I blame it all on my Uncle Jimmy. It's his fault I ended up this way. It certainly wasn't my fault, I mean c'mon, I was just a kid, what did I know? If ya's in a hurry to read somethin' that will get your rocks off yer outta luck, this here's a sensitive true-life story of how I got to be the dame I am today.
Chapter 1
I blame it all on my Uncle Jimmy. It's his fault I ended up this way. It certainly wasn't my fault, I mean c'mon, I was just a kid, what did I know?
The year was 1977, a good year for some, a bad year for others, a strange year for me. If you don't remember 1977 let me refresh your memory. If you weren't born yet, then listen up - you gotta know this shit. The Commodore PET was released - that's the first personal computer. Just look where that got us. The Oakland Raiders won the Superbowl, Gary Gilmore demanded to be executed in Utah for the murders he had committed and got his wish. I never could understand that, you have to be a real schmuck to get caught, let alone want to be executed.
Roots was on TV, Jimmy Carter got sworn in, Fleetwood Mac released Rumors, Elvis & Led Zepplin gave their final concerts and Elvis left the planet. Star Wars and Saturday Night Fever came out, NY City had a blackout, Anita Bryant got a pie in her face for bein' an intolerant bitch and Harvey Milk got himself elected.
Elvis wasn't the only one to leave the planet, Voyager 2 and the Shuttle Enterprise followed suit. Not that I paid any attention to that crap, I was seventeen years old and my priorities was to get outa school, get rich and get laid. Not necessarily in that order.
Hang on to your panties, I'm gettin' there. Have a little patience, willya? I know yer wonderin' just when I'm gonna get to the dressin' up part of the story, but this here is a complicated tale. If ya's in a hurry to read somethin' that will get your rocks off yer outta luck, this here's a sensitive true-life story of how I got to be the dame I am today.
Ya believe that shit, my Cousin Carl has this bridge…
So anyways, there was snow in Miami on January 19 and a whole shitload of snow in Buffalo on the 28th. That's where this story starts. See? I toldya I'd get there. Ya see, to a kid like I was back then, Uncle Jimmy was a glamorous guy. Crap, that came out wrong, guys ain't supposed to be glamorous, theys handsome or manly or some horseballs like that. Anyways, Uncle Jimmy was the one with all the big ideas. He made his livin' - at least as far as the cops was concerned - by cleanin' things up. Ya know - removin' crap from the basement, washin' shit off buildings, whatever. Gave him somethin' to put on his tax form when April rolled around.
Now Uncle Jimmy was what you could call a entrepreneur, which is a fancy way of sayin' he kinda worked for himself, if ya know what I mean. He usually worked for himself late at night when everybody was sleeping, if ya catch my drift. While he may not have paid strict attention to property ownership laws, he damned well paid very close attention to the tax laws. Them IRS bastids weren't nothin' to fool around with.
So one day he was haulin a load of crap from the basement of this old buildin' when he sees this dude in a uniform go into this little room. He get himself curious and takes a look and the little room is filled with these big glass jars - maybe about a gallon or so, with these metal plates in them and wires all over the place. Looks like the mad doctor's lab out of some science fiction film, all covered with cobwebs and such.
So Uncle Jimmy, he asks what all the shit was and the dude tells him it's for the bank alarm. Now this gets Uncle Jimmy's ears to perk up. Bank alarms was a subject near and dear to the hearts of our whole family. Cousin Clyde has a particular aversion to bank alarms 'cause he did 5 to 10 for makin' a mistake in puttin' one out of commission.
So the alarm dude is talkative, he just plain hates this stupid alarm almost as much as Cousin Clyde hates 'em. Says the thing went in before the first world war, fer Christ sake, and the arsehole bankers were too cheap to put somethin' modern in. Back when they put it in they didn't even have plugs to plug an alarm inta so they needed big, honkin' batteries or the thing would just sit there when the burglar came calling.
Well, ya's can see that this would have a great deal of interest for Uncle Jimmy. So he watches while the alarm dude puts on big rubber gloves and takes the plates out of the first battery and tosses them in a bucket, then dumps the water down the drain. 'Cept it ain't water, it's lye. Not the kinda shit ya want to play around with.
The dude rinses the jar, fills it with water and ice from a cooler, then adds the lye and the ice starts to melt. Like real fast. Dude tells Jimmy that without the ice the water can sometimes start boilin' on a hot day. Right then Uncle Jimmy figures there's worse ways to make a livin' than cleanin' up junk and stayin' up nights.
So anyway, the dude puts in some new metal plates - they's made of lead if ya's curious - and goes on ta the next battery until they's all replaced. By this time Uncle Jimmy is finished haulin' the junk and fixin to go up and get his moolah, so he goes up to the building owner and get paid. Uncle Jimmy kinda mentions the batteries in the basement and the guy groans and bitches about how often the bank alarm goes off when there's nothin' wrong. Even with a cop shop a few doors down the block nobody pays any attention to the thing any more because it's always a false alarm. The cops are on his case but he tells them the bank is the one with the alarm and he can't do nothin' 'bout it.
To put icin' on the cake, the owner tells Uncle Jimmy he might have another job for him, so's he takes him upstairs and shows him this big freakin' dance hall right above all the stores and the bank and everything. There's crap up there that probably was left over from the 1920s when people stopped comin' to dance halls and the place went bust. The owner has some idea of fixin' it up as offices or some such and wants the crap gone.
So Jimmy looks around a bit and gives the guy a price, which the guy is pretty happy with. Actually, Uncle Jimmy gave the guy a price that was so low he wouldn't make a dime haulin' off all the junk, even if he managed to sell some of the stuff to a scrap dealer. But right then and there Uncle Jimmy had him his Big Idea, the Big Idea that ended up with me gettin' a sex change.
Life is like that, sometimes.
Chapter 2
Hey! Nice ta see ya's come back again, I just hate people who ain't got no patience. Not havin' no patience is one of the fastest ways to end up with an all expense paid vacation in a nice secure facility. Hell, you could even end up with Cousin Clyde for a cellmate.
Since I'm sucha nice gal, I think I'll warn ya that the dressin' up stuff ain't gonna happen until the next chapter, so you're gonna still have to be patient. There's gonna be another cliffhanger endin', too. Don't bitch, it'll be worth it, I promise.
So's anyways, Uncle Jimmy gets home and starts thinkin'. Pick your time right - say a long weekend, get a few friends together with some simple tools and bust in to the ballroom. The old alarm ain't got no fancy shit like vibration detectors or motion sensors, so ya cut a hole in the ballroom floor, remove anythin' between you and the top of the vault and you're halfway there. When that's ready, bust inta the basement and turn off the city power. Once that's done, chop the wires to them batteries and you're home free.
Well, ya still gotta chop through the vault roof, but ya got lots of time to do it. So Uncle Jimmy makes a couple of calls and one of them's ta my Mom. She tells Jimmy I ain't got nothin' goin' and could use the cash, so I'm in. I'm a small guy, which would be an advantage as we wouldn't have to chop such a big hole inta the vault. The family that works together gets rich together, right?
So Jimmy gets all the shit we need together and we figure that President's day weekend would be a good time, the bank is closed so we have three days, right? So what happens? The Blizzard of '77, that's what happens.
If ya weren't livin' in Buffalo NY back in 1977, ya may not realize just how memorable that blizzard was. The entire freakin' city ground to a halt, not a damn thing was movin' except some guys who had snowmobiles. The cops was cryin' for volunteers to play taxi driver for the fuzz, it was that bad. That's when Uncle Jimmy realized we couldn't pick a better time to knock over the bank.
So he promotes him a couple of snowmobiles, calls the guys and we get ourselves behind the buildin' and bust our way inta the ballroom. With all the snow there ain't anybody watchin'. We hoist up all the crap we need, includin' a picnic lunch Ma made for us. We hide the snowmobiles in a shed so's nobody would get curious and got to work.
Things went along just fine, the electric worked and the saw made short work of the floor. We soon had a real nice hole just above the bank vault, but we had to work kinda hard to get all the joists and stuff out of the way so's we had room ta work. Uncle Jimmy went down and killed the power and took care of those batteries. I was kinda disappointed, I woulda liked to see what they looked like, but Jimmy put the kabosh on that. We got lucky and the power stayed on up there even after Jimmy shut it off in the bank.
That's where I got a workout. Bein' the smallest one, I fit inta the hole easiest, so I got the joy of swingin' the sledge hammer and bustin' up the concrete of the vault. They musta made that shit pretty good back in the day because it was hard work. Noisy, too - we hadn't figured on that. I swear I hit a piece of railroad tie about four inches down - looks like they dumped all kinds of steel scrap inta the mix to make it harder on poor little me choppin' through it.
We traded turns as I got tired and we was maybe eight inches in when it was my turn again. I hit a goddam cannonball - I ain't lyin' - and was down in the hole tryin' to pick it out when things went to hell.
Next thing I know I hear jackboots hittin' the floor and someone shouts "Freeze! Police!"
Yeah, like we’re just gonna sit there and let 'em haul us off to jail. You gotta a be shittin' me! So Slim hauls out his gun and starts shootin'. Slim was always a little slow on the uptake, shootin' cops is always a bad idea, the suckers like to shoot back, and they got a whole lot more firepower than one crazy bank robber.
If I thought that choppin' inta that vault was loud, it ain't nothin' to what happened next. Bang! Bang! Bang! All over the place. Shoutin' and screamin' and cussin'. I did the only thing that made sense, I started crawlin' through the space between the floor and the ceiling below. I was right glad I was so small 'cause I don't think Uncle Jimmy would have fit even if thought of it. I was real glad that those old buildings was built like a brick shithouse so I wasn't goin' to be fallin' through the ceiling.
I kept goin' until the noise faded, then slowed down and began lookin' for a way out. Eventually I came to a grid kind of thing and I worked it loose with my knife and dropped through the hole. I was in a hurry, so I said the hell with puttin' the grid back. I could see a light comin' from under a door, so I headed that way but tripped on somethin' I couldn't see. I went flying, hit the door and it popped open and I landed flat on my face.
I groaned and somehow managed to roll over to see three chicks in nightgowns standin' at the window where they had been watchin' the cop show. They were dressed - and I use that term with a lot of leeway - in the sexiest transparent nightgowns I had ever seen. Actually, they were the only nightgowns I had ever seen - on a girl, anyway. Manikins in the stores don't count.
The nightgowns were the only things they had on. No bras, no panties, no nothing! One of the chicks had bazoobas big enough to give Uncle Frank wet dreams, and Frank kinda goes for beach-ball size bazoobas. My brain had started functionin' enough to realize that none of the chicks dyed their hair. Their bushes were showin' right through whatever the nightgowns were made of and the hair up top matched the hair between their legs. I was startin' to wonder if I had died and gone to Heaven.
One of them had a glass in her hand and took a swig as she looked at me. She was pissed, and I don't mean angry pissed but drunk off her ass pissed. Actually, none of them looked too sober with all the dead soldiers scattered around the place. Speakin' of dead soldiers, that was kinda what I felt like after my adventures, more dead than a soldier.
The chick with the glass took another swallow and said "Who the hell are you?" like strangers dropped out of the ceilin' every day.
I was not lookin' my best, since I had been sweatin' like a pig (not the cop kind of pig!) and was covered in hundred year old crud and rat shit and dust from bustin' concrete and crawlin' through the floor. The one with the big bazoobas walks over to me and looks down kinda amused, then gets this real funny look. Before I could wonder what was goin' on she up and pukes all over me.
I've had friendlier greetings from sexy babes, I tell you. Well, maybe gettin' ignored could be considered friendlier in a case like this one. But then her eyes just roll up somewhere inta her head and turn all white and her legs go all wobbly and she looks like a puppet what had her strings cut. Next thing I know she falls on top of me with her big bazoobas kinda cushionin' her fall. Jeez! First time a girl falls for me and what does she do? She spreads puke in all directions and completely grosses me out.
I really don't wanta ask how much else could go wrong for fear I might get an answer, so I did the next best thing - I passed out right along with her.
Author's Note:
The heist described is based on one that actually occurred in Buffalo NY while I was working for a bank alarm company. While the details of the robbers are a product of my imagination, the alarm system and the MO is real up until the point the police show up. In real life, the robbers continued on to enter the vault and clean it out.
When the bankers opened the vault the next business day it looked much like the picture at the top of the page, except the robbers left a whole lot more crap lying around. No one knows how much they got away with since the contents of the safe deposit boxes was known only to the owners. It also convinced a lot of small banks their ancient alarm systems really ought to be replaced.
Chapter 3
I was havin' this really strange dream. Like, I sometimes have sexy dreams, ones that make me change the sheets before my mother can do the job, but they're usually not all that vivid and I don't remember much when I wake up.
This one was clear and sharp. I was lyin' on my back and there were these two sexy angels lookin' down at me. Each one held one of my arms and they were takin' me somewhere. I decided that I was in no hurry to get there because every time one of the angels took a step I could see her titties bounce as she pulled. Damn! I had never seen an actual, for real tittie before - other than in my imagination - but I was perfectly happy to keep watching.
After a while I realized my arms were startin' to ache, which is a pretty shitty thing to have happen in such a nice dream. Then my nose cut back in and the stink was not what anyone would expect in a wet dream. Did angels smell like puke? I really wondered if God would let that sort of crap happen.
"Jesus, he may be a little shit but he weighs an effin ton!" complained the angel on my right.
"Why did that bitch Jenny have to go and puke on him? She should be the one that has to clean the puke off him, not us."
"I think she passed out just to stick us with the job."
"How the hell did the little prick get in here?"
"How do you know he has a little prick?"
"We'll find out in a minute once we get him in the tub. If I wanted to be giving strange dudes showers I would have become a nurse, not a goddam interior decorator."
"I sure don't like Jenny's ideas of decorating. God it stinks."
"C'mon girl, less bitching and more pulling."
"I'm not pulling anything on this guy, especially not his prick."
"You been too long without a prick in you if that's all you can think of."
"I got a dildo, works for me. How can you think of sex at a time like this?"
"Deprivation. Even this little shit is starting to look good."
"I hope I never get that desperate!"
They couldn't be angels after all. Angels wouldn't talk like that, would they?
"One more heave and in he goes."
"Shouldn't we at least warm up the water first?"
"Who gives a shit? We didn't invite him to the party."
Suddenly I was in the midst of an arctic blizzard. Did they toss me out into the freakin' snow or what?
"He's blocking the drain. We don't want a flood."
"Hell! I'm taking my nightgown off, I'm not going to sleep all wet."
"Depends where he gets you wet, Wendy."
"Fuck you!"
"It don't work that way. You'd have to ask him if that's what you want."
"As if he's going to be doing any fucking for a while. What the hell has he been getting into, his clothes are disgusting. And his hair looks like it's full of cement."
"Hardset, right?"
"Get you mind out of the gutter, girl and help me get his pants off."
"This isn't the way I pictured my knight in shining armor sweeping me off my feet."
"At least he has clean underwear. His Momma would be proud."
"Holy shit! He sure ain't no little prick. It's going to take practice to get all that inside."
"Just be glad we hit him with cold water, I'd hate to see that thing angry."
"What do we do with his clothes?"
"Throw them down the damn incinerator chute. I ain't going to try and wash anything like that."
Wait a minute! Those are my clothes they're talking about. I tried to say something but my mouth hadn't started working yet. I think I was trying to talk in Italian or German or something like that - English was beyond me.
"Should we wash his hair? If we leave it like that it'll turn into a brick."
"You're the effin beautician, go ahead if you want. I'm gonna get rid of these rags."
I was alone with one naked angel, who doused me with shampoo and started rubbin' my head. I started to sputter when she rinsed me off and then damned if she didn't rub conditioner into my hair. Mom was always harpin' on me to use the stuff on my hair but men just don't do sissy stuff like that. I mean, really!
Oh hell! It felt good. I really didn't want to admit that. Damn good thing my mouth was still on strike.
"Yo dude!" the angel growled at me. "You back with us yet?"
No sense in tryin' to fake it. I nodded and actually was able to say "Yeah, I think so."
"Good. I don't know where the hell you came from, but we gotta get Jenny in that tub. You gotta help me, I can't do it by myself."
"I guess."
"Don't guess, just do it or I start screaming 'rape'!"
"Shit, don't do that. I'd never…
"OK, I believe you. C'mon and help carry her in here."
"My clothes…"
"You see anyone wearing clothes in here? Screw the clothes and get your ass moving!"
I moved. I helped. I couldn't help but watchin' those giant naked titties bounce as we carried Jenny to the shower. We put her in the tub just like she was and she started to hose her friend down. Good thing their tub had one of those hand shower things or it woulda been hell to keep her under the water.
"I'll hold her up and you take off her nightgown."
Jesus! First time I get to take the clothes off a girl and she's unconscious and in a tub. Just think like a zombie and obey your mistress' commands. I got Jenny naked, but it wasn't in the least sexy.
"Rinse the nightgown in the sink and hang it up to dry while I finish her off."
"Well, ain't this a cozy little scene?"
The one called Wendy had returned. I still didn't know who my naked angel was, though.
"Screw you, Wendy!"
