Alex's  Story

                                                              by  Lisa  Paige


That I as a Junior should be going to Seniors Night at the biggest
amusement park in the state was something of a miracle - or even a
collection of miracles.  I had volunteered for the "Social Committee"
as a way of meeting new kids at the high school.  It seemed like a
pretty lame idea at first:  I did all the grunt work for Heather, the
senior girl who was planning the all the graduation activities.  She
and the others on the committee treated me pretty much like dirt and
loaded all the work on me.  They sat around and chatted while I made
all the calls, struck all the bargains and pretty much did everything.

The first real miracle came when Heather came down with Mono just two
weeks before the big bash.  I was the only one who knew the contacts
and the arrangements, so I had to go along as the representative for my
school.  Enter the second miracle - a couple of "angels," you might
say.  Word got around that I could get people into the bash as
"helpers" - and I definitely needed help.  The other girls on the
social committee had served notice that this was their night to party,
and they had no intention of helping a lowly underclass boy.  Pat and
Jennifer were Juniors who went to the ritzy private school on the West
Side, and they weren't a part of the Bash.  To make it more
interesting, their boyfriends were already gone - to some football
training camp run by the Ivy League school they had signed with.  When
Pat and Jennifer volunteered to be my personal helpers for the night, I
didn't think twice, even though I had most of the work delegated out
already.  Did I mention that Pat and Jennifer were the foxiest girls I
had ever seen?

The only real hitch was the car.  I had to have the car to get me and
the girls to the park and back, and Mom already had plans for the
night.  We had a custom, Mom and me, of making deals for things like
this.  "Tit for Tat" sort of.  I had to come up with something big for
this one, and after a little pondering, I hit on a deal I knew she
wouldn't refuse.  I'm not sure which of us came up with the final
wording, but it went something like this:  I would get unlimited use of
the car (with gas supplied) for the evening, and Mom would get my
unquestioned obedience for one month thereafter.  Yes, it was a pretty
open-ended bargain on her part, but I really needed that car.  Being
the savvy dealer I was, I did put in one exception clause.  Mom had
been trying to get me to cut my hair for the last year, and I had
resisted.  I made her agree that my "obedience" would not include
cutting my hair.  The final miracle happened - Mom agreed to the deal.

Senior's night itself turned out to be a mix between miracle and curse.
The first couple of hours I had to stand at the gate with the other
school reps and resolve multiple cases of "lost my ticket" and the
usual assortment of dodges used by gatecrashers from other places.
Then there were the assorted cases of "drunk and disorderly" and other
eviction crimes that I had to log when a student from our school was
involved.  We were only able to steal away a few minutes at a time to
enjoy the amusements, but what we had, Jennifer and Pat made the most
of.  Not only did they really help when there was work to do, they
treated me in a VERY friendly manner whenever we had a few minutes for
the amusements.  It was all for laughs, of course - how could they
really go for a shortstop like me?  But I took what I could get, and we
all three had some good laughs.  We enjoyed ourselves so much, in fact,
that someone, somewhere in the night, took the time to warn me that
their boyfriends would not approve of the "friendliness" they were
showing.  Of course, their boyfriends were a thousand miles away, and
their school wasn't participating - how would they ever know?

Reality has a way of paying you back for pretty much every miracle in
your life, I guess.  My payback started the first day of vacation -
just two days after the Bash.  Mom phoned from work and told me to
clean up and meet her at the curb when she got home - we had some
things to do downtown.  That's all she would tell me over the phone, so
I reluctantly got myself cleaned up (I hadn't quite started my summer
job search by then) and was waiting as she instructed.

She drove up to the curb and waited for me to get in, then she drove
out toward the boulevard that led to the other side of town.  I asked
her where we were going, and she gave me a glance, then started to
talk.

"Alex, I've been thinking a lot about the arguments we've had over the
past few months.  I know it's been hard on you - the divorce, moving to
a new place, trying to make new friends in a new school.  I think I
haven't been very fair to you."

Wow, this seemed to be the old mellow Mom talking - not the one that
had been riding me on pretty much every topic under the sun since the
divorce proceedings began.  I began to get suspicious.

"In thinking about it the last few weeks, I've realized how much of the
conflict is my fault."

Immediately my senses went on active alert:  when Mom started out by
admitting a fault, you could be sure that she had something up her
sleeve.

"It's not so much your having long hair that's been bothering me, it's
that you seem not to keep it as neat as I feel you should."

Aha!  She was going to try some technicality to get me to cut my hair.
But I had an ironclad agreement with her, so I let her continue without
interrupting.

"I guess I've just been expecting you to know what to do to keep your
hair neat, then to get it done, and that's probably not reasonable on
my part.  When I was your age I spent a lot of time with my mom
learning how to do that.  She taught me how often to wash it and how to
manage it afterward:  how to set it and style it and keep it looking
nice.  We used to spend hours some times brushing out each other's hair
and thinking up new ways to wear it and manage it.  It was fun -- a lot
better than the arguments and hassles we've had -- and I see no reason
why we shouldn't have fun with this as well."

Hmm, this was sounding a little too reasonable.  But I couldn't see
anything to object to so far.

"Anyway, I'd like to change the way I've been approaching this -- to
take more responsibility to teach you what you need to know -- and to
make it an enjoyable thing for both of us.  Do you think that would be
okay with you?"

I had to agree that our conflicts on this had been no fun, and I liked
the fact that she had acknowledged that part of it was her fault.  It
was also true that I really didn't know how to manage my hair very
well.  As it got longer it seemed to be greasy all the time.  Every
time I washed it though, it got real wispy and I couldn't do anything
with it.  Tangles were beginning to be a major problem too.  I had
actually wanted to ask Mom for her help, but I was afraid she'd just
use that as a reason to hassle me even more.  Now here she was offering
the help I'd been wanting -- how could I say no?

"Actually, Mom, I've had some real problems with tangles lately, and I
was going to ask if you knew how I could avoid them -- I just didn't
want you to hassle me or try and make me cut my hair, that's all."

"Sweetheart, I appreciate you sharing those feelings with me.  I've
decided that, with the changing styles and all, if you really want to
wear your hair long there's really no good reason for me to object --
provided that you keep it looking nice.  Would you let me help you do
that?"

"Sure.  I'd like that a lot."

"Then the only real problem is that, with my job demanding more and
more of my time, I may not be able to spend all the time it takes at
first.  I mean, after a while you'll be able to do most things on your
own, but at first I think you'll need more help than I might be able to
give you."

"What can be that hard?  Your hair is long, but you seem to spend just
a few minutes a day on it."

"Well, this is a particularly easy style to manage, but I'm not sure
you'd like to wear your hair the same way." We both chuckled at this
little joke.  "But even the 'simple' styles take a lot more time than
you might think.  You may not realize the amount of time I spend at the
salon, or the time at night before I go to bed.  Make no mistake, you
really will have to spend some time on this -- especially since your
hair is getting longer than mine.  Are you willing to spend the time
and effort that it takes?"

"I guess I am, but if you're already spending time on yours, will you
have the time to help me on mine?" I had no idea that I was digging
myself deeper and deeper into Mom's trap.

"Well, as I said before, at first you're probably going to need more
help than I can give you.  That's why I've made arrangements with Betty
to help you get started -- that's where we're going now."

Betty was one of the first people -- one of the few -- who had
befriended us when we moved in.  Someone at her new job had referred
Mom to Betty's beauty salon when we first moved.  Betty had not only
done a great job on Mom's hair, she had become a good friend and kind
of helped both of us find our way around.  Unlike many adults, Betty
had gone out of her way to pay some attention to me, and seemed
actually interested in my friendship as well as Mom's.

"Gee, that's really nice of her to be willing to help -- I don't think
I've ever been to her house before."

"Betty really is a good friend, but I wouldn't feel right taking
advantage of her professional knowledge, or imposing on her
hospitality, so I made this sort of a business deal.  I made an
appointment for you at Betty's salon every Monday night this month.
Tonight is your first appointment."

"Mom, there's no way I'm going into a salon with all those women
around.  I know you used to take me with you some times, but I'm not a
little kid any more.  Besides, someone I know might see me."

"Calm down, sweetheart.  I'm not totally insensitive to your feelings,
and neither is Betty.  Her salon closes early on Monday night, but
Betty has agreed to stay late for these appointments just so you
wouldn't have to worry about other people being there.  Not only that,
she's giving us a half-price discount on everything she does and
everything we buy."

"Wow, that really is nice of her.  I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to get
upset." She had me on the defensive now, and I still had no clue of the
trap she laid.

"You're forgiven, my dear.  I do think that I've done everything I
could to consider your feelings as well as my own.  I want us to have
fun with this, so I've tried to keep the rules to an absolute minimum
-- just two in fact."

My suspicions were suddenly aroused again.  "What do you mean,
'rules'?"

"Well, this is, after all, your part of the agreement -- that you'd
follow all my wishes for the month after you got the use of the car --
right?  Well, my wishes are these:  that for the next month you keep
your hair clean and well-groomed at all times, and up off your collar
when I'm around.  That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"Mom, YOUR part of the agreement was that you wouldn't make me cut my
hair.  Wasn't this whole conversation about how I was going to learn to
manage my hair LONG?"

"Absolutely, dear, I said nothing about cutting your hair."

"Mom, how can I keep my hair 'off my collar' if I don't cut it.  You
took that phrase right out of the old high school dress code."

"This has nothing to do with the old dress codes, and long hair is
going to be acceptable in the high school this Fall again, anyway.  I
want you to keep it off your collar as a way of learning how to truly
manage your hair at that length.  Betty can help you learn any number
of ways to arrange it so that it's off your collar."

"Arrange it?  You mean 'put it up' -- like a girl's?  Mom, you can't be
serious."

"You're yelling again, sweetheart.  I mean 'put it up' like
you-have-all-the-skills-you-need-to-keep-long-hair-neat-and-attractive.
Once you've done that for a month I'll be sure that you can handle it
on your own, no matter what length or style you decide to wear it.
And, as I said, I'll help you as much as I can, in addition to what you
learn from Betty."

Now I saw the clever trap she had laid.  Technically, I had agreed to
follow any demand she made, though I never dreamed she'd come up with
anything like this.  "There's no way you're going to get me to wear my
hair like a girl's for the next month.  I couldn't leave the house.  I
just won't do it."


   "That's your choice, my dear.  If that's the way you feel, just have
Betty give you a regular boy's cut, and the whole thing will be over.
If you really believe those arguments you've been feeding me, though,
wearing your hair 'up' shouldn't be considered any more 'girlish' than
wearing it long.  And another thing:  you can wear your hair any way
you like when I'm not around -- I can't control that.  It's just when
we're at home together that I want to see it up.  If you really show
that you've learned how to manage it before the month is over, I might
ease off on the requirements.  Now here's Betty's shop, and we're
already a few minutes late, so hurry inside.  I'll be back about the
time you're finished -- I have some errands to run."

I looked around furtively and saw no one near who might recognize me,
so I jumped out of the car, slammed the door and raced inside.  I was
fuming, but Betty pretended not to mind as she greeted me warmly and
had me sit down in the chair farthest from the windows.  "From your
mood I'd guess that your mom has filled you in on her rules?  She told
me about her plan over the phone yesterday.  I guess you're pretty
upset, huh?"

"She's laid her clever little trap for me, Betty, and she thinks she's
going to win this one and get me to cut my hair, but I'll figure some
way out of this."

"Well, Alex, I really don't want to take sides -- you and your mother
are both such good friends -- but there is a little bit of a middle
ground here, if you have the patience for it, and are really determined
to keep your long hair."

"I'm even more determined now than I was before."

Betty chuckled.  "I think you're every bit as stubborn as your mother.
That's one of the things I like about you both:  you know what you want
and are willing to hang in there 'til you get it.  Well then, down to
business I don't think you've had much practice with arranging your
hair or using curlers, have you?"

I looked at her sideways.  "You've got to be kidding."

"I didn't think so, but I just wanted to make sure." Her tone made it
sound as if she would have preferred it if I had said yes.  "If you'd
had practice before, we could settle for a simple French Roll or
something that you could let down and put up whenever you wanted.
You'll get good enough to do that over the next couple of weeks, but
for now I think you'll need a style that will stay pretty much in place
for the next few days.  Friday morning is my only slack time this week:
I won't be able to help you with the next step until then.  What we can
do is put your hair up in a style that we can pretty well "cement" in
place - something that you'll be able to maintain with just some
hairspray and pins every morning.  Friday morning after your mom leaves
for work you can take it down and wash it.  Then if you have trouble
putting it up again you can call me and I'll help you.  How does that
sound?"

I didn't mean to, but I probably sounded pretty whiny as I replied.
"You mean I'd have my hair up like a girl's until Friday morning?  I
wouldn't be able to leave the house.  I'd go stir crazy."

Betty kept her voice down, but there was a firmness in it that told me
I was near the end of her tolerance.  "I know that may seem hard for
you, but it's the only way I see to help you.  If you'd rather, we can
just call it quits and give you a regular boy's cut."

Besides being embarrassed at having angered Betty, I realized I was
cornered now, and I was determined to fight back.  "No.  I'm not going
to give in - just tell me what you want me to do."

Betty smiled and gave me a friendly hug.  "Now, now, it really won't be
that bad.  I'll bet you a milkshake that when this month is over you're
going to look back on this and wonder what the big deal was."

I grinned in spite of myself.  "You have a bet, lady.  Plan on a double
chocolate malted."

"Okay, wise guy, you're on." Betty selected two picture albums from a
nearby shelf.  "Now look through these books and pick a style that you
like.  I think pretty much any one of these will fit our needs.
Meanwhile, I'll get my stuff arranged.

As I began to page through the albums my spirits sank further and
further.  Every model had hair piled way on top of their heads, most of
them fixed up with ribbons or curls or decorated combs.  Some even had
flowers woven into the style.  There was obviously no way I was going
to get through the next few days with my dignity intact:  I was going
to be getting a girl's hairdo.

For a moment, I seriously thought of just giving in and asking for a
boy's cut.  As I thought it over, I pictured all my hair lying on
Betty's floor, and a shiver went through me.  I had fought for the
right to wear my hair long:  not only with Mom and the principal at my
old school, but with several guys who found out that long hair doesn't
mean you're a sissy.  I really felt I had a lot of myself invested in
it.  The last straw was when I pictured the triumphant smile that would
be on Mom's face if she returned to find me with my hair cut short.

I swallowed hard, then took the album over to Betty.  With grim
determination I pointed to one of the styles Betty suggested as being
the easiest.  I had seen it on several of my female classmates the day
of the Prom:  all the hair swept up to the crown, then arranged in two
tiers of ringlets, one on top of the other.

