetics that I had a fancy for so both my vanity at home and Mom’s became well stocked with a wide range of expensive items.
Madeleine herself was frequently my practice subject. Though she preferred quite a heavy foundation there were subtle techniques to learn to achieve a seemingly artless glow. Before long I was judged sufficiently capable to perform all but the most delicate tasks. When she finally informed me that I was allowed to work anywhere within the beauty parlour, I really felt I had achieved something. Flushed with my success in attaining this level of proficiency, my feet trod on air.

Although my summer vacation was no rest-cure, it gave me a welcome break from school, providing me a respite from the continual watchfulness I exercised there. This was dictated, rightly or wrongly, by my well-developed survival instinct. I had been successful in avoiding the inevitable bullies and I’ll never know how much my vigilance had really been necessary. In the event I’d had nothing worse than dirty looks and name-calling to deal with. I could now let my guard down and I could let myself be me, whoever and whatever that strange person might be.

The summer wasn’t all work of course. There were days when I wasn’t working and every Sunday I was free. I had some pleasant days out with Marty and evening engagements with Madeleine. Both were enjoyable in their different ways. I enjoyed getting dressed up for a special occasion with my mentor and being taken to some stylish venue, there to be treated and made much of by her and her friends. With my boyfriend I could look forward to outings and fun times, even if I had a delicate balancing act to perform. I needed to keep his interest in my physical attributes but was anxious to preserve the limits to intimacy I had set for our relationship. I found it flattering that I could always count on his eagerness to push those boundaries beyond my comfort zone, even if it meant keeping my guard up. Occasionally I would let things go a little further, but I managed to ensure that everything below my waist remained out of bounds, even when that meant fighting my own inclinations as well as his!

Best of all I had my friends to share the summer with. Not only Rachel, whom I regarded as my best friend and confidante despite the gap in our ages, but others that I could choose to spend any day with. I guess as a final resort I might even have hung around with Dennis and his sister if the mood had taken me, though it didn’t. The reality was there was no longer any attraction in playing dress-up with Dennis when I was dressed twenty-four seven already. No, it was my ‘sisterhood’, Shirley and her cronies, who were my preferred companions.

We’d meet at the park on fine days and there seemed to be plenty of those. Sometimes we’d have a picnic. I’d bring sandwiches and Paula would bring drinks. Shirley would usually forget but then make up for it by calling at the store for cookies and fruit so we did ourselves well. Mostly we just sat and talked. What about? Well you can guess. There was one topic that predominated over all others. Yes, you got it! Boys!

Naturally I had to play along with my friends and the boys they fancied. I mean, I wasn’t interested in boys myself. Well, perhaps a little. Okay, I admit it, I was interested! Why not? Some days it was all I found myself thinking about, despite remaining interested in girls as well. It was confusing! I already had a boyfriend, but that didn’t limit my imaginings. My relationship with Marty was a matter of great curiosity among my friends, naturally. His being so much older, as it seemed to us at our young age, was deemed to be very much in my favour and it was an open secret that I was to be envied. Yes, boys were a frequent subject of discussion. Clothes and make-up featured prominently too and together with cheerleading, we were never short of things to chat about.

On one occasion Shirley broke a lull in the conversation by remarking out of the blue, “Isn’t this weather gorgeous?” She eased the straps of her sundress off her shoulders. “Wouldn’t it be amazing to be tanned all over? I’d give anything to go topless!”

Squeals of delight greeted this shocking, for those times, remark. After their mirth had subsided one or two of the others bared their shoulders likewise. My button-down top didn’t lend itself to similar treatment but our leader was undeterred.
“Come on Jennifer. Don’t be shy!” she encouraged me. “Don’t you want some tan lines?”

Shirley leaned over and undid the top buttons of my top. I tried to stop her but Paula pulled my hands away.
“There! Isn’t that better?” as she tugged the top down.
It fell away revealing my bra for all to see and I covered myself with my arms. I didn’t mind their horsing around but tried to look cross. “Give me back my blouse!”

She shook her head absently, her attention completely absorbed by my underwear. I had on one of the pretty bras which Mom had passed over to me. A particular favourite of mine, it was from Italy, hand-made of a cerise-pink silk trimmed with ivory coloured lace. It looked (and had been) expensive.

“That’s so beautiful! How come you’ve got such fancy bras? I’m green with envy.”

I explained the origin of my ‘trousseau’, Mom’s collection of lingerie that she had passed on to me.

“You mean you’re even wearing briefs to match?!” She flipped my skirt up to reveal the said panties. “Wow! Lucky you!”
Occupied as I was trying to cover my bust, I was defenceless against her playfulness. I declined to answer, but was immediately besieged by requests from the others.

“Would any of them fit me?” “Or me?” “Oh please, me?” my audience pleaded. This was crazy!

To regain some semblance of modesty I managed to pull the hem back down with one hand and retorted “No. But I promise I’ll share them with you; when any of you are big enough to fill them!”

I giggled at their crestfallen looks. The incongruity of my situation as the best ‘endowed’ girl there seemed hilarious to me! They all laughed with me but perhaps not as heartily and I was allowed to make myself decent again. Not long after, we packed up our lunch things and started to make our way out of the park.

“I’m so hot” complained Paula as we walked along. “Wouldn’t it be delicious to be able to swim? Who do we know who has a pool?”
Not wishing to gloat, I refrained from mentioning that I had a standing invitation to make use of the Bennetts’ pool. It occurred to me that Rachel wouldn’t be working today, if I remembered correctly, and I wondered if I might take her up on her offer, and possibly include my friends too. As we passed the drug store I came to a decision.

“I have to make a telephone call” was all I told the others, unsure whether my idea would be a success. I tried not to assume an air of mystery, but their curiosity was instantly aroused. I didn’t let on however. “Just wait for me, please.”

I squeezed myself into the little booth and dialled the number. I was lucky. My friend was at home and yes, she would be delighted if I came over this afternoon.
She had the place to herself and anticipated my next question. “Bring your bathing suit. It’s perfect for the pool!”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to ask” I continued tentatively, “but I’m with Shirley and her friends by the park. Could I bring them too? Say no if you don’t like the idea.”

“I don’t see why not. How many are there of you?”

“Five of us altogether.”

“That’s great.” Rachel was thoughtful as ever, “Oh I can probably find some swimming things if you want to come straight here. It would be out of your way to go home first.”

I thanked my friend profusely and made my way out of the booth to where the group were thumbing through teen magazines. “Who’s for a swim?!”
Their reaction was predictable; squeals of surprise and delight. It was only a ten minute walk to the Bennett’s house but Shirley with typical independence decided she wanted to wear her own bathing suit rather than a borrowed one, as did Rosanne, so by the time we had called at their respective homes half an hour had passed. When we got to Rachel’s we were greeted by my friend at her door. She was wearing a white bikini top, which did nothing to hide her generous curves, over a pair of jeans. She looked stunning as ever without even trying.

Everyone including Shirley looked slightly awed to be invited into the home of someone they had heard so much about, even though they had met her at my party. I reckoned that my standing in the group ought to have risen appreciably in consequence. It wasn’t long however, before Rachel had put them all at their ease. She made us drinks and took us through to the pool. There were a variety of swimming costumes laid out on the side and Audrey and Paula soon found items to suit them. The others went inside to change, so that left just me. My idol beckoned me over to her. She had slipped out of her jeans and her bikini-clad figure looked even more sensational than ever. Its effect on my body was a muted tingling down below which I seldom experienced these days.

“Here, sweetie. I’ve kept aside this bikini just for you. It’s one I bought only a couple of years ago.” She smiled and continued playfully, “You can see it’s made for real women like us! I can only just squeeze into it, so I reckon it ought to be just right for you!”

The top was a halter and the material was navy blue with tiny white spots. It was very stylish, like Rachel herself, and I was dying to try it on. The thought of wearing something my friend had been “squeezing into” increased my incentive. That and the proximity of her scantily clad body was giving rise to random thoughts in my head which didn’t bear investigating. I was glad she couldn’t read my mind!

I stammered my thanks and took the proffered set from her. The other girls had emerged by this time so I was able to slip into the house to perform my own change of clothes as discreetly as was necessary. Glancing in the mirror I was startled to see how curvy the bikini made my bust look and how rounded my butt and thighs were. More importantly I could see that the pants were tightly elasticated and provided sufficiently full coverage for my needs. It reassured me that everything would remain safely tucked away even in the pool. When I reappeared my friends were already engaged in playing water polo.

I went over to sit with Rachel who wolf-whistled at me. “Nice curves!” she complimented. To cover my blushes I posed pinup-style for her before seating myself beside my friend.

It was nice to know she approved my looks, though I remained wary of trying to attract too much attention. That was a sure way to lose friends, I’d found, but there need be no worries on that score today as my glamourous friend easily outshone the rest of us.

Rachel grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet “Come on. We’re missing all the fun!”

I allowed myself to be drug over to the pool where I was unceremoniously pushed into the water. Another splash as I spluttered to the surface told me that she had dove in beside me.
It was much later before we had tired of our game. We all towelled off and lay in the strong sunshine, chatting and relaxing. Our hostess found us sunhats and we played around with them, swapping the different styles amid much laughter.

It wasn’t long before Paula declared she was beginning to burn.

“Me too!” Audrey’s skin was very fair.

Instantly Rachel the trained nurse went into action, applying generous amounts of sunscreen and lotion to Audrey, while Paula followed her lead in doing the same for Rosanne. That left Shirley and me and naturally she decided to take charge.

“Ooh, Jennifer, hurry! I can feel that my skin’s catching.” Handing me the lotion bottle she lay on the towel on her tummy. Then before I could start, “Wait a moment.”
Arching her back she deftly reached behind her and undid the ties of her bikini top before instructing “Okay – all over please!”

With eyes wide I complied with her command. She flinched as I squirted a large dollop of cold goop onto her back before starting to rub it in. I began on her neck and shoulders and worked my way down. I reached her waist and hesitated. Impatiently, she gestured me to continue. I took a deep breath and continued applying the lotion, this time starting at her ankles. By the time I reached the top of her legs I was ‘glowing’ and not with the exercise. “Don’t stop there!” Her skin shone like satin in the sunlight as I obeyed and massaged the top of the girl’s thighs. Glancing round I could see her friends had stopped and were watching me. Rachel too! This was highly embarrassing.

Once Shirley’s exposed skin had been covered, then unconventional as ever, she wordlessly flipped onto her back, positioned her hat over her face and wriggled out of her top. Though such extrovert behaviour wasn’t totally unexpected from her, there were gasps of shock from the other girls. I simply froze, but was coolly instructed to “Carry on!”

I obeyed and judging it best to address the ‘danger’ zone first, I squirted another generous dollop between her firm little breasts and rubbed it all over them before going on to cover her shoulders, arms, neck and face. There was an almost audible sigh from the others when the Rubicon had been crossed and they turned to get on with anointing each other once more. It was noticeable that none followed Shirley’s lead in going topless.
One matter for thanks was that although I found the experience extremely sensual, my body’s response was minimal. I somehow knew that if she had been Rachel then things might have been markedly different.

Perhaps envious of all the attention Shirley and I had been getting, Paula clamoured for her best friend to leave me and ‘do’ her and, though still provocatively only partly clothed, she complied. That was okay by me. I was even happier when my own best friend brought her bottle of lotion over to me, instead.

“Are you going topless too?” she teased.

I shook my head laughing, “Only if you do!”

“It’s all right for these little girls” she giggled, whispering so only I could hear. “Real women like you and me have got too much to put on display. We know when to stay covered up!”

She reminded me of my visit at the end of the previous summer. Then my mother had made me wear a skimpy tie-side bikini. It was astonishing to consider how tiny it was and how much my figure had developed since then. There was no way I could have decently worn anything so minimal now. On that occasion I’d been appointed the task of putting lotion onto both Rachel and her mom, not to mention onto my mom as well. Both of the former had dropped their tops and I’d had to rub lotion over their semi-nakedness. How I’d managed to perform that feat on my friend’s nineteen year old movie-star body without shaming myself, I never knew.

To my undying embarrassment, my teasing friend had then undone the ties of my suit bottom and pulled it away, despite my tears, so my poor butt was exposed to the sun for all to see. I bore her no ill-will but I’d ended up with a red behind that day which matched the present colour of my face as I blushed to recall it.

When it came time for my friends to go Rachel asked me to stay a little longer. Arranging to meet again soon, I said my goodbyes to them, conscious that I had risen some way in the estimation of all. That was a good feeling.

“That’s a nice little gang you’re part of” commented Rachel as we returned to the back-yard. “Quite the bosom buddies, in fact! Shirley’s a head-case, I can see. You don’t think they thought me a prude, do you?”

“Of course not” I reassured her. “They thought it was awesome just to be invited here.”

“Well I can assure you, I’m really not. A prude, I mean.” She seemed unduly concerned over this. To me it was no big deal, so I was surprised at her next action. Reaching behind her back she undid her top and let it fall. Next, her bikini bottoms were around her ankles and stepping out of them she stood before me in her birthday suit. I stood there open-mouthed, in disbelief.
“It’s okay. No-one will be home for ages yet.”

She put her arms around me and enveloped me in a hug. My arms were suddenly filled with her wonderful body and she hadn’t a stitch on. Her intoxicating flesh was all I was aware of. When she pulled away I caught a mischievous look in her eye before my own top fell to the floor! I was just congratulating myself that at least this time my bathing suit pants hadn’t ties at the sides, when I was pushed down onto the towel and they were swiftly whisked off me and tossed away.

“Just girls together! No secrets!” she laughed at me as I rolled onto my tummy to hide the beginnings of an erection which had taken me unawares. Triggering my body’s reaction in this way seemed to be reserved for the proximity of just herself and very few others. Laughing at my shame, Rachel sat herself beside me. Unashamedly nude she picked up the bottle of lotion and started rubbing it into the areas she hadn’t been able to access before, my butt and across my back and shoulders. I was loving this but when she rolled me over without warning I had only just time to grab a towel to try to cover up my semi-aroused little member. Undeterred she knelt herself beside me and started to massage lotion into the swollen mounds on my chest.

“We mustn’t let these burn now must we?” she teased. I was busy trying not to look at her own astounding pair but it seemed that she wanted me to. She took one of my hands and squeezed a generous dollop of lotion into it so I could anoint her own magnificent breasts. While I was so occupied, she grabbed my towel and flicked it away. “Don’t stop!” she commanded. She gazed into my eyes as I obeyed. This was heaven, or was it torture? I wasn’t sure.

When I had done, we were both breathing heavily. I wanted to tell her that if this went on I wouldn’t be able to contain myself, but she laid a finger on my lips and turned around to face my toes, kneeling beside me. “You missed a spot!”