"I told you you were out of luck with that, Patty."
That answered that question. So the three angels are Jenny, Wendy and Patty. I just hope that Charlie fella didn't show up, it could get even more embarrassing.
"I think Jenny's clean. Now what do we do with her?
"Put her in her bed. She'll sleep until morning anyway. She always does when she gets drunk."
"OK, dude. You're going to help us carry her in to her bed. Shit! I can't keep calling you 'dude,' what's your name?"
"Uh Vito."
"Well, Uh Vito, I'm Patty and she's Wendy. The body in the tub is Jenny, so grab and end."
We got Jenny into her bed and covered up. I almost gave up lookin' at her titties and her crotch when I saw her room. I ain't never been in a chick's room before and it sure didn't look like anythin' I imagined. I was expectin' all frilly and flouncy and lots of lace and shit, but it just looked - I dunno - nice. Mostly purples, the chick musta liked purple, but nothin' that screamed sexy broad, if ya know what I mean. It was one helluva lot cleaner than my bedroom, anyways.
"No sense putting her in a nightgown, if she pukes again we'd only have to wash it. Let her sleep it off. Now, come in the living room and tell us just what the hell you're doing in our apartment."
She could do the command voice every bit as well as Momma. I quit lookin' and I got.
Chapter 4
"Shit!" Says Patty. "What am I thinking? I'm standing here naked as a jaybird with a complete stranger, who is also naked as a jaybird. Do they have special names for boy jaybirds and girl jaybirds?"
"I wouldn't have a clue."
"Who gives a crap, I must still be half drunk even to ask that question. Hell, I've got to be half drunk to be standing here talking with a naked guy and not getting freaked out."
"Not something I ever thought I'd be doin'. And thanks for cleanin' me up - I appreciate it."
"We need to get some clothes on before we do anything else."
"Good idea, but I think you burned my clothes."
"They deserved it. Don't take this wrong, but you might fit into my pajamas."
"Are they any more modest than those nightgowns you was wearing?"
"Hey, we were thumbing our noses at the blizzard by wearing them to have a drink. You don't think we would wear something like that during the winter, do you?"
"I dunno. Never seen a girl in a nightgown before."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope, I'm an only child, no sisters to look at and Moms don't really count, do they?"
"Not for nightgown fantasies, anyway. C'mon into my bedroom and we can check. Hell, you've already been in there, since you came flying out of my door to get puked on."
"I didn't mean to be there!"
"Then how… No, later for that. We need to get dressed first."
So we went into Patty's room and she immediately spots the hole in the ceilin'.
"Well, that answers one question. This is going to be one hell of a story, isn't it?"
"More like a nightmare."
"Here, try these."
Pink flannel pajamas with bunnies on them. Bunnies! Not even Playboy bunnies. For a second I got worried about gettin' dressed with her watching, but I realized how silly that was since we were both already naked.
They fit. They even felt good. My old man would pitch a fit if he could see me now.
"Uh, thanks, Patty."
"They suit you. You even look kind of cute."
Just what guy wants to hear. She found a pair of purple flannels and covered up her body. I was kinda disappointed, I liked lookin' at her body.
"OK Vito, story time."
We joined Wendy in the livin' room and sat around the table. Wendy had made some hot cocoa while we were gettin' Jenny to bed, which seemed kinda tame after what they had been drinkin' earlier. Not that I objected, I still wasn't old enough to drink legally, so I wasn't no expert at that sort of shit.
"So where the devil did you come from?" asked Wendy. "We locked the door when we got home early because of the blizzard. You sure as hell weren't here then."
"He came through a hole in my bedroom ceiling."
"What?"
"Remember the vent up there? That's how he got in."
"Well, what the hell were you doing in the ceiling?"
"It's a long story."
"We got time, buster. Spill!"
"Wait!" cried Patty. "It wouldn't have anything to do with all the cops and ambulances and shit out there earlier? I swear I saw someone in a body bag."
"Oh shit! No!"
"You knew whoever it was?"
"I don't know. It might have been a cop. I suppose we'll find out anyway once it hits the papers. We was robbing the bank and it all went to hell…"
So I told them the whole story, I had to tell someone and these girls were ready to listen. How they didn't go apeshit and call the cops right away I'll never know, but I think they actually felt sorry for me.
"I didn't know that Slim even had a gun. Uncle Jimmy woulda killed him if he didn't get killed hisself tonight. It's bad enough doing time for robbery, killin' someone can get you the chair."
"Damn! And honorable thief. I thought they were only in books."
"This one was as bad as some of the stuff Donald Westlake writes about."
"Never heard of him."
"Jeez - I guess us criminals are his audience. We love to read about Dortmunder, who always screws up the job in a funny way. Tonight wasn't funny, though."
"Guys, I'm ready to call it a night," said Wendy.
"Me too. Vito, you get the couch. We'll figure out what happens tomorrow. Hell, with the blizzard, we may be roommates for a while. I just hope the power doesn't get knocked out. You guys are cute and everything, but I don't want to start bundling for warmth."
I kept my mouth shut. I may be dumb, but I ain't stupid.
Chapter 5
The girls went off to their bedrooms and I was left on the couch. I tried to figure out just what I was goin' to do, that talk of body bags had me scared. It all sounded cool and great fun when Uncle Jimmy got me inta the heist, but someone gettin' killed was a shit show I wasn't ready for. I fell asleep before I could do much more thinkin'. It had been a long, strange day.
I musta really been ripped cuz I woke up and there was light comin' in the window. I can't say the sun was shinin' cuz I couldn't see shit through the window. That freakin' blizzard hadn't quit and the steam was puffin' outta the radiators every once in a while with a sound like they needed to fart real bad.
I didn't need to fart, but I needed to piss in the worst way. I found the bathroom and pulled down those lousy pink pajamas and got rid of a load of piss. Did those girls really think I was hung like a horse? I didn't see no big difference in my tackle and the other guys in gym class, but you don't want to be lookin' too hard at some other guy's prick or it could get embarrassing.
I had to stop this philosophizin' cuz someone was bangin' on the door. I flushed and even washed my hands - Momma would be proud - and opened the door. Patty was skinnin' down her panties before she got halfway to the shitter and and it sounded like a deluge when she sat on the pot. I never thought angels would have to piss, it just don't seem like they talk about that much in Sunday School.
I just kinda stood there frozen like a dummy, I hadn't even been able to close the door before she started doin' her business. She had a big grin (I am not gonna call it a shit eatin' grin - have some cooth, OK?) on her phiz by the time she got done. I suppose I'm glad I wasn't lookin' in a mirror when I took my piss or I probly woulda seen the same silly grin on me.
It takes her a second to realize these silly pink pajamas are not on one of her girlfriends but on the guy who dropped in on them last night. Then she gets embarrassed, but she spreads her legs and wipes herself anyway, even though I'm watchin'. So OK, I've never seen a girl do that before - so shoot me, I was fascinated.
"Like what you see, Vito?" she asks.
"Uh, I… Jeez…"
"It's OK, Vito. You saw all of me last night and were a perfect gentleman."
What the fuck could I say to that? So she gets up and washes her hands, then comes over and hugs me. Her boobs are hotter than Hades against me and suddenly I got the biggest hard-on of my life. She notices cuz it's pokin' her right in her bush. She reaches down and strokes it and I think I'm gonna die right there.
"You're a cute one, Vito," she says. Just what a guy wants to hear standin' there in pink bunny pajamas with a sexy girl pushin' her boobs against him.
"Let's not stand here, my bed's more comfortable."
No shit! I know lotsa guys wake up with a woody, but I never thought girls would wake up horny. Not that I've ever had the experience. So she takes me into her bedroom and she shuts the door. Her bedroom is more like what I was thinkin' a broad's room would be like. She got these pink ruffly sheets on the bed and a poofy sort of quilt or somethin' on top of them. Course they're all wrinkled up and scrunched cuz she's been sleepin' on 'em.
There's a makeup table with a monster mirror with funny lights around it and a shit ton of bottles and tubes all over it, along with combs and brushes and who knows what all. Then there's a big honkin' dresser and a wardrobe with one door open and all kinds of girly things pokin' out of it.
She hugs me again and presses those titties inta me again and I get all hard again, I was startin' to fade a bit while I looked around. She looks at me and says "You've never done this before, have you?
That's somethin' a guy doesn't like to admit, after all we're supposed to be the manly types and the ones doin' the fucking. 'Course we was supposed to knock off the bank with no problems yesterday and see how that turned out.
So I admits it and she starts to take those silly bunny pajamas off me and then I'm takin' the pajamas off her and we end up in bed, where she shows me just how it's done. My balls are achin' and just about to turn blue cuz she shows me just where a girl wants to get touched by a guy, and just how to make it count. But I ain't gettin' it inside her.
It don't happen like this in the porn films, but she is really gettin' off so I seem to be doin' somethin' right. And then I start wonderin' just how long it can take to do it right.
I know the guys at school brag about how they make the chicks get wet for them, bein' the big studs they said they are, but Jesus, she got the sheets soaking! Once she showed me where to rub she started wigglin' and moanin' and I was afraid the other girls were gonna bust in cuz they thought I was beatin' her up or something.
Yeah, there was nothin' like this in Pop's porno collection in the basement or the time we snuck inta the porn theater and watched what happened. The guys in them movies just come in the door and put it in her, then pump away for hours while she screams how good it is. I know they must have used camera tricks and such crap, but it seemed to take forever before Patty got off.
She wasn't exactly quiet but she wasn't screamin' like the chicks in the movies. That's somethin' I never seen in the porno flicks either. I mean, the girl gettin' off. You just see the guy squirt all over whatever is in front of his prick and then the next scene starts and they do it all over again.
It wasn't anythin' like I imagined my first time would be, but takin' the time to get Patty off was real interestin'. Oh hell, I liked doin' it.
When she's able to talk again then she starts showin' me what she can do with my body. I mean, I'm laying there hopin' she's gonna start doin' something with my cock, but she starts playing with my nipples and then starts doin' other stuff to other parts that I had no idea anyone could do. I am just about to blow up with whatever she is doin' to me. Hell, I want to explode but she just won't let me.
By the time we got to the fuckin' part I barely lasted thirty seconds. Didn't bother Patty a bit, she tells me that we can do it again later when I've recovered and I'll last longer.
Cripes! If she lasts any longer the next time we're gonna need rubber sheets, a mop and some buckets and a coupla meals to keep up our energy.
I'm willin' to try.
It was late by the time Patty got done teachin' me how to make love. She says that real people 'make love', they don't fuck or screw or ball or plow or trash talk like that. That's a whole shitpot different than the way the guys talked about it when the subject came up, but I'm not gonna argue. Patty's way is pretty nice.
When we got done we had to take another shower. She tells me that since we were all naked together last night it don't make no difference if we're naked this morning, so we ran to the bathroom without puttin' on no clothes.
That was another first, showerin' with a girl. This was a joke among the guys in 1977, showerin' with your girl to save water, (probly still is today) but there I was actually doin' it. She washed my hair cuz my face had been in places my face had never gone before, and she used the conditioner again. Then I washed her hair and we started foolin' around again.
We got interrupted by a bangin' on the door and next thing I knew Jenny busted in and sat on the pot, ignorin' the both of us. Do girls like to piss with other girls watching? Somethin' I never thought to ask about before.
Patty gets this smile on her face and shuts off the water and we both get out of the shower before Jenny is done doin' her business. Jenny is lookin' like shit, which ain't surprisin' since she got tossed inta bed drunk as a skunk. I don't think she even remembered me, so she gets one helluva surprised look when I'm standin' there naked as the day I was born. She's still naked, too. I guess she didn't want to take the time to put nuttin on in her hurry to piss.
Patty just smiles and leads me back to her bedroom, leavin' Jenny gapin' on the shitter. That chick has one wicked sense of humor.
Despite what I mighta been hopin' for, she tells me to put the pink bunnies back on cuz she's hungry after all that exercise. Can't say I blame her, so on go the bunnies and she even has bunny slippers for me. She sure does give new meanin' to the expression 'fuck like a rabbit'.
So I sits down at the table and Patty starts doin' things for breakfast, which includes coffee so I ain't complainin'. Jenny wanders in and Wendy soon follows and the girls put together a damn fine breakfast. I'm pretty sure who's gonna end up washin' the dishes, but my Momma taught me that she ain't gonna clean up after she does the cookin' for the lazy men in her house.
Pops and I are right handy with a dishcloth, and to hell with anyone who thinks it ain't manly. They can have words with Momma if they want to argue, but let me be a couple of states away before they start mouthin' off.
So I just naturally start cleanin' off the table and Wendy turns on the radio to see when this blizzard will be done with. What we don't hear is weather but about the big robbery the cops foiled - they actually used the word 'foiled' - and how one of the robbers and one of the cops is dead. That's when I find out that Uncle Jimmy is dead.
"Damn!" is all I can say. "That's my uncle Jimmy."
"I'm sorry, Vito. I hope it was quick, at least."
"Shit, I liked Uncle Jimmy. He's a good guy. Was a good guy."
Then the guy on the radio ways they're lookin' for Vito Sabbatini who done the killin'. Which is me!
"What!?"
I dunno which of us said that or who was loudest.
"Sounds like your buddy with the gun told the pigs that you were the one who was shooting," Patty comments.
"That sonuvabitch Slim! That fucker wants to see me fry so he gets off!"
"Look Vito, I believe what you told us last night, it hangs together a whole lot better than you blowing away a cop and your own partner."
"Nooooo…"
"I really can't believe you would do something like that and then just put my drunk ass into bed and go away. That ain't right," says Jenny.
"I damn well didn't do it!"
"None of us think you did, Vito. I'm not going to be making love to a murderer."
"For a while there it sounded like you were getting murdered," smirked Wendy
"Jealous, bitch?"
"Roommates should share and share alike. Can I be next, Vito?" asks Wendy.
There a times a wise man refuses to speak. This was one of them. I suppose they were tryin' to get my mind off my troubles.
"I've never know a man that doesn't dream of a threesome. Want to try for a foursome, girls?"
Patty was one smug lady. Me, I was havin' a hard time wonderin' just what it would be like…
"We could get Ginchy to come over with his video camera and make our own porn film. Might help to pay the rent," offers Jenny.
"We're trying to hide Vito, not put him on film."
"So we forget the camera and share him anyway," scoffs Wendy.
"He's mine. I got him first."
"I don't mind sloppy seconds."
"Think you can handle three in a row, Vito?"
"C'mon, lay off the poor guy. He has bigger problems than you horny bitches. We need to keep the cops from finding him."
"Especially since the crime happened right next door. Only a matter of time till the pigs start knocking on doors."
"You may be right. OK Vito, back to the bedroom.
Chapter 6
Now we get to the interestin' part that I've been making you wait for. We writers need to put in some suspense so you good folks will keep on readin'. We gets back to the bedroom and it dawns on me I ain't got no clothes to wear. This little fact had dawned on Patty last night, and that wicked sense of humor I told ya's about cut in again as she hands me a pair of her panties.
Of course they didn't fit, as she has big hips and I don't. Before I know what's happenin' she's gone and comes back with a pair of Wendy's panties and next thing I know I wearin' a pair of lacy green stuff that is slippery as all getout.
"I knew you'd look cute in panties, Vito. Now what are we going to do with you?"
"I don't like that look, Patty. You's gettin' me worried."
"Heh, heh,heh."
I knew I was in big trouble with that laugh. Hell, I knew what was comin' - three girls, no clothes, she already got me in panties. I may be dumb but I'm not stupid. She was gonna have me in a dress, sure as shit.
"Vito, just be glad you're small for a man so you can fit into my clothes. You already got into my panties, so it's time to take the next step."
"Patty, you didn't have any panties on when I got into you and these things I'm wearin' belongs to Wendy."
Yeah, a fish on the hook has to wiggle around, not that it's gonna do him any good.
"I got a pair of tights that should help keep you warm, but my pants won't work on you. Want to pick out a dress, Vito?"
How could a chick that was so damn ready to show me how a man can get a woman off just a few minutes ago smile like that when she puts him in a dress? Not only that, but she thinks I could make a choice of what dress to wear. What the hell do I know about dresses except that only chicks wear them?
So I'm standin' there lookin' at her closet with not a clue and I notice that Patty is over at her dresser and rootin' around in it. She pulls out a bra and before I know what's happenin' she has it on and is bouncin' her boobies into it so they fit right. A couple of seconds later she has on some panties, but they don't match her bra. The top and bottom always matched in the porn films, so did that mean that real women didn't do that matchin' thing?
Before I could finish contemplatin' that thought, it occurred to me that every woman I've ever seen wearin' a dress was wearin' a bra under it. Oh shit! Was she goin' to…
"Hey Vito!" she says. "You're going to need this first." and she tosses a bra to me.
Oh shit! I ain't never even had a chance to take a bra off a woman yet and now she wants me to wear one? How the hell do you put the thing on? I just watched her do it and it looked like it wasn't so hard, but she's been practicin' for years.
"Do I have to?" I whined.
"Don't be a baby. If you're going to wear my dresses then what's the big deal about wearing my bra?"
"Patty, I'm a guy!"
