"How do you know these will fit," I asked.

"Because," she said, "I looked at your shoes one night. You’re a mens 7  ½, which makes you a women’s 9 or 9  ½. We’re the same size, although I bought these for you on line."

"Thorough, aren’t you," I said. "What would you have done with all this stuff if I said no?"

She laughed. "Like THAT was going to happen. Put them on and stand up."

I put them out. "Ouch," I said. "These toes hurt. They’re too pointy."

"You’ll get used to the pain."

"Again, if I had a dollar..."

"You’d have two dollars."

"Bitch."

"Stand up, Bri..I mean Jessica."

I stood up and wobbled. It was a strange sensation. Up higher, and yet somehow pitched forward.

"Walk," she commanded. I began to wobble, like a newborn colt. Then my ankle twisted and I fell down.

"Ow. These hurt. Can’t I wear flat shoes?"

"Look at these dresses you’ve picked out. Are any of the models wearing flats? Besides, how will you dance with your usher?"

"That’s not happening."

"We’ll see," she said, with a half smile. "Try again. This time, stand up straight. It’ll help. Wait a minute," she said, walking over to her CD player. "This’ll get you in the mood." Suddennly, En Vogue’s "Never Gonna Get It" started playing.

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, Lise, this is ridiculous."

"Please," she said. "You used to love this song in college. You could do the moves, too, as I recall."

"Once. I was drunk."

"Free your mind..." she started singing.

"Fine," I laughed. "I’ll do it. If you’ll stop singing." With that, I stood up again, as straight as I could, and began walking.

"Now, pretend like you’re on a tightrope. One foot in front of the other."

I did as told, and began wobbling. "Keep going," Lisa encouraged. "Don’t move your arms so much. Women don’t wave their arms when they walk."

I walked down the hall. The song switched. Now, it was "It’s Raining Men."

"What’s with the CD? Opening a gay bar?"

"This gets me in the mood. Makes me feel empowered."

"Empowered? Are we running a seminar here?"

"Shut up. It gets me excited before Jim and I go out. Just let your body move with the music."

I started giggling, but decided to follow her advice. Damn, if she wasn’t right. I felt more confident in the heels, much to my chagrin. Next came "Milkshake."

"My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard," Lisa sang.

"Stop it," I said.

"You’re doing great. Your ass is already starting to shake. Now, when you get to the end, turn."

I reached the end of the hall, went to turn, and fell into the wall. "Let’s stop, please..." I begged.

"Come on, girl. You need to do this. Or else, how will we go out?"

I turned white. "We are not going out!"

"Um, how will you be a bridesmaid, if you won’t leave here? Come on, you’ll get it. You’ll be walking like a model in no time."

"Just what I wanted to hear, thanks."

"Come on."

I got up, and started walking again. I kept picturing the imaginary tightrope. ‘Left foot in front of right, right in front of left...’ We kept doing turns around the apartment. "You’re doing terrific," Lisa kept saying. "Are you sure you’ve never done this before?"

"Stop. You know how anxious I am about this."

"Sorry, Bri..Jessica....I have to watch myself. Can I tell you again how much I love you for doing this?"

"You’re welcome."

We kept at it, trying higher and higher heel heights. I was walking towards Lisa in a pair of 4" Manolo slingbacks, when I heard a wolf whistle.

"Damn Brian," I heard Jim say. "You keep shaking that ass, and I’m going to get the fire extinguisher."

I turned bright red, and fell down.

"Well, that kills the mood," he laughed, offering me his hand.

"How long have you been there," I spluttered, while he and Lisa laughed hysterically.

"Two minutes, relax. Do you want me to go?"

"No, it’s okay. I think I’ll go."

"Wait," Lisa said. "You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I knew he was there."

"Thanks," I said, angrily. "What the hell’s going on here? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"No, Jess...and remember to call him that, Jim, his name’s Jessica now..."

"Uh huh," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Anyway, Jess, there’s no other motive here. It’s what I said, and no more."

"Fine...now what?"

"First, Jim is leaving..."

"Oh come on, I’m tired..."

"Go to Flanagan’s on 2nd. I’ll call when we’re done."

"Please?"

"I’ll make it worth your while...." she said, as Jim left skid marks.

"I totally didn’t expect him..."

"Uh huh, Lise. I’m feeling very uncomfortable, you know."

"Relax. Besides, now we’re going to do something easier...sitting."

"I’ve been sitting since I was a baby."

"Ha ha," she said. "I mean, sitting in a skirt. Now sit."

I sat down, unconsciously smoothing my skirt beneath me.