I thought I could see just a bit of sympathy in Betty's eyes, but she
smiled cheerfully and patted the salon chair where I was to sit.
Strangely enough, now that I had made the decision I began to relax.
Betty's easy chatter soon had me actually smiling and enjoying myself.
As she began to wash my hair, my memory drifted back to the times when
I had gone with Mom to her beauty appointments.  I would usually sit in
the front with a toy or comic book while the strange smells and the
chatter of female voices filled my senses.  Sometimes I would look over
the divider and watch as Mom and the other women subjected themselves
to the indignity of curlers and other strange gadgets.  The women had
always been nice to me, and had sometimes teased me about coming back
and getting my hair done.  I got butterflies in my stomach as I
realized that those memories were now taking on a strange and current
reality.

That funny feeling in my stomach grew stronger and was joined by a
tightness in my chest as Betty combed out my wet hair, separated the
first strand, and wound a curler into it.

"But I don't want curls in my hair, Betty.  Can't I just keep it
straight?"

"You curl your hair every time you wash it, Alex, whether you wear it
curly or straight.  Large curlers like the ones we're using give you
just a little body and control.  If you decide you really want curls
we'll use the smaller ones." She didn't wait for my retort.  "I'll just
give you a set of these larger ones to take with you tonight, so you'll
have them on hand Friday morning.  I'll be around to help if you forget
what I'm about to show you

As she put each curler in she had me hand her the hairpins that secured
them in place.  After the first few, she handed me the comb.  "Since
you're eventually going to have to do this for yourself, you might as
well start learning now, I guess."

It took almost an hour, and my arms were aching, but I finally began to
get the hang of things:  sectioning out a strand of hair, winding the
curler down and pinning it in place.  Betty taught me a little about
which way to wind the curlers and where to position them to get the
effect we were trying for.  When we were finally finished, Betty
wrapped my head with a net and led me to one of her dryers.  I looked
ridiculous, but no more so than any female I had seen under the same
circumstance.  Betty sat me under the dryer, then before she turned on
the air she asked if I would like for her to give me a manicure while
my hair dried.

"No way are you going to paint my nails, Lady."

Betty giggled.  "Getting a manicure doesn't mean you have to get your
nails painted, silly.  I have some very good male clients who get
regular manicures to keep their hands looking nice -- Mayor Frost among
them."

The thought of Mayor Frost sitting in one of Betty's chairs made me
giggle, but Betty finally convinced me that it was okay - and it seemed
preferable to browsing through the countless women's magazines lying
around.

When my hair was finally dry I followed Betty back to the styling
chair.  My chest began to get strangely tight again as I watched her
remove the curlers from my hair.  In spite of her assurances that large
curlers would produce straight hair, each strand came out with a bouncy
curl at the end.  I wanted to complain, but somehow I was too
fascinated to say anything:  ...all those curls in my hair...in some
strange way it was exciting to me - almost like the feelings I had when
I had swiped some of Mom's things to try on...  Here I stopped myself
abruptly.  It had been several weeks since I had decided to end that
nonsense.  I was a guy, after all, and too grown up now to do such
things.  Still, I could not fully repress the feelings that continued
as Betty began to comb out each section, tease it and spritz it with
hair spray, then pile it on top of my head.  She used several large
hairpins to keep the strands in place until she had piled it up all
around, then she used an elastic fastener to pull the whole mass
together.  Next she took a curling iron and began to form little flat
curls that she pinned in a circle around the crown of my head.  When
she had completed a full circle she was pretty much out of hair.  She
told me she'd be back in just a second, then she disappeared into the
back of the shop.


   I stared at my reflection in the mirror for a long time.  There was
no mistaking the femininity of this hairstyle, nor the effect that it
had on my overall appearance.  My resistance to the excitement within
was quickly evaporating.  On an impulse I brought my newly manicured
fingers up under my chin, smiled at myself and struck a girlish pose.
For an instant I even regretted not having accepted Betty's offer of
clear polish for my nails.  It was at that moment that Betty came back
into the room.  I quickly dropped my pose and sat back in my seat.
Betty said nothing, but she seemed to have a slight knowing smile as
she went back to work.  She had found a small hairpiece that matched my
shade, and proceeded to fashion it into a second tier of curls, which
she pinned atop the first.

"Betty, that's not really necessary, is it?" I asked half-heartedly.

"Not really, but would you deny an artist the pleasure of finishing her
creation?" She gave me a broad smile and a wink, and I smiled in spite
of myself.  Betty really was a good friend, and I surely didn't want to
get on her bad side - not now when I really needed her.

When Betty was finished with the hairpiece she had me cover my face,
then she coated the whole construction with what seemed to be half a
can of hair spray.  I was just uncovering my face when Mom walked into
the shop.

"Oh, Betty, he's beaut...I mean, his hair is perfect!"

Immediately my anger returned.  On the one hand, I was fascinated to
see myself with an honest-to-gosh hairstyle, but on he other hand, I
was furious with Mom for having forced me into this predicament.  I
didn't even respond when Mom greeted me, and I pretended not to pay
attention as Betty put several things into a bag and explained what I'd
have to do for the next few days.

The next few days were really hell.  I refused to speak to Mom, number
one.  She would leave long lists of chores for me to do, including
having dinner fixed every night when she came home.  I was so
determined not to speak to her that I didn't even argue.  Of course, it
was all part of my agreed month of "obedience" any way, so arguing
would have been useless.  With my hair up I wasn't about to go outside
- not even in my own yard - for fear the neighbors might see me.  My
hairdo was the cause of all sorts of problems - not just the
confinement.  It took extra time every evening to spray my hair all
over and wrap it in a net so it would survive the night There was no
comfortable way to put my head as I tried to sleep, either, so I tossed
and turned all night long.  I had to get up early every morning, unwrap
my hair, pin all the strands that had come loose, spray it, then
present myself to Mom at breakfast.  She was very cheerful every
morning, and very complimentary, but I was having none of it.

There were times during the day when I would take time out from my
chores and relax.  It was usually at these times that old urges would
hit me, and I'd spend long moments sitting at Mom's dressing table,
staring at myself in the mirror.  I was trying to see myself "from the
outside":  wondering what others would think if they saw me like this.
For the most part, though, those first days were just chores and
silence.

Thursday morning after Mom left I decided that I couldn't stand another
day of that sticky, sagging mass on top of my head.  I was almost to
the point of shaving myself bald just to get a decent night's sleep and
to get away from the house for a while.  Maybe I could do the curling
and brushing out by myself - how hard could it be?  I practically tore
the pins out of my hair, then took a long hot shower, washing and
conditioning my hair as Betty had instructed.

After I had relaxing for a while I got out all the stuff Betty had sold
us that first night, laid it out at Mom's dresser, then began to put
curlers in my hair.  It was a disaster from the start.  No sooner had I
put a few curlers in, but one would fall out.  As I leaned over to pick
the curler off the floor, the others would loosen and flop around.
After about fifteen minutes of this I was in tears.  I phoned Betty at
her shop, and fortunately she was there.  The day was slower than she
had expected, and she offered to come right over.  I readily accepted.

Betty greeted me cheerily at the door, and immediately I felt my
spirits lift.  Within a few minutes she had me sectioning off my hair
and putting curlers in place like I had done it all my life.  Not only
that, but she had me laughing and chatting with her to boot.  It seemed
like no time 'till my hair was dry and Betty was helping me brush it
out.  She showed me how to put it up in a simple bun at the back of my
head.  She had me practice a few times to be sure I could do it myself,
then produced a couple of items from her handbag.  She called them
"chignon covers" and showed me how to pin them over the bun, explaining
that they would hold in all the loose end that might otherwise stick
out.  I didn't think they were really necessary, but Betty reminded me
that Mom was going to awfully picky about such things, and would demand
that my hair look perfect whenever she was around.

When she felt comfortable enough with my ability to manage the bun and
the covers, she asked if she could drop me anywhere on her way back to
work.  I was completely stir crazy by this time, and eagerly accepted.
She suggested that I could walk around the mall across from her shop,
then she would drive me back home when I was finished.  This seemed
great, and I was soon waving good-bye to her as I strolled toward the
mall entrance.  I caught my reflection in the doorway to the mall, and
saw with satisfaction that my hair was hanging almost straight by now.
It was certainly cleaner than I was used to wearing it, and maybe a
little fuller than before, but it pretty much looked like it did a week
ago.  I strolled around a little while, then stopped at a music store
and began browsing through the racks of tapes.

"May I help you, Miss?" The voice was near me, but I paid it no
attention at first.  Then I saw the clerk out of the corner of my eye,
and he was looking straight at me.  "Excuse me, Miss, but are you
looking for something in particular?" He was actually speaking to me!
I thought of something sarcastic to say, but then I caught my breath as
the realization hit me that he was sincere.  I shook my head and walked
quickly out of the store As I approached the entrance to one of the
department stores, a girl held up an atomizer and pointed it toward me.
"Try a little of Linvin's new perfume, Miss?" I quickened my pace a
little more and ignored the girl as I passed her.  My head felt a
little light and my heart was beating faster now, and as I came to the
first department I stepped out of the aisle to catch my breath and
think for a moment.

"These are brand new today, aren't they just darling?" I looked up to
see that I was in the Junior's Department, standing among the dress
racks.  Yes, the sales clerk was talking to me.  "You look to be about
a 5 or a 7 Do you prefer a particular color?"

I opened my mouth to tell her I was definitely NOT interested in a
dress, but nothing came out except a hoarse croak.  My throat felt like
cotton.

"Oh, those summer colds are the WORST, aren't they?  I could get you a
glass of water while you try something on?"

I turned and almost ran out of the store, leaving the saleslady staring
after me.  I didn't stop till I found a secluded bench in one of the
back corners of the mall.  It took a long time to get my breathing and
heart rate back to normal.  What was going on?  It was true that I had
often been mistaken for a girl as I grew up, especially when I wore a
hood or cap, but that was mostly in the past.  Relatives still called
me "babyface" sometimes, but only the grownups who ignored my reactions
to the name.  It was true that I had been teased several times since I
started letting my hair grow long, but that quickly stopped after the
first couple of fights.  I was small and thin for my age, but I was
very wiry, and I had developed a reputation for having a quick temper
and an ability to back it up.  This was different, though.  These
people weren't teasing, they were being polite.  For some reason, three
people had just mistaken a teenage boy for a girl!

I carefully examined my reflection in a nearby store window.  I was
wearing loose jeans, a baggy shirt and white tennis shoes, so that
wasn't much of a factor one way or the other.  It had to be my hair.
Maybe it did turn up a little at the ends, and it did feel a little
fuller, but was that enough to make a difference?  Somehow, with the
subtle effect of the washing and conditioning and the curling,
something had change.  It was like I had crossed over some invisible
line that changed the way people saw me.  I had to talk to someone
about this, and Betty was just across the street.

I saw Betty chatting with one her clients, so I walked quickly past the
desk without speaking to the receptionist.  "Excuse me, Miss, but you
can't go in there without---"

"Betty, I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I HAVE to talk to you right
now!" I whispered.  Betty excused herself and led me into her office,
closing the door behind us.

"Alex, you look like you've seen a ghost.  What on Earth is wrong?"

I quickly explained my experiences of the past few minutes.

"Well, I guess I can understand your feelings, but I must say I'm not
really surprised.  I know how sensitive you are about this, Alex, but
you have very fine features, and a really pretty face.  With your hair
as long as it is, and now looking so nice and well-kept, it's only
natural that people see you that way."

I took a moment to digest this.  In so many tactful words, Betty had
just told me "You look like a girl." These were the same words that had
caused more than one bloody nose among my peers, but Betty was a
grownup, and what's more, I knew that she was sincere.

"But, Betty, what can I do about it?"

"What do you want to do about it?"

I was totally confused by now, and frustrated.  Betty seemed to
understand, but she wasn't being very helpful.  I just sat there with a
blank look on my face.  What could I do?  I could cut my hair, but that
would be surrender - out of the question.  More than that, I really did
like wearing it long.  I liked the way it swung back and forth as I
walked, and I liked the way it felt when I ran my hands through it, as
I was doing now.  When all this was over, I could go back to keeping it
unwashed and stringy, but that didn't seem like much of an option
either.

Betty waited and watched me for a few moments, then she smiled.  "There
is one simple solution that I can see." Here I perked up a little and
looked at her hopefully.  "You could just play along with the
situation, and let people think what they want.  We could make it sort
of a game --- or an experiment --- see how much you can get away with."

It took me a couple of seconds to realize what Betty was talking about.
"You mean, pretend I really am a girl?  Get serious, Betty."

"Why not, Alex?  It might be fun, seeing how many fools you could
fool."

"Yeah, until the first fool figured it out and told everyone else.
Then where would I be?"

"Well, there is that risk, I suppose, but I think it's rather slim.
Especially since you know so few people around here anyway." I just
looked at her skeptically.  "I tell you what, let's try a little
experiment.  I'll bet you that I can take you out shopping right now,
as my niece or something, and that not one person will guess our
secret."

"Oh, come on, Betty.  All I have to do is open my mouth or just stand
the wrong way, and anyone will be able to tell."

"You may not believe me, but there are thousands of girls your age that
have a deeper voice than you.  Anyway, you can let me do all the
talking, if you like.  What do you say?  Shall we lay another double
chocolate malted on the line?"

At first I couldn't believe that Betty was really serious, but the more
I thought about it, the more curious I became.  I had always wondered
what I would look like as a girl, and now it seemed like I was going to
find out.  Why not let Betty help?  Besides, she had challenged me - I
always liked a friendly wager.

"Okay, Betty, you're on!  But I don't have to wear a dress or anything,
do I?"

"Not if you don't want to, dear." She paused, as if I needed to respond
to her implication.  "I will need to do just a little fixing up,
though.  Sit over here at my desk and I'll be right back." Betty
stepped out of her office for an instant, then came back with a brush
and some other things.

"Now, I'm just going to put your hair up like we had it this morning
.." she began to brush my hair back, talking as she worked.  " ...  but
we'll brush it back over your ears, to soften the look a little more."
When she finished she opened her purse and then took my chin in her
hand.  "Now look down for a moment, that's it, now look at the ceiling
- try not to blink.  Very good, now look down again." I felt little
strokes at my lashes and over my eyelids, and figured out that she was
putting some of her makeup on me!  I started to pull back, but she
tightened her grip on my chin.  "Not yet, Alex.  Let me finish, then
you can see what you think.  Now part your lips a little, that's it
..." A heavy sweet taste filled my mouth as she ran a brush around my
lips, then filled in.  "Now rub your lips together, mmm, that's it.
Now blot.  Now part your lips again."

The taste was almost like raspberries, and for some reason it set off a
powerful surge within me.  My chest got so tight I could hardly
breathe, and there were other feelings I didn't even want to think
about.  Memories of those salon trips and visions of Mom's lingerie
drawer began to pass quickly through my mind.  It was all I could do to
bring myself back to reality.

Betty flicked the brush across my cheeks, then smudged at them with her
fingertips.  "There, now you can take a look in the mirror.  What do
you think?" She wheeled the chair around so it was facing the full
length mirror behind her door.  When I stood up I was so dizzy I had to
hold onto Betty's arm to keep from falling over.  The body in the
mirror was definitely mine, but there were subtle differences in the
face.  The darker eyes, the pink cheeks and lips, It was still my face,
I guess, only --- pretty.