"I noticed, and I intend to have you prove it later on, but unless you want to stay naked until the cops get here you're going to have to wear a dress. Besides, I bet we can make you into a pretty good looking lady before the storm is over. Think of it as you own personal Pygmalion."
"Pig what?"
"Pygmalion. What the heck did you learn in school?"
"As little as possible. School sucks."
"Honey, school may suck, but you have the potential to be a championship sucker in bed. You got a very talented tongue."
I can't believe women could talk like that!
"Pygmalion was a play about making a proper British Woman out of a low-class flower girl. You could be quite a lady if you put your mind to it."
"Why the hell would I want to do that?"
"How about the cops are looking for you because they think you murdered two people. Think that's a good enough reason to wear a dress and be my roommate? The cops are looking for some punk kid, not a girl. Call it a disguise, OK?"
"Patty, you're crazy if you think anyone is gonna think I'm a girl, even in these damned pink bunny pajamas."
"Vito, if you're going to be a lady you're going to have to clean up your language a bit. No, I take that back, you're going to have to clean up your language a lot. A lady who talks like you is going to stand out and you don't want to be attracting any extra attention."
"No sh… Uh, OK?"
"So let's see if you can put on a bra by yourself."
"Is this a test?"
"First lesson in Lady 101. I can show you how to cheat on your lesson if you want."
"Hey - should the teacher be encouragin' cheating?"
"Only if the student is good in bed. So take the bra and pass it around your back and then snap it together on your belly."
"OK."
Those little buggers were hard to line up. I'd get one snapped and by the time I got the next one lined up the first one had come undone. What the f… No, what's with this thing? Eventually the snaps were all snapped.
"You're getting the idea, now turn it around and put your arms in the straps.
"It's awful tight."
"Let me adjust it, your shoulders are bigger than mine. Better?"
"How would I know?"
"I guess you wouldn't. Give it time and we'll see. Now, pick out a dress while I get some things from the kitchen. Find one with a high neckline since you don't have your own breasts."
Now why did she take a pair of pantyhose with her? No time to wonder, I needed to find a dress. The first one that caught my eye was nice, but it had a plungin' neckline. Not that I knew it was called that when all this happened, but even I could see that a lot of boob would hang out of that dress. Maybe Patty would want to wear it sometime.
About now you gotta be wonderin' just why I would be so easy about puttin' a bra on and seriously lookin' for a dress to wear. I mean, what seventeen-year-old guy is gonna ever do something as stupid as that? I couldn't have admitted it back then, but the answer was simple.
Sex.
As if there is ever anything simple about sex. Ya gotta realize that I had just had sex with a woman for the first time in my life. A woman who I was sure was the most experienced sex goddess on the planet. All I knew about sex before that was going solo with one of Pops' magazines in the bedroom. I now knew that was chicken shit compared to the real thing.
In other words, I woulda done any damn thing she wanted me to just so long as I could be in bed with her again. If she'd told me to crawl back up through the hole in the ceiling and go check out the scene of the crime I just mighta done it. I didn't know the word back then, but my hormones was crusin' through my bloodstream with tiny little outboard motors on 'em and heading straight to what was left of my brain.
I was her sex slave. Whatever Patty wants Patty gets.
I finally found somethin' green (it would match Wendy's panties) so I figured it would work. By this time I was realizin' I had to pee again, so I just put the damn dress on and went to the bathroom. Actually, it was a lot easier to use the pot in a dress, but I figured I should sit down to do it if I was goin' to make like a lady.
When I got back to the bedroom, Patty was there and so was Wendy. Wendy was tryin' hard not to laugh as Patty pulled out the front of my dress and put a ball of somethin' into my bra. She repeated it on the other side and I just kinda bounced my titties around like I had just seen Patty do until things felt right.
"What are those things?" I asked.
"Rice inside some old cutoff pantyhose. A trick we girls use when nature doesn't cooperate fast enough."
"You fake your boobs?"
"Doesn't everyone?"
"How would I know. You guys have the first boobs I've ever seen."
"You were right, girl. He does have possibilities. You planning on keeping him barefoot and pregnant, though?"
What! Pregnant? Oh shit! I never thought to ask if Patty was on the pill.
"Uh Patty?"
"Yes, Vito."
"I… Uh… Jeez, this is hard. Are you on the pill? I shoulda asked before we…"
"You're safe, Vito. You won't become the world's first father with his own boobs."
"My Pops would kill me for doing it without making sure. I wasn't thinking."
"Neither was I, but I knew I was safe before I seduced you."
"Jeez - some murderer you are," carps Wendy. "Worrying about getting her pregnant. Those cops got to be nuts."
"I just want to have them figure out I didn't do it and Slim is a godd... lousy liar."
"What size shoe do you wear, Vito?" asks Patty, confusing me further.
"An eight."
"Patty, we can't keep calling him Vito when he looks like that."
"You may be right. I know - how about Eliza? We were just talking about Pygmalion."
"You feel like an Eliza, Vito?"
"What does an Eliza feel like?" I asks.
Damned if she didn't grab my ass!
"Bout like that. Hi Eliza, welcome to the madhouse."
Before I knew what was happening, I was wearin' a pair of tights and some leather boots that come up to my knees. A fuckin' fashion plate.
Oh right - I can't say that any more. The hardest job may be to learn to keep my mouth clean. If I manage I bet Momma would be very happy.
What am I saying? If my Momma saw me now she's shit her britches.
I ain't never gonna learn!
Chapter 7
I thought they had finished with me, but I was very sadly mistaken. Pops always says it's impossible to figure out women, and I suppose the last little while proves him right. Actually, I hope he's right cuz if I'm gonna be a woman maybe the cops won't figure out what I'll do next.
We look out the window and still can't see the other side of the street. This is one major blizzard. Good thing the girls had stocked up when the weather warnings started. I'm glad I found a warm place to settle down. Who would have thought it when a day ago I was bustin' my way into a bank vault? Wendy turns on the TV - just three on-air channels back then and the girls couldn't afford cable - and tune in the soaps. No choice, soaps on all three channels.
Patty puts a big towel on the couch and sits me on it, then wraps a towel around me. She starts to play with my hair and next thing I know my nose is itchin' with all the little hairs she's clippin' off my head.
"I'm glad you don't have short hair. I'd have to make you look butch. Makes my life easier and makes you look better."
"That's cuz I hate to spring for a haircut. The barber keeps wanting me to get a buzz cut so I'll look like a godd… lousy Marine. I'm just glad they gave up that stupid war in Nam and I don't have to actually be a Marine. Maybe being a girl will keep me out of that… nonsense."
Pretty soon I feel a mist as she squirts my hair with somethin' from a spray bottle.
"Just water, Liza. No magic potions yet. That comes later when I get you into the salon. You have very nice hair, lady."
Lady? Is this what actors refer to as immersin' themselves in a character? One of my cousins does that stuff with an amateur theater group and is always talkin' about all the people he's been. I guess me bein' someone else is a great idea just now. Bein' part of a really big family can have its advantages. So OK, I'm a lady.
"I just wish we could get to the salon, Liza. There's a lot that I could do for you. The first day we can get out again you really need a waxing."
"I do?"
What the hell is a waxing? I don't want to sound too dumb so I just let her chatter on. I figure sometime she'll start makin' sense again, so I just space out and let her do her thing.
"Ouch! What the hell did you do?"
"Language, Liza."
"OK, Please tell me what did you did to my face."
"Better. Plucked your eyebrow. You'll have to tough it out so you look more feminine."
"Just what I've always dreamed of."
"I'm the girl that makes dreams come true. I bet you were dreaming about what we did this morning, weren't you Liza?"
"Well, Vito was, anyways."
"So sit still and let me give you sensual eyebrows."
I sat still and tried not to whimper too much. It didn't hurt all that much once I was ready for it, it was more surprise than pain that made me complain. On the tube some lady is pitchin' a fit about some doctor who got her pregnant. I guess I won't have to worry about that when I'm a lady.
"Hey Wendy, you got any more of those ribbons in your room?"
"Sure. I think I even have a couple of them that will compliment the dress."
"Great. Go get them."
Now what? I'm afraid to ask.
"Jenny, can we borrow that copper necklace you have?"
"Sure. I hardly wear it anymore."
And off Jenny goes. I try to figure out why the scruffy guy on the tube is rantin' at the dude in a suit, but he isn't makin' much sense. Sort of like what's happenin' to me. Maybe I can get a job on TV. I got experience in not makin' any sense.
"One more thing and we'll have it all. Wendy, I need your sewing kit, Jenny, I need an ice cube. Liza, sit here and I'll be back."
Now what? A godd... crappy scavenger hunt?
The three girls returned grinnin' like fools. I suddenly feel Jenny's hands on my head, pressin' it into her boobs. Now this I could get used to. Next thing I knew Wendy was stickin' an ice cube on my ear. Hot boobs, cold ears. It didn't make any more sense than anythin' else that was happening that day.
Next thing I was sure my ear was goin' to crack off because it was frozen, instead I felt a sting and Patty starts tuggin' my earlobe and doin' God knows what. Then they did the same thing on the other side. Whatever they were doing, at least I would be balanced. That's a pretty good trick because I was gettin' convinced I was completely unbalanced to be doin' this.
Maybe to make up for whatever they did I suddenly had an angel nibblin' on each of my ears, thawin' them out. I closed my eyes and went with the flow, as the hippies say. All good things must end, and Patty was squirtin' Bactine on my ears. Bactine - the stuff you use on cuts? Were they cuttin' my ears?
Oh shit! To hell with the language.
"You pierced my ears, didn't you?" I scream.
"Congratulations, you're a girl now."
I was gettin' the feelin' that Slim had murdered Vito with his lies, not Jimmy and the cop with his gun. Was I ever goin' to be able to be me again?
"Come on, Liza, you need to see what you look like."
With one girl on each arm and the third pushin' from behind I was escorted with my eyes closed to Jenny's room where she had a full length mirror. I got pushed around a bit and told to open my eyes.
"Jesus Christ on a crutch!"
"Language, Liza."
I didn't know it then, but I was gonna be damn sick of hearin' 'Language Liza' before too long.
There were four girls in that mirror. Four. Me and three others. My hair was tied up in two of those pokey-up ponytails you see on little girls, and each one had a yellow ribbon wrapped around it. There was no way a boy would have his hair cut like mine was and there were silver balls stickin' out of my ears.
"Think the police will be able to identify you now, Liza? Wendy asks, triumphantly.
"My own mother wouldn't know me - and I'm awful glad of that."
"Once we can get out of here again we'll have to work on getting you your own wardrobe. Too bad you didn't finish robbing that bank."
"Yeah. At least Jimmy made us all have three hundred bucks in getaway money in case things went sour. I can help you girls with rent and such for a little while anyway."
"That's great, but clothes first. If you want to be our roommate you need your own clothes."
"You're going to have to help me, I don't have a clue."
"No problem, we're shopping queens."
"Experts at the trade."
"No bargain left behind!"
"We forgot something, girls," sez Jenny.
"What did we forget?" they asks.
"Nails!"
"Of course!" crows Patty and goes inta the bedroom. Next thing I know she's filin' away at my nails and bitchin' about how crappy they look. Who ever heard of a guy worryin' about how his godd… his fingernails looked? She finishes with my hands and then she tells me to take off the boots and tights. She just got me to put them on and now she wants me to take them off. Girls just can't make up their minds!
So there I am sittin' with my foot in her lap and wonderin' if I've gone insane when the doorbell rings and someone starts knockin' on the door. That sez only one thing to a guy - I mean gal - like me: Cops.
"Stay sat down and don't say any more than you have to," Patty tells me. "Your voice needs work. And for God's sake stay sat - you still walk like a man!"
I walk like me! Who else would I walk like? No time to ask now. Wendy opens the door and sure enough, there was a cop standin' there. He was a young cop, I can tell you now he weren't bad lookin' but ya couldn'ta got me to say that with red-hot brandin' irons back then. Besides, he was a damned cop! He sees me gettin' my toes painted and he looks real embarrassed.
"Excuse me ma'am, but you may have heard there was a crime over in the next building yesterday and we're asking if everyone in the area can help us find the guy who got away."
"Oh my! How exciting? What happened?"
"A gang tried to break into the bank vault and when we caught them they started shooting. I'm afraid two people are dead and we think the one we're looking for is armed and considered dangerous. If you have any idea where he might be please do not approach him, just let us know."
"That sounds bad, officer. We've all been here stuck by the snow since yesterday noon and haven't seen any men around at all. Just us four girls."
"If you see anything suspicious please let us know. We want to make sure the murderer is off the streets and in a cell so he can't do it again."
"I hope you find the right man and he gets what's coming to him. Good luck, officer."
"You ladies stay safe and keep warm, then."
"Thanks, officer." and Patsy closed the door. She practically collapsed with her back to the door in relief.
At least I hadn't become so girly that I fainted, but it was a close thing.
Chapter 8
It took three more days for the storm to stop and the plows to clear the streets so cars could move once more. Other than sleepin' with Patty, I had a hard time learnin' to be Liza. The girls were determined that I would be the kind of girl that no one would think twice about bein' anythin' but what she looked like.
Girls did just about everything different. Walked, talked, pissed, moved their legs and arms and ass, cut their hair, just everything!
And to top it off they were on me all the time about my language. For a guy, swearin' was second nature; this had to be the worst. I talked like all the guys at school. It was how guys talked, OK?
Nope, NOT OK. The mornin' I slipped up and said 'shit' three times Jenny threatened to wash my mouth out with soap. My Momma had given that up long ago, she knew when she was licked.
But these three gals were heck on wheels. They were determined to make me a lady they could take out in public. They even made me watch My Fair Lady when it came on the tube. Bor-ring! But I did get the message. I was goin' to have to do good enough so they wouldn't make me watch it again.
They did have somethin' there about the whole lady thing, I hadda admit. The only lady I knew that talked like the guys I knew was cousin Ros, and she not only talked like a trucker but she looked like a trucker and was a trucker. The family didn't see much of cousin Ros because she was always off drivin' her rig somewhere. I don't remember anybody bitchin' about that too much.
Actually, hangin' out with cousin Ros made even Vito nervous. Guess the girls were right that I had to start talking like a lady. If I started swearing at a cop I might just regret it.
It hurt to admit it though.
Not only did I have to think about what words I used, but I had to try to sound more like a girl. Not that my voice was all that deep, but it was not what you'd expect to hear from a girl. Jenny had me singing with her as high as I could manage to get me used to talkin' up where girls talk.
The changes never ended, it seemed. By Monday I noticed I had a few hairs sprouting on my chin. Now that was somethin' girls didn't have, but I didn't have a razor. Patty had a bunch of disposable razors, so I asked her if I could use one. She looked at my chin and told me that it would be better to wait until she could get me into the beauty salon. One of the girls there would be able to fix it so that the hair would be gone and not come back.
Really? Well, I suppose that would make being Liza easier, but what about Vito? Well, Vito hardly shaved anyway, so who cared if the hair would grow or not?
Then there was the walkin' around in high heels. Why did chicks - I mean ladies, 'chicks' is demeaning according to Wendy - have to wear these stupid things? Patty said it showed off their legs, but how could anyone see my legs with knee high boots and a knee length dress?
Women just don't make no sense. Wendy said when I got waxed I wouldn't need the boots, but she still didn't say just what waxin' was all about. Must be some kind of secret code only girls know.
By the time we could get out again I had learned how to paint my own fingers and toes, and how to take the old polish off and put new polish on when I changed my dress. There wasn't much else to do while we were snowed in, so they had me doin' all kinds of girly stuff and then tellin' me how bad I was at it. It was gettin' to the point where I was gonna do it right just to show them up.
Patty started teachin' me to cook, somethin' guys in my family didn't do. Pops could burn steaks on the grill sometimes and cousin Thibideaux made this stuff called Étouffée that wasn't bad, but he married into the family from Louisiana so he ain't a blood relative.
Actually, cooking bacon wasn't all that hard if I remembered to keep the flame low and scrambled eggs were pretty simple. Sure beats plain toast for breakfast. The hard part was getting used to granola and yogurt and shi… stuff like that. Guys just didn't eat that stuff, but girls did. I was happy when we ran out before we could go shoppin' again.
So OK, yogurt tasted kinda like melted ice cream. If you thought of it that way it wasn't bad.
It was Wednesday before anyone could go to work again, and all three girls had to go. I sorta was lookin' forward to a day alone to recover from all this girly training - and even though sex was something really special it was drainin' in its own way - but Patty had other ideas. She took the covers away and made me get out of bed. By then I could put on my own bra almost like I had been doin' it for years, OK it was Patty's bra, but you get the idea, and get myself dressed.
Since we was goin' out, Patty did her makeup, which was interestin' to watch. Bein' home all day, none of the girls had bothered with makeup, so this was a new thing. She tells me that I'll get made up at the salon, so I don't get to put any makeup on just yet.
Jeez! I hadn't even considered puttin' on makeup, but looks like I'm gonna get more girly lessons. I had no freaking' idea how many girly lessons were in store for me that day.
While Patty finished herself up, I was in the kitchen and making coffee for the other girls before they got there. Get that? The other girls! I was includin' myself in the world of girls already.