As bidden I reached up and anointed the bikini line across her back. That only left her butt.

“Don’t stop!” she said again and she waved her shapely hips provocatively from side to side. I obeyed her, wondering at the softness of her skin under my hands and the luxury of her curves. She glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes full of mischief. “Just checking that everything is in working order!”
She returned my towel before turning over to lie down next to me. “All correct!” She grinned at the small tent that the towel formed. “I can report that we’re both perfectly healthy!”

The explosive situation was defused and we dissolved into helpless giggles. Then she was suddenly serious again. “You know, you told me how concerned you felt about your… responsiveness… down there. I can see why.”

I was staggered by this directness of approach to such a tricky subject. I stared at her wide-eyed, but her sympathy was genuine.

“I’ve done a little reading and, if you aren’t happy with the way things are, you might want to reconsider those meds that you’re taking.”

She went on to explain that she’d done some research into their likely effects, although this was such a new area of treatment that the data was limited. “Your body has undergone a lot of changes in the last couple of years. What it looks like is that while some of these will be permanent, others may be reversible. That means you have choices.”

She reached out and gently cupped one of my breasts. “One thing you can count on is that these are here to stay. You are going to continue looking like a woman. Where you might want to go with that depends on you. It’s you that needs to decide what it is that you actually want, instead of others deciding for you.”

She pulled my head down to rest on her chest and we lay close like that for some time. While she stroked my face and played with my hair, I tried to take in the import of her words. There was a lot to think about. I wasn’t sure I was ready for these big decisions. What, actually, did I want?

After laying in the sun some more it was time for me to leave. We returned to the house to get dressed and when we were both clothed again, she put her arms around me. “Don’t stop believing in yourself. Just keep telling yourself that you’re special. You are very special to me.” She hugged and kissed me.

As I came away doubts occupied my mind. I felt more confused than ever.

Reluctant Diva 28
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 28 – Summertime fun
Later in the summer vacation I had a memorable invitation from Madeleine; this time to another theatre engagement. I’d enjoyed the previous evenings I’d spent with her, Mom was keen that I should accept and I had no serious objection. My hostess’s circle of friends that I’d be with weren’t exactly to my taste, but as I was reminded, mixing with a more sophisticated crowd was good for my social skills. Like any teenage ‘girl’ I revelled in any opportunity to get dressed up. I was soon absorbed in finding something suitable to wear and that was what mainly occupied my mind. I was well aware that my budget wouldn’t run to many new purchases, but hanging in my closet were some cocktail dresses that Mom had passed on to me. They were stylish in their way if not the latest in fashion. All would not be lost however. My parent was very capable with a needle and willing to help out. We had devised some alterations for several of the simpler numbers to make them more à la mode. Others might have to wait another ten years before being sufficiently ‘in’ again to be wearable, if that ever happened!

In the end I settled on a dress in a bouffant full-skirted style in a delicate lilac brocade and when it was suitably shortened to bring it up to date with the current style, I was pleased with my choice. My waist was narrower than my parent’s had been when she had worn it but when a couple of extra darts had been artfully sewn in, the garment nipped in quite as much as my figure demanded. That alteration also had the effect of making the skirt flare even more dramatically from my rounded hips, thus accentuating the hour-glass effect which was so much in vogue in those times.

The bodice was boned and included its own bra cups. These were none too roomy but after the straps had been adjusted I could just about squeeze myself into them. That was if my boobs didn’t burst out as they seemed to be threatening. I debated whether the amount of cleavage I would be showing might be open to censure.

However, Mom suggested that I merely wear a cardigan over the top for modesty and my fears on that score were allayed. In any event I could be sure that the more I showed the better Madeleine would like it. My looks would be appreciated by her, if no-one else, and I have to admit that my vanity was fuelled by being admired. Perhaps I had become too obsessed with wanting to appear to advantage, but after all, I was eager to find whatever pleasures my new life might afford and, along with my new found taste for flirting, this was one of them! What a precocious little diva I had become!

Mom drove me to Madeleine’s house. Maria greeted me effusively with her best smiles and took me upstairs to where my hostess was completing her preparations.
After embracing me warmly “I’m not quite ready, Jennifer” remarked my hostess, and indicating the pictures ranged along the wall. “Have you noticed my art collection? You might like to take it in while you wait.”

To be honest I had never paid the paintings much attention. They were predominantly in the classical style, the majority depicting semi-clad women. In some of the pictures these were being chased by lusty male figures equally unclothed; nymphs and satyrs, as I was to learn.

When she had completed her toilette Madeleine joined me. “This is one of my favourites.” She indicated one depicting a slender young thing, some of whose modesty was preserved by wispy drapes of cloth. Her eyes were downcast and she looked calm and in a reflective mood.

“She has such inner peace, don’t you think? You have always put me in mind of her. One day I shall throw a party with these paintings as the theme. That would be exciting, don’t you agree?”

Though I didn’t voice a contrary view I found the whole collection mildly disturbing. Madeleine laughed at my doubtful expression. “Don’t worry. We would be wearing a little more than she!”

I had been correct about my companion’s apparent obsession. As we talked, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off my décolletage. I was glad my mother had suggested the precautionary cardigan I was counting on. However, when we arrived at the theatre this didn’t work for me as I’d anticipated. The evening was very warm and when we left the car, my hostess laid her jacket on the rear seat. Underneath she was wearing an eye-catching cerise silk camisole over black pants.
“We won’t need this” she murmured and unfastening the top button of my woolly cover-up, took it from me. To my dismay it joined her jacket in the car.
“Perfect!” was her remark with her eyes on my bust.

Framed rather than covered by the thin brocade as it was, there was plenty to appreciate. It seemed I had no choice but to submit to being made the centre of attention once again. Well, as they say, there’s only one thing worse than being looked at and that’s not being looked at! So it proved when we met up with her friends, whose reaction to my lack of modesty varied. Though outwardly effusive in their greetings, I caught both Joan and Greta eyeing my figure with something like disdain. Perhaps I was over-sensitive, but I never felt truly at my ease in their company and was happiest when in attendance on Madeleine.

Not all her friends were so stand-offish. Roddy made his appreciation very evident, looking me up and down approvingly and standing much closer to me than I wished him to. In contrast, his friend Tam’s warm expressions of pleasure in seeing me and his flamboyant greetings were manifestly over the top. I divined that he might be envious of the reception I was receiving from his friend and this was his way of compensating.

Nothing deterred, his bearded companion continued chatting intimately to me. His hand had started by touching my arm and then progressed to encircling my waist. I had the difficult choice of seeming unfriendly by pulling away or allowing myself to be held close to him. As the line of least resistance I chose the latter and strangely I found myself enjoying the experience… just a little. Well… actually quite a lot. It was my ‘unpredictable’ week and being held in a strong grip like Roddy’s was turning me on. I had to stop myself glancing at the front of his pants too often. I’d noticed that the bulge down there was impressively large and it seemed to exercise an involuntary fascination for me. This became progressively more embarrassing because, once I was aware of this inadvertent fixation, I found myself continually checking it out! Madeleine’s face bore a knowing smile but she made no attempt to intervene. By the time we were finally ushered to our seats and I was released and could breathe a sigh of relief, Tam was standing some distance away, evidently in a huff and Joan’s lips had been pursed in disapproval for so long I wondered if they would stay that way permanently!

The first two acts of the play were quite absorbing and while watching them I was able to get my head back together and regain a more normal state of mind. When the interval came we gathered in the bar for refreshments as usual. I saw Madeleine across the room and was making my way over to her when an arm slid around my shoulder and Roddy collared me again. Was there no escape?!

He put a large brightly coloured cocktail in my hand. “Drink this my pet” he boomed as he drew me close to him. Glancing meaningfully downwards he continued, “It may not put hairs on your chest, but it will make you feel wonderful.”

It was hot in the room and I needed some cool liquid desperately. The drink tasted sweet but seemed awfully strong and after the first hasty gulp my head swam. I sipped it more cautiously after that and tried to listen to my over-friendly companion’s chat. It was difficult to focus. His beard tickled me as he held me close and it was distracting having to make an effort not to become fixated on his other endowments. He called for more drinks and I had to quickly swallow the remains of the first when another was pressed into my hand. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Greta and Joan looking disapprovingly down their noses. When the interval drew to a close Greta announced that Tam had gone home with a headache. She looked accusingly at me as she said so.

At this news Roddy moaned theatrically “I am bereft!” However his distress at his friend’s absence was only feigned and he speedily went on to compensate by inviting me to come out with him when the play was over. “There’s a little hot-spot I know that you will simply adore” he cried. “What say we make a night of it?”

The two companions appeared to be shocked at this suggestion but my hostess looked on cheerfully. Horrified at the way things were developing I was totally at a loss as to how to deal with the situation. Fortunately, the theatre bell rang just then and before we made our way back to our seats Madeleine took my amorous friend by the arm and whispered something reprovingly in his ear. I couldn’t catch the words but the smiles on their faces were somehow disconcerting.

I needed a moment to recover myself so I finished my second drink hurriedly and made the excuse of paying a visit to the restroom. It provided an opportunity to recover my poise as well as freshen my make-up, but my head was now reeling anew from the cocktails I’d gulped down. Returning confusedly to the auditorium I took a wrong turn. I could see that most seats were filled and my vacant place was now on the other side of Roddy and Madeleine in the middle of our row. I had to pass all the patrons who were already seated and awkwardly I apologised to each one as they stood to let me squeeze by. When I came to Roddy, he remained seated and as I made to push past him, I found my waist held in his strong grip. Playfully he pulled me down onto his lap.

“Now, my dear, wouldn’t you be more comfortable here?” he chortled. “You would be able to see better, too; as of course, would I!”

His eyes were level with my over-exposed bust, and only inches away. I couldn’t think of any way of deflecting his lustful gaze. My senses were giddy with the effect of the drinks and I giggled at the absurdity of my situation as I looked helplessly at Madeleine hoping she would intervene. She seemed to be happy to join in with the amusement of the moment, even if some of it was at my expense. What was increasingly embarrassing was my slow realisation that I could feel something underneath me where I was perched on top of him. Something hard was pressing into my butt. Whatever it was felt warm, hot almost, through my thin dress. The sensation wasn’t unpleasant but unexpectedly exciting. Finally I tumbled to what it might be and with difficulty resisted an insane urge to press myself harder against it.
What was the matter with me?!

I was saved by lights going up on the stage and with an effort I freed myself from my amorous admirer and pushed past my hostess to regain the safety of my own seat. The rest of the evening passed without further incident and on the drive home I found myself being comforted.

“You mustn’t mind men like Roddy” she remarked. “He would screw anything on two legs of course, but he’s mostly harmless. It’s how he got his soubriquet. He’s actually named Bernard!”
I looked at her to see if she was joking but her face was impassive.

“Oh, I wasn’t too upset” I reassured her. I found easy to talk openly as we drove, although probably my tongue had been loosened after the drinks I’d had. “It’s kind of flattering to feel I’m an object of desire and reassuring too. I guess my choices would be limited when it comes to partners, the way things are with me.”

I thought for a minute. “Can I ask you a question?”

She nodded.

“I can live with that, but do you think I ought to stop taking all these pills that I’m on? I’ve been wondering if I did whether things might go back to being more… well… normal.”

My mentor was emphatic in negating this proposal. “Oh Jennifer! That could do untold harm. You are quite unique and I know your mother has made sure your hormones are balanced just right.”

Just right for what? I was left to digest this statement during the rest of the journey.

On the following afternoon I was neatly attired in one of my Sunday dresses and had just finished dealing with the luncheon dishes when there was a knock at our front door. I hastily removed the apron I’d worn to protect my frock and hung it behind the kitchen door. Mom was drinking her coffee in the backyard and chatting with Tom who was playing with his model soldiers. I naturally needed to check my hair and make-up in the mirror and by the time I reached the door the person outside had knocked again. I lifted the latch and opened the door to see my friend Shirley framed in the doorway, her fist raised to repeat her knock again.

“You take your time” she remarked crossly. “I was just about to leave.”

“Sorry, I was just finishing the dishes from lunch.”

She looked suitably mollified by this apology and launched earnestly into the reason for her visit. “Listen. Paula and I had arranged to go for a walk this afternoon and she can’t make it because her grandparents have turned up so you had better come instead.”

She paused to take a breath and I took advantage to put in a word. “I’ll need to check with my mom but yes, I’d love to come with you.” Such an opportunity to further our friendship was too good to miss and I asked her to come inside.

It took a little wheedling from me and pleading from Shirley before Mom agreed to the request. Only when she was assured I would be back in good time was permission granted.

The weather was hot and sultry and Shirley was wearing a little sundress and a wide hat. She carried a basket which looked interesting.

“Do I need to bring anything?” I inquired.

Shirley shook her head but my mother had other ideas. “A sun hat, I think, and some lotion if you aren’t to burn.”

Thus equipped we looked at each other in perfect amity and set out together. Where we were headed I had no idea and I was content to follow my friend’s lead. The sun was beating down so it was a relief when we left the residential quarter and turned into the narrow road which led towards a wooded valley. Though the trees were sparse at first they gave welcome shelter and the grass at the roadside under our feet was cool and soft.

“Where are we going?” I enquired absently of my friend. This was a district I had never explored before. It was too lonely for a girl to wander safely on her own and had been too far for me to roam to in the days before I had become Jennifer.

“You’ll see. It’s my favourite secret place, but you mustn’t mention it to anyone because it would spoil it if people knew about it.”

The trees grew thicker as we walked on and the ground was bare underfoot, but we made our way through to a clearing where the grass grew green again. The surrounding underbrush was thick and encircled us completely. Best of all a green pool lay in one corner, the sun making dappled patterns on the still water.

“Shirley this is beautiful” I exclaimed delightedly. “How did you find this?”

“Oh I’ve known about it forever. The pool is only here when there’s been a lot of rain, like last week. I knew it would be full today. Come on.”

Shirley dropped down to kneel where the grass was short and started to unpack her basket. There were a couple of bottles of Seven-up, two oranges and a packet of biscuits. At the bottom were two large towels, which she proceeded to spread on the greensward alongside each other.

“Oh this is perfect” I threw myself down on one. “Clever you!”

It was delicious to lie down in that sunny space completely screened by the quivering trees. I gazed contentedly at the little clouds drifting imperceptibly in the blue sky. I felt as if I could remain still forever. Not so my companion. She had removed her sandals and kneeling beside me she was unfastening the buttons down the front of her dress, and seconds later had wriggled out of it and tossed it aside. As it fell away I saw that she had been bra-less underneath and now her perky little breasts seemed to dance before my fevered gaze. What was she thinking!