"Good. How did you know to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Smooth your skirt out before you sit."

"Did I do that? I must have seen my mom and sister do it, I guess."

"Good, good. Prevents it from wrinkling and riding up. Ahem.." she said, pointing at my lap. "Cross your legs. Be a lady."

I turned red. "Sorry."

"Put your legs together, or cross them at the ankles. That one drives guys wild. I don’t know why."

"Drives guys wild, huh? THAT I’ll try."

"Slut..."

"I’m learning from the best."

"OK," she said, "Let’s get you out of that black dress. We need to keep it fresh."

"What will I wear?"

"Thankfully, we’re close to the same size. So put these on," she said, handing me a baby blue sweater and black skirt. "This will give you something to wear, while we go shopping."

"OK," I started to say, "Oh no! No no no no! I’m not...I can’t...why are you doing this to me?"

"Noone will know..."

"Look, this is too much too soon," I said. "I agreed to do this, but you can’t just throw me to the sharks."

"It won’t be that bad."

"No, Lisa. I need to do this on my own schedule. I’m not comfortable. That’s it."

"OK, OK, Jess. You’re right. I’ll loan you some of my stuff. When you feel comfortable, we’ll go out. One thing, though..."

"What?" I said, suspiciously.

"I need to go to Victoria’s Secret for you. You’ll need your own underwear. Borrowing mine is out of the question.

I giggled. "That is kind of skeevy. Besides, I’ve never wanted to get in your panties."

She giggled back. "You wish you could."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Anyway, you really have to let me do this on my own time. When I’m ready, and I have no idea when that will be so don’t push, I’ll do it. That’s it. I’m still overwhelmed."

Lisa put her arm around me. "I can respect that. I really can. You do what you want, when you want it."

"Thank you. By the way, is there any solvent to get these things off?" I asked, holding my ‘breasts.’

"Why? Don’t tell me you’re chickening out..."

"No, but I would like to shower at some point, and can’t imagine they’re supposed to stay on 24/7 for six months..."

"Oh yeah," she said, reaching into the never-ending bag that was the source of all my troubles. "Here it is," she said, handing me two small bottles. "This is the solvent, and this is the glue."

"Can I ask you a question...actually, two."

"Uh huh," she said, warily.

"Don’t worry, I’m not backing out...yet. First, why do I need to do this for six months? Why can’t we just start this in like March or April? I mean I’d go on the diet for the full time. I just don’t get the corset and the dresses and everything. It’s a little ridiculous, no?"

"No, it’s not. I thought about that. I knew how uncomfortable you’d be, and I figured the more time you had, the better you’d be at it. Second, we’re going to start on all the wedding planning soon, and I want you totally involved..."

"And I can’t do that as a guy?"

"Well, I guess...but I wanted my best friend AND my bridesmaid there. Besides, there’s dress fittings and all that guys usually aren’t at."

"Come on, I’ve dated wedding plannners. They do all that stuff. Dressed like guys."

"I know, I just thought..." she said, with downcast eyes.

"Relax, relax. I’m not backing out. I just have questions. I’m entitled to answers."

"True. What’s question #2?"

"You say we’re going on workout regimens. How am I supposed to work out in drag? It’s not like I can go to the gym like this."

"Hmmm," she said, "I hadn’t thought about that."

"So, I can go in my usual work out clothes, without the gals here?"

"Let me think about it."

"If you want a fat bridesmaid, that’s your problem," I said, twirling and kicking up one heel coquettishly.

Lisa laughed, "See, you’re getting into it already."

I stopped. "It’s one thing in here. It’s another out there. I’m already on society’s shit list, as is. If I’m found like this, I’ll be dead and the cops won’t even look for the killer, do you understand that?"

"I know you’re freaked, Brian. I do. I wouldn’t do anything that put you in danger, you know that."

"I know. I just don’t think that you fully understand what it’s like."

"You take your time. If you have any problems at all, we’ll call this over. I promise. I want my best friend alive and OK more than a perfect wedding."

I smiled. "More than the Vera Wang dress and the Pierre?"

"Even that."

"Wow, I’m honored."

"Look, Bri..Jess, I have to remember that, you go to back to your place, and I’ll be over in a while with stuff for you."

"OK."

"Relax. And, in the meantime," she said, handing me both pairs of heels, "practice. You can’t walk into a wall everytime a hot guy checks you out. Otherwise, you’ll be perpetually bruised. Because whether you like it or not, you are one hot babe."

"I know."

"Oh really, Miss Thing? You best keep your hands off of my man," she said, doing the ‘Rikki Lake’ head move, with accompanying hand motions.