We did breakfast and left the dishes for later and headed out. The first thing I discovered was that stairs and high heeled boots is not things that go together. I almost fell on my… tush, but I hung on to the railing and Patty laughed. It was still cold, but since girls seem to need five of everything there were plenty of warm coats for me to borrow.
We made it to the bus stop before it hit me I was out on the street dressed as a girl. I got real nervous because we could see the Police Department storefront quite easily from the bus stop. Every time a cop came in or out I got real nervous, but they didn't pay no attention to me at all. Sometimes we make our own worst enemies.
Good thing we was early for the bus cuz I kinda froze when I realized where I was. Patty figured it out pretty quick and whispers in my ear that it was goin' to be all right. Then she stuck her tongue in my ear nibbled on my earring. I was very glad I had a heavy coat coverin' my crotch. She shouldn't have oughtta done something like that.
At least not in public.
So the bus bounced over the snow and ice and I felt my fake boobs bouncing with every jolt. It had gotten so that I almost didn't even notice I was wearin' a bra after only a few days, but I sure noticed on that bus. Patty whispers in my ear that the next stop is ours and she sticks her tongue in there again, with the same results. She thinks it's funny, but I'm not so sure. I don't want no cops figurin' out who I am because I have a boner.
The shop is pretty much deserted, not many people ready to go for a haircut or a dye job in the snow, I guess. Patty says that's just what she hoped for and hands me over to her friend Bonnie, who's going to take care of the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin. I sure hope she don't figure out I'm a billy goat.
So Bonnie tells me she uses something called the blend method of electrolysis, and then she has to explain just what that means. More girl secret code, I figure. I finally get it that Bonnie sticks a teeny-tiny needle next to each hair and zaps it until it's dead. Hair murder for a wanted murderer, I guess.
Anyway, she tells me the session will last about an hour this time and I'll have to come back a few more times to get all the hair. Good thing I don't have too much of the stuff cuz she says some guys with heavy beards can take hours and hours and cost a fortune. Since Patty works here and there are no other customers it won't cost us anythin' but havin' Patty do her hair next time.
So I sit there and let Bonnie work. It ain't too bad, no worse than having your eyebrows ripped out hair by hair. She and Patty are yakkin' up a storm with another lady, whose name I don't know until a customer comes in and it's off to work for the girls.
Bonnie tells me I'm done and rubs my face with some smelly gunk and warns me I might be a little irritated for a day or two, but it'll go away. The price we gals pay for beauty, she sez.
They tell me there's coffee and cokes available if I want any, so I get a coke cuz I've been doing a lot of coffee with the girls while we were stuck in the apartment. I suck down the coke and after a while the lady I didn't know tells me she's ready for my waxing.
Good enough, I'll finally find out what this waxing stuff is all about. We go through this curtain and she tells me to strip to my panties.
Whoa! Can they do this kinda shit - I mean stuff - in a beauty parlor?
I guess they can, cuz she tells me she's a professional and I'm gonna be OK. Since this is my first time it's gonna sting a bit, but the next time it'll be easier.
I've heard that line from the doctor, and he was lyin' through his teeth. She's a 'professional' like the doc? I'm in deep trouble here!
But what can I do. I can't run out on the street with my panties flappin' in the breeze and If I take the time to put on my clothes she'll be able to catch me. Besides, Patty would have my ass, or maybe wouldn't let me get a piece of her ass.
The first part wasn't so bad, she paints me with this warm goop and it felt pretty nice. She lets it cool down and set, then warns me that here comes the sting. Then she proceeds to rip the skin off my leg, leaving the bones exposed and blood dripping down the sides of the bed.
At least that's what if felt like. Jesus it hurt! I knew she was lyin' just like that effin doctor did. Sting a little my ass! Or my legs. She tries to make up for torturing me by rubbing smelly stuff on the raw wounds that used to be my right leg, but it ain't helping.
Then she proceeds to do it over again to my left leg. Then she has me turn over and expects me to lie there and let her do it to the fronts of my legs! She has to know I'm a guy cuz my package is pretty obvious through my panties, but she doesn't say a thing. She's a professional, I know - right?
If the CIA ever needs help torturin' the secret location of the bomb from a terrorist cell, I know just who they can hire to get it. By the time she was done I was ready to tell her anything just to make it stop. Only problem was I couldn't talk cuz I was too busy whimperin'.
I finally was released from the undisclosed location of the CIA torture chamber and sat around a while cuz there were a few women there now and Patty was clippin' some woman's hair. She looked to be about ninety years old and her hair was blue. I mean - c'mon! Who has blue hair?
So I sat around until one o'clock, readin' magazines and stuff, and no one thought I shouldn't be in such a place at all. Patty finished at one and we went a coupla doors down to this Mom & Pop place and had Philly Cheesesteaks for lunch. I'd never heard of them, but they was pretty good.
After lunch, Patty tells me to get in her chair and she goes to work on me. She washes my hair again. What is it with girls that they're always washin' their hair? I always thought it was an excuse not to go out with a guy, but I'm starting to think they really do wash their hair all the time.
She puts on gloves and soaks my head in some smelly stuff, then washes it yet again. Then she wraps it around these plastic thingies and pours more smelly stuff all over it. She waits a while and washes that smelly stuff out, then washes my hair one more time. I ain't been so clean since I don't know when.
She gets this blow dryer out and proceeds to blow it at my head, which actually feels pretty good on a cold day. Once it's done she starts snippin' at it again and brushin' it all over the place. She's finally done and she turns me around to look in the mirror and there's a whole 'nother girl sitting in the chair than was there when I sat down. This girl has light brown, curly hair with lots of red in it, and a real different do. No way anybody is goin' to find Vito Sabbatini in there, not nohow!
They weren't done with me yet. Off to another chair and one to the gals starts doing my makeup. This time I'm facing the mirror and the chick starts tellin' me just what she's doin' and why she's doin' it. Suddenly I'm not so sure about all this. I mean, sure I'm sittin' here with a bra and fake boobs and a dress and all, but makeup is sorta one step too far.
I don't get no choice, though. I trys to listen as she tells me all about color palettes and warm colors and cool colors, but it all gets to be too much. Kinda like Math in school where it just floats in one ear and squirts out the other cuz my head is too full to let any more stuff settle down in there.
I have to admit the girl in the mirror looks even better when she's done, which I hadn't thought was possible when I saw her the first time. I'm not sure I like the taste of lipstick, though. If they can make Chap-stick taste decent then why can't they do that for lipstick? I guess you're not supposed to ask that kind of stuff.
Lookin' at the girl in the mirror I gets this insane urge to take the bus home and show Momma and Pops their new daughter, but figure that if the cops didn't toss me in the slammer then Mom and Pops would end up in the hospital with heart attacks. Not one of my better ideas.
When they was all done, Patty sez that all the girls chipped in to donate the labor to make me beautiful, but I should outta pay for the makeup and hair junk they used. Only fair, I guess, so I parts with a few bucks from my getaway stash and everybody's happy. Even me, but they keep tellin' me to keep my hands off my face or I'll mess up the makeup.
I never knew how hard it was to be a girl.
By the time Patty and her crew was done the place was closin', so we got back on the bus. I figured we was goin' home, but Patty passes the stop and we keep goin' right downtown. It lets us off in front of the Adam, Meldrum & Anderson building, where Patty takes me up to the Ladies Wear Floor.
She whispers in my ear I need my own undies and I should pick out what I like. Like I know what I'm doing up here. Well actually, since the girls have been treatin' me like one of the girls since I got there I got a pretty good idea of what real woman wear under their regular clothes. I sure know what Patty likes since I been wearing her bras and I know what Wendy likes in panties since I been wearing hers. And no, I ain't gotten in her panties, at least while she's wearin' 'em. Patty keeps me busy enough, OK?
So I picks out three white bras, a few in pretty colors and a couple of packages of panties, one plain and one lacy. Ya never know, right? I got a bunch of stockings, too, since Patty tells me I'll need them if I get any kind of decent job as Eliza. That meant getting a couple of garter belts, since considering how I'm built down there pantyhose can be uncomfortable.
So I was stocked up with undies for Eliza, but Patty tells me not to be buying dresses and such here, there are better places. I take her advice, she knows better than me.
As we go out the door inta the snow with me holding all these bags I realize that I just went and bought all these girly things with my own getaway money and I even picked them out all by myself since Patty made me do the choosin'. It's then I actually realize that I did the choosin because I liked the girly shit I bought. Girly clothes.
The thing is, I was lookin' forward to wearin' my own undies and not havin' to borrow Patty and Wendy's stuff. Here I was actually happy to be out of the apartment wearin' a dress and lookin' like a girl, and not just cuz the cops are lookin for that Vito character. Strange!
We finally make it home to the apartment and Patty clears out one of her drawers for my stuff. Doin' that kinda brings home that that I'm gonna be Eliza for a long time. I don't really think I'm gonna mind it too much after all.
Chapter 9
The alarm goes off and Patty shags me outa bed again. I shouldn't complain, it's almost an hour later than I hadda get up for school. That makes me think. Looks like Vito ain't gonna graduate this year as he's hiding out from the cops. I bet the pigs have been swarmin' around the school hopin' I was stupid enough to come back.
I ain't that stupid.
We shower together and she blow dries my hair and then I blow dry hers, I'm startin' to get this girly stuff. I even put on my bra all by myself without Patty even askin' and pick out a pair of tights that go with the dress I'm wearin'. It's kinda cool to snap up Patty's bra for her, and I even help her settle her boobs in it. That's me - Miss Helpful.
Even though my legs are smooth and hairless now, it's still too damn cold to be wearing stockings, and besides I ain't got no shoes, so I'm still wearing the borrowed boots. Patty tells me we can do more shopping tonight.
It takes a little longer to get ready this morning cuz we gotta do our makeup. Patty does mine, doing the explainin' thing again and warns me I'm gonna have to learn how to do my own over the weekend. She does make me do my own lipstick, and it still tastes as crappy as it did yesterday.
We gets to the salon and this time there were gals waitin' and ready to be worked on. I don't really know nothin' about beauty, but there are lots of little jobs that anyone can do, like sweepin the hair up, takin out the trash, stockin' the displays and such. Since I got a free ride yesterday I figure I should be helpin' out today. After all, what else am I gonna do, sit on my keister all day and watch them work?
This actually helps cuz I get to watch a whole buncha real ladies and how they do things. I gets the idea I got to slow down and watch how fast I move my hands and arms, so I tries to do my best. Ladies is a whole lot more touchy than guys - I mean they touch each other a whole lot more. If Vito started pawing the boys like the ladies do I would end up on my keister with a pressin' need to see a dentist.
My head was spinnin' with all the things I was tryin' to remember, but keepin' my ass out of jail is a pretty good incentive to learn it right. Besides, I was really likin' bein' one of the girls, they was a fun bunch and so were the customers.
One o'clock rolls around and we eat at the Mom & Pop place again, but Patty sez she's takin' the afternoon off so we can go shoppin'. Funny thing, right there I remembers something from when we studied the Greeks in school. Hey - I didn't like school all that much, but I did learn something!
Anyways, those old Greeks had this thing they called the Deus ex Machina, which the teacher sez means 'God outta the Machine'. That seemed so weird I remembered it. When some Greek play writer had written hisself into a corner and couldn't figure out how to end his play, he just had some God come floatin' down out of the sky and tell everyone how he fixed things up and they should go home and be good little worshipers.
What brought this little gem into my curly little red head was I was thinkin' Patty must consider me to be the Shopping God, since I came floating down out of the ceiling in her bedroom just like those old Greeks did. I hadn't figured out yet that Patty would use just about anything as an excuse to go shopping, but I figure I just raised the tone of this little remembrance by usin' me a literary allusion.
So we went shoppin' - at the Salvation Army and the Goodwill and some other secondhand places Patty knew about. I learned that while I may have got some grief about being on the small side as a guy, I was right about average size as a woman. That meant there were lots of clothes for me to choose from.
I really should say that there were lots of clothes for Patty to choose from, I had a lot to learn about what would look good on me. She still made me actually look at the clothes and tell her if I thought I would look good wearin' it. Like I ever had to think about how clothes would look before? Jeans and a T-shirt were fine by me. Momma pretty much picked out the fancier stuff I had to wear to school, but it weren't no wonderland of colors and patterns like I hadda learn about to be a girl.
We piled a cart with skirts, blouses and dresses and headed for the dressing room, where I tried on all the stuff while Patty told me if it was any good. After a while I started spottin' a pattern and was able to make some guesses as to what would work. It seemed to take forever, but it was kinda fun seeing how I looked in the different outfits.
We put the rejects back on the rack and then I wanted to get some pants, since it was still cold enough that skirts were not so wonderful when the Arctic winds were freezing my balls off. Not something a real girl would have to worry about, but I'm a special kinda gal.
That was a lot harder than skirts and dresses, since I don't have hips like most girls. Trying on pants with those tall boots was a major pain, so we went over to the shoe section and found a pair of what Patty called flats and I bought them. Much easier to slip them on and off when trying pants. We did find four pairs of lady's pants that worked and I got a couple of pairs of jeans from the men's section as well. Who the hell is gonna tell if they was men's or lady's, I asks ya? Well, the ones with embroidery were kind a giveaway.
Then there were shoes, so I ended up with a couple of pairs, including these high heels that looked to be as tall as the Empire State Buildin'. I didn't want them, but Patty told me that come summer all the boys would be drooling over my legs when I wore them. As you can figure, that wasn't really a great incentive, but I bought them anyway.
By the time we got out of there I was thirty bucks poorer but had my own clothes for a week or more. I thought I we was done, but Patty tells me that I need more; a girl just doesn't wear the same things too often. So we did it all over again at the Goodwill, then at the other places. I was feeling like a pack mule by the time we finished, but I was set to be a fashion plate in my new life as a girl.
Gettin' back on the bus was a pain in the… no, make that just a plain pain, but we managed. As we were gettin' off the bus with all our junk the young cop who come to our place comes strollin' out of the Cop Shop and offers to help us. I about shit my panties, and I don't give a damn about my language cuz that's what happened!
He takes a buncha the bags and Patty tells him we live in the next building over, Me, I can't say nothin' cuz I'm trying not to do a girly faint or nothin' like that, what with being a wanted murderer and all. The cop goes up to the apartment with us and brings in the packages just like nothin' unusual was happenin'.
Patty thanks the cop and he goes out and then I had to run to the bathroom before I really did shit myself. I sat there long enough to start breathin' again. When I got back to the living room Wendy was laughing her fool head off.
"...You found a cop to help you!?" asks a disbelieving Wendy
"He found us," I sez. "He must be young enough to still think he was a nice guy instead of a prick."
"Now Liza, not all cops are pricks. I guess since Vito was a crook he must have only met the kind that wanted to bust him."
"But we all know Liza is a good girl. Hey! Maybe the cop will ask you for a date the next time he sees you. He did look interested," chips in Jenny.
"Just what I eff… I need! I don't want the cops catchin' me."
"Not interested like that, but interested in maybe taking you on a date."
"Will you guys please stop it!"
"If you don't want to date the cop we could work on getting you a blind date."
"Jesus! You…"
"Language, Liza!"
"Teddy is taking me out to the movies tomorrow," offers Jenny. We could double date if he has a friend."
"You are just so eff… such a good friend to think of me, Jenny. We could tell them how we met while we're on our date."
"On second thought, I want him all to myself. You can find your own date."
"Want to go to the movies, Patty?"
"Sure. Just remember - no fooling around in the dark or you'll mess up your makeup."
"So I won't wear makeup."
"Not gonna happen, sweetie. Tomorrow is your day to learn how to do your own makeup."
"Oh joy!"
"I have a giant jar of cold cream and several boxes of tissues, so we're all set. By the time we leave you'll be putting on your own face."
And so it went, the furor over the robbery died down, I spent my days in the salon and learned how to do the things you didn't need to have a cosmetologist's licence to do and learned how to be Eliza. Truth be told, I was beginning to like Liza a whole lot more than I liked Vito.
The Boss even started paying me when I showed I could do nails good enough to make the customers happy. I've always been good at doing real small stuff. Uncle Dom said I was starting to get a real touch at picking locks before I had to go to ground.
I tried to be extra nice to the ladies as I did their nails, and pretty soon I was getting some sweet tips. Buttering up the ladies was a whole different thing for Eliza, since Vito's way of buttering up the chicks wouldn't do at all. Heck, Vito was a doofus when it came to chicks, I could see that now that I was a chick. A lady - Language Liza!
One other thing happened. Being around all those ladies and having to watch my mouth, it started to become easier so's to not get glared at. I listened to how the rich ladies spoke and tried to sound more like they did. I was starting to think I should have listened to my English teacher when he was harping on proper grammar.
On quiet evenings, I took to reading some of the girl's books out loud to practice. The big thing was that whenever I said anything ending in 'ing' I just naturally dropped the g on the end. Everybody talked that way so that's what I learned. So I tried real hard to say it right, and even wrote down paragraphs filled with 'ing' words to practice on.