“Come on Jennifer!” she repeated. Standing before me in a tiny pair of lacy white panties she laughed at my startled expression, then turned and ran across the grass to leap into the water with a loud splash.

“You too!” my friend commanded from the middle of the pool.

I knew I would have no choice to obey but I was posed with a dilemma. I had a little more to conceal than she, even if it was only quite little. I was alarmed to see Shirley’s face taking on a disappointed expression while I considered what to do. Standing with her hands on her hips, nearly nude and waist deep in water, she was predictably as impatient as ever. Thinking quickly I came up with a compromise. My frock was made of a thin gauzy material and for decency had an under-slip underneath it. I would take off the dress but leave the slip on. I stood up to unzip my dress after hastily checking around. I was reassured that we were completely alone.

Folding the discarded garment up carefully I laid it on the grass then next unfastened my bra and easing my arms out of the straps, removed it from under my slip. My sandals came off next and reaching under my slip I finally pulled down my panty-girdle and laid it aside. I could enter the water attired like this and afterwards I could remove the wet undergarment and if needs must I would manage without it on the walk home.

With another splash I joined her in the water. It was deliciously cool. This was heaven! I was immediately pounced on and pushed under the surface, to struggle free spluttering madly. The next ten minutes were spent frolicking like this, laughing and squealing wildly as we both attempted to get the other’s head under the water.

When we had tired of our game Shirley led the way to the edge where the bank formed a sort of step. We sat on the submerged grass up to our chests in the water giggling breathlessly.

When recovered I wondered “what next?” Predictably Shirley took the lead once again. Playfully she dragged her hands through the water to make little waves that washed over her. Those firm little breasts bounced provocatively while she looked slyly to see my reaction. I became immediately self-conscious and coloured up. She grinned with satisfaction at my blushes. Washing the water against her exposed breasts seemed to fascinate her and she played in this way with little cries of delight at their buoyancy.

Eventually she rose and taking my hand led me out to lie on the grassy sward. Our wet bodies glistened in the sunlight. I seemed to be frozen in a trance while Shirley knelt beside me. She was staring at what was revealed by my wet undergarment. This was unbelievable. I was under the intense scrutiny of an attractive teenage girl who was herself naked. She examined me curiously.

“Is that as big as it gets?” The question came out of the blue and was typically direct.

“P… pretty much” I stammered.

“Shame. I could really fancy you if I let myself” she mused out loud. “I like Kyle a lot but he’s so immature compared to you. You’re different. I somehow know that you could teach me all kinds of things.”

“What things?”

“Well how do I know until you teach me?”

Fortunately we could see the funny side of her question and our renewed laughter defused any tension in the air. Was there an invitation implied? She was certainly doing her best to turn me on. My imagination raced through the possibilities. If there was an invitation I couldn’t be certain whether I would be capable of fulfilling it, but there sure might be some fun finding out! In the end I chose not to see it, if it was there. Shirley and I were of an age but compared to myself she seemed an innocent. It would be cynical to take advantage of her eagerness for new things. Strange thinking for a teenage boy, perhaps.

We went over to pick up the towels and skillfully wrapping it around me I peeled off my under-slip and hung it on a bush to dry in the sun. I was so engaged when a pair of wet panties, thrown with unerring accuracy, landed on my head. This was followed by the sound of my friend’s hysterical laughter. Ruefully I removed them and hung them next to my slip. Next the end of my towel was seized and a tug of war ensued that did little to preserve my modesty. Two can play at that game, however, and it would be hard to say which of us was the eventual victor! When we had tired of horsing around we sat side by side in our towels on the sunny grass to munch on biscuits and fruit before lying back in the sunshine. Shirley stretched her arm protectively across my bosom and a deep contentment stole over me. I would have liked time to stand still just then.

When we finally had to leave our underclothes were dry enough to wear so we dressed ourselves fully again. Shirley derived much amusement in the pretence of putting on my bra by mistake and recoiling in mock horror at the difference in our relative sizes. Her perky little breasts came nowhere near to filling the cups. The joke wasn’t all at my expense however, as I feigned equal amazement over how small her panties were!

I linked arms with her as we walked home in perfect accord. “I’m so glad you’re my friend, Shirley.” Our closeness met my needs much better than a more complicated relationship would have done and I was glad about the choice I’d made.

She beamed at me and gave my waist a squeeze. “Sisters, right?”

With our clothes set to rights, hair neatly brushed and make-up refreshed no-one could guess from our appearance that we had been up to anything. On my return home I passed Mom’s inquisitive gaze without cause for comment.
Just as well!

Reluctant Diva 29
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 29 – Party time
In the week leading up to the start of my second year at high school, I was busily immersed in all the preparations that were needful. There were materials to buy, missing items to find and outfits to get ready not just for myself but for Tom as well. Overlooking all the labour that was involved, my mother found numerous additional chores for me as if to ensure I hadn’t too much, or in fact any, free time. By the end of that last week of the vacation, our house was so spotless it literally shone, thanks to my efforts. I fell into bed at the end of each day tired out.

On the Friday I had removed my clothes and after strapping on my night time corset I lay across the bed exhausted. Next thing I knew I was being wakened by Mom shaking me and telling me it was past midday. How could I have overslept so much? Drowsily I lay still until it came to my mind what day it was. Today was Madeleine’s birthday, the day of her long-planned party, with its bizarre theme. Nymphs and Satyrs!

I was instantly wide awake. In panic, I recalled that I hadn’t been able to find a suitable present for my mature friend. Fortunately just then my mother came to the rescue. She showed me a curious diamante chain which would serve as a fitting gift. How and where the various strands of it fastened I couldn’t quite fathom but I saw that it was both pretty and unusual. That was enough for me.

I dimly remembered that the arrangement was for me to get changed into my party outfit at Madeleine’s house. Once I’d arrived and been greeted by Maria, she showed me up to the daughter’s room. There what I was to wear for the occasion was laid out on the bed. In no time, my day clothes were removed and my waist was corseted to the smallest circumference before I was helped into a full skirted gown.

It was in a delicate cotton lawn material and its design was unusual. There were delicate lace sleeves and voluminous folds of material supported by a multi-layered petticoat, which formed my only other undergarment. The front of the bodice was open apart from a piece of chiffon which afforded scanty covering to my breasts. The effect was to display rather than hide them, but there was no time to protest and I would have to be content. Thus attired I was led down to the room where the party was to take place. Numerous filmy drapes had been hung to divide up the available space into several secluded sections so that the effect resembled a forest glade. A goblet was pressed into my hand and though I sipped the drink cautiously, my head began to swim. I wandered from one scene to another looking for my hostess and as I did so, I kept coming face to face with some of her circle of friends, along with others I didn’t know. All were costumed to represent characters from Greek myth, with only the scantiest covering for their bodies. Nymphs, fauns and satyrs were in abundance.

As I searched I encountered Roddy, inevitably attired as a satyr. He grasped a lyre in his large hands and was bare-chested. While he was absorbed in playing this instrument I found myself staring at the front of his hairy pants where his endowment was even more evident than usual.

At length he noticed I was there and gave a triumphant cry. When he came toward me with a look of lust across his face, I fled in alarm. The idea occurred to me that an absurd scene similar to those depicted in Madeleine’s collection of art was being re-enacted; a nymph trying to escape a pursuing satyr! I began to giggle as I realised I was the fugitive nymph!

Twisting in and out of the drapes to escape, finally I came upon Madeleine. Though I felt safer now I was in her presence, I was astonished to see her own costume which was dramatic in the extreme. A jewelled band encircled her head, piling up her hair. A drape of white silk hung from her shoulders barely covering her nakedness. She greeted me warmly while I wondered which character she represented.

The goddess Artemis! The answer to my unspoken question came unbidden into my head but meant little to me. Awkwardly, all I could think to do was present her with my gift. She exclaimed with pleasure as she took it from me, but after holding it up to admire it, instead of laying it aside or putting it around her own neck she smiled triumphantly and fastened it around mine. There were two chains hanging down one on either side terminating in clips. To my consternation, Madeleine snatched away the flimsy piece of chiffon that preserved what little modesty my costume provided and clipped the ends there, causing a thrill to shoot through me.

My little member, fortunately hidden by the folds of my gown, responded by stirring from its quiescent state while in disbelief I could only stand there as if frozen. My limbs seemed to have lost the power of movement. After stepping back to admire the effect, Madeleine stretched herself onto a couch and then pulled me toward her by those same chains. I couldn’t have resisted if I had wanted to, not that I did. With a proud gesture she swept her scanty covering aside and pulled me closer. To be desired by this exotic woman was intoxicating and I wanted nothing more than to take possession of her body, but my traitorous little member had other ideas, and remained in the semi-aroused state which was all I had come to expect of it. I could have wept with frustration.
Then I felt my skirts being lifted and pushed aside from behind me, baring my naked butt. In my state of immobility I couldn’t offer any resistance. Something hard and hairy was pressed between my thighs. Nooo!! The thought flashed through my mind that it could only be Roddy!! A wave of desire swept through me, then I felt another tug on my breasts. My attention was demanded by Madeleine once more. At these stimuli my erection grew to its fullest extent at the excitement. I looked into her eyes which were filled with expectation. I knew that I would now be able to enter her at last. Finally...!!

I awoke!!! I was sprawled across my bed in my own room, breathing heavily. What…? Where…? There was no party; no Madeleine; no…! It had all been a dream; or was it a nightmare? Part of me didn’t want it to end. I closed my eyes to try and recapture the moment but it was gone.

I was bathed in sweat and trembling with suppressed excitement. Mystified, I turned on the bedside light and discovered that the sensations which had been so vivid in the dream could easily be explained. My legs were wrapped around the bedpost and tangled in a feather boa. This item was a cast-off which Mom had passed on to me and I had carelessly wound it around the wooden post for want of a better place for it. Its tickling strands were clearly the source of one sensation. My own fingers were squeezing my bare nipples, causing the pressure I had experienced there. With all these stimuli, it perhaps wasn’t surprising I had experienced the first erection I’d had in months. That part was real. Aargh! I could have laughed out loud with relief, or was it frustration?
After a hasty bathroom break, I covered myself with the sheets and blankets and tried to lose myself in sleep once more. It was some time before I could settle but in the end I must have drifted off. The next morning, I slept later than usual. When I surfaced, the events of the dream seemed as vivd as ever. As I bathed and dried myself, what had taken place kept coming back to me and one thing in particular stood out. Yes, that was the correct expression! At that moment my mother’s voice calling me from downstairs broke the spell.

I called back guiltily “Just dressing, Mom!”

“Well, you’re taking your time. I’m about to leave for work.” Thoughtfully leaving me a list of chores to be getting on with, she departed with Tom who was spending the day playing at a friend’s house.

Although I wouldn’t be working at the salon until the afternoon, there was no chance of respite; the list was long. I was still in a daze as I tackled my various jobs. When I’d finally got through them there was just time for me to change, eat a piece of toast which served as both breakfast and lunch and fix my hair and make-up. I desperately needed to see someone before starting work. Hurrying as much as I could, I arrived at the drug counter of Rachel’s store just as she was about to take a break.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes! Wow!” She looked me up and down approvingly before taking me through to the cafeteria.

I smiled with pleasure at her praise. I was proud of my growing skill with cosmetics and her recognition of what I’d been able to achieve was most welcome.
My friend sat me down at a quiet table while she fetched a coffee for both of us.

Concerned for my well-being as ever “Have you eaten?” was her first question. Although I was able to answer in the affirmative, she insisted on my sharing her lunch. I was ravenous after my busy morning. My mind was still fixated on the dream and I must have been staring vacantly into space as we ate.

“Well?”

“Sorry, Rachel.” I pulled myself together. I knew I didn’t have very long, so I got straight to the matter that was troubling me. “Last night I had the weirdest dream.”

I started to run through its events quickly but wasn’t making much sense, so she stopped me.

Gently and slowly my friend teased out all the details – the outlandish attire, the theme of the supposed party, what had seemed to be happening. Then the images began to fall into place and I started to understand.

“But why…?” There was one question still uppermost in my mind. “Why did it have the… you know… effect it had on me?”

Rachel regarded me gravely. “I think I have an idea, though I can’t be sure. With all the meds you have been on and over such a long period, it’s safe to say your body is just as female as anyone’s.”

I nodded in agreement. That had to make sense.

“So your brain has to cope with all those bodily desires which accompany that.” She continued in a whisper “It wants a man!”

I stared at her wide-eyed.

“You yourself, however, are attracted to girls… women, but your body doesn’t back that up. To turn you on completely, it takes something else, like how you feel about someone, or, in this case the combination of what it needs and what you are attracted to. That’s what I think happened.”

I couldn’t disagree. “I guess.”

“It’s just my view and I’m no expert. I don’t think there are any experts. You have to admit you are pretty exceptional.” She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I think you are just amazing!”

I sat gazing into her lovely eyes, full of concern for me. I could have stayed there for ever but my time was nearly up. She led the way back from the cafeteria and we took leave. I walked on towards my place of work with some trepidation. After my bizarre dream I wasn’t sure I would be able to look my employer in the face!

School started back the following week and as before, my journey there was on two wheels. I had toyed with the idea of taking a chance and travelling on the bus but rejected it. The bike would be better, at least until the weather deteriorated and the nights drew in. My inclusion in Shirley’s ‘sisterhood’ was a confirmed fact, thankfully. We shared many of the same classes and taking part in our cheerleading practices after school knitted our little group tightly together. On the days when there was no practice, I was glad to have the companionship of Kyle and Peter on my journey home. After the first couple of weeks of settling in to our new teachers and new subjects our routine became established and the school year began to stretch out interminably ahead of us.

Apparently I had been generally accepted as Jennifer by the end of the previous school year, but it became noticeable now that I was more often on the receiving end of an occasional snide comment from other students. They were girls usually and outside of my immediate circle. It was a rude awakening from the complacency which had crept in to my thoughts over the summer. As a result I became wary again and by my vigilance I managed to avoid any physical bullying. The best recourse I found was to stick even more closely to the company of my circle of friends, or to stay near the teachers. The cause of this unpleasantness was undoubtedly my inclusion in the cheer-leading squad. In that respect it was doing me no favours.

My experiences in the squad itself were more positive, however. Cheerleading was then considered a lady-like way of supporting our male peers in sport and any visible departure from that standard of behaviour would have been dealt with severely. The amount of work put into building a solid cheer squad and the pressures of performing for a crowd of fans knit us closely together and I found I could count on friendship where I would not have expected it. Supporting each other through difficulties and applauding each other's accomplishments was expected of us and made us develop from individuals into a cohesive team. I was glad to be part of it.