"Don’t worry. He’s already told me he likes women without penises."

Lisa laughed. "He is so unwilling to compromise."

"He also told me something else strange."

"What?"

"When I asked whether the usher who was paired with me would be OK, he said, ‘I’ll take care of it.’ I asked what that meant, and he said, ‘It means I’ll take care of it.’ What does that mean?"

Lisa gave the same half smile as Jim. "It means he’ll take care of it."

"What does that mean? Tell me. Come on."

"Goodbye," she said, walking out the door. "Let yourself out."

I scratched my head. Something was up, and I didn’t know what. Anyway, I figured my only choice was to go back to my place. I opened the door a crack, and peeked outside. "Good," I thought, "noone’s around." I snuck into the hall, and decided to take the stairs up the two flights rather than using the elevator. I figured that way I’d be safe.

I began walking up the stairs. That was a stupid idea. About two steps up, I twisted my ankle. "Stupid heels," I thought, taking them off. "I should never have done this." Anyway, I took off the shoes and limped up the two flights. I opened the stairwell door, and looked around. "Good, noone here either."

I opened the door to my apartment and sat down. I massaged my ankle. It hurt like hell. I also had to go the bathroom. I got up and walked in. After I was done, I washed my hands and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, and then I cried. "Look at yourself, Brian. You’re some kind of freak," I thought. "A pathetic weak little freak. Look at you. Makeup, tits and a dick. You’re the lowest of the low. You’re everything they’ve always said. Noone will want anything to do with you." I went into my bedroom, buried my head in the pillow and just bawled. Forty-five minutes later, my doorbell rang. I dragged myself off the bed. "Who is it?"

"Lisa," she said, brightly. "I bought you some presents."

"Go away. Leave them by the door," I said, sniffling.

"What’s the matter, Bri?"

"Just go. Leave everything by the door."

"Come on, open up."

"No."

"I’m not leaving unless you open up."

I opened the door a crack. "Just give me everything."

She pushed the door open and wedged herself in. "Just take a look...holy shit, what’s wrong?"

"Nothing...everything...nothing. Never mind."

"You’re really freaked, aren’t you?"

"Look at me, Lisa. I’m a joke. I’m a little queer with tits. I’m pathetic."

"That’s enough," she said sternly. "You are NOT a freak, and stop feeling sorry for yourself. I am not a freak, I do not associate with freaks, so just stop it."

"Do you know what my father would say if he saw me?"

"Fuck him."

"You know what," I said angrily. "I’m sorry if I’m scared. I’m sorry I’m not jumping up and down and doing twirls. But I’m scared. How would you feel if your whole life was crystallized at once, and you realized how fucked up you were? How would it feel," and then I started bawling again.

"I’m sorry, Jess. I really am. You’re right. I didn’t realize how scary this could be. Maybe subconsciously that’s why I asked for six months. So you could adjust. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate this. Whatever you need to feel comfortable, I’ll do it," she said, fumbling around for words. "Please. I’m really sorry for what I said."

I sniffled, "You should be."

"You’re right."

"What’s in the bags?"

"Well," she said with a grin. "This is your underwear. Ten pairs. Five bras. If you want more, you have to go get it yourself."

I opened the first pair, and pulled out a red lace thong. "Oh, you bitch," I said, laughing.

"I told you if you let me go myself...don’t worry, there’s some cotton ones in there. I just had to get those. Just to see your reaction."

"What’s in the other bag?"

"Skirts. Tops. Some other clothes and makeup for you. For whenenver you decide to go out. Also some issues of Vogue, Elle, In Style, etc. Get an idea of what works for you."

"Uh huh. What works for me is men’s clothes"

"Whatever," she said, ignoring me completely. She reached into her wallet, and handed me a credit card with my name, well ‘Jessica Rosen’ on it.

"What’s this?"

"$1,500 debit card. You use this whenever and wherever you want. Buy clothes, whatever. Do it on your own time."

"Uh huh."

"Do you want to be alone, Jess? If you want me to hang around, I will. If not, not."

"Yeah, I think I’d like to be alone, if you don’t mind."

"Not at all. Tell you what, I won’t even call. You call me when you’re ready, OK?"

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Not as much as me," she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "By the way, wash your face. Your makeup is a complete mess."

I washed my face and then went into my bedroom, took off the corset and put a t-shirt on. It stretched over my chest so much that it left a little strip of stomach showing. Now I looked my old college roommate’s girlfriend. "Wonderful," I thought. "Just wonderful."