I eventually got the whole thing down in a couple of months and the girls in the shop started commenting on how much better I sounded. Patty gave me some additional incentives that I'm not going to talk about, if you get my drift.
I even got to know how to use words like 'furor' from listening to the ladies talk about the bank robbery and what happened in the neighborhood.
After a couple months working under the table at the salon, Patty and I went to the Mom & Pop place down the block for lunch as usual, but this time there's a 'Help Wanted' sign in the window. Not too surprising since I had noticed that there seemed to be more people eating there in the last little while.
Since I wasn't making all that much money and was feeling like the girls was supporting me, I figured I should ask Charlie and Maud if I could do the job. We had eaten there so much we called each other by name.
Charlie thinks this is a great idea, (I think he thinks I'm a nice girl) and we cut a deal. I'm still working under the table even if I'm waiting on the tables, which is just fine with me. I don't have any ID as Eliza and sure as shooting can't use Vito's ID. So we cut a deal at half of minimum wage ($1.15 per hour) since I'd be getting tips.
That sounds ridiculous these days, but back then a gal could live pretty good on that money. You could get a decent meal from Charlie for about half an hour of working, and since I was working for him I got my lunch for free. Not a bad deal.
Since Uncle Sam doesn't know about us neither of us has to worry about taking out taxes or anything like that. I may be doing well as Eliza, but Vito's family values are still a part of me.
So now I've become a working girl with two jobs. Mornings at the salon, 10 - 2 at Charlie's place and more at the salon until Patty is done. Life sure does go in strange pathways. At least I didn't have to learn to roller skate like the carhops at the drive-in.
As I got better at speaking like a lady, I realized that Eliza needed some ID so she could do more than work under the counter. I traded some bills for a bunch of change from the register and looked up Auntie Aggie's number in the phone book. I went over to a phone booth down the street, since I wasn't gonna make any calls from anywhere that could be traced to me.
"Hello?"
"Hello yourself. Remember the little kid that used to try to swipe Uncle Joe's almost empty beer bottles?"
No names, never can tell who is listening.
"Indeed I do. We've been worried about him."
"I'm just calling to say he's doing pretty good and found some good friends to keep him safe."
"And you're one of those friends?"
Jeez - of course she wouldn't recognize Liza's voice. I been trying hard enough to make it different.
"That's right. I know him pretty well these days, but he doesn't want to be seen too much."
"Which is very good. I'm glad you called, I'll let the right people know he's doing all right."
"Actually, I can say he's doing a more than all right, he's found a new life. Which is why I'm calling."
"Yes?"
"Well, our beer snatcher has a friend named Eliza and she's rather like the hippies that are trying to find herself. He tells me you can do wonders in helping people find out who they really are."
Auntie Aggie is a gifted forger. She also has access to a list of real people who are no longer around so you can use their birth certificates to get a new identity. Of course, you can't be saying stuff like that over the phone.
"I've had some small success with that kind of thing. So your friend Eliza wants my help to find herself?"
"That's right. I hope it's not too much trouble."
"It's family, no trouble at all. How much does she want to find?"
"All she needs is a starting point. Your beer snatcher knows what to do from there, but any other effort would be appreciated."
"Nice to know my beer snatcher was listening. You're sure he's OK?"
"I can say he's found a whole new life and is doing remarkably well."
"Then give me a call in a week or so and I'll see what I can find."
"Thank you. I'm sure our friend will appreciate it."
"You wouldn't be my beer snatcher's girlfriend?"
"In a strange sort of way, I guess I am."
When I hung up the phone, I realized that I had been speaking in Eliza's new, more cultured voice the whole time. My Auntie thought I was my own girlfriend! How's that for kick in the head?
I guess I have some more work to do, the cultured Eliza wouldn't talk like that.
This might be a good place to talk about talking. As you've no doubt noticed, when all this started happening I was talking like a punk kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. That's because I was a punk kid who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks, even if the railroad wasn't the actual dividing line between the neighborhoods.
To tell the truth, it's been painful to try to recapture how I spoke at seventeen. For that matter how I behaved at seventeen. I'm told that you sort of soak up grammar as you grow up, and all that I've written so far was just the way I grew up. I had no idea how bad it made me sound whenever I wasn't hanging around the neighborhood.
If I had started talking like the teachers in school I would have been mocked and maybe even thumped. Teachers were the enemy. Education was downright suspicious. Momma tried to tell me that was stupid, but I knew better. I had a rep to maintain and talking like a hood was a big part of it.
Then suddenly I'm surrounded mostly by women who value polite speech, who don't think that swearing twice in every sentence is required to have people take you seriously. I might have said how annoying it was to hear "Language Liza" over and over. Well, it was annoying. But I now know it was necessary.
It took quite some time, but eventually it got through to me that I could be taken seriously by talking like the women who were surrounding me; that the punk kid was not taken seriously. The punk kid was a pain in the ass and the nice girl Liza was the person who would get along with my friends.
I wasn't quite there yet as a well-spoken young woman, but I was on the way. So for the rest of this story I'm going to stop hurting my ears and just tell it like the woman I became.
Another strange thing started happening. About half the time when Patty and I got off the bus after work, the cop who carried our bags just happened to be around. That made me nervous, to have him hanging around. After the first few times we got to be on a first name basis, which is something I never thought I would be with a cop.
When we got home I remarked how odd it was that Mike was around so often and she just gives me that look and says "He's hitting on you, Liza. Haven't you figured that out?"
"Hitting on me? NO!"
"Wake up, girlfriend! You may not be a raving beauty, but I thought you were cute even with Jenny's puke all over you. You don't think I go out of my way to wash up every crook that falls out of my bedroom ceiling, do you? Now that I've let my magic fingers work on you you're a cute girl instead of a cute guy. Mike is trying to get the nerve to ask you out."
"Patty, he can't!"
"He surely can, and he's going to ask as soon as he gets the nerve. I really think you should go out with him, lover."
"You're crazy!"
"Crazy like a fox. Can you think of a better way to pump a cop for information about the murderer they're trying to catch?"
"That's… that's…"
"So crazy it might work. Admit it! Your lover is a genius."
"But what if he finds out who I am?"
"Liza, has anybody figured out who you are after all this time in the salon? Well, Ingrid must know because she waxed you, but she doesn't talk about her clients. Believe me, no one has a clue."
"I'll have to think about it."
"Good. Think about it while we make dinner. Want to learn how to make scalloped potatoes?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Don't even bother asking."
Chapter 10
Patty was right. It took three more days for Mike the Cop to ask me for a date. It was the first time I talked to a cop and he was the one being nervous. Go figure! We got off the bus and Mike the Cop just happened to be walking by the bus stop when we arrived.
Right! I was looking out the window and saw him waiting as the bus approached. He starts walking from the Cop Shop at just the right time so he got there as we got off. He says "Hi!" to us and walks with us for a ways.
Since Patty clued me in about what was going on, I have been worried about just what I would do when he asks me out. He says "Liza?"
"So I say, "Yes, Mike? In a kind of neutral tone.
"This isn't anything official, Liza."
Why did Patty have to be right? She's going to rub it in all night, and not the kind of rubbing we both enjoy.
"I guess that's good. What's up?"
"Uh, Liza, would you like to go see a movie with me on Saturday? I'm off duty then and I'd like to get to know you better."
Really? The only kind of personal relationship my family ever had with the cops was when one of them tried to set us up as a stool pigeon or wanted to get a little on the side from one of the younger girls. Yes, I'm a cynic, I have lots of reason to be.
But I remember what Patty told me and I figure I should accept. Besides, if I was as female in my body as I was getting to be in my brain I just might think Mike the Cop was worth dating. Good thing Patty and I have something good going already.
"That sounds nice, Mike. What movie should we see?"
"I thought you should be the one to pick."
"I haven't really seen what's playing. What time do you get off tonight?"
"I'm on until nine."
"Then why don't you come up to the apartment and we can look I took the paper from the Salon and it should have the listings."
"That would be nice."
"You can get to meet the other girls if they're home."
"OK. Thanks, Liza. I'll be there."
This has got to be the craziest thing I've ever done, inviting a Cop to the apartment.
Wait a minute! I have to admit that turning myself into a girl might just be crazier. Could going on a date with a cop make it any worse? Even if he's a nice cop?
I never would have imagined that there could even be a nice cop. How did I get into this mess, anyway? Well, I tried to knock off a bank and almost got caught. The results just get stranger and stranger.
Jenny just can't believe we invited Mike up here. She looks at us and says "You do realize you've just invited a cop up to the place where you two are committing felonies just about every night, don't you?"
"What are you talking about?" I ask.
"Jesus Liza! Two girls making it together is a felony in New York. That's sodomy, you two. If this cop figures out you're in bed together you could be in a cell for years and years!"
Jenny works for a lawyer, so she knows this stuff.
"That's crazy!"
"Remember the laws are made by a bunch of old men who probably haven't gotten laid in a dozen years and don't want anyone else to get laid, either."
"But Liza isn't really a girl," Patty says.
"And how old is Vito?"
"I'm seventeen, you know that."
"That's statutory rape, guys. And don't forget, a man dressing like a woman is still technically illegal, but nobody in their right mind would enforce it these days. Remember cops are not the most liberal people on the planet. If he finds out you're a guy he could just beat the shit out of you and want to bet nobody would bother to investigate? Cops protect their own.
Well, I knew that.
"Patty, I think we may have just made a boo-boo."
"Boo-boo? You really have done a great job of learning to speak like a lady, but boo-boo may be just a bit too much."
"Do you have an ouchie, Jenny?" Patty asked.
"I give up! I suppose if I screw one of the junior lawyers he might be willing to defend you. If Patty screws him he might even get you off. I don't think Liza should offer, though, unless we get a woman intern. There's a better chance of a glass of ice water in hell than those old farts letting a woman do anything but pound a typewriter."
"Liza, maybe you better hope there isn't a movie you both want to see."
"He'd probably take me ice skating instead."
"Maybe I should propose to you and you can tell him you're engaged to be married and have to cancel the date?"
"In the couple of hours between talking to me and getting off shift? My guy must be a fast worker."
"Hell no! My guy - and my gal - is a slow worker. Real slow, and that's the way I like it."
"Get a room, you two."
"We got one, but we can't tell Mike the Cop."
We're going to see The Cassandra Crossing on Saturday. Mike wants to take me to dinner and then the movie and I don't have a thing to wear!
"Hello?"
"Hi. I'm calling on behalf of the beer snatcher."
"Oh yes. And how is the little scallywag?"
"Doing quite well, ma'am. Learning a new trade, finding new friends and quite happy."
"I'm pleased to hear that, really I am. From the sound of it he has a very well-spoken girlfriend."
"I try, Ma'am. Have you been able to help our friend find herself?"
"I believe I have. I think she'll be quite pleased at what I've found. Sometimes you find an absolute treasure when you aren't expecting it."
"I' most pleased to hear you say so."
"Tell our beer snatching friend that if this Sunday afternoon when the Ducal Siren sounds, if he finds himself where he once got the seal of approval his friend might find the end of the rainbow as well. He will certainly recognize the leprechauns in any case."
"I believe he will understand. Is there anything he could do for you?"
"Just stay safe and be well. And give the scallywag my love."
"I'll be sure he gets it."
"Honey, want to go on a date with me?" I asked.
"Of course! Why should Mike the Cop have all the fun?"
"Good. I think since we're going to see The Cassandra Crossing I'd like to have a little mystery thriller of my own. Don't worry, I'm fresh out of deadly diseases, though."
"They don't have a train, wherever we're going, do they?"
"It's a low budget production. In fact, my Aunt Aggie is providing the script free of charge."
"Just how many Aunts and Uncles do you have?"
"Numbers beyond counting and cousins beyond naming."
"This is really odd for an only child like me."
"Remember, I'm an only child, too. I may want to adopt you into the family, love."
"Wait a minute. Do you mean what I think you mean?"
"Will you marry me if we can figure out how the heck to do it?"
"You're crazy! Yes!"
"I haven't a clue how to manage it with me looking like this, but I was telling you about Aunt Aggie and got distracted."
"I like distractions."
"Me too! Aunt Aggie - Well, Auntie can forge just about anything and if she can't forge it she can steal it and if she can't steal it she knows where to buy it. I gave her a call last week and asked if she could find some papers for a girl named Eliza. I knew it wasn't such a great idea to limit it to any one name, but that's the name you gave me and I like it. I don't want to change it. Well, unless this girl has to change it when we get married."
"You clown!"
"Hey! Don't insult my hair stylist. She's a genius and would never make me look like a clown.
"Get back to Aunt Aggie, clown."
"So Aunt Aggie tells me - or the girl that she thinks is calling for me - that she hit the jackpot and someone I know will be at a place where I got the seal of approval as a little kid."
"This is sounding like a spy thriller."
"I've sort of been trained from birth not to say anything over the phone that a wiretapper might understand. We played lots of games when I was growing up to get the whole thing down pat. Anyway, when I was little we would go to the zoo and my Pops would put his hands together like he was praying, hold them in front of his nose and bark like a seal. I thought it was the funniest thing in the world when he gave me the 'Seal of Approval.'
"We have to be there when the Ducal Siren sounds, which is two o'clock. The shift siren at Pop's plant went off at two, and I heard 'two' as 'Duke,' so it had to be the Ducal Siren. No way anyone but me and my Pops could figure that out. I figure you just might get to meet your new in-laws if we're lucky."
"You're going to be Liza?"
"That's who my paperwork will say I am. I'm not sure if I'll tell them it's a disguise or tell them that I don't intend to be Vito any longer than it takes for us to get married. I suppose I should ask you if you want to live with Liza for the rest of our lives?"
"Honey, I put a lot of effort in training Liza, I'm not going to let her go too easily. Think of it as an investment in our future."
"Speaking of investments, I'm going to have to find a job and start a bank account once I'm legal. Well semi-legal."
"Just don't tell Jenny or she'll know a dozen reasons why you can't do it that way."
"It's a good thing Liza doesn't have a criminal record since every time we go to bed we're committing a crime. I always knew the law was an ass."
"And I know an ass that I want to know right quick."
Chapter 11
Mike picked me up at the apartment at four on Saturday. When he asked, I was thinking I should wear something that would knock his socks off, after all it was my first big date as a girl. Not that I had too many dates when I was a boy, but a girl has dreams.
Since I became an engaged woman before he came calling I decided I should be just the nice girl next door type and not get his juices flowing. Ha! The idea of me getting a guy's juices flowing still struck me as crazy, but I have learned to see when it happens. Knowing what it feels like from the inside helps, if you haven't guessed.
We ate at a nice little steak house in a quiet corner and I tried to get him talking about himself. He was from Syracuse and always wanted to be a cop, it ran in his family. Now wasn't that ironic that he was dating someone who had criminality running in their family? I told him a bit about myself, suitably disguised, but didn't mention the family occupation.
The talk got around to his job and I asked about the big excitement that happened a while back. His face screwed up and he said "The whole thing has gone to shit. Sorry, I shouldn't say that to a nice girl like you."
"I've heard the word before. Is it something you can tell me?"
"The powers-that-be won't want it broadcast, but there's nothing secret about it. They got the ballistics evidence back and it turns out that both the cop and the robber were shot by the Lieutenant. The robber missed every time, so we aren't looking for a murderer any more. Besides, we got one guy in a cell. His story is not checking out, he's a lying scumbag trying to save himself."
Well, you can imagine that I'm one happy girl when I hear that, so I make sympathetic noises and we talk about something else so he won't even try to connect me to the crime.
The movie was OK, and I let him put his hand on my leg. After all, I was going to dump the guy when the movie was over so he ought to have something to remember me by.
His hand started wandering, so I let him hold my hand during the suspenseful parts. That didn't feel too bad, and I was surprised that he felt as soft as Patty does. I wasn't expecting a guy to feel soft.
The other reason for holding his hand was so he didn't try to cop a feel. My breasts look real enough, but if he put his fingers on them he would know that they were bags of rice and not real breasts. I mean, a cop ought to be smart enough to figure that out from his investigations.
When we got home I gave him a kiss - I was feeling so girly by then it didn't bother me a bit - and I had to tell him that my old boyfriend got so jealous when he found out I was going on a date he proposed to me and I said yes.
He looked disappointed, but he didn't get upset or anything, just said he how he never was the one to get the girl. I was almost ready to try and get him to date Jenny or Wendy, but figured it wouldn't be such a good idea if he was around the place all the time.
So I had to tell Patty all about it, and she was sympathetic. She knows how hard it is to tell a guy he's out of the running without hurting him.
Sigh! My first date and I had to dump him.
Chapter 12
If my first - and last - date on Saturday was exciting, Sunday at the zoo was something else. Scary, exciting, thrilling, all mixed up. I now knew that Vito was no longer wanted as a murderer, although they would probably want me to do time for burglary and general mopary and dopary. I could still use that as an excuse to stay in my disguise as Eliza.
Problem was, it wasn't a disguise any more. I was really Eliza, the girl who was learning to be an honest and respectable woman. There's something real nice about being respectable.