There were many occurrences which were memorable, some funny and some not so. There were occasional injuries though thankfully none of them too serious. The acrobatic element of cheerleading wasn’t such a feature in those days. Once when we were engaged in performing handsprings at a basketball game, one of our number’s shoe flew off and, travelling through the air, landed in the opposing team’s hoop! The ensuing laughter stopped the game and the girl’s face was crimson with embarrassment. No it wasn’t me; though I did once suffer the mishap of throwing a pompom unintentionally into the stands. The crowd were sympathetic on that occasion and cheered all the louder!

One further significant change took place in my life around this time and it was all my own decision. It was regarding my boyfriend. Ove the summer, I’d recognised that the relationship wasn’t going anywhere and out of fairness I knew I needed to do something about it. So the next time I met up with Marty, I dressed with particular care for the occasion. I needed all the moral support I could get. Wearing my most feminine attire might provide enough willpower to go through with what I had made up my mind to. Underneath a pretty dress I had chosen one of my favourite lingerie sets to wear. The knowledge it was there somehow made me feel more complete and gave me confidence.

After trying to greet him as warmly as usual, I heard myself nervously utter those fateful words. “Marty, we need to talk.”

Breaking up actually proved easier than I’d expected. We happened to have come to the same conclusion independently and I found we were regretfully agreed that our relationship had been fun while it lasted, but should go no farther. We parted as friends but as I walked away, I could feel a tear rolling down my cheek. I didn’t understand myself. Further tears coursed down before my walk was over and they brought home to me that something had ended which I had come to value in my life. The thought made me feel much older. Wiser? Well that remains to be seen.

Reluctant Diva 30
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 30 – At the hop
The second week of school marked the beginning of a new whirl of social activity for me. Mom hadn’t been best pleased when I told her about splitting up with Marty though I remained unsure whether it was merely because the decision hadn’t come from her. Since then I had been debating with myself if I had done the right thing. My life had been simplified but I would miss the fun times we had shared together. I was musing on this when Shirley broke in upon my thoughts. She asked me a question that presaged that my social life would soon be complicated beyond where it had been before.

“Are you going to the sock hop on Friday?”

We were sitting together after lunch and I looked at her blankly. I knew what a sock hop was, naturally, but wasn’t aware that there were any such events in the offing. I must have shown my puzzlement in my face.

“Wake up, you goof!” exclaimed Paula. “They’re going to start up the Friday night hops again now the gym is finished.”

Finally, I caught on. I hadn’t made the connection between the building’s recent completion and its potential impact on our recreational activities. For all of the previous year, the school gymnasium had been restricted in its use while it was being extended and refurbished. The student council had been unsuccessful in their attempts to persuade the principal to let it be used for dances. The loss was deeply felt as there was no community centre and most places outside of school charged a rental fee that kids couldn’t afford. Somehow teenagers in our town survived a whole year without school hops. Unthinkable! This year promised to be different as long as we obeyed the rules; no shoes on the gym floor (socks only, hence the name), no smoking, no alcohol, respect the chaperones and everyone in school invited. In practice the last rule applied to half the school. Our year and the one below would alternate with the older kids. If everyone in school had turned up at once there would literally have been no room.

“If I can find something to wear” I temporised. I made the attempt to sound more relaxed about it than I actually felt. The prospect of any sort of dance aroused mixed feelings in my breast. To get dressed up and go out was the pinnacle of enjoyment for me as much as for any teenage girl, but my anticipation of pleasure was mingled with anxiety. How would I be accepted and what source of humiliation might such an occasion have in store for me?

“Don’t be such a pooper!” exclaimed Shirley. “Of course you are going.”

I shrugged and smiled back at her. Once again it seemed I would have little choice in the matter.

“My auntie sent me a brand new poodle skirt last month” Paula declared smugly. “It’s a proper one in felt.” Her relation lived in a big city on the coast. Such fashionable items of dress weren’t available in the stores in our little town.

“Lucky you” complained her friend. “My mom made mine. I’ve got three and they’re all off the same old pattern, and in cotton!”

“Oh, I think your mother is wonderful. Your clothes always look so professional.” The other’s reassurance restored some of the leader of our group’s equanimity and she looked a little better pleased.

I came away from this conversation with plenty of food for thought. It distracted me for the rest of the afternoon and occupied my mind all through the ride home. The inevitable conclusion I reached was that I would have to enlist my parent’s help to prepare for the event, despite my instinctive reluctance. I knew I would be handing control over to my mother in a area which could demand more delicate treatment than it would be likely to receive and that was assuming I would be allowed to go at all.

Surprisingly, Mom greeted my request to go dancing with enthusiasm. The disfavour with which I had been recently regarded was now completely forgotten, apparently. While many parents disapproved of these occasions as having immoral tendencies, my own clearly didn’t share their misgivings.

“Oh Jennifer, how lovely!” Her eyes were alive with delight over the prospect ahead of me. “I can remember my school dances so well. The things we got away with, you wouldn’t believe! Now, I wonder. Which lucky boy will you be swapping spit with?”

“Mom, please!”

“Don’t act so innocent. I know what you’re like. You just can’t resist anything in long pants!”

Trying to deflect my mother’s mind into a more helpful and healthy channel was proving difficult. “Mom! I need to know what I will wear. All my friends will be in skirts with petticoats and bobby socks. I haven’t anything like that. I don’t want to be a square.” What I really meant was to stand out as different.

My parent evidently read the thought behind my words. “Hmm. Well I can see that could be important. As to skirts, I’m sure you can order one from my catalogue, but it wouldn’t get here in time. Wait, I have an idea. What about the dress you last wore to the theatre. No-one at school will have seen it and with a petticoat underneath that would be ideal.”

I considered her suggestion thoughtfully while she went to retrieve her Sears catalogue from the bookshelf. The dress was a wonderful creation with as full a skirt as any. In reality it was much too dressy for a school dance, but provided I covered up the top with a cardigan it might be okay. I felt happy about getting the chance to wear it again. Meanwhile, leafing eagerly through the pages, Mom found what she was looking for.

Emblazoned across the page she showed me were a variety of layered underskirts in a wide range of styles and materials. All of them promised to provide the dramatic silhouette which was then so fashionable.

Mom was triumphant “I’ll call at their downtown store in my lunch-break tomorrow. They will be sure to have some of these in stock.”

As promised, the following evening my parent returned home with not one but two parcels. I was half-way through changing for work when she entered my room excitedly.
“Oh Jennifer, you are going to just adore these!” she crooned rapturously. “Quickly now try this one first.”

The petticoat Mom showed me was attached to its own waist-cinching corset. When it was fastened around me and laced up, I realised ruefully that there would be no escape from its constricting grip. My mother enthused about the resulting shape it had given me while I looked hopefully at her other purchase. I could see that its waistline was formed by a plain band of material which would be infinitely more comfortable.

“That one is so pretty. I think I prefer it.”

The petticoat was adorned with embroidery and yards and yards of exquisite lace. I hoped that my winning smile would be persuasive, but my attempt to choose was brushed aside.

“Yes, I know. I couldn’t resist it either. You can wear it over the one you’ve got on. Under that dress the two of these are really going to make a statement!”

Ignoring the thought that making a statement was at the bottom of my priorities when it came to an evening out in public, she helped me into the second petticoat over the top of the first and then the dress.

“Come downstairs and we’ll give it a twirl” she beamed.

Mom went down ahead of me and began to move the chairs out of the way to make a space. When the floor was judged to be sufficiently clear, she set an upbeat record going on the Victrola. I knew the rudimentary dance steps. Most of the girls at school had been practising some of the latest rock n roll dances at any opportunity and Shirley’s group had been no exception. I was surprised how much Mom seemed to be au fait with them as she took the lead. Wondering where she had found the opportunity to pick them up, I twirled and turned until my head was spinning, my skirts flying everywhere.

Dancing in all those frothy layers was exhilarating. Even my little brother stopped watching TV to gaze open-mouthed at the spectacle we were making. Mischievously I spun around even faster to make sure he had a free show! What was odd was that Tom didn’t seem to find the sight repulsive, but sat with his eyes glued to the top of my legs. I surmised that he might be growing up, although it still seemed strange that I should spark his interest. Weird!

When the song came to an end, Mom became practical. “You know, I think that the waist of this dress can come in a little more. I’ll resew the darts this evening while you are at work.” Then her exultant mood bubbled over again. “Good girl! That figure of yours is coming on amazingly well. You are really going to dazzle at that dance!”

Generally speaking, dazzling there or anywhere else was something I actually dreaded, but for the present I was caught up in the moment and made no objection. It would have made no difference if I had.

When Friday came around the eagerly anticipated hop was uppermost in the mind of every girl, it seemed. All the talk between and, to the teachers' displeasure, some of it during classes was of nothing else. I too was excited and while getting ready I couldn’t help fidgeting as my mother applied the finishing touches.

“Oh, keep still, do!” she muttered crossly, in the middle of arranging my hair. It was being put up for the occasion. When she had done I was delighted with the final result and gave my parent a grateful hug. The style made me appear a little older and what girl is ever happy to look her true age?

The weather was warm so I carried my cardigan and deposited it on the car seat, intending to put it on when we’d arrived at school. That proved to be a mistake. As we drew up the station wagon was surrounded by my excited friends. It was only after alighting and waving Mom goodbye that I remembered it, and by then my parent had driven away without drawing it to my attention. Too late! We made our way across to where everyone was standing in line waiting for the doors to open. After what seemed an eternity they did so and there was a mad rush inside. We were all intent on occupying our favoured corner, having first removed our shoes.

For most of us, dress was simple, as for a come-as-you-are party in our school clothes. The guys dressed in clean jeans and shirts or t-shirts, with the occasional jacket, while girls wore their mid-calf skirts with lots of petticoats. The aim was to look cool with their many layers swirling around on the dance floor. Alternatively they wore jeans and as tight as possible. Attired as I was, I knew I was overdressed by comparison with my peers. My satin party frock was underpinned by a set of the fullest frothiest underskirts imaginable and its neckline was cut far lower than I was comfortable with. Why did this always happen to me?!

That my concern wasn’t a product of my overheated imaginings was underlined by Shirley’s action. Before we entered she hastily removed the lettered jacket she wore over her t-shirt and wrapped it around me.

“Miss Baker will never let you in otherwise” she warned.

The said teacher was one of those on chaperone duty along with a handful of parents. After duly passing her eagle-eyed inspection however I was able to run on inside along with the rest of my friends, to my intense relief.

The music started playing and straight away we ‘girls’ hit the dance floor. Besides rock n roll we tried the lindy, the stomp and some east coast swing. It was such fun. Although Kyle and Peter were part of our circle it took a little time before they got the confidence to stand up with anyone. Ultimately the former plucked up the courage to ask Shirley, whereupon his friend paired off with Paula. After that the barriers came down and partners were swapped with increasing frequency.

Though I got to dance with the other girls, it was noticeable that guys were chary of asking me up. Some might have been aware of, and put off by, the ambiguity of my gender, but I felt safe that it wasn’t generally understood. I eventually surmised that the culprit was more likely to be the fanciness of dress I was wearing with its all too revealing bust-line. The boys were probably intimidated and none had enough confidence to take me, or so I rationalised.

After an hour of this amusement the others left the hall for a bathroom break and I tagged along. This was going to be trickier than usual for me. The staff toilet would be locked so I would have to resort to making use of the girls’ restroom. Shirley took charge however and made sure the coast was clear before I entered. With all my voluminous skirts, not to mention anything else, it took me longer than the others and they left me to wash up, safe in sole possession of the room. As I emerged I reckoned that the evening was going well and I tripped back towards the hall with a light heart.

Before I reached my destination a sound from one of the side corridors attracted my notice. Instinctively I knew that something wasn’t right, though doubtless I would have been better ignoring what I’d heard. Out of curiosity as much as concern I turned the corner and took a few steps in the direction of the noise. A group of four figures was silhouetted at the end and though the lighting was dim I recognised two of them. With sinking heart I made out of my nemesis of the previous year Lee Rafferty along with two of his cronies. With more dismay I recognised the diminutive person of Karen’s little brother Vernon. I had little doubt that he was be on the receiving end of the bullies’ unwelcome attentions.

I was as yet unseen and, in my stocking feet, unheard. I had the opportunity of retracing my steps unnoticed and leaving the little boy to his fate. I’m pleased to be able to claim that I gave the unworthy thought not even a second’s consideration. I had been in his position too often myself.

“Vernon! Is that you?” I called trying to keep a tremor out of my voice as I trotted down towards the group. “Thank the stars. Karen’s been looking all over for you.”

As I approached, it was some small relief to see that Lee’s huge buddy Abe wasn’t with the party. That might be one less mountain to climb. Lee turned to face me and the other two youths let go of their victim at my words. As I’d anticipated, his sister’s reputation as someone you didn't cross preceded her. Just the mention of her name was unsettling for them.

“Hurry now!” I chided.

Needing no second bidding, the first-year boy made good his escape. That left me with a small problem. How could I extricate myself and remain equally unharmed? Lee was regarding me with a sour expression on his face. There was only one route open and I took it.

“Well. What are you three staring at?”

They looked guiltily from one to another and I continued the attack. “I guess you have nothing better to do. I don’t suppose you even know how to dance.”

I turned on my heel contemptuously and stalked off leaving them standing there. However, whilst his companions remained dumbstruck, Lee was evidently stung to respond and after I’d taken a few paces he caught up with me

“I can dance. Want me to show you how?” He fell into step with me, leaving the other two far behind.
I tried giving him my unconcerned stare with the curl of the upper lip. The effect was remarkable. Completely out of the blue he grinned at me “I’m Lee. What’s your name?”

I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. I knew that I’d grown in more ways than one over the summer months and with make-up applied to the fullest and hair piled up I probably looked much older. He actually didn’t recognise me. The dim lighting probably helped and fortunately it enabled me to hide my shocked surprise.

By the time we reached the safety of the hall I’d recovered my poise. “Hi Lee. Glad to know you. I’m Jennifer.”

The lights were brighter here and my enemy took the opportunity to look me up and down. The result was in clearly in my favour!
“Hi Jennifer. Say. You’re a knock-out! Let’s hit the floor, doll!”

Without further hesitation my new companion took my hand and led me to the centre of the room. Any minute I expected the scales to fall from his eyes. Surely realisation as to who I was would sink in, but it never happened. The record machine started to play a fresh number and I found myself in motion. Lee was right. He knew how to dance!