"Wow." It was all I could say while I tried to make myself breathe
normally again.

"Well, young lady, are you ready to loose that bet?"

I made a wry face at her, but I couldn't get my legs to move.  Betty
took my hand, interlacing my fingers with hers, and led me out the
door.  "Come on, this is going to be FUN."

"Grace, I'll be out for an hour or two, but I'll be back before Mrs.
Valles comes in for her appointment." The receptionist nodded at Betty,
then made a face at me when Betty looked away.  I couldn't resist
making a face back, and for some reason that gave me a little more
courage for what I was about to do.

I lost the bet.  During those two hours we visited almost every Lady's
shop and department in the mall, and no one even hinted that I might be
a boy.  At the first couple of places we just walked through, and Betty
talked about the latest fashions and styles, color combinations and
good accessories.  I realized later that she was giving me time to
adjust to the situation.  No one we passed had anything more than a
smile for me, though a few people recognized Betty and said hello.  I
began to believe that I was actually passing as a girl!  Betty quietly
pointed this out to me several times, reassuring me that this was going
to be a breeze - and a lot of fun.

At the next shop we stopped to browse among the racks of women's
clothes.  Betty held out several things that she liked and asked my
opinion on them.  Subtly, she drew me into the swing of things, and
soon I was laughing and chatting along with her.  Several times Betty
complimented me on my taste and my eye for fashion, and I began sharing
my opinion on everything from fabrics to jewelry.

We went into some shops where Betty was well-known, and she introduced
me as her niece from out of town.  The ladies were all very nice to me,
and I began to really enjoy myself.  It was intoxicating, looking
through the racks of vibrant colors and soft fabrics, admiring the
beautiful jewelry, smelling the scent of perfumes and makeup.  Betty
was careful not to go too far, I think, and never suggested that I try
anything on, but she did get me to sample some eye shadow and a couple
of lipsticks at one of the makeup counters.

When it was time to leave I realized how tired I was, but I was almost
reluctant to have it all end.  Betty took me back to her shop and
helped me remove the makeup, then she drove me home.  I thanked her for
a wonderful afternoon, and she gave me a big hug before I got out of
the car.  "Maybe we can do this again next week, and you can buy me
that double malted you owe me." I laughingly acknowledged that I had
lost the bet, and readily agreed to another shopping date.

I had a hard time throwing dinner together before Mom got home, but the
good mood I was in survived even that.  Strangely, Mom didn't comment
on the chores I hadn't done, and she even complimented me on the meal.
In a conversational tone she asked me what I had done that day, and I
told her that I had gone browsing with Betty in the mall.  I held my
breath, trying to think of what Mom might ask, and how I would respond.
Thankfully, she just commented on how nice Betty was to be so helpful,
then she began talking about how busy she was going to be in the next
few days.  It was the first normal conversation we'd had in days.
That, and a good night's sleep, became a turning point for me.  I
actually found myself humming a little tune the next morning as I
brushed my hair back above my ears and fastened it into a Chignon.
Over breakfast I apologized to Mom for being so surly, and she
apologized to me for being so hard-nosed about our deal.  She didn't
offer to change any of her rules, of course, but she did ease up on the
list of chores.  We shared a real hug and a kiss, our first in ages,
before she had to rush off.

After she left I went into her room and sat at her dresser to take my
hair down.  As I was brushing it out I glanced down and saw a tube of
her lipstick.  A powerful urge seemed to sweep over me, and I opened
the tube and looked into the mirror.  I parted my lips as I had the day
before, and spread the pomade over my upper lip.  As I rubbed my lips
together that strong, sweet taste, a little different than before,
flooded my senses.  I dashed a little on my cheeks, then smudged them
just as Betty had done.  Looking down again, I found one of Mom's eye
shadows and wiped the pad across each eyelid in turn.  Next I decided
to be really brave, and I opened Mom's mascara.  I poked my eye twice
and had to clean up several smears, but I kept at it until both lashes
were coated black.  Betty had used brown on me the day before, but I
couldn't be picky.  Satisfied with my makeup job, I swept my hair back
and held it up to the crown, making a kissing face at the mirror.  Then
I smiled at myself as I realized that I could really do this.  I
brushed my hair back over my ears, wrapped it in an elastic , then
twisted it and replaced the chignon cover I had removed only minutes
before.  Betty's niece was back - almost.  A thought flashed through my
mind:  what if Betty had suggested I try something on yesterday?  Would
I have done it?  Would she suggest it next week when we went shopping
again?  Would I be brave enough to say yes?  How could I wait until
then?


  Now I was almost like a robot.  I didn't let myself think about past
promises as I began opening Mom's drawers and searching through her
lingerie.  I found one of her half-slips and rubbed it against my face
as I had done so many times before.  Still not allowing myself to think
about what I was doing, I took off all my clothes and dropped them in a
pile.  I took out a pair of Mom's panties and pulled then on, then
stepped into the half slip.  Trying to put on a bra was very
frustrating, but I told myself I had all day if necessary.  Finally I
got it snapped behind my back and adjusted pretty well.

Not allowing myself to look in the mirror yet, I went to Mom's closet.
I had the run of the house and it was several hours till Mom came home!
I felt so free and light!  I selected a gray pleated skirt and a white
blouse with ruffled sleeves.  Even though the buttons were in the
front, I realized they were on the wrong side, and they took a couple
of extra minutes to fasten.  Now I examined myself in the mirror,
wondering if I looked as good as I felt.  I hugged myself and felt the
wonderful silky fabric against my skin.

When I put my arms down I noticed that the blouse didn't look that good
with the empty brassiere underneath.  I went to Mom's lingerie drawer
again and found several pair of stockings to stuff into the bra cups.
I rebuttoned my blouse, then held up one of the pairs of pantyhose.  As
I stood there wonder if I dared risk it, the doorbell rang.

I froze in my tracks.  What could I do?  Someone would see me!  The
bell rang again before I realized that this was my house and all I had
to do was to wait until they left.  I tiptoed out to the front door and
peeked th rough a side window.  There was a delivery boy standing there
balancing a package and a clipboard.  I waited for him to leave, but he
rang the bell again and just stood there, then knocked loudly.  I
waited impatiently, almost angrily for a few more seconds.  Why didn't
the dummy just leave?  Then a devilish thought entered my mind.  I had
fooled a bunch of women yesterday:  could I pass myself off on this
young guy?  I stepped back to the doorway, and as he knocked the second
time I swung open the door.  A breeze hit my bare legs and found itself
up my skirt, giving me goose bumps all over.  I put my hand over my
chest, feigning a hoarse voice, and whispered "Yes?" I think the door
handle was the only thing preventing me from falling down in a faint at
this point.

"Mrs.  Anderson?" the boy asked.  Now maybe I looked like a girl, but
there was no way I looked like a "Mrs." This guy must be really dumb.
I looked at the package that he held up and saw the street number on
the label.
  "Three doors down." I whispered.

"Huh?"


  How could I get so irritated by a person in such a short amount of
time?  I cleared my throat and used my real voice.  "The Andersons live
three doors down." I said loudly, then shut the door in his face as he
dropped his clipboard.

Had he realized I was a guy, or had he just been clumsy?  I peeked out
the window again to see him picking up his clipboard.  As he turned and
started down the steps he muttered what sounded like "Nice Pillows." It
took me a couple of seconds, then I looked down at my chest and burst
into a fit of giggles.  I had been a little too generous with the
stockings in my bra cups:  I must have looked like a double "D" to that
delivery boy.  I went back into Mom's room and adjusted my bustline,
then decided against actually wearing Mom's pantyhose - too risky to
chance a run or a snag.

I spent the rest of the day in Mom's clothes, doing my chores and
freshening my makeup and hairdo from time to time.  About an hour
before she was due back I carefully replaced all her clothes, then
scrubbed my face for several minutes to remove all the makeup.  Giving
in to my impulses one more time, I returned to Mom's room and retrieved
an old babydoll nightie from the back of her lingerie drawer.  I hid it
under my pillow then went in and made dinner.

Mom again complimented me on dinner, then commented on how well I was
doing with my hair.  We talked about some of the tricks Betty had shown
me, and it turned into a really pleasant conversation on hairstyles and
fashion.

That night after Mom went to bed I took off my pajamas and replaced
them with the Babydolls.  I had no idea what I was doing or why, but it
felt really good - maybe like I was closer to my Mom in some way.  I
thought about the conversation we'd had, and how good it was to be on
speaking terms again.  I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

Saturday and Sunday were both full of chores, it seemed.  Somewhere our
conversation turned again to hairstyles, and Mom asked me if I had
chosen another style for Monday's appointment.  Before I realized how
odd it was, I found us sitting on the sofa together looking through one
of Mom's magazines.  First we talked about hairstyles, then the
conversation turned to fashion, then women's issues.  Mom told me some
of the things she had gone through at her past job.  We even talked a
little about the divorce.  Sunday night I fell asleep thinking that
Mom's new rules were turning out better than I could have ever
imagined.



Alex's Second "Do"



Monday afternoon I had my hair up in the now-familiar chignon, and I
was waiting for Mom on our porch when she drove up.  This time Mom came
into Betty's shop with me.

"Hi, Alex, hi, Liz.  It's good to see you both.  Does this mean you're
back on speaking terms?" Betty's good-natured smile showed she was
teasing both of us.  She took one of the albums off her shelf.  "Here,
Alex, why don't you look through this and see if you can find a style
you like."

"Oh, we've already taken care of that, haven't we, Alex?" Mom
interjected.

I blushed a little as I nodded in response and pointed to the picture
in the magazine I had brought.

"Oh, the Gibson Girl!  That will be perfect!  Very sophisticated, but
also very easy to put up and take down."

"Do you think you'll need to give him a body perm, Betty?"

Mom had said nothing about that when we had selected the style.  I
crinkled my nose at Betty.

"Hmm, it could be, but we'll try it first with a little extra setting
gel and see how that works, okay?"

"Okay, then, I'll leave him in your hands, and I'll see you in a
while."

As Mom walked out the door I settled into the shampoo chair and Betty
began her routine.  Again she had me do most of the curlers, and by
this time I was pretty good at it.  She just had to explain the setting
pattern to me, and I was able to do most of the rest.  She was very
impressed.  Betty gave me another manicure while I was under the dryer,
and this time I accepted her offer of a clear coat of polish on my
nails.  When my hair was dry Betty combed it out and began the process
of back-combing each section, then pinning it up until it was all
pinned together at the top of my head.  We had a few minutes to chat
here and there, but Betty took most of the time teaching.  She
demonstrated how to get just the right fullness around the sides and
form a smooth bun of the remaining hair.  As I was admiring our
handiwork in the mirror, Betty took a little hook and began pulling out
strands of hair at my temples and the nape of my neck.

"Betty, we really don't have to go that far, do we?" I asked
half-heartedly.  "I'm not planning to show this off anywhere, you
know." I realized that she was doing those wispy little curled tendrils
that were a part of the hairdo in the magazine photo.

"Oh, I'm just trying to give you and your Mom your money's worth, Alex.
It's these little finishing touches that set off a professional hairdo
from a homemade job." She smiled and winked at me in the mirror.
"Besides, I thought maybe you'd want to do a little showing off when we
go shopping together this week."

Her reference to our upcoming shopping trip caused my stomach to do a
flip-flop.  Last week had been so much fun just browsing through the
Woman's departments, but how far would she expect me to go this time?
The thoughts of what we might be doing caused me to fall silent for the
few moments it took Betty to finish curling the tendrils.  The result
was very professional-looking indeed, and we took several minutes to
admire the finished product in the mirror.  A little voice in the back
of my mind told me I shouldn't be getting this much enjoyment out of
making my hair look so feminine, but I couldn't help myself.

Next Betty had me practice twice taking the whole thing down, brushing
it out, then back-combing the sections and reconstructing the style
from the beginning.  She was very complimentary of my abilities, and
the second time she was satisfied enough to call it quits.  Mom walked
in just as I was putting the final gust of spray on my hair.  Betty
insisted that I do the tendrils again.  While Mom and she watched, I
used the small hook to pull out two strands at each temple then curled
them with my little finger and spritzed them with hair spray.  I
repeated the process at the nape of my neck as well.  I was embarrassed
for Mom to see me adding such a feminine touch to my hairdo, and to
make it worse, she noticed the clear polish on my fingers.

"I see you did his nails too.  Betty, you do such a professional job,
and it really does make his hands look nice.  I'll have to come in and
let you do mine some time soon." As she talked, she was looking around
at all the changes in Betty's salon.  "My, you really have expanded,
haven't you?  What is that table next to your manicure station?"

"Oh, that's my cosmetology setup.  I was telling Alex that I've just
finished my last class in cosmetology.  All I have to do for
certification is ten hours of practical work.  I'm going to offer ten
of my customers a free makeover with any cosmetics purchase.  That
should do the trick, and it will start to bring in a lot of extra
revenue."

"I could really use some help on updating my look.  Maybe I'll come
back when you have some time and try to be one of the lucky ten."

"Actually, I have some time right now, if you'd like.  And for my two
favorite people, I'll not only do your makeovers free, I'll give you
two for the price of one on all your makeup."

"Betty, that's so sweet of you!  What do you think, Alex?  We don't
have anything else planned for tonight, do we?" She asked it casually
as she patted an imaginary hair into place above my ear.  I had been so
absorbed looking at my new hairdo in the mirror that I hadn't actually
been listening.  Was she actually suggesting that I get my makeup done
along with hers?  I glanced at Betty and she was looking right at me
with a knowing smile.  After our adventure the previous week I couldn't
very well pretend that I wasn't interested in wearing makeup.  On top
of that, it was actually Mom who was suggesting it --but did she really
mean that she wanted me to get a real makeover?  I swallowed real hard
and tried to be non-committal:  "Uh, I can't think of anything we had
planned."

Both women broke into big smiles.  Mom grabbed my hand and gave it a
squeeze as Betty led us to her makeup table.  Over my half-hearted
protest, they decided that I should go first.  Betty put one of her
pink smocks around my neck and pinned the tendrils of hair away from my
face.  "We start with the eyebrows first - they help frame the face and
define everything else we do.  Liz, to move a little faster we'll each
do a side.  You take these tweezers and follow what I do over here on
the left."

I was certainly not expecting to get my eyebrows plucked, but I figured
they'd only be doing a few stray hairs.  Betty started out that way, by
doing a little, then Mom would follow.  I began to get concerned,
though, because they kept at it.  When it seemed as if they were
finally through, Betty would tweeze just a little more "to get it
even." Then Mom would have to do a little on the other side.  When they
finally finished and sat back to take a look, I gasped.