We decided that we needed to be full-on girls and wear skirts to prove it. The weather was starting to warm up, so we didn't have to dress like Eskimos and I even got to show a little leg. I figured I had to be modest in my attire or my parents might get one shock too many. No cleavage for me, I still wore my rice farm. I was starting to wonder how well that would work when the weather warmed up and I started to sweat.
My ears were long healed so I could wear fancy earrings and I chose some dangly things that made sure people knew I had them on. I borrowed a pair of Wendy's calf length boots for the day. Trading clothes with your roommates is a good deal when you want to put on the glam.
It was really nice to be out in the warmer weather so we didn't have to wear heavy arctic coats. The bus dropped us off and we went in the gates. I patted the animal statues guarding the gates, but it wasn't really warm enough to sit on them wearing a skirt. I loved to sit on them when I was a kid, but I was a dignified woman nowadays.
It was a little frustrating because Patty and I couldn't hold hands or anything like that. In 1977 lesbians were not welcome much outside of lesbian bars, and the cops liked to raid them any time they figured they hadn't busted enough heads in a while. Things have changed for the better these days.
As we approached the seals I pointed out an older couple sitting on a bench. So OK, they looked older to me back then.
"See the couple on the bench? That's my Momma and Pops. Tell me I can do this, will you?"
"You can do this, Liza. You're my girl and a strong woman. Let's meet them together and show them the woman you've become."
I couldn't help it. I went over, steepled my hands in front of my nose and barked like a seal. Patty started laughing and my parents looked for all the world like they were stoned. Getting stoned was a big thing back then, not that my parents would know about it. Alcohol was the family's choice of escape from reality.
"Vito?" asks my Momma.
"Pretty good disguise for a guy on the run, isn't it, Momma?"
That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
"Is that really you?"
"All but some bags of rice in certain locations. I bet you can figure out where."
"I guess I can. Where have you been all this time?"
"Hiding, and I'm not going to let anyone know where. They may not think I killed anyone any more but they still want me for burglary and I don't want to let them find me. I'm afraid your son Vito is going to disappear forever, but you might be interested in adopting a new daughter named Eliza. I think Auntie Aggie gave you her things?
"She did, she said they were for some friend."
I think you could call me a very close friend with Vito. I know the guy well."
"But you don't look like Vito or even sound like Vito. How…"
"Momma, I have a scar on my right thigh where I cut it with Pop's X-acto knife when I was nine. Want me to lift my skirt and show it to you? It's really me, Momma, Pops. I worked hard and had a lot of help to learn to be a lady. I think I've learned to be a much nicer person while I was hiding. I'm not hiding any more, Pops, this is me from now on. I need to introduce you to Patty, your new daughter-in-law.
I really shouldn't do things like that to old people. Two shocks like that in a row could have unfortunate results. I was glad they were sitting down.
Eventually we left the zoo and they took us out to dinner. We told them about me falling through the ceiling, hiding as a girl, then the beauty parlour and my first time getting waxed. Momma appreciated that story a lot more than Pops.
I had to apologize that we couldn't invite them to the wedding, but we were going to have to go way out of town so our names wouldn't appear in the paper and let the cops see mine.
Pops said "Nonsense!" and told us they would drive us to wherever we were going and be the witnesses. Momma was disappointed because it couldn't be a big wedding like she hoped I would have, but she understands that our family sometimes has to do things a different way.
I was glad to finally see them again and and happy they didn't kill me or disown me for being a girl. They weren't happy, but hiding from the cops is something that happens in our family. They knew it was often necessary, but I really took it farther than anyone else ever did.
While Momma and Patty were off powdering their nose, (I was not ready to go into the lady's room with Momma!) I turn to Pops and ask "I hope you weren't thinking of having a man-to-man talk with me while the ladies are gone?"
I should know better, really I should. I have to work on my timing before I say things like that. Pops was just taking a swig of his dark beer and next thing I know I'm going to have to find money for the dry cleaners when I take my pastel blouse to them.
There were enough people in the dining room that several stopped to watch the action as I tried to get the stains off my blouse with water and a napkin. It's embarrassing to be washing your breasts in public.
When Pops could speak clearly again and people weren't watching us, he says "You may look different but you're the same old smartass."
"I have talent, Pops."
"Vito, Liza, are you really happy with this?"
"Pops, at first I was so damn scared with the cops after me for murder I would have done anything to get away. I was really pitiful. I don't know why any of those girls didn't call the cops the second they saw me, I really don't. Even before Jenny puked on me I wasn't fit for company, if you know what I mean."
"That's the craziest story I ever heard."
"But it's true, and I didn't say half of what happened with Momma listening. Pops, I wasn't a virgin any more by the time they fed me lunch."
"And you still…"
"I didn't think calling you up to bring me some of my clothes was the best idea in the world."
"You got that right!"
"So what else could I wear in a place with three women?"
"I guess that makes some sort of weird sense, but I don't understand why…"
"Why I keep doing it? The cops still want me, but that's not why, not any more. Pops. This feels right. I like being Eliza. I like having girlfriends that treat me as one of them. I like working at the salon and I even like waitressing. Not that I'm going to do that for the rest of my life, but this is who I think I am now. Jenny and Wendy have even got me thinking about going to school in the fall so I can get some kind of work that pays better."
"Now I know my son's been kidnapped by aliens. Vito would never want to go to school."
"But Eliza is seeing things Vito couldn't see."
"Pardon me if I can't believe the things I'm seeing right now!"
"I getcha, Pops," I say, reverting to my old speech patterns for a moment. "Now that I can prove I'm Eliza, I'm going to start looking for honest work, the kind of work where I don't worry about hearing sirens. Sorry if that shocks the family, but that's the way it's going to be from now on."
"I've been starting to think that way myself. I'm getting too old to be working at night after pulling a full shift at the plant."
"Watch out, Pops, or we could both end up respectable!"
"Heaven forbid! Look, Liza, if the cops aren't looking so hard for you any more I don't see how you and Patty couldn't come over for a visit every once in a while. Maybe your mother could meet Patty in that salon and they could get to like each other."
"It could work. Are you going to be able to have me as your daughter, though."
"I'm trying. I can still see bits of the little shit I had for a son but I have to say that you make a pretty good girl. There's something about how you handle yourself that tells me you're happy. You're trying to control your life, not just let things happen to you."
"I think you're right, Pops. Patty and the girls have shown me there is a better way to be living. They all do things their way and they think ahead and plan what they want to do. They wouldn't let me mess up while they were teaching me. I can't tell you how many times I heard Language Liza! every time I started swearing like Vito."
"I'll let you in on a secret: your mother does the same thing to me! It really bothered her that you had such a foul mouth, but she couldn't get you to stop. I didn't even want to try."
"I guess it made me feel like a big man to be shooting off my mouth like that."
"You sure don't look like a big man any more!"
"These days I wonder why I ever wanted to."
I think Pops was getting embarrassed to be talking like this.
"How you fixed for money? Laying low still costs something."
"I'll admit that with me working under-the-counter we could always use a little more cash."
"I thought so. The family got together when they heard you were still around somewhere to give you a little something to help."
He hands me an envelope and tells me to use it wisely. I am too much of a lady to open it at the table in a restaurant, so I just put it in my purse.
"Tell the family I thank them. You can say that I'm getting married and the wife and I will consider it a wedding present. It's even true but misleading. You can tell them we've decided to be hippies and move to California or something like that. It'll give them something to talk about."
Momma and Patty got back then and I decide I need to powder my nose. While I'm doing my business I sneak a look and see $500 in that envelope. I'm one lucky girl.
When we got home I finally opened that envelope from the end of the rainbow. I was now Eliza Mae Hawkins, born twenty one years ago on a military base in Germany. My father didn't make it back from the Korean war, so my mother moved back to Kentucky with me and drank herself to death a year later. I was raised by grandparents on a dairy farm in Pennsylvania. I even graduated high school with honors a year early.
The original Eliza Mae took off for California to be a hippie and no one had seen or heard of her since. No deposits were made in her social security account, she paid no taxes and had let her driver's license expire. Her grandparents are now in a nursing home with advanced dementia. It was the perfect identity: everything real and from the government and no way to check back with anyone to see if I was really who I claimed to be.
Notarized birth certificate, school records, some military stuff, but no dental records or fingerprints to trip me up. I felt a bit sorry for Eliza Mae, so I tossed a prayer to the Big Guy Upstairs thanking him for letting me be her. I hope He was nice to her when she reached the Pearly Gates.
I applied for a library card using my new birth certificate, waited a week and took the envelope the card came in to prove my local address when I applied to get my driver's license. Charlie was nice enough to come with me so I could take the test and since Vito was already on the road, taking the test was a breeze. I soon had my photo ID proving I was Eliza Mae Hawkins.
As far as anyone could tell, I was the real deal.
Chapter 13
I actually surprised myself telling Pops that I was thinking of going back to school. Well, I had been, a little, but actually saying it out loud? Maybe I'm getting too respectable.
But I find I like being respectable as much as I like being Liza. As much as I like being a woman. Scary stuff! Please don't anyone tell me I'm growing up! Anyway, I got off work for Charlie and took the bus up Main Street in the opposite direction from home. I went all the way out to Williamsville and finally found the admissions office of Erie Community College.
This was a whole new world to me, the kid who grew up in the wrong side of the City of Buffalo. There were all these people who looked as respectable I was trying to look, all walking around. I told them in the office I was interested in becoming a student and they asked what I wanted to study.
Well, that was a poser. I really hadn't gotten that far, I just knew that if Patty and I were ever to make more money I would have to get an education. Patty loved being a beautician, and she had to work hard to get her license to do it; could I do any less for us?
I guess the lady was used to people like me who hadn't a clue, so she goes over all the things I could study. You won't be surprised that back in 1977 the choices for a woman were pretty limited. Sure, there were feminists agitating and women were getting real unhappy about how they were treated, but that wasn't the world I grew up in.
Let me tell you, by the time I finished my certificate I understood what women have to put up with better than any man I ever knew. Firsthand experience is one mighty fine teacher. I almost wished I could go back to being Vito so I could have the power to start doing something about it. Now that's a real crazy idea, isn't it? Pretty much encapsulates male privilege in one sentence.
Looking through the limited choices, one stood out: Court Reporter. I'd been in quite a few courts over the years, watching family and friends either get off or get jugged. If they weren't people I knew, watching the antics of the lawyers would have been fun. You don't know just how relieved I was that Liza would not have to worry about such things.
I knew court reporters made good money, and all they did was sit there and push levers on those funny little machines. I figured if I was agile enough to pick a lock I could learn how to use one of those machines.
So the lady gives me a bunch of literature about the program, and then I ask the big question: how do I pay for it all? So I get a bunch more papers about scholarships and loans. The lady is impressed with my academic record and says that I should have no trouble getting into the program, but why has it been so long since I left school?
Good thing Patty and I practiced my story, and I really was happy that Jenny the legal secretary threw in her two cents. We just kind of fleshed out how the real Liza tried to be a hippie but gave it up because starving on the streets wasn't as romantic as it looked on a farm in Pennsylvania. Not a bad story, I almost believed it myself as I was telling it.
I left the office with a load of papers and a lot on my mind. Was I really going to go to college because I wanted to? I was so distracted that I almost walked into a crowd of women in the Union who were doing something or other. I really hadn't noticed what, but next thing I knew one of them was handing me a booklet and asking if I had had a mammogram yet.
Mammogram? Good thing I had been doing those 'enhance your vocabulary' quizzes in the paper each night, because I actually knew what a mammogram was. When I said I hadn't I got more papers and information about breast cancer and gynecological exams and who knows what else. Stuff that would have really freaked Vito out, I'm sure. Eliza was just curious, since this was stuff a woman should know, even if she wasn't going to let some doctor put her up in the stirrups.
Now wouldn't that be a kick?
Chapter 14
It took us two days to read all the things I had been given. It looked like being a Court Reporter involved more that pushing buttons on a machine, you had to take stenography and legal vocabulary and quite a few other courses to qualify. For a seventeen year old high school dropout, it looked like a lot to do. I just had to tell myself I was a twenty-one year old A student - just like my transcript said.
I already had a pretty good handle on legal terminology even if it was knowledge gained on the wrong side of the law. Besides, I had Jenny to help. Wendy had a typewriter and still had her old touch-typing book from high school, so I started teaching myself to type during the evenings.
Some of the most interesting information came from the breast cancer stuff. That's where we found out that people actually make real-looking fake breasts for women who lost them to cancer. Not something Vito ever heard of and it was one of those things the girls knew existed but since it didn't apply to them it just wasn't so important.
That's how I came to type a nice, professional letter to a medical supply house inquiring about breast forms. It looked pretty good, so off it went into the postbox.
Meanwhile, I made an appointment with the college and tried to figure out how to be a student there in the fall. I was accepted in the Legal Stenography program, but how to pay. I filled out several forms, nicely typewritten - and don't ask how long it took me to do it - and hoped. Jenny told me that her legal firm offered a grant to a young woman who was interested in some facet of the legal field, so I typed up an application for that one, too.
Then I filled out loan forms and government forms and form after form after form. By the time I get accepted I'm going to be the world's most skilled typist at filling out forms. By early July I was up to forty words a minute without looking at the keyboard. That's the hard part, not looking where your fingers are while you type.
By mid August I was getting near sixty. Jenny was amazed, that's about her usual speed. I told you I was good working with my hands, just ask Patty.
I shouldn't have said that, I was trying to be a professional.
One day when I got home there was a big envelope in the mailbox with my name on it. Inside was a bunch of glossy, full-color brochures with big illustrations of prosthetic breasts. Another word that I wouldn't have known before I started studying, but it's a medical word that just means fake.
As soon as I saw them I wanted them. Suddenly my bags of rice just weren't good enough any more. It was still before five o'clock, so I called the first number on the list of local suppliers of breast forms.
"Medical supply, how can I help you?"
"I'm calling because your company was listed as a supplier of breast prostheses."
"That's correct, we carry the full line."
"I have some questions."
"I would be glad to answer them. What can I tell you?"
"Do I need a prescription or something from my doctor?"
"That's not necessary. We can fit you with an appropriate prosthesis that will look much like your natural breast."
"Fit?"
"I'm sure you realize that each woman has breasts that are different. Our prostheses are designed to match your body and the look of your natural breast. That's why we recommend you come in for a fitting and bring the bra you usually wore before you lost your breast. That way we can make you look your best."
"I, uh, I don't have natural breasts."
"Wait, are you one of those men who wants to pretend you are a woman?"
"Why would that matter?"
"We don't sell to perverts!"
She slammed down the phone and I was left holding the receiver."
"Well, that was interesting," I murmured to myself.
"What was interesting, Liza?" asked Jenny.
"This." I handed her the brochure.
"I see. Where did this come from?"
"I ran into some people trying to make sure I had my annual mammogram. I wrote away for information when I found out they make such things."
"I'd like to see you get a mammogram. I hate it when they have to squeeze my titties to do one on me."
"They what?"
"Honey, with these things they have to press them flat between two plates so the x-rays can get all the way through. It's no picnic, I can tell you!"
"Suddenly bags of rice sound much more attractive."
"You're attractive enough, honey. Don't knock it!"
"Thanks, I think."
So what's with the mumbling?"
"I called about trying to get some and the lady got upset when I told her I didn't have natural breasts. She called me a pervert and hung up."
"Great customer service strikes again! There must be other places."
"There are. The letter from the people who make them gave me several numbers.
"Then start spinning that old dial and call the next one before they close."
"I just hope I don't get called a pervert again."
"If they do, Liza, then I'll get my boss to sue the bastards."
I got a much better reception with the next one, and soon had an appointment to see them. The lady (I suppose for this kind of thing it would be a lady selling them) was encouraging, but I didn't say I was flat this time.
So on Wednesday, Patty and I took the bus to the place. Back in 1977 a lot of places closed early on Wednesdays, including the salon. It took a long time for me to find out why, because nobody really knew - it just was the way things were always done.
Eventually an old man in a hardware store told me that most rural businesses closed on Wednesday because that's when the churches had prayer meetings and evening services. The custom was dying out by then, but it still hung on for a few more years.
I was happy that my medical supply people didn't follow the custom. It was a bit unnerving to go in and be surrounded by hospital beds and wheelchairs and walkers and such things. Growing up a healthy kid that sort of thing was foreign to me. I asked if we could speak to Mrs Upshaw and the salesman took us to a door toward the back of the place.
Next to the door were boxes of bedpans and urinals for both men and women. I really don't want to describe the picture of a woman holding it to the appropriate place. I was relieved that there were no pictures of anyone holding the men's version! I was starting to wonder if it was worth all this to not have to change bags of rice every so often when they got damp.
The man knocked on the door and a woman called "Come in!" so we came in.
She looked to be in her thirties, neatly turned out and very accommodating. There were comfortable easy chairs to sit in, not some institutional metal monstrosity. She even offered us tea and coffee.
She introduced herself and we did the same, so she asks "And which of you is interested in the prosthetics?"
"I'm the one, Mrs Upshaw."
"Very good. I understand this can be a difficult subject to talk about, but let me assure you that nothing we say will go beyond this room and you can have perfect confidence that we will do our best for you. You seem rather young to have lost a breast, Liza."