I was launched into all the rock n roll moves I knew and then some. I don’t understand how my boobs didn’t burst out of the skimpy bodice of my dress. I was aware that my skirts were flying up above my waist and was thankful I’d chosen a plain full cut pair of panties to wear so that a degree of modesty was left to me. Though I’d never spun so fast in my life, my partner led the moves so well that it took little effort to keep up with him. His sense of time was about perfect and it was easy to follow him. A good partner makes dancing a delight and I was having a ball.

After three dances I needed a breather. Lee thanked me politely and led me back to my corner. I couldn’t believe that the school’s worst bully could be such a perfect gentleman! I gave a little bob to thank him in return. The eyes of Shirley and Paula were round as saucers and when he was safely out of earshot our suppressed mirth broke out in helpless giggles.

“You two looked good out there. Trust you to catch a dreamboat like that” the former whispered in my ear. “All the bad boys fall for you, don’t they?”

I passed it off but I guessed that there might be more truth in what she was hinting than I knew how to deal with. Before the evening ended Lee asked me to dance with him twice more. The final time he beckoned me to join him from the centre of the floor and as I stepped out towards him the rhythm of a slow number filled my ears. Oh no! This was something I had determined to avoid. It was too late and I had to surrender to being held tightly in a clinch for the entire duration of the song. Against all my expectations, however, my partner behaved very properly. His hands never strayed below my waist. For a bully he certainly had nice manners!

“Another?” he asked as the music heralded a second slow dance.

“Yes please” I found myself responding and once again I was treated like a lady.
A word of thanks and a peck on my cheek formed the conclusion of our time together. We parted with some relief on my part and, I have to admit, a tinge… well… more than a tinge… quite a lot... of disappointment. If we had got as far as “swapping spit” as my mom had so coarsely put it, I wouldn’t have minded at all!
Eww!
With a bully like Lee?
How could I even think that?!

Reluctant Diva 31
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 31 – Let’s dance
Over the weekend I had plenty of opportunity to consider the consequences of my close encounter with Lee and what situations might follow at school. I worried that if I reduced my make-up to the limit permitted at school, how long would it take for him to see through my female persona? Worse, someone might tip him off, with unforeseeable consequences. There were individuals who might wish to settle a score with me. Ensuring that I avoided the bully was the only workable strategy I could come up with and its success was none too certain.
Before any of these imaginings could take place, however, another meeting put my concerns in the shade. As I made my way to class on the Monday morning I was filled with vague forebodings. Sure enough, a voice broke in on my thoughts and when it did it was most unwelcome.

“I suppose you’re expecting thanks for saving Vern’s hide on Friday?”

The voice belonged to Karen!

I turned to face my erstwhile sweetheart and though I was realistic enough not to expect any gratitude from her direction, her sarcastic tone made it more likely that the opposite was to be my reward.

“He most probably deserved what was coming to him, the irritating little swish” she continued. “He’s always bugging someone or other.”

“All the same, you wouldn’t want him hurt?” I remonstrated.

She shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “I can do that myself any time. Just don’t expect any favours from me, that’s all.”

“But…”

My words died in my throat as she turned on her heel and stalked haughtily away.
How could I ever have thought of her as my soulmate?

Hard on the heels of that unpleasing conversation the encounter I’d been hoping to avoid followed. That afternoon I rounded a corner in the main corridor to come face to face with my nemesis, Abe. My heart sank further as I saw that his buddy Lee wasn’t far behind him. This was turning out to be one of those days.

Whenever I’d been collared by the pair before I started coming to school as ‘Jennifer’, I’d had reason to regret the experience. On the plus side, the only time Abe had actually come across ‘Jennifer’ herself was at the ball game I’d attended with Mom the year before. Then he hadn’t penetrated my feminine trappings and recognised me. No doubt he was distracted, being engaged chiefly in ogling my figure and trying to flip up the hem of my dress. The ordeal had been traumatic enough, but I’d been able to give as good as I got, grabbing his arm and digging in my fingernails in retaliation. The fake leather jacket he was wearing was only made of cheap material and as my sharpened nails pressed in above his elbow the flesh felt more like more flab than muscle. His humiliation before his cronies had been complete and that time I’d definitely come off best.

Today the large black boy leered down at me, but for some reason I didn’t feel in the least intimidated. I gave him a provocative smile and flaunted my long nails in front of his eyes to recall his former discomfiture to his mind. As the memory dawned on him, he literally quailed before my unflinching stare. Next moment he had vanished out of sight around the corner.

So far this was proving too good to be true, but anticipating further trouble I looked at the other of the pair inquiringly. He actually smiled back at me.

“What’s the matter with him?” I asked innocently, though I understood full well the reason for Abe’s abrupt disappearance.

Lee merely shrugged his shoulders “Oh. He had somewhere to be, I guess.”

He stared at me curiously. “You look different…”

Were my fears about to be realised? Had he seen though me? In desperation I sought to try to distract my companion. “Well what do you expect? “ I asked scornfully. “Cocktail dresses don’t fall within the dress code.”

Inevitably his eyes dropped from my face and their focus became the front of the sweater which was stretched tightly across my boobs. Letting him see I’d noticed the attention he was giving that part of my anatomy, I looked haughtily at him and made to move away.

He was unabashed, however and fell into step beside me. “Friday night was okay. There’s another hop in two weeks. You going?” His studied attempt at a casual manner didn’t ring quite true. I could sense an undercurrent of something more.

My own indifference was more genuine. “I don’t know for definite. I might be there.”

“Cool!”

We had reached the door of my homeroom so I stopped to dismiss my uninvited companion. “Excuse me!”

He hesitated uncomfortably for a moment.

”Better make with the feet!” I hinted.

He finally blurted out. “Gotta go. See ya!”

“Bye!” I turned to enter class, resisting the temptation to add the hackneyed “Not if I see you first!” as he went. In my case it was more apt than usual! As I opened the door I had to hide a smile of relief. I had definitely come out on top in the exchange and couldn’t believe how well that had gone.

If I entertained the hope that a long period would elapse before our paths would cross again then I was sadly disappointed. Though I was successful in avoiding further chance meetings, at the next sock hop Lee showed up as promised. I had toyed with the idea of giving the dance a miss, but my friends were adamant that I should go. They were sympathetic when I told them I didn’t want this particular boy to get too friendly and promised not to desert me. In reality once the dance was in full swing, they would be too busy to take time out to look after me.

For this occasion my mother had finished sewing a skirt for me on the lines of the poodle skirts then in vogue. I was grateful and by wearing it with a simple top I knew this outfit would be less conspicuous than the dress I wore to my first dance. A last minute hitch occurred when I went to put on my bobby socks and discovered a hole in one of them. I would have to resort to wearing hose and heels instead, but I was looking forward to the evening and the substitution formed only a minor cloud on my horizon.

To begin with things went smoothly as we girls danced among ourselves. Later on as the boys’ confidence grew, the others started to pair off with them. Except when Kyle asked me up at Shirley’s prompting I was left sitting by the wall. It suited me fine. I was content just listening to the music but before long a moment I had been both dreading and hoping for arrived.

“Care to dance?” Lee was standing before me.

I felt I had no choice but to comply and so to make the best of the invitation I gave him a winning smile as we took to the floor. Lee proved to be just as capable a partner now as on the previous occasion. It seemed that this was an activity where the two of us really clicked. Before long I found myself completely lost in the dance. As I began to know my partner’s leads better, he added some advanced moves into our routine in the second dance. Even these met with success. The music for a third number started up and I was about to thank him and leave the floor, when he whispered some directions in my ear and looked at me inquiringly.

“Want to try it?”

After a moment’s hesitation I nodded assent, trying to hide my nervousness.

Halfway through the dance he gave the signal and next moment I was in the air. It was exhilarating but I knew I was in safe hands.

He repeated the move, this time varying it with another spectacular lift. By the time the song came to an end I became conscious that we were at the centre of a circle of onlookers. Once again I appeared to be making a spectacle of myself.
Why did that always happen to me?!

At the end of a school day a few weeks later, I set off with Kyle and Peter to walk down to the bicycle sheds as usual. I surprised to find Chris waiting to accompany me. The other two were ahead of us so I slowed my pace a little more to give us the chance for a tête-à-tête. Normally so matter of fact, now my friend’s manner seemed to betray some embarrassment. That was most unlike him and aroused my curiosity. He was actually having difficulty finding words.

“Er… Well er…”

This was strange! The best remedy would be to pretend I hadn’t noticed.

“Er… You know it’s the Halloween Ball next Friday?” he stammered.

Taking into account his confusion, what might be to follow immediately flashed into my mind and I started to colour up in my turn. “Yes, I know. Are you going?”

“Yeah. I’m thinking of going” came his measured reply. “Are you?”

I shrugged helplessly. “Can’t. It isn’t for my year.”

He cleared his throat. “No. But I wondered if anyone was taking you.”

“Not likely!” I laughed. “Who would ask me?”

He hesitated, then “Well you could come with me if you like. There’s a live band and they really cook. It’s supposed to be a real blast.”

I stopped and faced him, my face scarlet. “I’d love to.” I meant it. “Are you sure about this? You might never live it down, you know.”

“I wouldn’t want to.” His reply gave me a warm feeling right down to my toes.

I could see the other two had turned and were waiting for us. Walking on towards them I said “Okay then”.

“You’ll come?”

I nodded assent. “Of course I’ll need to check with Mom. Oh! Your bus! You had better run.”

As I pedalled home my heart was singing. When I got there I was to find that my mother was ahead of me once again.

“Now my girl, have you forgotten that it’s Halloween next week? There’s a party at your school with prizes for the best outfits and I have just the thing for you.”

“But Mom, you know that’s not for my age-group,” I objected, reluctant to reveal my earlier conversation with Chris just then.

“That’s correct. However, if your date is in one of the years above you then you will be able to go!” The significance of her rejoinder wasn’t lost on me.

“Date, what date?” I asked, as innocently as I could.

“A date I know you will like! That’s my secret. Don’t concern yourself with the little details. You can safely leave everything to your old mother. Trust me; you’re going to have a ball! Let me show you what you will be wearing.”

Resignedly I followed her upstairs to my room with a sinking heart.

“The two of you will be dressed as an international spy and his glamorous, helpless girlfriend. Like in the James Bond books! Won’t that be fun?” she asked triumphantly.

It might if I were to be the spy. Though I’d read most of those novels, somehow I knew that the particular role I preferred wasn’t ever going to be enacted by me.
“Undress please,” was her next instruction. I was well used to complying and obeyed without a thought. When I was clad only in my panties, she handed me a new white corset. It was a more extensive garment than the one I wore each night for waist training, being of the ‘overbust’ type fulfilling the function of a bra as well as a waist-shaper.

When Mom had tied off the laces behind me, a glance in the mirror showed that the hourglass shape I was used to seeing was further accentuated. My hips had the illusion of being bigger than my shoulders and my squeezed up bust displayed more volume than I thought possible. There were no less than eight garter tabs attached to it so my hose would be secured at the very top of my thighs all the way around. That might be an advantage given the shortness of the dress Mom now handed me.

This garment proved to be a cocktail number in a pretty pale blue satin, with white lace setting off the bust. There was more lace accenting the two tiers of material around the hem of the skirt which was higher than any I’d ever worn. Mom smiled knowingly as I undid the zipper down the back and stepped into it. That operation wasn’t simple with my torso held so rigidly by the corset. When I had been zipped up again, the transition from my compressed waist to my hips made the skirts flare dramatically outwards, apparently defying gravity.

To complete the transformation, my mother held out a wig for me to wear. It was a real pièce de résistance. Instead of matching my own hair colour like the hairpieces I’d worn before, this one was a bright blonde in a ditsy bob style. I put it on gingerly, as if it might bite! Checking in the mirror revealed the image of an awe-struck blonde bombshell standing next to my mother, whose own face was filled with glee.

“Here honey!” she took some makeup from her dressing table and coated my lips a bright red. My nails were then coloured the same shade. While they was drying, eye shadow in a striking blue was applied, then mascara, before my cheeks were heavily powdered and rouged. The tastefully minimal approach I had so painstakingly perfected at the salon had disappeared out the window.

Then the feathery wrap which had featured so prominently in my dream, a bright necklace with matching earrings, trinkets on my wrists and a silly little purse completed my outfit. There were even pale blue high heels to go with rest of the ensemble. I gazed in the mirror in shock at the alteration my parent had achieved, turning me into a total bimbo!
Delighted with her handiwork, Mom paraded me up and down as if I were a poodle at a prize dog show. I cringed as her little camera flashed to make sure the moment was recorded for posterity. This was something I would prefer to forget.

When I’d been allowed to change back into everyday attire so that I could prepare the evening meal, it was really a pleasure to get back into familiar clothes again.

Next day I decided that I had better let my parent know that I’d been asked by Chris to the dance. I was rewarded with a recurrence of that triumphant look on her face which I’d had such reason to dread in the past. She reacted without a hint of surprise. The outfit I would be wearing had already been settled if Mom had her way. No doubt the hotline to Mrs Bennett had been busy, for later in the week I had to feign surprise when my would-be escort suggested the very same theme.

At least we wouldn’t be dressed up in one of those run-of-the-mill ghoulish costumes. While I disliked anything so tacky, the thought crossed my mind that the alternative which had been chosen might well make me too conspicuous. My own preference would have been to maintain a lower profile but there was little or no chance of that. We were likely to be as noticeable as a neon light. Whatever my parent’s motives might be I found that I had no strong objection. Perhaps I was getting accustomed to being in thrust into the spotlight and even starting to enjoy it… a little… well actually a whole lot!

When Friday arrived, I returned from school to find my mother in a state of excitement over what lay ahead of me. Instead of being given my usual list of chores I was sent upstairs to bathe before changing into my outfit. I completed my garish make-up as planned, though it went against the grain. It was as well that I did, as I received the closest scrutiny when she joined me.

I was strangely pleased to be able to select a pair of panties from my extensive lingerie collection which were the same shade of blue as my little dress. Coordination of my clothes mattered to me and it was reassuring to know that if my dress flipped up revealingly, my underpinnings would match it perfectly! I needed Mom’s assistance to put on the corset and dress but as usual, she loved to be involved in my preparations.

At supper, my nerves had been in too much of a flutter to eat anything; just some cookies and a glass of milk. It was fortunate because the tightness of my clothing would have made anything more substantial unbearable.

At last I was ready and looking every inch the dumb lady friend of a man of mystery. While Mom drove me to the school I was in a state of high anticipation. My head was full of the prospect of spending a whole evening with Chris. I couldn’t help my imagination running riot over what course it might take and whether there might be a romantic outcome.
I could only hope!