Where my rather full eyebrows used to be, there were now two very thin
arched lines high above my eyes.  It seemed to have changed my face
completely, and I was hit with the exciting and terrible realization
that I had very clearly crossed a line.  Without even a touch of makeup
I now had a girl's face.  I was suddenly sure that, until my eyebrows
grew back, I didn't have to worry about passing as a girl:  I probably
couldn't pass as a BOY. I probably should have gotten angry, or at
least protested a little, but I was too stunned.  Besides, it was
already done, and a part of me was really excited by what I was seeing
in the mirror.

Mom and Betty seemed not to notice my surprise and didn't even ask me
what I thought.  Betty stroked a pencil across what was left of my
eyebrows.  "Now we'd be very conservative on the makeup for daytime,
especially for Alex, but let's do a full "nighttime" makeover for each
of you - then you'll see the full effect of the colors we chose."
Without waiting for a response from either of us, Betty selected a dark
shade of brown to line both my upper and lower lids, extending the line
out past the corners in kind of a delta.  They began selecting the
colors for my eye shadow and they drew me into the conversation as if
it were the most natural thing in the world.  I tried to go along with
the mood and I expressed some preferences, but every time the mirror
caught my eye my chest would draw a little tighter.  With every stroke
of those makeup brushes I was becoming a different person - a different
and very pretty person.

They did my eyelids in three colors of shadow, then applied a cream
blush to my cheeks and a red pencil and brush to my lips.  By the time
they had finished with my lipstick I could hardly breathe.  They leaned
back to give me a full view of the mirror and asked me what I thought.
In truth, what I saw in the mirror was beautiful - but how could that
delightfully pretty feminine face belong to me?  I hesitated for a
moment and put my hand to my face, just to be sure it really was me.  I
finally picked what I thought was a comment that covered my real
thoughts:  "Uh, maybe just a shade lighter lipstick, don't you think?"
Betty agreed with this observation, so I wiped off my lips with a
tissue, and Betty lined and brushed my lips a second time.  Betty
pulled the hairpins from the tendrils and adjusted them over my
forehead, then the two ladies spent several minutes turning me back and
forth, admiring their handiwork and paying me all sorts of compliments
on my appearance.  I was too fascinated with my own image to know how
to respond, so to draw the focus away from me I guided Mom to the
makeup stool.  "Your turn now, Mom, and I get to help Betty this time."

That seemed to be all it took, and we were soon gaily conspiring over
color selections for Mom's eyes and lips.  It surprised me that they
took some of my suggestions on colors and shades, and it seemed to make
a difference.  When we were finished, Mom looked ten years younger!  It
had been a long time since I had paid her a compliment, and when I told
her how pretty she looked she got tears in her eyes and gave me a big
hug.  "So do you, sweetheart." She whispered sincerely.  I suppose I
should have been appalled, or at least offended, but somehow I was
pleased instead:  my appearance seemed to be affecting all my
reactions.

Betty put all our samples in two little zippered cosmetics bags, then
rang up the extra lipsticks and shadows Mom had purchased.  I couldn't
help noticing that at least some of those colors were my shades and not
hers.  What did that mean, exactly?  Or did she like them so much that
she was just planning to try them out on herself?  We both thanked
Betty and went out to the car.  In the darkness of the late evening it
never occurred to me to be concerned about my appearance until Mom
suggested that we stop at a drive-in for dinner.

"Mom, I can't go anywhere looking like this.  What would people say?
What if I saw someone I knew?" As I said this, I remembered my outing
with Betty just a few days before.  That feeling of excitement was
back, but I had done that with Betty, not with my own Mom.

"My dear, at a drive-in people will only see your face and the top of
your shirt.  The way you look right now, the only notice you will
attract will be as a very pretty young lady.  And as for meeting any of
the snobs at that school, I'd be surprised if they would notice anyone
but themselves.  Really, though, sweetheart, if you get to feeling the
least bit uncomfortable, we'll leave right away, I promise." That
assurance made me feel more comfortable and let the excitement take
over.  What did I have to lose?

"What can I get you ladies tonight?" The cheery greeting sent a feeling
of relief and a little thrill through me.  The carhop, at least, had
not the slightest confusion over my appearance.  We ordered our burgers
and malts and the guy left.  "How are you feeling so far?" Mom asked.

"Pretty good, I guess.  We sure fooled him."

"I think you'll find that a common experience.  Not to change the
subject, but I think you were right about your lipstick.  That shade
gives you just the right look, even in these neon lights." I blushed
and was trying to think of an offhand response, but she went on.  "You
were right about my eye shadow too.  I think you have a real eye for
this sort of thing."

Now I knew she was teasing.  "Oh, cut it out, Mom."

"I'm not teasing, sweetheart, I'm serious, and Betty said the same
thing.  Some people just have an eye for colors and textures, and
you're one of them.  It's simply a talent that you have.  And while
we're on the subject, you seem to be doing pretty well on your
hairstyling also.  That's almost a professional job you have there."

She seemed to be sincere, and I was somehow both pleased and
embarrassed at the compliment.  "Uh, thanks, Mom, I guess Betty's a
pretty good teacher - she makes everything so easy and fun."

"Well, she tells me that you've been a very good student.  By the way,
I found another magazine tonight that has some good hairstyles, would
you like to look at it while we're waiting for our food?"

We spent the next few minutes looking through the magazine and
comparing our views on hairstyles and makeup.  Somewhere along the way
I realized that I was really kind of interested in this stuff, and that
I did seem to have a knack for it.  Our conversation was fun, and it
continued as we ate our food.  I got a little thrill when I looked down
and saw my straw and my napkin marked with traces of lipstick, just
like Mom's.  When we had finished, Mom wiped her lips and then took out
a new tube of lipstick.  I watched fascinated as she opened a compact
mirror and began to apply the color.  She noticed that I was staring at
her, and she nodded toward my makeup bag.  "Go ahead, sweetheart, yours
needs a little touch up too."

As she spoke, she twisted the rear view mirror so that I could see my
face in it.  It was an electrifying moment for me.  I selected a tube
from my makeup bag and took the top off.  As I twisted the base I
looked into the mirror, then lifted the tube to my lips.  As that full,
fragrant taste entered my senses for now the fourth time, I knew that I
wanted to do this all the time.  I loved the smell and the taste and
the velvety smooth feel of the pomade, and I loved seeing the bright
color on my lips.  Mom seemed to sense the feelings I was having, and
she smiled and gave me a quick hug.

"It is kind of fun, isn't it!"

All my inhibitions were defeated for the moment.  I smiled at her and
nodded my agreement.  As I took a second look in the mirror, I suddenly
froze.  There was a car pulling in next to ours, and who should be
driving but Pat, with Jennifer in the front seat!

I sank down as low as I could in my seat and pleaded with Mom to get us
out of there.  Fortunately, the carhop had just come up to take the
tray, so Mom started the engine immediately and hurried out of the
parking lot.  The way I was sitting, I couldn't tell whether Pat and
Jennifer had seen me or not, and I didn't dare sit up to take a look.
How foolish could I have been?  Probably the only two girls in the
whole town who had even given me the time of day, and now that might
all be ruined.  Those girls didn't exactly have a reputation for
discretion, either.  This could get all over town in a hurry.  Whatever
small hope I might have had for a normal existence in this town was now
ruined.  I was disgusted with myself and angry at Mom for forcing me
into all this.

Mom made a couple of tries at conversation while she was driving, but I
made no reply.  Suddenly she pulled to the side of the road and turned
off the engine.

"Look, Alex," She said, turning in the seat to face me, "I know you're
very upset, but I think it's time to get a few things out in the open.
First, you need to know that I've been aware of your, uh, interest in
my lingerie for quite some time."

My jaw must have dropped a couple of feet.  How could she have known?
Had I left some things out, or had she seen me?  It had been months -
well, at least weeks since I had - well, except for this week, of
course.  What was she going to do to me?

"Now don't be frightened.  I'm not angry with you or anything.  As I
said, I've known about it for quite some time, but I figured if I had
asked you about it you'd just deny it.  Am I right?" I looked at the
floor and nodded my head.  "Anyway, I talked to my counselor about it
...."

I almost fainted.  She had told other people about this?  Especially
that goofball of a shrink she called her 'counselor.'


  "...  and she said it was not that rare for a boy to be interested in
feminine things.  Granted, it's not the most common thing in the world,
but you aren't the only one with these feelings by a long shot.
Anyway, Betty and I talked about it for a while, then..."

Suddenly I felt physically ill.  Betty knew about my ...interest?  But
then, she seemed to ...  the light suddenly dawned.  "Wait a minute,
Mother.  You mean you set me up?  You and Betty and that goofball
shrink of yours set me up!?"

"Calm down, sweetheart.  As for Doctor Harris, I haven't really talked
to her since we moved, but yes, Betty and I did sort of plan this as a
...  well, we wanted to see how far you'd be willing to go.  I was
pretty sure you wouldn't have agreed or even admitted anything if we
had just ...  if we hadn't devised this little 'incentive.'  But admit
it, now, it has been sort of fun, hasn't it?"

"Fun!!!?" I yelled "You ..." Mom held up her hand - her special signal
to me that I needed to lower my voice and think hard before I spoke.  I
swallowed my words and just sat glaring at her for a couple of minutes.
How could she have tricked me like this?

Then I began to think about last week's outing with Betty, and the last
couple of days talking with Mom, and tonight's session at the Salon.  I
had to admit to myself that I really had been enjoying myself.  There
was a peace, and a friendship even, that I hadn't felt in a long time,
maybe never before.  It was all very confusing.  On the one hand I was
very ashamed of what I'd been doing, and I knew I should be angry with
Mom for her tricks.  On the other hand, I really couldn't deny the
feelings of fun and friendship I was having with Betty and with Mom,
and I desperately didn't want to loose those feelings.  Suddenly I just
broke down in big sobs and hid my face in my hands.

Mom put her arms around me and hugged me.  For a long time, as I
sobbed, she just held and stroked me and whispered comforting words to
me.  Finally I returned to some kind of control, and Mom handed me
several tissues to clean myself up.  As I blew my nose and wiped my
eyes, she began to speak.

"I know this is very hard for you sweetheart:  it's difficult for me
too.  But I think that this can be a very important and enjoyable time
for both of us.  Your feelings are out in the open, now, and I need to
lay mine out also.  I was very concerned when I first began to suspect
your---- interests, but I've done a lot of thinking and reading, as
well as my talks with Betty and Doctor Harris, and now I see some real
positive things that we might explore."

Suddenly I felt something other than shame or confusion, and I looked
up at my Mom to see her smiling at me.

"Our activity at Betty's tonight, and your little trip with her last
week - yes, she told me all about it - shows me that you have a real
interest in --- feminine things.  Am I right?"

I swallowed hard and nodded.

"We've had so much fun over these last few days, and seeing you tonight
as a --- as pretty as you look with your hair styled your makeup done
--- I see that you really have a lot of potential.  If you want to
explore that side of yourself, Sweetheart, I want to help you.  Do you
think it's something we can share?"

I wasn't sure what she meant, exactly, but it felt really good to hear
her say it.  "Mom, I really don't know what this is all about or what I
really want, but it feels good to think that you might help me---.  I'm
so confused ---." I couldn't find the words, but Mom interceded.

"I know you have a lot of feelings to sort out, and I hope you will let
me help you do that, too - I'll listen any time you want to just talk.
But at the same time, I don't see why we shouldn't have some fun with
this.  Whenever you feel you want to look pretty, whether it's hair or
clothes or makeup, let's just do it, and we can talk about it along the
way.  We have the whole summer to use if we want it, and it won't be
hurting anyone that I can see.  It would be a special joy for me to
share some 'girl things' with you.  Besides," she chuckled, "I've
always thought you were too cute to be 'just another guy'."

She hugged me again as she said this, and I chuckled along with her.
When I looked into her eyes, I could see that she had been crying as
well.  We dabbed at the each other's eyes in a vain attempt to clean
the mascara off our faces and ended up laughing and crying at the same
time.

The rest of the way home we talked about what we'd do if Jennifer and
Pat had seen me.  Mom pointed out that if they were true friends,
things would work themselves out.  If not, it would be up to her and me
to face things together, and deal with any gossip or other problems as
they came up.  It felt so good to be able to talk to Mom about
everything.  I determined right then to be fully honest and open with
all my feelings from then on.

When we got home Mom told me to go and change into my robe, then we'd
meet in her bedroom to clean off the rest of our makeup.  I took off my
clothes and began to step into my pajamas, then caught myself.  I
quickly put my PJ's back in my drawer and took the nightie from under
my pillow:  it was time for the first big test of our new "openness."
Taking a few deep breaths for courage, I put my robe over my arm and
walked into Mom's bedroom wearing her nightie.

Mom didn't seem to hesitate at all as a smile played across her lips.
"I thought I was missing something out of my drawers.  You look very
nice in that, sweetheart, even if it is a little old and worn.
Tomorrow during lunch I could buy you a nightgown of your own if you
like?"

A little thrill passes through me as I nodded my head.  With that Mom
had me sit beside her at her vanity and she showed me how to use her
special creams to remove the makeup and moisturize my face.  She combed
out my hair and helped me put it up for the night, then I did the same
for her.  It was one of the best nights of my life.



Pat and Jennifer



I was exhausted by the emotions I had experienced, and I slept very
soundly that night.  By the time I got out of bed the next morning I
could already hear Mom moving around in the kitchen.  I hurried to take
the curlers out of my hair and get my hair styled before breakfast, but
I only had two sections pinned up before Mom knocked on my door.

"You don't have to bother putting your hair up this morning,
sweetheart.  I just remembered I have to be at work early today, so I'm
headed out the door.  You'll have to get your own breakfast.  Just do
your regular chores, and I'll see you tonight."

Just as I was opening my door to give Mom a hug, the doorbell rang.

"I'll get it on my way out, honey.  You go ahead and get dressed."

On my way to my closet I hesitated in front of my mirror for a moment.
A part of me still wanted to put my hair up and try some of my new
makeup.  As I stood there I heard Mom open the front door.

"Hi, Mrs.  Howell.  Is Alex here?  We need to talk to him."

My heart almost stopped as I recognized Pat's voice.  Surely Mom would
figure out some story and send them away - she was pretty quick on her
mental feet.

"Hi, Pat.  Hi, Jennifer, come on in - he's just getting dressed.  I
have to go, but he'll be out in just a minute.  Alex, honey," she
called, "Pat and Jennifer are here."

With that I heard the front door close.  I couldn't believe Mom would
do this to me - make me face Pat and Jen so soon after last night!  I
grabbed my pants off the bed and put them on, then threw a shirt over
my nightie and tucked it all in.  As I was trying desperately to button
the shirt, I glanced in my mirror and realized I still had the back of
my hair pinned up.  Meanwhile, the girls weren't content to wait for me
in the living room.  They pushed open my door just as I pulled the last
pin out of my hair.

"Hey, Alex, we can't wait all day for you.  We have a real situation we
need to tell you about --- ." As Pat caught sight of me she stopped
speaking and just looked me up and down.  Jennifer pushed past her and
came over to where I was standing by the mirror.