"Uh, actually, I don't have any breasts of my own. These are bags of rice in old pantyhose."
"Don't be embarrassed, dear. We make do with what we have. Have you seen a doctor about your late development?"
"Uh, no, ma'am. I haven't developed because I was born a boy."
"I see. Please don't worry, you're not the first person I've been able to help with this problem. You can be sure I will do my best to make you look your best."
That sure beats having the phone slammed in your ear!
"I'll have to ask you to remove your blouse so I can measure you properly and I can take a look at your chest. It does make a difference in the type of prostheses that will suit you best."
I suppose my roommates have seen me naked so letting her see my bare chest should be no big deal. I had gotten girly enough that I felt shy about exposing my non-existent breasts, though.
So she measured me and asked "I assume you want to stay with a B cup so your usual bras will still fit you?"
"Yes, please."
She consulted a chart of some kind, then held up a card with lots of colored patches along the edge.
"We try to match the skin tone as closely as we can. A mastectomy can be quite traumatic for a woman, so we try to make the replacement as close as possible to the original. I'll be back in a moment and we can try some forms on you to see what looks best."
She bustled out of the room and Patty says "Wow. She didn't even blink when you said you weren't a natural woman. She's good!"
"I was scared, Patty."
"I don't blame you. This can't be easy for you."
"I just have to keep thinking how nice it would be to have something better than rice. Too bad there isn't a pill to let me grow the real thing. They say modern medicine can do wonders these days."
I didn't hear the door open while I was talking.
"There are such pills, Liza, but they have some serious side effects."
"Oh?"
I don't want to pry, but I assume Patty is your girlfriend?"
"I am," answers Patty."
"I don't want to make assumptions, but those pills would eventually prevent you from having normal intercourse."
"Oh!" we both said.
"I can see that isn't an acceptable option. For now, remove your bags of rice and we will see which of these forms suits you."
She opened a box and handed me a wiggly breast that was sort-of triangle shaped. It didn't feel exactly like Patty's breast, but it sure was closer than a bag of rice. I put it in my bra and wiggled it into place.
"Excellent. Here's the other one."
She opened a cabinet and there was a full length mirror. I took a look and it really did look like they were mine from a distance.
"Patty started clapping and gave me a kiss.
"I take it you both approve."
"You can even see the nipples," enthused Patty.
"Exactly like every other woman has. There is one other style that might suit you."
I removed the forms and she handed me a new pair.
"They call this style a teardrop, for obvious reasons. Once in my bra they looked even better in the mirror.
"It looks like my breasts start higher up, more like Patty's. Oops! Sorry Patty."
"We're all girls here, Liza. It doesn't bother me that you like my breasts."
"I think this is the better style for you. They fill the cups nicely and look quite natural. Are you happy with the look?"
"Yes, of course!"
"Then put your blouse back on and we can talk some more."
Once I had buttoned my buttons, Mrs Upshaw resumed "Now we get to the difficult part, the payment. We will somehow find a way so you can afford your new forms, so let me go over prices and our credit plans.
"We still don't have much money."
"A common problem, I'm afraid, but not insurmountable"
They were expensive, about two weeks of Patty's take-home pay and maybe a month of mine. Fortunately, I still had enough left from my family's gift to pay for most of it and Patty put in what was left. That's a good thing because as a woman in 1977 it was still darned hard to get credit unless a man co-signed the loan. Completely sexist, a term I was fated to get to know far too intimately.
In fact, it was only two years after the courts had ruled that woman couldn't be denied a loan just because she was a woman. I doubt you would be surprised that the bankers found lots of other, supposedly non-sexist, reasons to deny a loan anyway.
Once it had all been sorted out, Mrs Upshaw asked "Liza, have you seen a doctor about your gender dysphoria?"
I guess my blank look was answer enough.
"Gender dysphoria is a relatively new term that the medical and psychiatric community is starting to use to describe men who feel they are women or women who feel they are men. There is a lot of contention, as you might imagine when anything about sex is discussed, but at least it is being discussed.
"I'm rather surprised, most such people have seen a counselor long before they become as obviously feminine as you appear. I won't ask, it's not my business, but I would strongly recommend you talk to someone if you intend to continue living as a woman."
"I don't think we could afford it."
"They are not inexpensive, to be sure. Are you in school?"
"I'm going to be at ECC next fall."
"Then that may be a path you could pursue. You could ask the college if they offer counseling services to students."
"I suppose I could ask."
"Please do. You've chosen a difficult path through life, I hope you can find joy together as you want to live.
"We hope so, too."
"Please wait one more minute, there's something I would like to show you."
"Of course we will, you've been so kind to us."
She was back in a moment.
"This is something called a gaff. It will hold your genitals in place so you can wear tighter fashions. I'm told they are somewhat uncomfortable, but men who want to appear as women swear by them for the proper look. This is my gift to you, there are instructions in the package. I've read them and I sometimes wonder how it can all work, but I suppose it's like prosthetic breasts, it is just one more way to look the way you want to look."
"Thank you. This is more than I had ever hoped for."
"My best to you Liza, Patty. I hope you have a very happy and fulfilling life together."
Chapter 15
When we got home late, the other girls took one look at us and asked why we both looked like we'd gotten laid but hadn't been in the bedroom yet. Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever get used to girls asking questions like that, I was brought up to think girls didn't do stuff like that.
I figured the easiest way to explain was to unbutton my blouse, so that's what I did. Of course Jenny and Wendy have to cop a feel of my new breasts and they're both giggling like little kids. I even took one out and let them feel it, we're close enough that I didn't mind doing that.
So we had to explain all about the breast cancer stuff and I asked Wendy if she had had a mammogram yet. Turns out she hadn't, so I encouraged her to get it done, I don't want any of my best friends to get cancer. Suddenly I realize I haven't asked Patty about a mammogram yet, and she has to admit she hasn't had one either. I knew that Jenny had because she told me about getting her tits squashed.
So Jenny and I sort of encourage Patty and Wendy to call the women's clinic and take care of business. (I should explain that mammography in 1977 was a very new thing, there were many who wanted to be sure every woman got checked to prevent breast cancer. It took many more years to figure out that it didn't help women below their forties.)
Then I open my mouth and say "At least I don't have to worry about that because my breasts are fake."
"Not really, Liza," says Jenny. "Men can get breast cancer, too, but it's rare. You guys are lucky because you have almost no breast tissue so all you have to worry about is the early symptoms like discharge from your nipples or the skin on your chest doing odd stuff."
Just what I wanted to hear!
I hated to wait while the college processed my forms, but eventually I found out I was accepted and qualified for some scholarship money. Pretty ironic that one of them was because I was the first girl in my family to go to college. There was also an offer of twenty hours a week of a job at the school, which suited me just fine! I hated to have to tell Charlie and Maude I was going to quit when school started, but they both said that getting an education was more important than waiting on tables.
Things were slow at the salon one morning, so we were just talking about whatever when Ingrid tells me I'm due for a waxing. I try to put her off, but the girls tell me that it's summer and I need to be hairless in order to go swimming. The girls don't know that I'm not going to be wearing a swimming suit this summer because my top is fake and my bottom is kind of obvious. Unless I use the gaff, that is, like I was doing today. I had been trying it out over the last week or so and Mrs Upshaw had been right, it wasn't all that comfortable but after a while it was OK. I did like being able to wear things without worrying my package would give me away.
So before I know it I'm on Ingrid's table and she's spreading the wax. At least this time I knew what was coming, but that only helps so much. I had finally found out what that Brazilian wax job meant and no way was I going to let her do that to me. I managed not to cry when she did the backside, but when I rolled over she looks at my crotch and says "What did you do with it, Liza? You didn't cut it off or anything?"
"You really think Patty would let me cut it off, Ingrid?"
"Seems a little unlikely, but I've given up trying to figure out why people will do some things."
"You and me both! Have you noticed anything different about my breasts lately?"
"Liza, I'm a girl, I don't try to peek at other women's breasts."
"Not even to compare to yourself?"
"Answer my question or I'll be tempted to cut it off myself."
"You're hard, Ingrid."
"And you're not, for which I thank the goddess of Love."
"I don't think Patty would agree with you."
Ingrid makes this exasperated noise and just reaches out an pulls down my panties, which shows her the gaff."
"What the hell is that?" she asks.
So I explain about the gaff and what it does.
"God, and men say we women will do anything for beauty."
"Hey, these days I'm included on the women's side."
"You must be, usually when I do a Brazilian on a man he stands up and salutes - at least until I pull the ripcord. That tends to deflate a guy in a hurry. Hell, I've even gotten a reaction from some gay guys."
"You don't say."
"And no, I do not do anything for the guy except maybe throw a towel over him if he's big enough. I'm a professional, not a whore."
"I never even thought of you doing anything like that."
"Let's get this over with, OK. I've got paying customers in half an hour."
I have to tell you, even with the gaff I reacted when Ingrid started rubbing the lotion on my crotch. I'm not all girl yet.
I was finding out that there's a whole lot more to getting married than showing up at the church and saying 'I do' at the right time. If there ever was a wedding to be held under exceptional circumstances, it was ours.
Start with the engagement ring. Rings. We had just spent every penny we had on my new falsies - we couldn't afford one ring, let alone two. Next, when filling out the financial aid forms so I could go to school we found out if I got married the cheapskates wouldn't give me enough money to make it all work.
Doesn't matter I'm the same person, they scrimp on the cash. The lady at the school tells me the government does the same thing to old folks on Social Security. As if they start eating less and the landlord gives them a break on the rent when they get married. Our landlord sure isn't going to be giving us any breaks on the rent even if he knew Patty and I were getting married.
Then there's the minor inconvenience that Patty and Liza can't be married legally, which means that Vito and Patty have to do the marrying. The good side to this is that what Vito does doesn't affect Liza's financial aid, but the bad side is as far as the law is concerned Patty will be committing adultery if she's sleeping with Liza.
Why were we going through all of this torturous planning? Patty and I really wanted to be married. Legally married, no matter what name was on the marriage license. It didn't really matter who knew we were married as long as we knew we were married. Married 'till death do us part.
So, this is where the long-term planning comes in. What we figured to do is have Vito and Patty get married, then Vito disappears and nobody knows what happened to him. Patty stays with her roommates once Vito takes a powder and we all wait seven years for Vito to be declared legally dead and the statute of limitations to expire. Nobody is going to say word one about there only being three bedrooms and four people in the apartment, right?
Maybe by then the gay guys that have been agitating to change the laws will have made some progress. Maybe me being Liza won't still be a crime because of the clothes I'm wearing. You never know. Ah, the optimism of youth!
Then there's the problem of just who would perform the ceremony. With Vito being a wanted man asking a judge to do it wasn't going to be advisable. That left a priest or a minister or somebody religious, but even if I took off my bra and wore Vito's old suit I would still look like a girl in a suit these days.
Once again it was Jenny who had the answer. I really have to say that even though our first meeting was pretty awful, Jenny has become a fast friend. Being a legal secretary, she knew all kinds of odd facts about the law and how to bend it without breaking it.
I remember seeing on TV that the captain of a ship in international waters can perform marriages. Being as Buffalo is a few hundred miles from the nearest ocean that might seem to be irrelevant, but Buffalo is only a few miles from Canada. So the Niagara River (which technically isn't a river but a straight) is considered International Waters.
Jenny told us about a case they handled where the guy wanted a divorce, but didn't want to pay alimony, tried to argue that he was never legally married because they got married on a cruise on the Niagara River. It was a nice try, but it turns out that sea captains can't marry people. The couple were married by the first mate, who was legally an officiant, so the marriage was legal and he was going to have to pay alimony if he wanted to run off with his secretary.
Sometimes it isn't what you know but who you know, and Jenny is worth knowing. You can ask Uncle Vinny if you don't believe me. He knew a cop that could make evidence disappear for the right price. Vinny beat the rap, even though a year later he ended up in the slammer because he didn't know the place had these new security cameras and he takes a good, clear photo.
Even after we learned all this stuff, getting married on a riverboat was just so romantic we wanted to do it that way. Besides, a couple of tickets for the boat ride was a lot cheaper than renting a hall and all that stuff.
So we have the makings of a plan. Patty and I came over to have dinner with Momma and Pops and I borrowed some of Vito's old school clothes as well as his birth certificate. By this time it actually felt like Vito was a separate person, I was really and truly Liza.
When we got home I tried the clothes on and they weren't convincing at all, even if I wasn't wearing a bra. After being a girl for so long I unconsciously moved like a girl and talked like a girl and even thought like a girl no matter what clothes I was wearing.The haircut and nail polish were a dead giveaway, too.
Wendy and Patty say I'm sexy as hell wearing a man's shirt. Either one of them wearing a men's shirt (and nothing else!) is enough to remind me I still have male equipment and it is completely functional. I guess the Ghost Of Vito Past is still with me at times.
Which is how we came to be on a train to Niagara Falls one morning with me wearing Vito's clothes with unpainted nails, big, clunky shiny-toed black shoes on my feet, a ten gallon hat to hide my hair and feeling practically naked without my bra.
We had our birth certificates and ID (Vito's, not Liza's) with us when we entered city hall and applied for our marriage license. The clerk gave me some really close looks, but after the usual bureaucratic wait we left the place with the papers in hand.
Jenny had dug through the paperwork and found the name of the boat that that errant husband got married on, so we stopped at their offices and asked about what it would take to have the captain or whoever marry us. Even though I looked like a swish they liked our money. They tried to sell us a charter, but no way did we have that kind of money.
Eventually we made arrangements for the captain (he had become a notary public just for this kind of thing) to quietly marry us in his cabin on one of the regular cruises.
Once the arrangements were made we found a place with individual bathrooms and I gratefully shucked Vito's clothes and put on my own clothes from the big bag that Patty was carrying. Double-knits are your friend under such circumstances!
We left the big bag in a locker at the train station and we spent the rest of the day seeing Niagara Falls. Can you do the honeymoon before the wedding? Funny how I've lived my entire life maybe twenty-five miles from the one of the biggest tourist attractions in the world and I've only been there a couple of times.
We got home late and tired but happy. I had just enough energy to call Momma and tell her the date of our wedding and where we were going to get married. She got a good laugh about us being married on a boat.
I haven't said anything about Patty's parents so far, mostly because they live in Phoenix Arizona and they haven't been around since Patty and I found each other. They lived in Buffalo until Patty graduated from her cosmetology course, then moved to Phoenix to take care of Patty's grandparents. Patty, being the dutiful daughter, writes to them regularly and they write back, but I've never met them.
She comes by her liberal attitudes honestly, her father is a college professor and her mother a social worker. In 1977, feminism was a hot topic, the courts finally made contraception legal and there were several other landmark decisions about women's rights. College campuses were hotbeds of activity (as I knew very well!) and everybody had an opinion about what women should be and what they should do.
Those opinions were many and varied, shall we say.
Patty had been keeping her parents abreast of her and her roommates' activities in feminizing me, without quite saying how we met or why it was necessary. She also hadn't come right out and said we were lovers, but had dropped a hint or two. Now that we had set a date to get married it was time to spring for a long distance phone call, a letter would be too slow as we were getting married in only two weeks.
Telling her parents she was getting married to the guy she and her roommates had turned into a woman was an awkward conversation, to say the least. I only heard her half of it, but I was very glad it wasn't me trying to explain. In a lot of ways I'm very lucky to be a wanted criminal who needed an excuse to become a woman.
Neither of us really expected it, but suddenly her parents were going to be there for our wedding. Patty had to say over and over that it was going to be very small and very low-key. A woman takes her life in her hands when she tells her mother the extravaganza Mother was planning for her little girl is not going to happen!
Naturally, this conversation attracts Jenny and Wendy, who want to be there when we get married, too. Somehow our quiet little secret wedding is getting out of hand and I'm beginning to have feelings for superman and his secret identity.
Next morning at the salon Patty is looking so smug that the girls know something is going on. For that matter, I'm not exactly exuding doom and gloom. (I think I had better lay off those 'build your vocabulary' things if I'm going to be using words like exude.) So now there's half a dozen more wedding guests.
It gets better. When I go to do my waitress gig it takes Maude about three seconds to ask "So when's the wedding?" I'm convinced she's a mind reader. Trouble is, I hadn't even told her Patty and I were engaged. I sure hadn't told her that I'm a transsexual, a word I learned from Mrs Upshaw. Yeah, my vocabulary is growing by leaps and bounds.
It's still quiet, so Charlie comes out and says we should talk.
Oh joy!
"Liza honey," says Maud, "When you first came in here with Patty we wondered a bit about you. You looked pretty good but there was something off. Not that we would say anything - the customer is always the customer even if she's not always right - but we were puzzled. After a couple of weeks we knew you were a good kid, so even if we were wondering it's none of our business.
"You know we get all kinds in here and they talk about anything just like we weren't listening. Well, before Mike the Cop got transferred, he was in here with his cop buddies talking about how the kid that was with the robbers has disappeared without a trace and the cops are hitting a brick wall. Then we know Patty lives in the building next door and suddenly there is a girl that isn't quite a girl and we put it all together.