Reluctant Diva 32
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 32 – Pillow talk
When Mom’s car came to a halt outside school, Chris was waiting by the gates for me, looking extremely debonair in his evening jacket and bow-tie. My heart gave a leap at the sight and a surreptitious glance at my date made it clear that when he saw me in my outfit he too liked what he saw.

“Wow!” was all he could utter as he ran his eyes over me.

To be so admired gave rise to a wonderful warm feeling in me. With that kind of affirmation, the general reaction to my appearance mattered hardly at all. As we entered the main hall, heads were turned in our direction up and down the room as anticipated. My tutu-like dress with its dramatically flared skirt flounced from side to side as I walked, its motion accentuated by the unavoidable wiggle that wearing heels caused. To my fevered imagination every eye seemed to be focussed on me, some friendly but others not so. I wondered if we were the only couple not dressed in something macabre. On looking around I saw that there were one or two others who had chosen to be different, but we were surrounded by the usual ghouls, vampires and ghosts. In contrast my costume resembled that of a fairy tale princess. So much for keeping a low profile!

One of the first guests I distinguished among the throng was Karen. Her costume was instantly recognisable as Morticia from the Addams Family comic strip. Her full-length gown clung to her tall statuesque figure, the most elegant in the room. Naturally she was there on the invitation of her boyfriend Louis. He stood next to her attired as Gomez and nearby was Brett, my admirer from that infamous double date. He was dressed as the Addams butler Lurch. I couldn’t help but laugh at his choice of character which was so well in keeping with his huge size and lack of conversational powers. My amusement turned to momentary panic on seeing his eye was also upon me. I hoped and prayed that my being with Chris would deter any further attentions from that particular quarter and resolved to stay close to my escort as much as possible.

One huge plus was that I could recognise only two or three other students from my year group. That led me to hope that conspicuous as my outfit was, my anonymity might be preserved. I ought to be able to enjoy a fun-filled evening without risking exposure, which was the constant nagging fear that haunted me, so to speak!

At first the party lived up to my hopes. It had seemed a good idea to have worked out a routine which demonstrated who our adopted characters were supposed to be. Chris was popular among his peers and as an international spy was well able to act his part with an easy flamboyance. Alongside him I had to do little to portray his ditsy blonde companion successfully. We acted out a scene where Chris pulled out an imaginary gun to rescue me from a situation of dire peril, while I raised my hands in a pretence of helpless panic. Our little sketch caused much amusement and we were asked to repeat it over again. I found myself really getting into the part. Perhaps the character of a mindless bimbo was closer to my own than I had reckoned on up to now. That was a disturbing thought!

The party organisers had done a great job. The main hall had been transformed and there was plenty to eat and drink. Constricted by my clothing I could only nibble at a cocktail sausage and had to pass up the other seasonally weird but delicious offerings. I had to rethink my preconception about the costumes as by no means all were tacky. Some were very imaginative and it was fun guessing who was meant to be whom. The band was excellent and to dance with Chris was something else entirely. Although I had to admit to myself that he wasn’t as accomplished a partner as Lee, the feelings of attraction I had towards him more than made up for any deficiency. As we danced I found myself thinking more and more of one thing. I couldn’t wait for the evening to get to the point where we might be alone together. That was some little way off. Dancing to the band’s music was punctuated with some organised activities – the Mummy-Wrapping Race, Jack-O-Lantern Face Crafting and, the culminating event, the Costume Contest.

Half-way through the evening I realised I was in dire need of the restroom! Only a part of the school had been opened for use and the special needs toilet was unavailable to me. To use the boys’ restroom would be out of the question so I would have to use the girls’ room. That risked possible disaster too and hesitantly I hovered outside for a few minutes before taking the plunge. Making my entrance after two or three girls had emerged, I was hoping that the room might now be empty and my caution was rewarded in part. There was one other occupant and she was someone I didn’t know. A senior girl dressed as a witch was busily engaged at the counter putting her makeup to rights. She smiled kindly at me and by way of conversation began to take notice of the lace and embroidery on my dress.

I could see she was trying to befriend a younger ‘girl’ in a spirit of kindness. She told me what a pretty figure I had, which was welcome as always. Her praise gave my confidence a boost. She then asked which princess I represented, so then I had to explain my assumed character to her and that took a little more time. Detained in chatting as I was, my bathroom need was growing more and more pressing. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other in desperation. My companion was too busy with her makeup to notice and the delay nearly led to calamity. Worse soon threatened. I was alarmed to hear voices out in the corridor and approaching our door. Imminently there might be other occupants to contend with. Making a swift apology I dashed for a stall, to the undisguised amusement of the older girl. My embarrassment was outweighed by the bodily relief I soon felt. When safely ensconced I realised I could distinguish Karen’s voice among the new arrivals. Disposed as I was to doubt her motivation, I was left to imagine any number of undesirable consequences which might follow if she were to find me in there.

Once I had adjusted my dress and was ready to leave, my next problem was how to emerge while retaining my incognito. The best course of action might be to wait until the restroom was empty again but the timing of this would always be uncertain. The longer I delayed the greater my danger would probably be. Listening intently I silently opened the stall door a crack and peered out. The coast was for the moment clear, so stepping smartly to the counter I hastily rinsed my hands, grabbing a paper towel to dry them before whisking smartly out of the room. Phew! I strove to calm my nerves as I trotted back to the main hall. Forcing a smile as I re-joined Chris, I could congratulate myself on my narrow escape.

A few minutes later I observed Karen re-entering the hall out of the corner of my eye. She appeared to be paying me no attention at all and I was able to relax once more, hopeful that I would be subjected to no embarrassment from that quarter.

So matters remained until the end of the evening when the prize-giving for the Costume Contest took place. Mr Grainger was officiating. After making a speech, which dragged on and on, thanking the student council and the band, he announced the winners of the competition. The award categories were for the best individual girl, the best individual boy and the best couple. It was no surprise that Karen and Louis claimed the last of the three. When the applause had died away, the vice-principal went on to announce that this year a special award of a bouquet of flowers had been donated for the couple who had come up with the most original theme.

With a passing reference to James Bond, he declared “The winning pair is our international spy and his helpless girlfriend, ‘shaken and not stirred’, Chris and Jennifer”.

The teacher was more familiar with Ian Fleming’s novels than were his audience and the joke fell a little flat. At least it gave me a moment to recover from the total surprise. My partner was much more nonchalant and grinning from ear to ear Chris stood up, courteously motioning me to go before him. As we went forward to collect our prize, Karen passed close to me on her return from the stage. In apparent congratulation she gave me a huge hug.

“Trust you to want all the limelight, princess!” she murmured malevolently in my ear.

Then as I made to resume my steps towards the stage she deftly unzipped the back of my dress with her free hand. With no shoulder straps to support it the dress dropped towards the floor. I managed to halt its downward progress only when the top had fallen to the level of my waist, exposing my underwear to the entire room.

I blushed scarlet in confusion, to the sound of ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ from my audience. It was fortunate that my corset covered my bosom so that only my underwear was revealed. Its firm grip prevented my boobs from being on open display, doubtless what Karen had intended. Nevertheless my mortification at being so exposed was complete.

Once again my companion saved the day. While I hastily lifted the front of my dress to cover myself, Chris stepped dramatically to my side and with a Bond–like flourish jerked my zip back up to the top again. Then he mimed taking his imaginary revolver from under his jacket and drilling my ‘enemy’ full of lead, finally blowing on his fore-finger and returning the ‘gun’ to his jacket. He received wild applause from the onlookers which he acknowledged with a bow and at his prompting I managed to bob a little curtsey, giving the impression that the whole scene had been contrived beforehand. Though he had retrieved what was left of my dignity, my humiliation as we marched out to the front was such that I didn’t know how to look. The presentation passed in an unreal blur of which all I remember was wishing the floor would open and swallow me up.

My fears that partner’s popularity might suffer from his involvement with me proved groundless. The reaction of his friends as they clustered around us showed that it had increased if anything. Vainly I tried to laugh off my embarrassment too, but the evening was spoiled as far as I was concerned. By this time the party was almost over and I was more than ready to leave. It seemed an age before I got the chance to murmur “Do you mind if we go?”

The walk home with Chris should have been an opportunity to recover our earlier carefree mood, but thanks to my ex-girlfriend’s spiteful action, the chemistry between us had vanished. The romance to which I had been so looking forward had firmly been put on ice, though my want of spirits wasn’t shared by my date. It was if a gulf had opened up between us. I felt completely awkward and longed for our stroll to come to an end. Though I had been imagining ways of “saying good night” to him all week, when we reached my door and the time came for us to part, those fantasies remained unrealised. All that took place was a quick exchange of thanks accompanied by a peck on the cheek. A complete anti-climax!

My final ordeal when I went inside was being required to relate every detail to my mother. That made me feel much worse. I had noticed the curtain move as we approached the house, so I had no hope of escaping the third degree. Fortunately she was distracted by my bouquet of flowers and to save face I implied more took place between Chis and me than actually had. By the time I had satisfied her curiosity my every nerve felt raw. This last effort exhausted me and mercifully on retiring to bed I fell immediately asleep.

On Saturday I was occupied with my chores all morning. I still felt the disappointment of the previous evening keenly and it was good to keep myself busy. I had taken a day off from the salon so I was looking forward to having the afternoon to recover. As it turned out, Mom was going to one of her Tupperware parties and Tom was spending the day with his friend Miles. I would have the house to myself. On impulse, before the former took leave I decided to ask a favour of her.

“Will it be all right if I ask Rachel over? If she’s free that is. I want her to help me with some ideas I have for my room. The way she has arranged hers is so nice. Please, Mom!”

Since Mom had so generously made the room over to me I hadn’t altered a thing. Well, actually I had put up the “Hot Buns” poster and the one of the guy in bathers on my wall by my bed, but that was the only attempt I’d made to personalise it. I still felt in awe that something so grand was occupied by little ol’ me.
“Oh, Rachel is sure to want all the low-down on what you and her brother got up to last night. I just bet she’ll be free! Yes, it’s fine by me, sweetie.”
My mom was right. When I telephoned her, I found that my friend was eager to spend the afternoon with me. Hearing her cheerful voice dispelled the shreds of my dark mood of the morning.

“If you hadn’t called me, I would have invited myself over,” she laughed.

I promised to make her some lunch and hastened to the kitchen to prepare sandwiches and drinks. Then I ran upstairs to change. I wanted to look my best for her and had already singled out one of her own hand-me-down skirts to wear. Silvery grey and with smart box pleats, it had a fitted waist and plenty of fullness to set off my figure. It was completely adorable! I had been looking for an opportunity to wear it but it was much too short for school. I searched though my tops and blouses and selected a pale pink t-shirt with little cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline to complement it.

That settled I hastily took a bath and then started to dress. Opening the drawers which Mom had filled with all that pretty lingerie, I wondered which bra I should select. I was tempted to wear something dark but that would be visible under the top and I might look cheap. Modesty prevailed and I chose a pastel shade in ultra-thin lace of a delicate blue. It took some fiddling with the straps until I was satisfied but when it fit perfectly it gave my bust a nice shape. The matching panties were equally flimsy, but with everything taped securely below them, a glance in the mirror confirmed that all was to rights.

Rachel would be here at any minute so I finished my preparations in record time. I took care to touch up my makeup, check my nails and brush out my hair. I was just fastening a pendant around my neck when I heard my friend’s voice below.

“Only me!”

A quick spritz of perfume then I ran down the stairs to greet her. My idol looked sensational as always in her favourite white jeans and skinny ribbed sweater and I greeted her with a warm if rather breathless hug.

“I’ve brought you some bit and pieces for your room” she indicated a large sack on the doorstep that looked as if it held promise. It was an awkward shape to lift, so between the two of us we carried it inside and up the stairs. Tipping its contents onto my bed revealed a treasure trove. There were cushions of different sizes and shapes, a colourful throw and lots of frills and flounces in various types of material, all very pretty and feminine.

“Where did you get all this?” I gazed in wonder. Then I remembered my role as hostess. “Let’s eat before we do anything else. I bet you are starving!”

Rachel needed no second invitation and I led the way down to the kitchen table where the lunch I’d prepared was set out. I had taken care over arranging it so as to make it look appealing and was rewarded by a cry of delight from my friend. While we ate she quizzed me about the events of previous evening and I told her everything, holding nothing back. When I got to the incident at the prize-giving ceremony, she was full of sympathy and indignation.

“You poor thing! That Karen is no friend of yours!” she exclaimed in conclusion. “But it was good that Chris thought to turn your plight into a rescue, just like the real Bond. He does have his moments, my brother!”

I assured her how grateful I felt but went on to describe how the incident had coloured the rest of the evening for me. “I tried to put it behind me, but it seemed to spoil everything. What Chris did was amazing! He handled it well. Too well if anything! I hope he was okay.”

“I guess!” was her guarded reply.

I decided to be open with her. “I don’t understand it, Rachel. Up to then we had been getting… you know… close, and I wanted to get even… closer. I really did. I was hoping we might… well… make out or something.”

Rachel looked at me wide-eyed. “Or something?”

“Well I would have stopped short of actual…” I blushed and carried on. “It’s that week in my cycle when… you know. It has this effect on me and kinda turns me on even more to… to boys.” I faltered. “Well, I was turned on for a while but after that debacle with Karen, I felt nothing at all. I just wanted to get away. I hope he wasn’t too disappointed.”

I considered my words and ruefully corrected them, “No, actually, I hope he was disappointed, but that he didn’t feel too bad.”

My friend laughed at the distinction I’d made, but I was in earnest. “What’s going on with me?”

“Oh that’s easy!” she exclaimed. “Let’s see about your room first and then we’ll talk some more.”

The next half-hour was an education as Rachel and I set about rearranging my bedroom under her inspired guidance.

“There are two important vantage points from which the room needs to look perfect” she explained. “Firstly, from the doorway as you enter, and secondly, from the bed when you wake.”

We got to work. Some of the existing furnishings were instantly discarded but we kept enough so that something of its personality remained. The posters from my wall were among the first items to go into the sack.

“We are women, now!” she chided, conveniently overlooking the fact that she had provided me with them in the first place. “We are above such things.”
When her work was complete the result was a transformation. It seemed perfect from every vantage point to me.

“Do you mind if I look in here” Rachel had already opened the doors of my closets and shaking her head had started to reorganise my hanging space. That done she next went over to tackle my dresser. The top drawer contained my ‘ordinary’ lingerie collection and she opened that without comment. The next evoked a squeal of delight.

“Jennifer! This is amazing!”

She checked the other drawers and turned to me gasping in disbelief at the array of silks and satins revealed. “How come you have all these beauties?”

I shrugged “They used to be Mom’s when she was first wed. She had been saving them… for her ‘daughter’! Amazingly she and I are exactly the same cup size now, so she has passed them on to me! Do you like them?”