"I told you that was Alex last night!" She exclaimed.  "Look, he still
has traces of mascara on his lashes - and look at his eyebrows!" She
was almost shouting.

I collapsed onto the bed and hid my face in my hands.  I knew the rest
of my life was over at this point.  Pat sat beside me on the bed and
took my hands in hers.  "I'm sure there's some kind of explanation for
all this, Jennifer.  It's not really any of our business, I suppose,
but - - - do you want to tell us about it, Alex?"

I took some comfort in Pat's mild tone, and I tried my best over the
next few minutes to explain to the girls about my bargain with Mom and
the trick she had played on me.  Pat seemed to understand, but Jennifer
just stood there with a sarcastic look on her face the whole time.

When I fell silent for a moment she let out a disgusted sound.  "That
all sounds soooo innocent, but how do you explain this?" She pulled at
a piece of pink ruffle that was peeking out from under my shirt.  "I
think our little friend is a queer, Pat.  After the friendliness we
showed him at Seniors Night, too.  We'll never live it down.  Are you a
queer, Alex?"

Strangely, Pat came to my defense.  "Jennifer, just back off a little,
would you?  How Alex dresses for bed is his own business after all - -
- unless you're planning to add him to your list of conquests?" I was
stung a little by the irony in her tone, though I sensed it was
directed at Jennifer and not at me.  "Besides, we need his help right
now - or did you forget?"

Jennifer took a step back from me and sat down on a convenient chair.
Pat continued to talk.  "Alex, we just got word that our boyfriends
found out about Seniors' Night at the park." This was not good news,
but my mind brought back images of that night that almost made me smile
despite myself.  Jennifer, in particular, had been drinking a little, I
think, and had become particularly "friendly" in the later evening.

"You remember on the boat, just before the tunnel when I looked back
and thought I saw someone I knew?  Well, the next day one of the girls
from our school, Alice is her name, and she's Bill's sister..." Ouch!
Bill was Jennifer's Neanderthal boyfriend, and the thought of his
jealousy wiped away any inclination to smile.  "...anyway, she called
Jennifer and mentioned that she was at Seniors' Night and started
hinting around about 'didn't she see us there' and 'who got us in' and
stuff like that.  She was a little confused about the details, but she
must have gotten your name from somewhere, because she mentioned 'a kid
named Alex.  Jennifer tried to cover it up, but I think Alice was still
suspicious.  So Saturday we got a call from the boys and they were
fuming.  They said they'd be coming back to town this weekend and they
wanted to see 'this kid Alex.'  If it's anything like the last time
they caught us, we're all in for a beating, but you most of all, Alex."

As scared as I was, a part of me was really angry.  "Why do you let
those guys treat you like that, Pat?  If they're so rotten, why do you
keep seeing them?  Why don't you just tell them to take a hike?"

"Easy for you to say, Mr.  Sissy." Jennifer shot back.  "Why don't you
tell them to take a hike and see what you get for your trouble?"

Again Pat seemed to be defending me.  "Jennifer, back off.  But she's
right, Alex.  We've tried to get rid of them before.  They have
everyone buffaloed on our side of town.  They're these 'Great Sports
Gods' to all the adults, with perfect manners and Ivy League recruiters
beating down their doors - even Pro recruiters.  Meanwhile they
threaten us and they beat any guy that even looks twice at us.  We hate
them, but we don't know what to do.  They left school early for their
college training camps, and we haven't had a date since.  They put the
word out that we were still their girls, and that's all it took.  Then
we heard about Senior's Night, and we heard you were this brain and
this wheeler-dealer, and we just thought it would be fun - - - .  Well,
I know it was really our fault that we got you into this, but - - -
well, we were hoping you'd come up with some ideas - - - ."

She seemed on the verge of tears and it was probably genuine, but I
could see how they had manipulated me - were still using me, in fact.
I began to see that they had pretty much set me up for a fall.  They
had used me to get into Seniors' Night not really caring what might
happen later - to them or to me.  Of course, I knew at the time that
they were going with me only because they couldn't get in any other
way.  They had offered to help, and I had needed help, so all in all it
was really not much more than a simple business relationship.  On the
other hand, both of them had been very friendly the whole night, and
we'd had a lot of laughs.  There had even been some cuddling and
kissing involved, though it had been done amid laughter and teasing.
At any rate, by the end of the evening I had thought we had a pretty
good friendship going.  The girls had even tried to phone me a couple
of times over the last week, but I was going through the hair thing
with Mom and had ignored the messages they left.  I guess now it was
time to "pay the piper" for the good times.

It took me a couple of minutes to work all this through in my mind, and
it was pretty quiet in the room.  Pat was just sitting there with a
frown on her face, while Jennifer paced back and forth in front of us.
The more I thought about "the boys", the warmer the room seemed to get.
Suddenly Pat spoke up.

"Would the two of you quit it?  I'm trying to think and you're both
driving me crazy." Jennifer stopped pacing and glance at me.  I had
been running my hands through my hair and pulling my hair back and up
off my neck, then letting it fall.  When Pat spoke I sort of froze with
my hands behind my head.  Pat's eyes narrowed and her frown began to
change into a thin smile.  Jennifer and I just looked at her for a
couple of minutes.  Without saying a word, Pat jumped up and walked
into the living room with us following behind her.  It was obvious
she'd had some kind of bright idea, but she seemed so focussed that she
couldn't even hear our questions.  She picked up the phone and dialed.

"Hello, Alice?  This is Pat.  Hi.  I'm doing okay, but Alice, we got a
phone call from the boys Saturday and they were very upset about the
Seniors Night thing.  Alice, what did you tell them about this kid
Alex?" There was a pause, then Pat began to laugh.  The laugh was
convincing in a way but there didn't seem to be much humor behind it.
"Alice, where do you know Alex from?" Another pause.  "That's what I
thought.  Alice, if I didn't know better I'd say you were trying to get
Jen and me in trouble.  Either that or you need to have your eye
presecription changed.  Alex will be a little upset when SHE finds out
you mistook HER for a guy.  I don't think the boys will find it too
funny either."

Pat glanced up at me when she said that.  I had no idea what was going
through Pat's mind, but I didn't like what I was hearing.

"That's right, Alice, that was a girl you saw with us on Seniors'
Night." She paused to listen for a minute and her smile turned to a
frown.  "Are you serious?  Look, even if we weren't already spoken for,
do you think we'd both be dating the same guy at the same time?  ...
Yes she was wearing a tie and blazer, but that was because she was one
of the officials."

Actually, all the other officials had been pretty casually dressed, but
I had wanted to make a good impression on my "dates."

"Alice, you sound like you don't believe me.  ...  Well, maybe we'll
just have to do that, Missy, but meanwhile I think you'd better call
your brother and straighten the whole thing out." She had raised her
voice a couple of notches on that last sentence, and she slammed the
receiver down as she finished speaking.  The fact that she still had a
frown on her face indicated that things hadn't gone as she'd planned.
"Okay, so 'Plan A' didn't work, then maybe 'Plan B' will."

From what I'd heard of the converation I was too afraid to ask what was
going on in her mind, but Jennifer was impatient.  "All right, Pat.  I
think you need to explain what that was all about."

Pat put her hands to her head and began to speak rapidly.  "Okay, here
it is.  Alice saw us with Alex, but mostly from behind.  Just as we got
off the boat, someone called to Alex, and that's how she got the name -
but she didn't get a real good look at his face - only his clothes and
his long hair.  So with the clothes and the name, she assumed Alex was
a boy that night.  I tried to convince her that Alex was really a girl,
but I don't think she bought it.  But look at him now!" She grabbed my
face between both her hands.  "With his hair done up and makeup ...
like last night ...  and with the right clothes, Alex becomes our
'girlfriend' Alexandra!  What do you think!?"

Jennifer looked from one to the other of us a couple of times.  "I
think you're stark raving mad.  Fooling a few people might work, but to
think that we could fool Bill and Bob - who know EVERYTHING about girls
- there's no chance."

"Oh yeah?  How about last night?  You should have seen us, Alex - after
you and your Mom drove away, that is.  We knew your car, of course, and
we recognized your Mom, but it took us a full fifteen minutes to figure
out who the 'girl' in the passenger seat was.  Jennifer was the one who
came up with it, but it took her quite a while.  I didn't believe it
myself until this morning when we saw you."

"Okay, but last night was last night." Jennifer interjected.  "It was
dark and we only saw his head and shoulders.  Think about Bill and Bob
looking him over up close and personal from head to toe in broad
daylight.  We don't stand a chance in a thousand."

"Look," said Pat, "We'll get him made up and dressed up and then see
how we feel.  If it looks promising we have until Saturday to practice
and get everything worked out.  It doesn't seem like much time, I
admit, but unless either of you can come up with a better idea, we
don't stand a chance at all.  I think we can pull it off!  We get him
made up like last night, we pad him a little and dress him just right -
-- and we have until Saturday to work on him.  What do you say, Alex?
Are you willing to help us out here?"

I was stunned as I realized what Pat was proposing.  She wanted me to
masquerade as a girl in front of those boys.  I couldn't even get
enough breath to voice an objection.  I looked at Jennifer hoping she
would continue to object, but she actually seemed to be considering the
idea.  Suddenly the memory of my first experience in the mall came into
my mind.  Then I remebered my experiences with Betty, then the delivery
boy, and then last night.  There was no doubt that I could pass myself
off as a girl in some situations, and I actually became a little
excited at the thought of playing the part more completely.  On the
other hand, the thought of what Bill and Bob might do to me if they
figured it out----.  I began to shake my head as fear overruled my
fantasies.  "Can you imagine the beating I'd get if Bill and Bob
weren't fooled?"

Pat threw in the clincher.  "It's a sure thing if you don't try that
we'll all get a beating, so what have you got to loose?"

She was right, of course.  Left unspoken was the risk that if I didn't
go along with them they would tell the tale of my hair and makeup all
over town.  Finally I just shrugged and asked them what they wanted me
to do.

Pat broke into a big grin.  "Can you do your hair and your makeup just
like you had it last night?"

"Sure - uh - I think so."

"Then you get busy with that.  Jen and I have some things to pick up ,
and we'll be back as soon as we can.  Don't go anywhere."

She said this with a wink as she grabbed Jennifer's arm and led her
out.  I waited a few minutes after they were gone - giving myself some
time to think.  How had I got myself into this awful mess?  Resigned to
my fate, yet still a little excited to think about dressing up all the
way as a girl, I went into Mom's room and sat down at her vanity.  I
took extra time and care with my hair and my makeup.  Part of me was
scared and ashamed of having to show myself to the girls this way, but
part of me was excited too - it seemed like such an adventure!

I had almost an hour to sit and stew even after my hair and makeup were
done.  I tried to do some chores, but my nervous stomach made me spend
most of the time in the bathroom.  Suddenly, with a perfunctory knock
at the door, Pat and Jen barged in carrying several bags.  I wasn't
sure what to think at first, because when they saw me they just stopped
and stared.  It was Jen who finally spoke first.  "You know, we may
have more of a chance here than I thought.  Alex, you make a beautiful
girl." When she said that my ears began to roar and I blushed beet red
all over my body.  "And your hair - do you think you can help me put
mine up like that?"

"Uh, well, yes, yours is a little longer than mine...we might need to
set it first to give it some body ...  " as I lifted a lock of
Jennifer's hair I caught sight of Pat's sly smile, and I realized that
I had suddenly slipped into a completely different frame of mind - a
different role.  Pat realized it too, obviously, but she wasn't in the
mood for teasing just then.

"Come on, Jennifer.  We can worry about your hair after we get our
little 'girlfriend' here all taken care of." The girls quickly emptied
the bags on my bed, and it looked like they had brough everything I
would need to dress completely like a girl.  There was lingerie of
every description, a dress, two skirt and blouse sets, shoes, belts,
some jewelry and several other things.  We brought a little of
everything to see which sizes fit and how things would look on you.
We'll have to be real careful with the shoes because some of them
belong to our Moms.

Jennifer opened her purse and handed me an electric razor.  "First
things first:  go to the bathroom and shave your legs.  Make sure
they're completely smooth.  Then put this on..." she handed me a pair
of white nylon panties.  "Oh, and don't forget to do under your arms as
well, then come back in here." I knew I was blushing again as I turned
and walked into the bathroom.

Both of them were smiling when I returned wearing nothing but the
panties and my shirt.  Now they seemed to be in a much more playful
mood.  As I stepped over to the bed Pat ran her hand down my thigh.
"My, my, my, aren't we soft and smooth." There was suddenly a very
prominint reaction to Pat's playfulness, and it wasn't only blushing.
"Well!" Said Jennifer, looking down at my panties, "at least one of us
is going to enjoy this a little.  Pat, our new girlfriend seems to have
a very unladylike problem here.  What can we do about that?" My
embarrassment was enough to make the "problem" subside immediately, but
the girls had obviously planned this whole thing for a purpose.  Pat
opened her purse and handed me a sanitary napkin and a thin elastic
belt.  She showed me how to fix the ends of the napkin into the
fasteners, then she made me return to the bathroom with instructions on
how to position the napkin and tuck my privates away.

Once I had the napkin and my panties back in place the girls showed me
how to put on a bra ( I acted like I this was my first time) then
padded it with a set of falsies.  A garter belt was next, then I
experienced the fantastic feel of stockings being drawn over my
baby-smooth legs.  I was grateful at that moment for the sanitary
napkin that was hiding and restraining another reaction.  Next came a
half slip and camisole, then a white blouse and a tan pleated skirt
with a wide belt that cinched in until I could hardly breathe.  A pair
of white sandals with one-inch heels completed the outfit.  Somewhere
in the excitement of dressing up I forgot all about any shame I ought
to be feeling, and just let my enthusiasm take over.  I think I was
begining to feel like "just one of the girls," but suddenly there I was
dressed completely like a girl for the first time.  I had to put my
hand to my face to prove to myself that it was really me that I was
seeing in the mirror.  Then I had to grab Pat's hand to steady myself
as I almost fainted.

We spent some time looking me over in the mirror, then comparing makeup
and hairstyling tips.  I was feeling more and more comfortable as both
girls complimented me on my developing skills and my eye for style.
Pat eventually called us back to reality, however, and my "girl
lessons" began in earnest.  For the next two hours they drilled me
incessantly on speaking, walking, standing and sitting like a lady.  We
took a break for sodas, and then Jennifer insisted I put her hair up in
a Gibson Girl like mine.  This led to some discussion of what I had
been learning at Betty's, and before long we were trading more makeup
tips and putting Pat's hair up into a French Roll.

Eventually we all realized how hungry we were, and the girls had no
trouble talking me into lunch at our local Mall.  The girls were from
the other side of town, so it was apretty safe bet that they wouldn't
be spotted, and by this time I was feeling pretty confident that no one
would recognize the "old Alex" behind my new and beautiful disguise.
We spent the rest of the afternoon going from one trendy store to
another.  Along the way Jennifer used her dad's credit card to buy a
few extras she though I'd need - a purse and some more shoes, some
jewelry and other accessories.