"Still, it isn't any of our business and we don't go talking to the police about our customers. We watched you and saw how you got better and better at being a girl and it just made sense. When you asked for the job we figured if we were right then being a waitress would be a great way to help you out and if you were just a regular girl that was kind of awkward it would still help.
"Thing is, watching you and Patty there's no doubt that the two of you are in love. This is the wrong part of town for lesbians to hang out without worrying about who is watching them, so it all hangs together, doesn't it?"
"I give up! You two must be Columbo's parents. You should be on TV. But how did you know we're getting married?"
"You're already in love, you're living together, what else could make you grin like that?"
"I'm curious Liza. I can't see Father Kowalski doing the service for two women, besides which it would be illegal."
"In my family, illegal has never been much of a consideration."
"Interesting family you got there."
"You don't know the half of it."
"Somehow I can't see how you would be able to look like a guy no matter how hard you tried. If you put on a suit you'd look like your little sister playing dress-up."
"Exactly what I thought when I tried it. The girls snickered at me."
"So what's the plan?"
"I'm still working on it. We're going to be married by a riverboat captain in Niagara Falls, though. That way we don't have to meet any judges or men of the cloth who might object."
"You romantic devil, you!"
"They say the devil is in the details, maybe they're right. Looks like customers coming, we can talk later."
"Sure. And Liza, we get to make the cake for the reception."
"We can't afford a reception."
"We'll talk. Leave that to us."
Chapter 16
"Patty, this is getting out of control!" I cried.
"Getting?" she asks.
"OK, It's gone over a cliff and dragged the wagon train with it. That good enough?"
"I suppose with my folks in Phoenix a Western allusion would be in order."
"How do you feel about eloping?" I asked.
"If we did that my mother would put out a hit on me"
"I thought it was my family that did things like that."
"If you had been born female your mother might have done that if you eloped. I think it's genetic or something, which is why you would even suggest such a thing."
"I guess I have more to learn about being a woman. So if it's genetic, why aren't you wanting a big wedding?"
"Maybe I've had to transfer enough of my female essence into you that the wedding urge has been weakened. Are you feeling any great need to wear white and carry a bouquet?"
"Now that you mention it… I could wear the dress and you could wear my suit with a fake mustache. How about a beard like the one those guys on the cough drops have?"
"This would be a lot easier if those stick-up-the-ass, moralistic hypocrites in the legislature would just let anyone who wanted to do it get married and keep their nose out of other people's business."
"You sound like Uncle Louie when he gets going about stupid laws. Of course, my family considers most laws stupid. Maybe we need to give up on the riverboat thing and take Charlie and Maude up on their offer to let us have the reception at their place. All we'd need to do is find a notary public…"
"Jesus! What am I thinking? Jenny is a notary public!"
"She is?
"Comes in handy since she works for a bunch of lawyers. And that means we can both wear dresses and not have to worry about anyone worrying why you have two names or why you look like a girl in a suit!"
"I've said it before, my lady is a genius. We'd better find Jenny!
"Jenny?"
"Hey! Nice to see you out of your room. Did you guys run out of energy or something?"
"We've been planning our wedding. It's gotten complicated."
"Why am I not surprised? You're actually going to marry the crook who fell through you bedroom ceiling?"
"I didn't fall, I jumped."
"But you fell for me."
"No, I fell on him, but that's a mere detail. I never intend to get that drunk again."
"Even at our reception?"
"Especially at your reception. It's considered bad form to puke on the bride. Either bride in this case."
"That's good, because you need to be sober to perform the ceremony for us."
"Huh?"
"The people at the boat place said that the first mate was a notary public and he could perform the ceremony. All that stuff about captains at sea being able to marry people is just plain wrong."
"And you're a notary public and a friend, so who better?" says Patty with a smile.
"Wow! I'd better check at the office to be sure that's all right. I'd hate to have my good friends have to be a test case if anything went wrong."
"I bet you know a few good lawyers if we need one."
"I do, but believe me you want to meet them at a cocktail bar and not before a legal bar. Liza, you have a weird look on your face."
"I was just thinking. If the family of the bride usually pays for the wedding and I'm going to be a bride after all, then…"
"Liza, I like your parents. I don't want you to do anything that would do them in before the wedding. Now my parents…"
"Weren't you just telling me that every mother in the world has a genetic urge to run her daughter's wedding?"
"I was, but your mother is still getting used to having a daughter."
"Maybe you should get them both on the phone together and let them duel it out?" suggests Jenny.
"You're wicked!" enthuses Patty.
"She's brilliant. Who gets to call first?" I asked.
"You do, it's a local call. I'm going to wait for the rates to go down at eleven."
"Thrifty, that's a virtue in a wife."
So we canceled our riverboat tickets and rescheduled the wedding, which wasn't much of a problem as we hadn't invited anyone yet. My phone call to Momma was interesting, she was still getting used to having a daughter but Patty was right - the opportunity to help plan her daughter's wedding couldn't be resisted.
So Pops got left home alone and Momma took us girls out for dinner and shopping. Of course we were hoping for some parental largess, especially since my new breasts had depleted what little savings we had. Wedding dresses were going to have to be cheap and simple. Which shows you how far I had to go in my path to womanhood. There is no such thing as a cheap or simple wedding dress, even off the rack.
Six days after our phone calls, Patty's mother arrived at the airport and rented a car, an incredible expense to two low-income working girls. Someday…
The Meeting of the Mothers ensued, and as soon as I was off shift and Patty did her last customer we were whisked away to our fates as brides. Being mothers, I suppose they thought we would need to eat before shopping in order to preserve our energy levels.
My mother was conservative in her shopping habits so, even though there were malls in Buffalo in 1977 she immediately headed for AM&As for important shopping. We fueled up at their restaurant, but we noticed that our mothers were exchanging Secret Mother Code during the meal. After a small dessert split between the four of us, they nodded to each other and handed us each a small gift-wrapped package.
Naturally we opened them, and I found an engagement ring and a wedding ring in mine. Unsurprisingly, Patty found the same. My rings came from my mother's grandmother and had been carefully preserved for a future daughter of the family. Patty's were from her father's mother. We were encouraged to put them on each other's fingers, but cautioned about doing the get-on-the-knee bit in public. There were people who just might get upset. Momma had talked to Wendy to get our ring sizes, then called Patty's Mom so the rings would fit us. I still haven't a clue how Wendy knew our ring sizes, life has its mysteries.
We both started crying and had to powder our noses in a hurry. This time I couldn't evade being in the lady's room with Momma because she had been sniffling too. Momma was impressed at how quickly I repaired my makeup, but by then it was second nature to me. No respectable woman in 1977 would appear with her face undone, not in a major store like AM&A.
I was shy about trying on dresses with both my Momma and Patty's mother watching, but after several changes of clothes I gave up on modesty and just let them help take one off and put another on. When it came to selecting the right bra and such, I just gave up and let them see my breast forms. I mean, how could I hide them? I had to do something with them while I was changing bras.
I was really glad we had left Pops at home.
I suppose I should count myself lucky that we found something acceptable to all at AM&As and didn't have to wander from store to store until we needed a travel agent and week-long bus passes in our quest. We both counted ourselves lucky that the mothers picked up the tab.
The only thing remaining for us was to wave our ring fingers in front of every one of our friends as we invited them to the wedding. I hope Charlie was ready for us.
The next day, when I asked Charlie and Maude if their offer was still open for a week from Sunday you would have thought the two of them had invented the institution of marriage all by themselves. Maude started designing the cake with her eyes closed as Charlie got what details we could give him.
Even warning him that the mothers-of-the-brides would be descending on him that afternoon didn't dim his enthusiasm. Next door at the salon we were commanded to show up hours before the wedding to be sure we were perfect in mind and body. No excuses accepted!
This getting married was strenuous!
To tell the truth, our two future mothers-in-law got on famously. I had several calls from Pops wondering if I knew where his wife had gotten to over the next few days. That seems funny in these days of cell phones and instant communication, but this was long before spammers could disturb you wherever you happened to be.
With the Moms on the job and the salon ladies in full festival mode, we didn't have to do much except watch the tube and gossip with our roommates. I, for one, was happy to cede control. Is that too much like a man's attitude?
The day arrived. Although the wedding was at 1 PM we were commanded to arrive at the salon by 8 AM, along with both mothers and our bridesmaids, Wendy and Jenny. Actually, we flipped a coin to decide which bride got which bridesmaid. I got Wendy and Patty got Jenny, not that it mattered all that much.
Our coworkers and friends swarmed around us like a hive of demented bees, performing a dance every bit as intricate as the one the bees use to tell their fellow workers where to find the pollen. Ingrid again marched me into the torture chamber and proceeded to flay me in perpetration for the nuptials. Before my anguished screams had faded from the room I was dragged out and tied to a chair, only to be replaced by the next victim.
Even though I had been working in the place for months, they found new and sadistic treatments that any bride absolutely must have to be prepared. It was decided that I should be a Farrah Fawcett Majors clone as I walked down the aisle, as she was very popular at the time. My hair was scrubbed, conditioned, curled sprayed and otherwise coerced into those flying wing kind of curls she wore back then. Actually, I liked it when they got done, not that I had any choice in the matter.
It was getting close to noon and we needed a light lunch, but Charlie and Maude were much too busy preparing the wedding feast. What else could we do but introduce Patty's Mom to chicken wings from the Anchor Bar? It was a good thing that the salon was well stocked with plastic aprons and capes.
Amazingly, everybody was ready by 12:30, including all the busy little bees who had turned out such wonderful work. We must have made quite as sight walking the block to the restaurant in all our finery. Even the weatherman cooperated with a clear, warm sunny day.
The wedding went off without a single hitch. The bridesmaids went down the center, both brides were escorted by their fathers, and then we threw everyone a curve. Jenny stepped forward, opened up a Bible and said those familiar words "Dearly beloved…"
If you've been reading this far, you didn't expect that anything would be normal at our wedding, did you? So she read the words, we said I do and we kissed the brides. The funny thing was, maybe half the people thought this was a lesbian faux-wedding and half knew that it was a real, legal wedding, only the names had been changed to protect the guilty.
I wish this were one of those stories that could include the personal and moving vows we made to each other, but that didn't happen. In that time and place the idea of writing your own vows was just not done. Maybe if my namesake had actually made it to California and gotten hitched there she would have written her own, but this was Buffalo in 1977. I did offer up a little prayer to her spirit in thanks for her gift of her name, I really hope she's happy wherever she is.
We didn't have a band or dancing, but we did have friends to talk to and it was a very pleasant afternoon. I actually got some time with Patty's father and he treated me like the lady I have become. He was very encouraging when I told him I was starting college in a few weeks, obviously a professor knows the value of an education.
The time came to depart, so we got out the door and who should be standing there but Mike The Cop. Really. He had been transferred a while ago but was back to see friends in the neighborhood. When he saw the 'Closed For Private Party' sign he was curious and couldn't believe his eyes when he saw who were the brides.
Lesbian weddings were not very well known back then and he was one confused cop. When we saw him, both Patty and I gave him a big kiss - right on the mouth, of course - and left him to wonder. I never got the chance to find out if he was upset because I dumped him for another woman.
With Mike the Cop looking like a fish out of water, we got into Pops' car, which he was loaning us for a couple of days, and headed out to Niagara Falls. Or at least we started to. Some joker had tied tin cans on the back end. When Patty and I got done laughing she jumped out and untied them and this time we got away.
So that's the story of how I became the woman I am today. I spent the next two years learning to be a court reporter and found that Liza liked being a student just as much as Vito hated being one. Every once in a while I think back and wonder just what would have happened to that little punk Vito if I hadn't come along. Vito was surrounded by criminals and punks, and those were the people he emulated. Eliza was surrounded with intelligent, caring, hardworking women, and that's who Eliza emulated. It was hard work catching up to the original Eliza in college, but the new Eliza was determined and had loads of support.
When I graduated both my folks and Patty's folks were there to celebrate and I started my career as a court reporter. I even had to report on a couple of distant relatives. Of course ethics would have made me find someone else to do the job if it was someone I really knew, but with my large family there's always a chance we will meet under less than optimal circumstances.
About a month after I graduated I came home to find a important looking envelope in the mail from a law firm in Pennsylvania. Was someone trying to recruit me? When I opened it I couldn't believe what I was reading. The lawyers were the ones handling the estate of Eliza Mae Hawkins' grandparents, who had passed away some years ago. Was I the same Eliza Mae Hawkins?
Their estate had been liquidated and the proceeds placed in escrow pending identification of the heir. They had been searching for Eliza Mae but had no luck until my name appeared on some official list when I became a court reporter. If I was the right Eliza Mae, I needed to get in contact with them before the money was forfeited to the State.
Was this real? Was it some kind of crazy scam where I needed to put up earnest money in order to get the big prize? (That was one of cousin Shelly's favorite scams. She could be very convincing.) I handed the letter to Patty and she starts getting very excited and says we need to ask Jenny about it.
So we wait for Jenny to get home, all excited. Jenny says it looks like it might be real, but she'll ask her lawyers to check these guys out tomorrow.
She did check and it was real. That left us with a big question: was it right for me to take the money? See how disgustingly respectable I had become?
We finally decided that if the original Eliza Mae wasn't around to get the money then we sure didn't want the State to get it, so I sprung for a long distance call at daytime rates and talked to the lawyers. If it all worked out we could even pay next month's phone bill with the money.
Which is how Patty and I suddenly became middle class people. Farming may not be the most lucrative way to make a living, but the dairy farm was worth a pretty penny. I paid off the rest of my school loans and suddenly we didn't have to worry about money any more. That's a nice feeling.
Patty was able to start her own salon, one of her biggest dreams. It also paid for my implants, no more having to fool around with falsies. I don't know who appreciated that more, me or Patty.
I don't really know if there is anything after this life, but if there is I intend to register a formal complaint when I get there. Why did whoever designed our bodies deprive men of the joy and satisfaction of having breasts? Did some celestial architect have a grudge against males that men would never know just how wonderful breasts are without a surgeon or an endocrinologist intervening? Playing with your lover's breasts is certainly satisfying, but it just isn't the same. That lack is just plain nasty and they need to change the design before another generation of men are deprived.
OK, end of rant.
Even though we could afford to move, we stayed in the apartment - it was convenient to our jobs and the rent was pretty decent. Besides, we liked our roommates. That didn't last too long, however, Wendy and her guy decided they were going to get married and suddenly Patty and I were bridesmaids instead of brides.
With one room open and no money worries, Patty and I decided we should try to make us a new roommate, who arrived about ten months after Wendy left. Patty's salon was doing very well and she had an assistant who kept things going while she nursed the baby, so everybody was happy.
By this time Jenny was serious about her guy and we were once again bridesmaids. We filled her room pretty easily. Then we kept at it and had a third. Our first was getting ready for school so we finally made the move to suburbia so our kids could get a decent education.
PTA meetings were sometimes interesting with two mothers attending, that kind of thing was pretty odd back then. We told everyone that Patty's no-good husband Vito had taken off and left her with the kids, with no explanation of how he happened to keep coming back to get her pregnant again. That made me the good friend helping her out with her brood. It was a pretty good story once we polished it up and told it a few times. By the time the statute of limitations was up, we didn't think it was worth the effort to try and change anything so we let the story stand.
The kids all called us both Mom, which still tickles my heart, and as they got older their friends called us both Mom as well.
When the Supreme Court finally made gay marriage legal Patty divorced her no-good, long-lost husband Vito. By an amazing coincidence the guy just happened to be in town the day the papers were served. He didn't contest the divorce and signed the papers even if it was hard for him to remember what his signature looked like.
Patty and I got married quietly with Jenny doing the deed once again. We were married in Jenny's living room one evening with her husband and a neighbor acting as witnesses. She had a hard time keeping a straight face and her husband and the neighbors didn't believe a word of how it really was between us.
That's how life is sometimes. A naive guy start out to rob a bank and ends up a bride. Along the way I learned far more than I could in any school. I learned the power of love, trust, generosity and friendship. Perhaps even honesty.
I would not be the woman I am without my three roommates trusting the confused kid who invaded their apartment without the slightest reason to do so. I would not be the woman I am without the love of my wife Patty. We could not have been married and found joy together without the generosity and friendship of all the people I had met as I learned to be a woman.
Perhaps the greatest lesson was that honesty can be a reason to live life to the full for no other reason than it works. That's true even if you come from a background where honesty isn't all that valuable a commodity. Which sounds strange coming from a woman who is living a life stolen from a confused girl who managed to lose hers.
As you can tell, I didn't give up the 'increase your vocabulary' columns and studied hard in English so I could speak properly and clearly.
Patty and I are retired these days after satisfying careers. When the local government went through it's last cycle of ineffective "cost cutting" they made me an offer that I couldn't refuse. Considering where I came from, that's a thoroughly ironic phrase. So at age 59 1/2 (at least according to my birth certificate) I retired and Patty sold her shop and we go traveling and just enjoy life without the hassle of having to go to work.
As a skilled court reporter I lived through many changes as the technology advanced. I even spent a few years teaching at my old school, bringing new kids up to speed on how things are done in court these days.
Now we have two grandkids with a third on the way, and not a one of them will be appearing on the wrong side of the bar in a courtroom.