“Lucky, lucky you! They’re wonderful. They put anything I’ve got to shame! Look at this and this!”

Her face suffused with delight, she looked prettier than ever as she held up first one item and then another. Soon my bed was covered, resembling the lingerie counter of a department store. When she had examined all of them we started folding to put them back in the drawers.

“It’s a pity we aren’t the same size” I said. “We could share them. You would be welcome.”

Rachel smiled her thanks at this thought and then reaching forward placed her hands first on my bust then on her own to effect a comparison. “No!” she laughed, “there’s still a difference. I need a real woman’s bra!”

“Well what about this?” The one I was holding looked roomier than the rest. I checked the size label and was pleased to see that I was right. The bra was in a pretty pale peach colour and had delicate embroidery. “This one too!” A deep red one was the exact same size.

She examined them carefully. “You’re right. Well you will need to grow into those!”

“No, please! I want you to have them. They are lovely. Don’t you like them?”

She looked at me curiously, “Yes I like them. This one especially” indicating the first.

“Try it on, then! Go on! You know you want to. There are some panties that go with it, too. Here!”

She needed no more urging and took them both from me. Without turning away, she pulled her sweater over her head and reaching behind her undid the hooks of her bra. Straightening her back she stood there semi-naked for a moment, a mischievous smile on her face.

I put my hands together and gently applauded. “Perfect!”

Rachel gave me a mock curtsey, then undid her jeans and slid them down her legs. She looked at me unashamedly, then sat on the bed and took off the panties she was wearing while I watched mesmerised.

She looked like a goddess as she slipped out of them and an involuntary sigh escaped me. Rachel merely smiled at this, accepting my admiration like it was the most natural thing in the world. She picked up the bra and slipped into it. With a little tweaking, it fit her beautifully, framing her shapely breasts. With the matching panties on she looked about as perfect as any woman could be.

“Now I want to see you in one of these as well” she said earnestly. “Which shall it be?”

In reply I undid my blouse and removed my skirt to show her the pretty set I already had on.

“Oh I really approve, you sexy minx! You fill that out beautifully.”
I got another lingering hug which felt incredibly sensual. It was delicious to feel her soft warm skin against mine.

“Now, let’s have that girlie talk!” Rachel pulled back the covers and pushed me back on the bed. She swept my legs up on to it before sliding in next to me. Pressed up against her so closely, it seemed there could be no secrets between us.

“You asked me why your mood changed last night. Okay? First, you were longing for my little brother to hold you in those strong arms of his. You wanted him to kiss you and run his hands over you. Hmmm… and then nothing?”

I nodded dumbly.

“Welcome to being a girl!” she said simply. “It happens to most of us!”

More seriously, “It’s a hormone thing; to do with a woman’s cycle. Take me. I know that while I like sex, for most of my ‘month’ I hardly think about it. I can take it or leave it. I would have to be with someone who really gets to me for me to want to do anything about it. Understand?”

I nodded, “Mm mmm.”

“But then some time about the end of my second week, for two or three days I feel different. My boobs seem to be in the way and I’m really aware of my body, down below. I hate feeling that way, but I can’t seem to help it and it just feels like I really want to, you know, most of the time.” she continued.
“Another day or so and it passes.” She sighed before going on. “Well during those days when I’m turned on, the least little thing can turn me off again. It’s crazy, but I’m up and down like a jumping jack! I think something like that is what happened to you. You don’t have the same monthly cycle but you are sensitive at times, like me when I’m ‘on’. One minute you’re up and you’re turned on, but it’s a fragile thing. It doesn’t take much to knock you down again.”

I thought about what she’d said.

“Does that help?”

“I guess it does. It could explain a lot.” I looked into her kind eyes as I considered her words some more. A question had formed in my head and, greatly daring, I asked it. “Is that what was happening when you… er… went with Marty?”

Rachel’s eyes widened but to my relief there was a hint of humour behind them. “You certainly know how to put a girl on the spot, sister!” She reflected some, then, “No, I wouldn’t feel so bad if it had been that time in the month for me, but I can’t blame my hormones. I have to admit I was a complete fool. Anyway I try and avoid going out on dates around those times, these days. Too many girls get caught that way. I ought to understand my own body. I’m a trained nurse, or will be very soon.”

There followed a lull in our conversation. It was eventually broken by Rachel and it was her turn ask an awkward question. “Are you still seeing him?”

I shook my head. “We finished.”

Her eyebrows raised in response to my subdued reply. I had to elaborate further. “Over the summer we went out quite a bit. It was fun but in the end I got the feeling we were about done. We both felt the same so it was okay.”

I went on, “Marty did change. He became a more serious person and, I guess, nicer, if that doesn’t sound strange. He was always quite thoughtful towards me. But he’s so much older than I am. We were both ready to move on.”

She was silent and when I looked up at her she was studying me gravely. There was a hint of amusement that lingered behind her eyes. Its source soon became apparent. “You haven’t asked me!”

“Asked you?”

“Yes, asked me! Don’t you want to know? When I’m going to be ‘on’? This month?” she asked archly.

“Er… Er… When?” It was my turn for my eyes to widen as in response she moved her leg over mine and rubbed the soft inside of her thigh against me.

“When?” She looked down and giggling, coloured slightly. “Right now!”

I froze as the realisation of what she was saying sunk into my mind. I couldn’t believe what was happening but I felt my idol stretch herself across me and with legs wide press herself hard against my hip.

“Remember your first lesson with Madeleine Bell?”

How could I forget? The topic had been fore-play with a hands on demonstration of how to bring a woman to climax.

“Feel like doing some revising?” Her hand slid over my butt and squeezed it while she pressed herself against my hip again. This was amazing. Her proximity was making me as horny as I’d ever been. My breathing had become short and heavy. I had never let myself even dream something like this could ever happen with Rachel.

She directed my hands onto her wonderful bust and smiled at me encouragingly. Her voluptuous curves felt amazingly soft. It was all I could do not to tremble with the excitement I was feeling. I gulped, then eased my thumbs under the hem of her bra so that I could lift it up to fully reveal the exquisite breasts it concealed. Next moment my hands were full of her sumptuous flesh. This was going to be heaven! Before we could go any further, however, an unwelcome noise arrested us. It was the sound of a car drawing up in the driveway below. The engine stopped. Mom had returned!

“Oh what perfect timing!” Rachel lay back and laughed weakly. “I really must speak to your mother about it, sometime!”
Aargh!

Reluctant Diva 33
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 33 – On the road
By the time we heard Mom close the front door we were both fully dressed again and putting our hair and makeup to rights. Rachel straightened the bed while I called, “We’re up here Mom, come and see!” While my friend did a final check around the room, I hastily picked up her discarded bra and panties and slipped them into her purse, just in time! She hadn’t had time to change but was wearing the lingerie set I had given her under her outer clothes.

Captivated by the transformation which we'd achieved, my mother was too enraptured to notice any awkwardness in our manner. She thanked Rachel over and over again.

“It was no trouble, really” the latter assured her. “I love doing this kind of thing.”

“Well you certainly have a flair for it.” Mom beamed her pleasure.

“I hope you don’t mind but I’ve already been rewarded. Your daughter wants me to have this,” holding up the red bra I’d hoped she would take. “It is more my size than hers, though of course she’s still growing. It might fit her, yet.”

“No of course you must have it, if you like it that is. There are some matching panties… here. Oh, and there’s another set in that size too, as I recall. So pretty!” Mom was busy searching through the drawer.

“I think I’m wearing that one!”

My parent looked her surprise, first at Rachel, then at me, but quickly recovered. “Oh. Well that’s wonderful, then. I’m glad we could do something in return. You know, dear, you are wasted at that drug counter. I know it’s only a fill-in job but you could do amazingly well with a career in design. I think you have a real gift for this sort of thing. Not that there’s anything wrong with nursing.”

“I do enjoy experimenting.” She looked at me considering. “Having said that, my own bedroom could do with reorganising some. Would Jennifer like to come over and spend the evening with me?”
My idol smiled and pulled me close. With her arm around my waist, I was very conscious that one of her breasts was pressed hard into my back.
“She gives me all sorts of ideas. I’d find it so much easier having someone to…” the pressure increased, “to bounce things off.”

I stared at my friend in disbelief as her double meaning sunk in. I could have laughed out loud. Catching her eye I had to try my hardest to hide a smile.

Mom was already on her way downstairs, however. “Sorry, Rachel, but I will have to say no on this occasion. Jennifer has a lot on her plate just now, keeping up with her schoolwork and all. She is quite behind and although she might have forgotten, she will have exams next month.”

Rachel followed her down the stairs with myself close behind her and sighed. “Don’t I remember those school-days well?”

She paused abruptly in her descent so that I nearly collided with her. Surreptitiously she ran a hand up my leg and under my skirt and, grinning mischievously, gave my butt a squeeze. “Well if she’s all ‘behind’, perhaps next month I should come over and help her with her ‘revision’.”

I stifled an exclamation as my teasing friend gave me a sharp pinch.

“I think we’d have fun!” resuming her downward progress. “What do you say, Jennifer? Next ‘month’…?”
A prospect both alarming and delightful.

As Thanksgiving approached, my head was crammed full of additional things to worry about. Inevitably, there would be a big celebration for the whole town on the day itself and I fully expected Mom to enter me in the pageant again. Taking second place in last year’s beauty contest had been both scary and exhilarating. I had tasted success beyond any but the wildest of expectations. Part of me dreaded being subjected to the ordeal over again and another part felt the exact opposite way. While my competitive streak naturally wanted to repeat the triumph or even surpass it, at the same time I shrank from attracting the inevitable attention that would go with the attempt.

A further source of anxiety was that now a certain Jennifer Cartwright was enrolled at school with the consequence that I would have no incognito and be only too recognisable in this year’s contest. The prospect of being the centre of hot gossip among my classmates did not appeal to me in the least.

Over the next couple of weeks I tried vainly to stop myself thinking how outlandish my mother’s choice of costume for me might turn out to be. I was unsuccessful and lay sleepless for several nights obsessing over my fears. In reality they fell short of what my parent had dreamed up. Idly picking up one of Mom’s magazines one day, I observed that the corner of one if its pages was turned down. I was curious to see what she thought was worth revisiting and found that the subject matter concerned a well-known movie star. The picture opposite showed the celebrity in her latest role; an oriental dancing girl. Adorned with myriad glittering chains, spangles and stones the image with its tiny bikini top seemed to shimmer before my eyes. The star’s slender midriff was fully exposed, drawing attention to the shapeliness of her hips. Her skirts hardly hid anything and were split to reveal her long round thighs. Bracelets, armlets and rings adorned her arms which she held in an exotic pose. The sight filled me with foreboding.

The very next day the ominous words “About this year’s Thanksgiving!” floated across the table toward me at breakfast.

I cringed inwardly, expecting the worst.

Then, “Now Jennifer, last year you made me so proud. I can see no reason why this year we can’t aim to go one better. How about it?”

What could I say? It was enough of a surprise to me that whether I took part or not might be open to question, though I guessed that refusal was not a serious option. I resigned myself philosophically to whatever might be coming. The expression on my mother’s face was almost childlike in its eagerness. When she used this kind of persuasion I found it much harder to overcome than when I was being bullied, not that I was very successful at resisting that!

“I guess” I replied, careful not to sound more enthusiastic than I felt.

My parent seemed oblivious to my show of reluctance, however. “Well, my girl. If we are really going to top last year you will need something really eye-catching. Since your figure has filled out so nicely, we can rely on showing it off to its best advantage.”

I knew exactly what she meant. In the months since my fifteenth birthday celebration I had continued with the nightly waist-training and the exercise regime which Madeleine had introduced me to. In this time I had also been physically active. My busy household routine, my cleaning job and my work at the salon, cycling to school and above all the cheer-leading practices had each contributed to my bodily fitness. I had grown more than an inch in height. My resulting body shape was the hour-glass figure that was so much coveted around then.

Her magazine lay open on the table at the article I’d come across the day before. Though not surprised I was dismayed to hear my parent utter the words, “Now that is exactly the kind of look we should be aiming for!”

Once again my mother’s schemes threatened to take me a long way beyond my comfort zone. I was doomed!

Dimly I perceived a possible chink of light among the dark thoughts that began to engulf me, prompting my feeble attempt at an objection. “But where on earth would anyone buy a costume like that?” I asked tentatively.

As I might have anticipated this mildest of protests was brusquely swept aside. “Oh don’t worry about that. Madeleine’s maid has a sister who is an accomplished seamstress. She will easily be able to make what you will be wearing."
No retraction was possible and there was nothing for me to do but acquiesce. We spent the next few minutes discussing what I would wear for the swimwear section, but my brain couldn’t take it in. Just when I was desirous of adopting a lower profile, my mom could be trusted to come up with something completely off the wall. I was so stressed that all I could take on board was that she had ordered a swimsuit in a metallic fabric, and also that she thought that the material for my evening dress should be similar, but she was undecided. Nothing else registered with me and perhaps I should have been paying more attention. But was there any point?
The mail-order delivery containing my swimsuit came later that same day. After I’d finished work that evening Mum told me to go upstairs and try it on.

In a shimmering gold material which really caught the eye its impact was stunning. Literally! What worried me most about this was that I would stand out like a neon sign! That was the right idea if I was to succeed, and of course I should have been so prepared. At last year’s competition the image I had projected might have been termed “sweet and sexy”. This year apparently it was to be merely ‘sexy’. To my mind there was only just enough coverage for my body to remain legal. I was dismayed to see how generous was the amount of flesh which would be on display.

My parent joined me in my room and after turning me right around gave her opinion. “Perfect!” Mom’s reaction came as no surprise to me, but… What was she thinking?!

At that point my modelling session was interrupted by a knock at the door below. Mom went to answer it and soon a well-known voice was audible in the hallway.

“Hello Dorothy. I’m not interrupting anything, am I? I was just passing.”

I heard my mother welcome my employer warmly and explain what she and I were engaged in. “Like to see her? She’s actually trying on the bathing costume now” she concluded.

Madeleine evidently was eager to do so and it was with no little alarm that I prepared myself for our unheralded guest to be admitted to my bedroom. I hastily put away the discarded clothing that lay across my bed and gave a quick glance around to see that all was acceptably tidy.

A tap at the door was followed by an “Only me!” and there she was in a black tailor-made pant suit, the neckline of which plunged towards her navel. Her make-up was dramatically perfect and her hair was swept up into a bun. I wanted to tell her that I thought she looked sensational but my diffident compliment remained unheard beneath her own raptures over my appearance.