It was early in the evening when we finished and the girls decided that
it was time for another test.  I phoned Mom at work and got her
permission to go to Pat's house for dinner.  Mom was genuinely happy
that I had worked things out with the girls, though she didn't ask for
any details and I certainly didn't mention how I was dressed.

I couldn't believe that we could fool a woman as sophisticated as Pat's
mom, and we worked out a careful plan to explain things to her if she
figured me out.  Somehow it worked out and we didn't need the plan at
all.  Both Pat's mom and dad seemed perfectly accepting of me as Pat's
new girlfriend.  Mrs.  Simms even suggested that I accompany them on
their next weekend visit to their lakeside cabin.  Jennifer had a hard
time keeping a straight face as we talked about that one.  A few
minutes after dinner we were in Pat's bedroom excitedly giggling and
teasing about my first day as a "real girl," and my success with Pat's
parents.  Somewhere in the distance I heard the doorbell ring, and
Pat's mother called up that we had visitors.  Both girls jumped up and
headed for the front door, dragging me with them.  When they opened the
door there were three tall guys standing there, and Pat invited them in
as if she had been expecting them.

"Hi, guys, you're just in time.  Let us grab our purses and we'll be
ready to go.  Oh, by the way, this is the friend we told you about.
Alli, meet Paul, David and Jim."

They all said "Helloooo" in unison, and I blushed and only managed a
feeble "Hi." My knees were so week I barely made it back to the
bedroom.

"Pat, Jennifer, what are you doing to me?  You never said anything
about this.  What's going on here?"

"Oh, calm down, Alex.  We're just going out for burgers and a movie.
We'll be home long before your curfew."

"A movie???  We're going out???  You can't be serious!"

"Stifle it, Alex." Jennifer said rudely.  "You have very little time
before you meet Bill and Bob, and you have to be one hundred percent
believable to pull anything over on them.  Tonight will give you some
experience in acting like a girl around guys - you can watch us and
follow our lead.  Besides, we have to know how you're going to hold up
under pressure.  Now get your purse and let's go."

I just stood there with my mouth open and my knees knocking together.
Jennifer grabbed me by the arm and began pulling me out the door.
Before I knew it I was getting into the back seat of David's car.
Jennifer was in the front seat next to David, and Pat had maneuvered so
that I was in the middle with her and Jim on the right, and Paul on my
left.  It was obvious that I was to be Paul's date for the night!  We
went to the same burger place where Pat and Jennifer had spotted me the
previous night.  Just last night!  So much had happened since the that
it seemed like a year.  The girls started right in talking and they
kept the conversation fast and light through the meal and on our way to
the movie.  They pulled me in from time to time, and after I got the
hang of boy-girl talking from the other side, I began to chime in on my
own.

I thought Paul was a little more intelligent than the other two, and he
made me laugh more than once with his dry wit.  As we got nearer to our
destination I began to realize that we were headed for the Drive In
Movie at the end of town!

As we went through the gate and found a parking place near the back row
of the drive-in I began to panic.  Knowing the girls' reputation,
particularly Jennifer's, I knew there was going to be more activity in
the car than just watching the movie.  When Jennifer glanced back to
say something to Pat I gave her a desperate "help me" look, only to
receive a smile and a wink in return.  "Follow our lead" they had told
me, but I was pretty sure I didn't want to go where these girls might
be headed.

As the lights dimmed and the advertisements began to appear on the
screen I saw Jennifer scoot closer to David in the front seat.  It was
already a tight squeeze with four of us in the back seat, but I felt
Jim moving over to get even closer to Pat.  I was pretty well frozen in
place, and Paul seemed to sense my nervousness because he didn't move
at all.  Mercifully, the conversation kept up through the
advertisements and previews, and I began to relax a little.  The boys
started cracking jokes at some of the dialogue on the screen, and they
really were quite clever.

The mood was still light and fun, but as the main feature began all
three boys shifted their arms up over the back of the seat, as if to
get more comfortable.  Even in the dark I could see the subtle
movements as first Jennifer and then Pat leaned into their dates and
allowed the boy's arm to slide down onto their shoulders.  Seconds
later I felt the warmth of Paul's hand on my shoulder through the thin
material of my blouse.  I had planned to just relax and let things
happen, but I was sure Paul noticed as I immediately tensed up.  I knew
then that I just wasn't mentally prepared for this - everything was
coming too fast.  I think Pat may have sensed that things weren't going
to well.  She noticed someone walking by the car carrying popcorn and
drinks, and casually mentioned that we had forgotten to buy some before
the movie started.  Within a couple of minutes she and Jen had all
three boys trooping off to the snackbar for treats, and the three of us
were left alone.

"Okay, Alex, what's wrong?  Things seemed to be going pretty well until
the feature started."

"I'm just not ready to have a guy's arm around me.  I don't know what
to do or how to handle the situation."

"Alex, you handle it just like any other situation with a boy.  You let
him go so far, then you back him off a little.  When you're comfortable
with that, you let him get a little farther.  If he goes too far, you
send him farther back than he was.  Simple."

"Simple.  Right." For the next few minutes the girls initiated me into
the sorority of "how to manage men." By the time the boys got back my
head was spinning, but the girls assured me they'd take care of the
situation.

When the boys got back into the car we all assumed our former positions
- me with Paul's arm around my shoulders.  I was able to relax a
little, knowing the girls weren't going to let me get into a situation
I - or at least they - couldn't handle.  Not only was I able to relax
and enjoy the movie, but I began to understand what the girls had tried
to explain to me.  The rest of the evening was a real education for me
as I watched the girls play with these guys.  Fortunately, Paul was
much more of a gentleman than the others and didn't try to go too far -
we cuddled a little bit and ended up holding hands during the ride
home.  By the time we got back to Pat's house I was congratulating
myself on having survived such a delicate situation.  I didn't even
think about how I was going to handle "saying good night" until David
turned the engine off.

Paul took my hand to help me out of the car, then held on to it as he
shut the door, interlacing his fingers with mine.  There was a tree
that sheltered some of the yard from the nearby streetlight, and
Jennifer and David had stepped under the tree and deeper into the
shadows.  Pat and Bob lingered by the car as Paul walked me up the
sidewalk to the porch.  As we got to the door, Paul put his arm around
my waist.  I guess I knew what was coming, but my mind was blank as to
what I could do about it.  He was very strong, and as he pulled me to
him my head went back and my eyes closed reflexively.  My lips parted
in a light gasp and I suddenly felt a firm, soft pressure against them.
Then I felt the warmth of his breath within me and I knew he was
kissing me!  My head began to spin, my knees went limp and I put my
hands on his arms to steady myself.  He must have taken this as a sign
of permission, because he pulled me tighter to him.  After what seemed
like an eternity he broke the embrace and looked into my eyes.  I was
now more confused than ever, and as he lowered his lips to mine a
second time, I automatically closed my eyes and opened my lips to him.
This time it was not only his warm breath that invaded me, but his
tongue as well!  That brought me back to my senses and I realized what
was going on.  Somehow my hand found the door handle and pushed the
latch.  I broke away from him and stepped backward through the door,
almost catching his hand as I closed it in front of me.  I leaned my
head on the door for a long time, trying to catch my breath and regain
my bearings, then I just put my back to the wall and let myself slide
to the floor.  I was still sitting there staring straight ahead when
Pat and Jennifer came in some minutes later.

"Alex, you were wonderful!  What was it like?"

"Wow, what a sexy kiss!  You liked it, didn't you?  Did he give you
tongue?"

They were both chattering at me at the same time, and my mind was in a
whirl.  I couldn't believe that I had kissed a guy - twice.  I knew,
though, that I had passed an important test in our plan to fool Bill
and Bob.  As the girls drove me home we talked some more about handling
guys, and I took them to task for manipulating our dates the way they
had.

"Welcome to the real world, Alex.  If they weren't such jerks about
seeing how far they could get, maybe things would be different."

"We aren't all jerks, are we?" I asked.

Jen just gave me her most sarcastic look.  "The answer is mostly 'yes,'
but you've GOT to stop thinking about yourself as a guy for the next
few days.  You've got to be the sexiest little babe on the block by the
time Bill and Bob get home.  Think that over while Pat and I get things
going for the next couple of days."

As we neared my house, I realized I had a couple of problems:  Mom had
never seen me fully dressed as a girl.  Not only that, but I was sure
she had been expecting me home much earlier.  I had left my guy clothes
at home, so it wasn't like I could go back to Pat's and change.  I
guess it was time to see how far Mom was really willing to let her son
go with his "interests." I drew a deep breath and, with all the
femininity I could muster, I walked through our front door and into the
living room.  Mom was on the sofa, and she was speaking as she turned
toward me.

"Hi, sweetheart.  You're home a little late:  did you and the girls
have a ----." She stopped in mid-sentence as she realized how I was
dressed.  "Oh, my." she gasped, and then tears came to her eyes.  I
thought I had really blown it and that my short career as a girl was at
an abrupt end.  Then she came to me and took me in her arms.  As she
gave me a tight hug she said "Oh, sweetheart, you're so beautiful.  I'm
sorry for the tears, it's just that I didn't think to see you all
dressed up like that."

"You're not angry with me, are you, Mom?"

"Oh, not at all, my sweet.  It's just a bit of a surprise, that's all -
I - guess I was expecting to be with you when you bought your first
dress."

Tears came to my eyes then, and when we finally stepped back and looked
at each other, we burst into laughter:  our mascara was running again.
We dabbed each other's eyes, then we sat down on the sofa.  I told Mom
everything that had happened, though I glossed over the real reason for
Jennifer and Pat's interest in dressing me up.  When I got to the part
about Paul and I on the porch, I hesitated for a moment, then decided
that I needed Mom's help in understanding what was going on.  I gave
her all the details.

"You shouldn't feel bad about the kisses, sweetheart.  You said you
wanted to experience how it feels to be a girl, and kisses are a
natural part of a young girl's growing up.  You were smart to stop it
where you did, however.  Boys can be easy to encourage, but difficult
to stop if you let them go too far." I just nodded.  "There's one other
thing, sweetie.  That skirt you're wearing is just a little short,
don't you think?"

"If you think this skirt is short you should have seen what Pat and
Jennifer were wearing, especially Jennifer.  We could see her hose tops
when she sat down."

"Well, I don't want to downgrade your friends, Dear, but they may not
be the best gauge of what's normal for a young girl your age.  You
above all people should know the effect that such a length can have on
the young men."

She was right, of course, and I admitted that to her.  Just then the
phone rang, and Mom picked it up.

"Hello?  Yes, this is the Howell residence.  Who is calling please?"
Here Mom glanced at me briefly.  "Well, Paul, we usually don't allow
phone calls this late at night ...  Yes, I understand."



   PAUL! How had he got my number?  Jennifer, of course.

"Yes, that's all right.  SHE's right here." Mom looked at me with a
smile as she emphasized that word, and I blushed as she handed me the
phone.  As she did, I realized that I was going to have to use my
newly-developed feminine voice in front of my Mom.  But this was no
time for backing out.

"Hello?"

"Alli, this is Paul."

"Hi, Paul." I glanced at Mom and she still had that sly smile on her
face.

"I really had a nice time tonight, and I wanted to apologize for the
way I acted."

"Oh, Paul, there's no need to apologize .  .."

"Well, after we got home Pat phoned me and really laid into us for our
conduct - and she was right - I guess we all got a little too
aggressive."

"That's okay, Paul ..."

"Well, I ..., we'd like to make it up to you girls.  Would you have
dinner with us Thursday night at the Elms.  Real formal and everything.
We'll wear coats and ties and be on our best behavior.  Please say yes
- the other girls said that it would be up to you."

Well, it seemed that Pat and Jen had indeed got things going for the
next couple of days.  "Thursday night?" I looked at Mom and she nodded
her assent.  What was I getting myself into?  But how could I refuse?

"Uh, I guess that would be all right, Paul."

"GREAT! Uh, I mean, thanks so much - I promise we'll behave.  Seven
O'Clock, then?"

"Yes, seven will be fine."

"Goodnight, Alli."

"Goodnight, Paul"

When I told Mom they had asked us to the Elms she got very excited.
"We'll shop tomorrow after I finish work and find you just the right
dress to wear.  Hurry and change for bed, then come into my room -
we'll do each other's hair and talk about our plans."

Her obvious excitement was just a little too much for me.  "Mother, how
can you be so excited about your son dressing up like a girl and going
on dates?  I mean, I'm not complaining, exactly, but don't you feel
like this is all a little too wierd?"

"Well, sweetheart, it was you who chose to accept the invitation,
wasn't it?"
I nodded my head.  "Of your own free will, right?" I blushed and nodded
my head again.  For some reason I was beginning to feel more than a
little ashamed of myself.

"Well then, since you've made up your mind, I see no reason to do
anything but enjoy the situation.  Ever since I began to suspect your
interests I've been thinking about what it would be like to have a
daughter to go shopping with and do these other fun things.  Now I get
to find out."

I just shook my head and walked down the hall, wondering again why I
was doing all these strange things.  When I looked into my room,
though, I suddenly forgot all about being confused or ashamed.  Mom had
been as good as her word:  laid out on the bed was a complete peignoir
set all in white ruffles and lace.  There was a nightgown, panties, a
full-length robe, and slippers to match.  My heart skipped a beat as I
stared at that beautiful lingerie.  It was gorgeous, and it really was
MINE! I hurried as best I could to undress myself and put my new
possessions neatly away, then revelled in the luxury of pulling on
those beautiful night things.  When I skipped into Mom's room there was
another surprise waiting for me:  she was wearing exactly the same
peignior!  As we stood together at her full-length mirror, we really
did look like Mother and Daughter.

It was my turn first, and I sat at Mom's vanity while she brushed out
my hair and curled it.  Then she sat while I did the same for her.  She
helped quite a bit with the curlers, of course, but I felt that I was
getting the hang of it by the time we finished.  All the while we
talked more about what the boys were like, what the other girls wore,
and how they manipulated the boys all evening.

"Well, you're getting quite a little insight into these relationships,
aren't you?  I hope it doesn't make you too cynical about girls from
now on - they aren't all like Jennifer, you know."

"I can tell that, Mom.  Pat seems very different, although she goes
along with Jen up to a point.  But it seems mostly the guys' fault
anyway.  If they had more interest in us as people, and not just as the
next conquest, they'd see through these little games.  We wouldn't have
to manipulate them at all, really, and we still could have a great
time."

"Well, sweetheart, if you can just remember that when the shoe is back
on the other foot, this whole experience will have been worthwhile."

Her comments made sense, and I began to think of myself on my next date
as a guy.  For some reason, the thought made me vaguely uneasy:  would
I remember these things well enough to act differently?  Exactly when
would I go out again as a guy?

I lay awake for a long time that night, experiencing all the sensations
of the soft, silky clothes I was wearing, and thinking about the fun
talk Mom and I had.  Then my mind turned to my date with Paul, and what
Thursday night might bring.  When I finally fell asleep I had several
dreams that I'd rather not discuss, but I slept really well.



Wednesday:


I woke up very excited for the plans of the next day.  I showered
quickly, being careful not to get my curlers wet, then I dressed and
did my makeup.  When I finally took my hair out of the curlers and
brushed it out, I found that it was easy to put it up in the French
roll I had practiced on Pat the day before.  Pat phoned right after
breakfast, and the three of us went out shopping again.  It was another
grueling day of learning how to be feminine, but I had to admit to
myself that this was beginning to be a lot of fun.

They got me home just in time to meet Mom, and we began what turned out
to be a marathon shopping experience.  I quickly forgot my fatigue from
the day's activity, as I began to try on dress after party dress in
practically every store in town.  Along the way, Mom bought me some
more lingerie, a couple of skirts and blouses, and two pairs of shoes.
When we weren't talking about clothes and shoes and makeup, Mom was
critiquing my new feminine voice and mannerisms.  We also discussed
what my upcoming date with Paul would be like, and some of the things I
should and shouldn't do.  I found out that Mom was really smart about
relationships, even if it had been a long time since she had been
"out."

For my dinner dress we selected a shade of rose that Mom and the
saleslady agreed was one of my best colors.  The design of the dress
was modest (for Mom), but sophisticated enough to satisfy me.  I had
the impression that I would be competing with some eye-catching
fashions on Pat and Jennifer, and I didn't want Paul to feel like he'd
gotten the wallflower among the roses.  The dress had a draped neck and
bodice, rather high, and a straight skirt with just a hint of a slit in
the side.  Mom bought me a pair of matching pumps with heels that were
almost three inches high, and some clip-on earrings and a necklace.
When she offered to buy me a set of lingerie that also matched, I
readily agreed.

That night Mom had me model my purchases, then we curled each other's
hair again.  It was exciting and, at the same time, a little amazing to
me that Mom was so ...  what?  ...  so open to the idea that her only
son was now dressing up and going out on a date with a guy.  As I
thought about it, I realized that, while I was still a little amazed at
MYSELF, part of me was very excited with what I was doing.


Thursday:


Seven PM the next evening found me just finishing my makeup when the
doorbell rang.  Mom answered the door and invited Paul into the living
room while I put on my finishing touches.  My stomach was turning
flip-flops, and I could see a very distinct flush under the foundation
and blush on my cheeks.  I couldn't even define the reason for my
feelings:  my mind was a complete blank to everything but the immediate
task of finishing my beauty preparations.  Fortunately, Mom was a good
conversationalist and put Paul at ease for those last few minutes.
Paul stood as I entered the room, and I could see he had a corsage that
fortunately, matched my dress.  Mom was prepared, and tactfully took
the flower from Paul, relieving us all from the embarrassment and risk
of having Paul try to pin it on the bodice of my dress.  To my anguish,
Mom insisted on taking several pictures of us standing together.

We finally got out of there, and to my chagrin, I found that David and
Bob were waiting in Paul's car:  they had decided to pick me up first!
In my sweetest voice I apologized to them as Paul opened the door for
me.  Remembering my manners, I slid across the seat to unlock the door
on the driver's side.  Somehow it seemed like it would be too much of a
negative signal if I had slid back to my side, so I stayed in the
middle next to Paul.  Jen and Pat did an intentional stall, and I was
faced with the challenge of fifteen minutes of conversation with the
three guys.  Fortunately, Bob and David enjoyed talking about
themselves and their sports exploits, and I think they were gratified
to find a "girl" who seemed to understand what they were talking about.
Paul didn't said very little about himself, but from reading between
the lines I could tell that the other two had a healthy respect for his
abilities too.

When the girls finally did waltz down the stairs, all of us just stared
at them for a few silent seconds.  The boys had promised to be on their
best behavior, and Pat and Jennifer had obviously decided to put them
to the test.  Where my dress was sophisticated yet modest, theirs were
selected to show it all.  Jennifer, in particular, was wearing a little
yellow halter-style shift that clung to her every ample curve.  She was
obviously wearing nothing underneath.

Aside from the stares and glares that Jen got, the night passed
uneventfully.  It was obvious, and a little funny, that the boys - even
Paul - were having a very hard time keeping their eyes away from Jen's
- - - features.  I have to admit that I was torn between watching her,
and watching the guys trying not to watch her.  They were all so
distracted that they never noticed the amused glances that Pat and I
exchanged all night long.  In my opinion, Pat in her black
spaghetti-strap slip dress was at least as attractive as Jen, and I had
to stop myself several times from looking at her in a very unladylike
manner.

Somewhere during the evening I found out that Pat and Jennifer had
already agreed to another date the next night, if the boys had
successfully behaved.  As they were driving us home we had to admit to
them that they had been perfect gentlemen.  Well, at least their hands
had stayed in line, even if their eyes hadn't.  We made plans for them
to pick us all up at Jen's house on Friday night, and we'd go to the
amusement park in the next town.  When Paul walked me to my front door
at the end of the evening, I was pleased that he had been more of a
gentleman than the other two.  At least he had made an effort at
conversation with Pat and me during the evening, I decided that he had
lived up to his promise to behave, and deserved a little reward.  As he
gave my hand a goodnight squeeze, I turned to him and raised my lips to
his.  He needed no more encouragement than that, but to my relief he
only gave me a straight kiss and didn't try to go any farther.


Friday:


Friday morning Betty had arranged to take off work and take me on our
second shopping trip.  Mom had told her about my dates, and Betty was
thrilled to be taking me out as a girl.  I was beginning to really
understand what girls got out of their shopping sprees:  I enjoyed all
the attention, and I really had fun talking over all the choices of
colors and accessories, comparing creative ideas and seeing what would
work.  There was a companionship and an equality in all this that I
hadn't felt in any of my boyish activities.

Betty drove for over an hour, taking us into the city to a special shop
that she had heard about.  It was called the Spotlight, and catered
mainly to the theater industry.  Betty explained to me that if I was
going on dates I needed something more than regular falsies for my
figure, and something better than a sanitary napkin to keep my
"profile" in line.  For some reason I wasn't the least embarrassed as
she describe the "helps" we would be buying.  As we walked in the door,
we were greeted by a rather effeminate man who offered to help us find
things.  Betty asked him if he sold gaffs, and his response almost made
us burst out laughing.

"Of course we have gaffs, honey, but if you girls are buying for your
boyfriends, you really should bring them into the store to get the
proper fit."

When I left the store I was the proud owner of three "caching"
garments, and a set of small fake breasts that actually glued onto my
chest and felt for all the world like they were real.  It had been
embarrassing at first to have Betty and the clerk both helping with
such intimate fittings, but somewhere during my time in the shop I just
stopped worrying about it and concentrated on learning how to position
everything correctly.  With my new "profile" I felt completely at ease
trying on the shorts and top sets that Betty bought me.

On the way home the conversation turned to my plans for the summer.  By
this time I really didn't want to complain about what Mom had made me
do, but I mentioned to Betty that the current "dress and grooming
standards" had put a definite crimp in my job search plans.

"You know, Alli, your Mom mentioned her concern to me on that very
topic, and I think I may have a solution." My ears perked up
immediately.  "Business at the salon has picked up quite a bit lately,
and I need extra help.  Trouble is, I need half of two people.  The
girls I interview to do shampooing and help with the beauty work won't
stoop to doing the stocking and cleanup, but I don't have enough of
either type of work to hire someone full-time.  If you wouldn't mind
doing both types of work I could offer you pretty much a full-time job
all summer long."

"Wow, that would be great!  But would your clients be uncomfortable
with a 'shampoo boy' rather than a shampoo girl?"

"And who would tell them you were a boy?"

My mouth dropped open for a second.  "You mean you want me to work at
your salon all summer long as a girl?"

Betty chuckled.  "I think everyone would feel more comfortable with
that arrangement - including yourself.  Besides, you still have two
weeks to wear your hair up, don't you?
And I need someone to start right away.  I don't think you'd want to
dress as a boy around the shop with your hair done up, would you?"

"Well no, but----."

"And you certainly couldn't start as a girl, then change back to a boy
after two weeks, now could you?"

I fell silent as I realized what she was implying.  If I accepted her
job offer I would be dressing as a girl all Summer long.  Till now I
hadn't really thought about how long I was going to play this little
charade.  I guess I had expected it to somehow be over after the next
two weeks of Mom's 'standards.'  If Pat's plan worked, we'd be rid of
the boys by Saturday night - and wouldn't the girls be expecting me to
change back to a boy after that?  Then I thought of my talks with Mom,
my shopping trips and all the fun I'd had in the last few days.
Clearly, Mom was perfectly happy with me dressing up - and I had not
felt this close to her in several years.  Accepting Betty's offer meant
we might be able to keep that closeness all Summer long.  Just then
Betty broke into my thoughts with the deciding argument:  "The job
starts at a dollar above minimum wage, and you get to keep all the tips
you get as a shampoo girl."

A little thrill went through me as I accepted Betty's offer, and she
seemed genuinely pleased to have me as her new shampoo and stock girl.
We agreed that I would start the next Monday.

As we drove toward home Betty told me that Jennifer had phoned her and
asked if the three of us could come in for the works on Saturday
morning.  Apparently Jennifer wanted all three of us to look our best
for the boys.  Betty asked me all about our plan to fool the boys, and
it was evident from her questions that she thought it was just a
practical joke.  I was relieved that Jen hadn't told her our real
reasons.  I knew that Betty would be sure to tell Mom, especially if
she thought I would be in any danger.


  I thanked Betty profusely as she dropped me off in front of my house,
and she assured me that she'd had as much fun as I. She told me she'd
have three very special hairdo's all picked out for us the next
morning.  I had just enough time to freshen up a little and shave my
legs and get over to Jen's.  They were really impressed to see my "new
features" and my skimpy shorts and top outfit.  I told them Betty and I
had made some "special purchases" to help my figure.  They asked me if
I was feeling a "little sexy" and I had to admit that I was.  The girls
were obviously pleased, and they explained that the boys would be
expecting a "reward" for their behavior on our dinner date.  I didn't
even have to ask what they meant, and I mentally prepared myself right
then with the limits I would set for myself and Paul.

The boys were obviously pleased with the way we looked when they showed
up.  Following the lead of the other girls, I gave Paul a quick kiss to
say hello, and I let him put his arm around me on the way to the
amusement park.  We held hands as the guys paid for the tickets, and we
headed straight for the Ferris Wheel.

As the wheel started turning, we began to look out at the scenery
around us.  It was a little breathtaking at first to be going up that
fast.  I glanced back at Pat and Bob in the seat behind us and saw that
they were already locked in a clinch, oblivious to what was around
them.  It almost made me a little jealous.  I glanced forward, and
Jennifer and David smiled and waved at us, then Jennifer turned her
face to his and planted her lips firmly on his mouth.  My stomach did a
little flip-flop as I felt Paul's fingers on my chin and realized what
I was about to do.  Strangely, I actually wanted to kiss Paul:  he had
been a perfect gentleman the night before, as good as his word, and he
deserved more of a reward than that little peck on the lips I had given
him.  To resist now, in front of the others, would be a real blow to
his ego, and he didn't deserve that.  As he turned my face to his, I
smiled into his eyes and moistened my lips.  His hand slid across my
cheek and my eyes closed as he pressed his lips to mine.  It was a
soft, tender kiss, but it seemed to last forever.  When we broke for a
breath, I glanced around and realized that Jen and Pat and their dates
were all watching us.  I knew I was blushing, but I was determined not
to act embarrassed.  I smiled to no one in particular, then I reached
up and ran my fingers through Paul's hair.  Pulling his head down to
me, I pressed my lips to his.  His arm slid down to my waist and I let
him pull me closer.  This time when I felt his tongue I didn't pull
back.  I opened my lips wider and fully answered his kiss.  His
aftershave was mingling with my perfume, and the effect of the ferris
wheel and the smells and feels and the realization of what I was doing
was all too much for me.  For several minutes I just abandoned myself
to the feel of his warm breath, his soft lips and his gentle, probing
tongue.

It all caught up to me when his hand moved from my waist over my hip to
my bare thigh.  I felt a little thrill go through me, but I suddenly
realized I was past my limit.  I broke our kiss and dropped my hand to
his.  I took his hand off my thigh, but not wanting to be too abrupt
with him, I kept hold of it and interlaced our fingers.
He sensed that he had gone too far, I think, and we separated ever so
slightly and began to look at the scenery.

As soon as the wheel stopped the girls pulled me into the nearest
restroom.  We spent some time as the girls made me tell them every
detail of what we did and how it felt.  By the time we had freshened
our lipstick and rejoined the boys I think they were a little miffed at
us for taking so long.  It didn't take much more than a squeeze of the
hand and a little cajoling before we had them all smiling again,
though.

Somewhere during the evening I forgot the strangeness of what I was
doing and just began to enjoy my date.  Back at Jen's house each couple
found a private place in the yard and I spent several minutes enjoying
the warmth of Paul's strong arms around me while we kissed tenderly.
We finally said goodnight and Jen hearded Pat and me toward the
basement where we could talk without waking her parents.

On the way down the stairs Jen and Pat began taking off their shoes,
then theirs shorts and tops.  By the time we got to her rec room the
girls had nothing on but their panties!  Pat disappeared into the
bathroom, but Jen turned to me and gestured toward the phone.  "Why
don't you call your Mom and see if you can sleep over with us?  That
way we can all go straight to Betty's in the morning?" As Jen finished
talking she noticed the look on my face and she put her hands around my
neck and smiled slyly into my eyes.  "Now, now, my little girlfriend.
You need to save looks like that for your boyfriend Paul.  Remeber that
you're just one of the girls around here - at least until tomorrow
night." Just then Pat emerged from the bathroom wearing a little blue
nightie.  She threw a yellow babydoll top at me and both girls watched
as I slipped out of my shorts and top.  For some reason I was feeling
modest about my new breasts and started to pull the babydolls over my
bra.  The girls would have none of that, and they insisted that I strip
and show them my "special purchases." I really should have refused, but
I knew that this too was a part of perparing me for my role with "the
boys." When the girls were satisfied that they had done all they could
to mortify me, they had me phone my Mom.  Somehow, I knew what she
would say, but I had to give it my best shot.

"Hello, mom?  It's Alli.  Mom, we all have appointments first thing in
the morning at Betty's salon, and the other girls have asked me to
sleep over so we can go right there.  Would that be okay with you?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone before Mom
answered.  "Sweetheart, I know you're really getting into your new
experiences, and I'm all for that.  It really is your choice, of
course, but you might consider what the reaction would be if the 'other
girls' parents found out about your true - uh - status."

"Yes, I guess your right, Mom.  I'll be home in a little while."