I was left in no doubt that Madeleine liked what she saw.

When her effusion of praise was over she sat herself on my bed, pulled me down beside her and slipped her arm around my waist. “Come, my dear” she smiled. “You seem troubled. Tell me about it.”

“Oh… I’m a bit nervous about all this, I guess” I explained.

“But last year was such a triumph for you!”

“I know, and you would think it would be easier second time around. It’s because so many more people know about me now. If I put myself too much in the public eye it could all go horribly wrong… at school for example…”

I was close to tears and my mentor listened without comment, encouraging me to explain further. “This outfit is what I will wear for the parade.” I handed her Mom’s magazine. “It’s quite an eyeful!”

She examined the picture of the harem girl intently, a wry smile on her face. “You would be quite safe to say that, I think!”

Her irony made me smile too, so that when my parent joined us we both seemed to be regarding the image with perfect approbation. Mom’s self-satisfied expression showed that she perceived no criticism of her plans in the faces of either of us.

“So… We have settled on two out of three winning outfits. It’s the evening dress that we’re having trouble with.”

She went on to detail the various ideas she had considered for this showpiece at some length, while our visitor listened attentively. Eventually Mom stopped for breath.

“I may be able to be of some assistance here, Dorothy, if you are happy to let me help.”

Madeleine suggestion was at once both practical and simple. She named the state capital. “I will be travelling there on Friday and returning on Sunday. If Jennifer would like to accompany me then I’m sure that while we are there then between us we can find a gown which will be just perfect. What do you think?”

“That’s so kind…” While my mother considered her friend’s offer, my whole mood lightened. I had only been to the metropolis once in my short life and I had been too young then to recall much about it. A vague impression of wide streets and imposing buildings was all that remained. To spend time there with such a generous patroness would be a dream come true. I looked at my parent’s face anxiously trying to hide my eagerness but willing her to say yes.

“If you are sure it isn’t too much trouble, then that is a wonderful idea. Thank you! Of course she can go!” I had to do my utmost to stop myself laughing with delight as I thanked them both over and again.

The few days of waiting seemed to drag on forever to my impatient mind. It seemed that Friday would never come around but in due course it finally arrived. When I’d handed in a note at school to request leave for the day, Shirley and the rest of my friends had been beside themselves with envy and I too had felt my good fortune deeply. Though I was too blind to see them, life changes were about to overtake me resembling stepping onto a high speed walkway. As soon as my foot touched it, I was whisked away; into territory that was not only uncharted, but undreamt of as well.

It was bright and sunny that morning and Madeleine called for me early. I’d applied my make-up with particular care and selected one of my prettiest dresses. There was a little jacket which went with it, and with my outer coat over, it would be stylish enough for the big city. I’d swallowed a little toast and a half cup of coffee when her car pulled up in the driveway. I was so excited I ran out to her, though I wasn’t fully ready to leave.

“Oh Jennifer! You must hurry yourself. The drive will take most of the morning,” my friend scolded, but my gaiety must have been infectious. There was laughter behind her eyes. She was on her own in the car, at which I felt mild surprise. I’d expected Maria to be of the party.

It was noon when we drew up outside our hotel, a tall imposing building shaped like the prow of an ocean liner. It was built in alternate layers of different coloured stone and looking up, I could count at least ten rows of windows. The interior was as sumptuous as the architecture promised, with plush velvet everywhere and brilliant lighting. The bellboy showed us up to the suite which Madeleine had engaged for our stay. It was on the topmost floor with views right across the city. Our rooms comprised a large and well-appointed bedroom with an attached dressing room and bathroom. Looking around me I wondered where I would sleep and in the end assumed that the couch in the smaller room would serve as my bed. I unpacked, laying aside those garments which would benefit from a press. I would deal with them later. Next I helped my hostess change out of her travelling clothes. Taking on the role of her attendant made me feel more comfortable. My mentor was meeting all the expenses of our trip.

After freshening up we went down to the restaurant and ate a light lunch. Finally we headed downtown. First Madeleine called at her bank to transact some business, then our shopping began in earnest. Visiting a bewildering succession of department stores and fashion shops left my head in a whirl. There were wonderful creations that I tried on one after another. Most of them I absolutely loved and a good number were also approved by Madeleine. By the end of the afternoon I was completely confused as to what I preferred. Fortunately my companion was taking notes. She made one purchase but that was a gown “for this evening” rather than the pageant. Catching sight of the price tag, I was stunned at her generosity while the question of the dress for the pageant was unresolved.

“We have all tomorrow as well!” I was reminded. This trip was evidently a marathon and not a sprint and I resolved to pace myself accordingly. Back at the hotel I completed my self-appointed chores while my companion showered. I followed her and then we helped each other dress and attend to our make up for the evening. My new gown was both elegant and visually dramatic, with a low cut décolletage. The waist was so small that I wondered if I would be able to swallow anything at all when we came to eat.

After the events of such a busy day I was able to do justice to my meal which we ate in a stylish restaurant. There were soft lights and a dance floor. The band gave a polished performance and we drank champagne. I was a novice with wine and having consumed several glasses had become little tipsy when, tired but happy, I returned with my friend to our hotel.

“Bed, I think!” determined Madeleine. “We’ve a busy day tomorrow.”

I needed her assistance to take off my beautiful gown. I hung it up with reverent care and went to make my ablutions. After indulging myself with a leisurely soak in the tub, I enveloped myself in a huge towelling robe and emerged from the bathroom. The lights in the room had been dimmed and through the open door I could see my companion seated at the dressing table. It was only then that the question where each of us would be sleeping again raised itself in my mind. Although the sumptuous bed seemed twice as wide as my own at home, there was only the one. It rushed in on me that possibly we would be sharing! Oh my goodness!

The implications were by no means unwelcome but I needed some time to make the mental adjustment that this realisation demanded. My thoughts were soon interrupted by Madeleine making her entrance into the bedroom. She was wrapped in a long black satin robe and her perfume seemed to fill the whole room.

Seating herself she handed me the hairbrush and taking the hint I undid the pins from her hair and began to brush it out so that it cascaded down past her shoulders. I was all of a dither wondering what might happen, but occupying myself like this helped me attain a sense of calm. I brushed and teased and stroked. The activity was soothing and served to create a new bond of closeness between us.

After some time she motioned me to cease. “I’ve brought along something you might wish to wear” she smiled, taking out a wispy bundle of white silk and holding it out to me.

Obediently I took the garment from her. It revealed itself to be a short nightdress which hung from spaghetti straps and was adorned with much lace. It was delicate and pretty. Self-consciously I divested myself of my fluffy robe and slipped into it. I discovered that the bodice had no material over the bust so that my breasts were completely exposed. I recognised that my companion’s seeming obsession had once again prevailed in her choice of nightwear for me. Showing my endowments off was okay by me, I decided. I was quite proud of them and after all, I had been spoiled all day by her. It felt right to give her some pleasure in return.

Madeleine slipped her own robe from her shoulders and letting it fall stood smiling provocatively and proudly back at me. Naked from head to toe, her breasts were imperfectly covered by her hair and there was nothing to hide what was below. Any remaining self-consciousness I felt about my own partial covering vanished as I took in what was before me. The vision was enthralling and I found her next words both inviting and alarming.
“Come dear. Let us see how much you remember of what I taught you.”

Reluctant Diva 34
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 34 – Epilogue
That weekend was the start of a train of events that a few short months later, one week after my sixteenth birthday, led to my finding myself on the eve of the most momentous day of my life. That’s right! My wedding day!
During that weekend in the hotel I experienced sexual satisfaction that I’d never known before and in ways I hadn’t imagined. Though my responses to my seductress were driven by lust, rather than arising from any superior feeling, the pent-up frustration of months of unrelieved desire also played its part. I’d long since given up believing that anything like this could be possible, but Madeleine’s experience and skill overcame all impediments. It seemed to me that only she could fulfil my empty longings.
At the same time she made it appear that she was dependent upon me. Older than I and alone, she let herself seem vulnerable and appealed for my protection. In my inexperience and naivety I told her I would never desert her. How could I turn from her without thinking myself heartless? We returned home as an acknowledged ‘item’. If I was wondering how my mother would react to this news I needn’t have concerned myself. My mother beamed her approval, her eyes actually misting over as she congratulated us! She even made no complaint that we had returned without completing my Thanksgiving outfits. I would not be entering this year.

Our relationship was cemented soon after when one evening Madeleine took me out and wined and dined me. Finally she led up to the question; were the ‘promises’ I had made real? My protestation that I’d meant what I’d said was followed by the placement of a ring upon my finger, the third on my left hand.

I’d been hooked, even if it was not altogether unwillingly.
Madeleine and I were engaged to be married!!

The next question to be resolved was ‘when’. Though legally I was already able to give consent, the disparity in our ages could make our wedding an object of scandal. It seemed that appearances would have to be respected. After lengthy deliberation it was agreed that we would wait until just after my sixteenth birthday, when I would move in to live with my spouse. Part of the rationale was that Maria was herself leaving Madeleine’s employ to be married before then. The unflattering implication that I might be expected to fulfil some of the maid’s function was actually welcomed by me. I felt happier to know that I would be making a practical contribution to our future ménage. It prevented me from seeing myself as just some kind of plaything.

The risk of ‘confusion’ over our respective gender was more speedily dealt with. At the forthcoming ceremony Madeleine was insistent that I must be the bride, to enable which she would dress as the groom. As she pointed out, she had already had her day as a blushing bride many years before. There was a final condition; I would give up my cleaning jobs and put my formal education on hold. It clearly didn’t suit my fiancé’s sense of dignity to have her name linked with a ‘help’ or a high school student. My betrothal could now be announced to the waiting world.

Rachel was the first person I told and she was happy if I was happy. Was I happy? I wasn’t sure. Events were moving fast, however and she had tidings of her own. Since qualifying as a nurse, she had been seeking a position as such and had recently been successful in an application. The appointment was to a role in a private hospital which was a wonderful opening and I felt pleased for her. However, the town to which she would be moving was in the next state, even if not very far away, a couple of hours drive. I had to swallow my feelings on hearing this news. Though I was pleased on my best friend’s own account, I felt suddenly alone and vulnerable. I’d come to depend on having her around as my confidante. She had become the comforter and advisor I so often needed to make sense of my complicated life.

When I told my circle of school friends their reaction was predictable but disappointing. It was impossible to make my friends understand and attempting to explain how my engagement had come about brought home to me the enormity of the step I would be taking. Shock was their prevailing sentiment, accompanied by something closer to disgust. Shirley was as outspoken as ever in her remarks about the age difference between my fiancé and myself. Her words really stung but in actuality I didn’t find the lines on Madeleine’s brow and around her mouth and eyes distasteful. Her maturity evoked tenderness, and her sophistication as a successful business woman I found exciting. Increasingly, however, as the weeks went by, other things gave me pause.

The over-familiarity of some of her circle of friends and the freedom with which they expressed it was something I found disconcerting. At social events I was often made to feel more like a plaything than a person. When I complained, my fiancé dismissed my concerns as the product of my popularity and something to be welcomed. I could look forward to further such attentions and perhaps worse.

A chance discovery reinforced my fears when I opened a drawer by mistake and discovered some of Madeleine’s ‘toys’. To my innocent mind their intended purpose verged upon the extreme. They made me wonder about my intended life-partner. What sort of person really was she? It came home to me as never before how widely different our preferences might be, muddled as my thinking normally was by the social whirl I was immersed in and which literally took my breath away.

I needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in and in whose judgement I could trust. The thought of calling my father fleeted across my mind, but only briefly. That idea was unthinkable. I wouldn’t know where to begin and deep down there would be an undercurrent of disappointment which I dreaded hearing. It would have been natural to talk everything through with my mother, but when I cautiously sounded her out about my reservations, her reaction was one of simple annoyance. She pointed out the trouble and expense everyone was going to and I was glad to end that particular conversation. Shirley and her friends had been a little distant since I’d announced my engagement. That was a pity because I knew I could count on her to speak her mind. I wondered about Chris, but we had hardly spoken since our abortive date.

There remained only one person I could turn to and she was over a hundred miles away. Though Rachel and I had kept in touch via telephone, long-distance conversations were necessarily limited. Nevertheless she was my only hope. I wished there was some way we could meet but all I could do was call her. I chose an evening when I had the house to myself and it wasn’t long before I’d shared all my worries. My friend was a good listener, gently prompting me as I stumbled over the awkward parts, and there were plenty of those. Just getting all my concerns off my chest made me feel so much better, and having her sympathy was a godsend. The call was perforce all too brief but at the end of it she promised that she would try to come home soon so that we would be able to talk more easily. In the event, however, she was unable to find the opportunity to get away.

So I was resigned to my apparent destiny. My wedding day dawned bright and sunny. I spent the morning in preparation assisted by Maria who had asked to be my attendant for the occasion. Her voluble chatter occupied the time and made it fly, though I paid little attention to what she was saying.

When I was fully coiffed, made up and dressed, I sat for a while in front of the glass staring disconsolately at my image. There was just an hour remaining. I knew that I looked as beautiful as any bride could wish, but had to blink back a tear that threatened to spoil the perfection of my appearance. It seemed there was no escaping my fate and I had never felt so alone.

Surprisingly it was Maria who came to my rescue. I became conscious that a silence had prevailed in the room. I looked around expecting to see that she had left me, perhaps to call my parent to view her completed handiwork, only to see that my assistant was regarding me seriously.

“You no want?” She gestured to my dress and all its accoutrements.

I was too full of emotion to make any answer to the half-framed question other than to give her an appealing look, and a shake of my head, but it seemed that was sufficient for her.

“Come!”

Taking Maria’s outstretched hand I allowed her to lead me from my room wonderingly. With her finger over her lips she ushered me silently down the stairs and out of the front door to where her car was parked up.

A few minutes later we stopped at the bus terminal where I made a phone call. There was only ten minutes to wait. Despite Maria removing my veil and wrapping me in her jacket, I made quite a spectacle in my bridal ensemble. It seemed that all eyes were upon me. However she pressed some bills into my hand from her purse and hugged and kissed me before I boarded the Greyhound and began my fateful journey. I could only hope she wouldn’t get too much trouble for helping me. It was two hours later that the driver pulled over and told me to me alight. I had reached the state-line and I could see a blue sedan which was parked 100 yards further up the road and seemed familiar. Reassuringly, a well-known figure was also standing close by.

I walked the short distance to where Rachel was waiting and literally fell into her arms. I was safe and finally I had choices! I could stay with my friend, find work and make my own decisions, or return to where my family and Madeleine were waiting. What would I decide? How would I choose to live?
Well that’s another story!

“”””””””””””””””””””