I turned and shrugged at the girls, but they weren't quite ready to let
me off so easily.  They made me put on the nightie they had given me,
and we sat around for another hour while Jen and Pat teased me and told
dirty jokes.  It was rather grotesque in a way, but they soon had me
laughing along with them.  I knew they were trying to prepare me even
more for the role I was to be playing.



The Big Day



The girls didn't get me home until almost 4AM, but they were at my door
again promptly at 8 for our appointment at Betty's salon.  Fortunately,
since we were going to have "the works" done at the salon, it only took
me a few minutes to dress and brush my hair back into a pony tail.  Jen
had insisted I wear her red miniskirt and matching blouse, with red
high heels sandals she had bought for me.  The outfit had a gold chain
for a belt, and Pat had brought a small gold chain necklace and two
bracelets to complete the outfit.  I thought Jen's skirts would be cut
for her longer legs, but I still had trouble keeping my garter tabs
from showing when I got into the car.  I was so tired I didn't even
have the energy to worry about how exposed I was, or to be nervous for
what we were about to do.

Betty was waiting at the shop with two of her best operators and they
started on us right away.  They gave us each a shampoo and set, and
while we were under the dryers we all got manicures.  My nails were
fairly long now, not having been cut for almost three weeks, and the
girl who was doing my manicure filed them to a nice almond shape.  When
she asked me what color I wanted for my polish I didn't hesitate.  I
had already spotted a red polish that matched my skirt and shoes.
Before they combed out our sets we sat around Betty's table and
conspired on each others' makeup.  They did the other girls first, and
by the time my turn came we were all having great fun.  Betty and her
girls were fussing over all of us and telling us how good we would look
for our boyfriends, but most of the compliments were sent in my
direction.  I'm not sure how much of that had been planned before hand,
just to get my confidence up, but I loved every minute of the special
attention.  Was it just my imagination, or did Betty's operators think
I was just one of the girls?

As I was about to get out of the makeup chair Jen put her hand on my
shoulder.  "Just a minute, Alli, I think there's just one thing missing
from your 'look.'  Betty, I want to treat her to something special this
morning." I looked up and caught her gesture toward the sign in the
window:  special on ear piercing.  I flushed red and my stomach did a
flipflop.  I knew I should protest such a permanent, feminizing change
to my appearance, but I just couldn't.  All week long I had been
secretly admiring the earrings the other girls had been wearing, and
wondering how it would feel to have my own.  As it turned out,
protesting wouldn't have worked anyway.  Jen had obviously set this up
with Betty beforehand:  she already had the studs lying in a dish of
alcohol next to me.  As Betty marked my ears, Jen explained that the
guys would be noticing every detail and this was just another way of
insuring that our deception would be complete.  I gave her a skeptical
look, but my mouth was so dry I couldn't have said a word if I had
wanted to.  It was good that I was sitting down for this, because I
almost fainted when I heard that little "pop" as the studs were driven
into each lobe.  Of all the changes I had gone through in the past few
days, and all the experiences I'd had, this one seemed to have the most
profound effect on me.  As I examined the tiny diamonds now glistening
at my ears, I really FELT like a girl.

When the stylists were through with us, Jen had a French Roll that was
perfect, with little tendrils that curled down her forehead and the
nape of her neck.  Pat's style was even more sophisticated:  they had
pulled her hair straight back and pinned it in single curls descending
from the crown to the nape.  Even though I was feeling very girlish, I
couldn't help but stare at her:  she looked delicious.

They had parted my hair on the side and swept it back to the crown in a
wave that covered the tops of my ears.  With what was left of my hair
and a little matching hairpiece, they had formed a bunch of sausage
curls that bounced and tickled my neck at each movement of my head.
Little tendrils curled down from each ear.  Betty insisted that we pose
for her camera, and she took several shots of us individually and in
groups with her and her stylists.  Then it was off to Jen's house for
the big occasion.

As we were walking out the door of the salon, Betty gave me an extra
hug and said "See you bright and early Monday morning, Hon." I flinched
at that, hoping the girls wouldn't notice, but Betty went even further.
When she saw Jen and Pat's puzzled look she said:  "Didn't Alli tell
you?  SHE's starting as my new stock clerk and shampoo girl on Monday!"

Jen looked at me like I had just crawled from under a rock.  She
started to say something, but Pat gave her an elbow in the ribs.  "I
think it's great that Alli has found a job for the Summer.  I'd like to
see you try to hold down a regular job, Jen."

On the way back to Jen's house she shot a couple of verbal barbs at me,
with Pat defending me all the way.  Eventually Jen tried to cover her
feelings about me dressing as a girl all Summer long, but she obviously
had some bad opinions of a guy who would do such a thing.  For my part,
I felt strangely unaffected by the whole conversation.  I thought Jen
was being a little hypocritical:  she had been a pretty forceful
accomplice in my feminization all the way through.  More than that,
though, was my own feeling of --- comfort, I guess --- with my choice
for the summer.  The emotions and the experiences were all very new and
unsettling, but it seemed like fate that had brought me this far.

We had about an hour before the boys were to arrive, and we spent it
going over every detail of our plan as we did some last-minute primping
and perfume selecting.  When the doorbell rang I stayed in Jen's room
as the other two went down to greet their men.  I heard the whole
conversation.  The boys barely said hello before they began talking
about "Alex" and demanding to see "him." The girls really built it up,
trying to put them off and acting like they were real reluctant to do
what the boys were asking.  Finally they gave in and called for me to
come downstairs.

I took several deep breaths, then slowly opened the door from Jen's
room.  My mouth felt like cotton and it took all my strength and
concentration just to keep my knees from knocking as I started down the
stairs.  My eyes were fixed on my feet, but after the first couple of
stairs I was able to force a smile to my lips and I raised my eyes to
see "the boys" for the first time.  These were two huge guys - each of
them well over six feet tall and built like trucks.  What saved the day
for me was their expressions:  they both had their mouths wide open and
I swear I could almost see the drools.  From where I was on the stairs
I knew they could see all the way up my short skirt, and I could tell
that their eyes were jumping from my (slightly padded) panties to my
face and back again.  A chill went through me as I realized how exposed
I was, and I actually quickened my pace to get to the bottom of the
stairs.  It was obvious that the realistic jiggle at my bodice was a
second focal point of the boys' attention.  The chill I was feeling
changed to a little thrill as I realized that it was already game over:
I was the luscious bait for these fish, and they were ready to swallow
me whole.  The other girls were knockouts, it was true, and probably
prettier than I was, but they were dressed much more modestly - and the
boys seemed to be reacting as we had planned it.  The rest of this
little exercise was just a question of timing.

My smile became genuine as Jen introduced me to the two apes.  I stood
very close to Bill so he could smell my perfume.  As Jen said his name
I gave his hand a friendly squeeze and then stood on my tiptoes to give
him a kiss on the cheek.  I did the same for Bob, saying that the girls
had told me so much about them that I felt we were already good
friends.  You could have cut the silence with a knife.

Jen suggested we sit in the living room for a few minutes to get better
acquainted.  As we turned in that direction the boys actually ran into
each other and Bill nearly fell over backward.  Pat and Jen were biting
their lips to keep from laughing out loud.  I covered my mouth with my
hand to hide my smile - I hadn't dreamed that my little masquerade
could be so successful.  The boys and their girls all squeezed together
on the sofa, and I sat on an overstuffed chair directly opposite.  With
my legs crossed I knew they were getting another good shot of my
stocking tops and panties and, sure enough, the boys were so distracted
they could hardly hold the thread of the conversation.  I'm sure they
had wanted to question us about the night of the party, but they were
feeling pretty foolish over their obvious "mistake" about now.  Just at
the right moment Jen's mom came in from the back yard and asked us to
go to the store for a few last-minute things for the cookout.

Bob and Pat sat in the back seat of the car, but Jen maneuvered it so
that I was between her and Bill in the front.  We kept a racy
conversation going, and I tried to fill my role as a fun-loving gal
every bit as "experienced" as Jen and Pat.  Following our plan, I took
every opportunity to touch Bill and smile at him as often as possible.
We kept this up when we got back to the house, and I could tell that
the boys were getting ripe for the next part of our plot.  Bill in
particular had a reputation for daring and sudden conquests in
dangerous places.  That was one of the things that had attracted Jen to
him at first, but she soon realized that Bill hadn't stopped with her
"conquest." Now she and all of us were counting on Bill to stay true to
form with his latest target:  me.

Sure enough, just before we were about to sit down to eat to
opportunity came up.  Jen's mom asked her to go down to the basement
pantry to get a second bottle of catsup.  Jen and Pat pretended to be
busy with a vegetable plate and asked if I could go down instead.  I
said I'd do it, and Bill volunteered to show me where the pantry was.
I saw a signal pass between Bill and Bob, and as we headed downstairs I
saw Bob sort of following us at a distance.  Apparently he was going to
be the "lookout." I began to feel a little queasy as I realized that
they had obviously done this sort of thing several times before.  Would
the timing work out?

When we got to the pantry Bill turned on the light and stepped back to
let me in.  It seemed like a perfect gentleman's gesture, but now he
was blocking to doorway, and he had full view of my rear as I stooped
to look at the bottom shelves.  The catsup was on the lowest shelf, of
course.  As I bent down to get the bottle I felt his hand on my thigh,
just at the edge of my dress.  I gave a little yelp, and as I
straightened up he pushed my back against the wall and leaned into me,
making it impossible for me to move.  I gasped and he put his mouth
over my lips and jammed his tongue into me.  He really was an animal -
no finesse at all - and I found myself comparing his incompetence to
Paul's smooth and gentle embrace.  I tried to fantasize that this WAS
Paul, and that helped to calm me just a little.  I was struggling for
air at this point, and Bill had me pinned so hard against the wall that
I couldn't move.  I felt his hands pushing my dress up over my hips,
and I thought for an instant that I would have to simply surrender and
give him what he wanted.  Then I realized that I COULDN'T give him what
he wanted, and he was quickly approaching the point where he would
discover that fact.  Gathering all my willpower I forced myself to
relax and I ran my hands over his huge arms and up into his hair.  He
took this as a sign of surrender and he broke the "liplock" to take a
breath.  Letting myself fantasize about Paul again, I smiled up into
his eyes and brought my hand to his cheek.  He shifted enough to give
me some balance, and he began to run one of his hands up my side toward
my breasts as he closed his eyes for another kiss.  Just as our lips
were about to meet for the second time, I drew a deep breath and
screamed as loud as I could.  At the same time I brought my knee up
between his legs as hard as I could.  Bill doubled over in pain and
turned away from me, but as I tried to scoot around him to get out, he
came back up and swung at me with the back of his hand, cursing me at
the same time.  My shoulder took most of the impact, but the force of
the blow threw me against the open door like a rag doll.  I seemed to
just hang there for an instant as the inertia wore off, then I slid to
the floor in a heap.  Meanwhile, Bill had doubled back over and was
groaning in pain.

Of course, everyone on the block had heard my scream, and in an instant
Jen's father was in the room, followed by Bob and then the girls and
Jen's mom.  Walter assessed the situation in one glance, then grabbed
Bill by his shirt and began to drag him from the room.  On the way out
he grabbed Bob by the ear and forced both of them up the stairs and out
the front door.  Each of the boys outweighed him by thirty pounds at
least, but they offered no resistance.  We could hear Walter yelling as
he threw them out the door that if he ever caught them near any of "his
girls" again, they'd find themselves dead or in jail.  That was it - it
was over.

Jen and her mom helped me off the floor and into a nearby chair.  I was
sobbing uncontrollably and had my face in my hands.  Although all my
(natural and artificial) body parts seemed to be in place, my body
ached and my face burned where Bill had slapped me.  But the physical
pain was a secondary consideration:  inside I was a real mess.  It was
a great relief that our plan seemed to have worked, but part of me felt
really dirty for having enticed Bill and set him up that way.  The word
he had used on me, "slut," kept running through my mind.

Everyone gathered around me and offered their comfort.  In a short time
someone found some humor in the situation, talking about Bill's
"wounded ape" look after I had kneed him.  In a few minutes my sobs had
changed to laughter, and I began to wipe away the tears and mascara
with several tissues.

By this time, of course, the burgers were burned and the cookout was
pretty well ruined.  Jen's mom and dad suggested that they stay and
clean up, but that maybe we girls would like to drive out to their
beach house to sort of "pull ourselves together." I started to protest
- I desperately wanted to be alone right then - but before I knew it
the three of us were in the car headed for the beach.  For an instant I
wondered what Mom's reaction would be when Jen's mother phoned to
explain everything to her.  How would she respond when she heard that
her "daughter" was on her way to a sleepover with two "other girls?"

But then, I had other things to be concerned about.  I was between the
two girls in the front seat of the car.  Pat was driving, and Jen had
her arm around me, still trying to reassure me.  We weren't far down
the road when the tone of the conversation changed, however.  Jen put
her hand on my knee and suggested to Pat that it was time to celebrate
our victory over the boys.  Pat agreed and, putting her hand on my
other knee, she suggested that I deserved a special reward for my
special part in the plot.  They told me they had really enjoyed having
"Alli" as a friend, but asked if I would let them treat my like "Alex"
for the next few hours.  How could I refuse?

We stayed at the beach house 'till late Sunday afternoon, and every
minute of it was heaven.  The girls spent the whole time teaching me
EVERYTHING I never knew about boys and girls together.  It almost
seemed that they were competing to see which one could keep my interest
up the longest and give me the most pleasure.  There were a few catnaps
along the way, and the girls even talked me into a quick swim and
suntan session on Sunday morning, but the rest of the time was spent in
an overpowering lesson in long-endurance pleasure.  By the time they
drove me up to my house, I was so spent I could hardly walk.  Pat
helped me carry my things to the front door, then gave me a long deep
kiss.

"I guess with your new job starting tomorrow this is good-bye to 'Alex'
for a while - but we'll drop by the salon this week and see how 'Alli'
is getting along." With another quick kiss and a wink she was gone.

Mom met me just inside the door and helped me take my things into my
room.  She started out with a very stern look on her face, but I think
she realized how emotionally and physically tired I was, and she kept
the conversation light until after I had napped and eaten dinner.

That night we talked about all that had happened over the past weeks.
It turned out that Mom had pretty well figured out everything,
including our little plot with the boys, and what had gone on at the
beach house.  I knew she wasn't pleased with some of the things I had
done, but surprisingly, she didn't seem to judge me at all.  Instead,
she expressed her concern for the physical and emotional dangers I had
faced - and was still facing.  We talked a lot about the implications
of working all summer as a girl.  I was still a little confused about
where it all was leading, but it seemed that the job and the situation
was just "right" for me, somehow.  We agreed that we would be entirely
honest with each other from that point on, and that we would talk about
our feelings as often as possible.  I was thrilled that we were
becoming so close again, and it seemed to confirm my decision about the
summer.  By the end of the evening Mom seemed to feel exactly as I did:
we weren't sure where they would lead, but we were both looking forward
to the days ahead.

End of "Alex." The summer and following school year are "yet another
story."