I climbed into bed and passed out. That night, I had the most bizarre dream. I know it sounds cliched, but I did. I was outside dressed in a floral print dress. Noone noticed at first, then suddenly a little kid shouted, "That’s a boy!" Suddenly everyone on the street was jeering and catcalling me. No matter where I went, I couldn’t escape it. Suddenly, a man came out of nowhere. He looked like one of the 2xist underwear models. He scooped me up in his arms and said, "Don’t worry. I’ll protect you." Then he gave me a long passionate kiss. The next thing I knew I was in a wedding gown, and he was taking me across a threshold. He pulled off my dress, so I was just wearing a bra, panties, garters and stockings. He pulled down my panties and my penis was gone. Then he looked at me and said, "You’re not the woman I married," and left. I was left standing there, looking confused when...

My alarm went off. I woke up with a start. I looked in the mirror. My college roommate’s girlfriend looked back. I went into the kitchen and made some coffee. "OK," I thought. "Let’s just do some work, that’ll take my mind off of it." I spent the next three days immersing myself in work. I never left the house. I had food delivered, which I barely touched. I never even went onto my terrace. I figured avoidance was the only way to deal. My clients, however, were happy. Projects were getting finished at a rapid rate. Nothing like severe sublimation and denial to move a project along.

By the afternoon of day three, I was getting cabin fever. I decided to look at what Lisa had left me. I pulled out a black silk skirt and red sweater. I put everything on. "Not bad. Not bad at all," I thought. "Let’s see if she left me any flat shoes." Sure enough, there were black flat shoes. "OK," I thought, "This isn’t so bad." Analytical mind that I am, I decided the next step was makeup. "Let’s go online. Someone has to have make-up tips." Sure enough, the web has everything. I found several websites that helped me learn everything from daytime to evening. I spent the next several hours, applying and reapplying makeup. By the end, I was quite good if I do say so myself. I was also, quite frankly, a little put off by how quickly I adapted. But, I chose to use sublimation and denial yet again. You’d be surprised how well that works. One thing was wrong however. My hair.

"Shit," I thought. "Everything looks good, but this is a mess. I have to figure this out." I started thumbing through all the magazines. Suddenly, in In Style, I saw a picture of Keira Knightley. She had this shortish kind of haircut that looked like I could pull it off. The caption said, "Styled by Bumble and Bumble, NYC." I figured, "What the hell? Let’s see if they have any openings." I picked up the phone.

"Bumble and Bumble."

"Hi," I said, "I’d like to make an appointment for a haircut. I don’t suppose you have any openings..."

"Actually," the receptionist said brightly. "We have a 10 AM cancellation with Robert tomorrow. You’re in luck. Otherwise, it’s a month. Have you ever been here before?"

"Uh, no."

"What’s your name?"

I drew a deep breath. "Uh, Jessica. Jessica Rosen."

"Well, uh Jessica" she said, with a giggle. "We’ll see you at 10 tomorrow. You’ll love Robert, he’s fabulous.’

"I, uh, can’t wait," I said.

I slept like shit that night. I tossed and turned. No dreams though. I woke up at 8:00 AM the next day. "Oh, jeez," I thought. "Do I really want to do this? Not really, but let’s give it a go." I went and got dressed in the red sweater and skirt, and put on my makeup. I pulled my hair into a scrunchie that was in the bag. What I saw in the mirror both excited and unnerved me. I put my keys, money and debit card in the purse Lisa had oh so thoughtfully left for me. I drew a deep breath and went outside. I debated taking the train or a cab. On the one hand, the train is much more anonymous. On the other hand, if I’m caught, I’m dead. Cab it was.

I hailed a cab. "57th and Park, please."

"OK, miss."

"Miss," I thought. "That’s good."

We pulled up to Bumble and Bumble, and I paid the cabbie. "Thank you."

"May I say, miss, that they cannot do anything to make you more beautiful."

I blushed. "Uh, thank you. You’ve just made my day." "More than you know," I thought.

I went in. "Hi, I have a 10 AM appointment with Robert. Jessica Rosen."

"Of course," she said. "Put on a robe and have a seat. He’ll be right out."

I went in and changed. I pulled the robe tight, so that noone could see the breast forms.

I sat and read the In Style I had brought with me, when all of a sudden a man who made me seem butch came swishing in. "You must be Jessica. Robert. What are we doing today?"

"Hi, Robert. Uh, Jessica Rosen. Nice to meet you. I think I’d like something like this," showing him the picture of Keira Knightely.

"Ooh, Keira. Fabulous. That would look stunning on you. Come, come. Are we doing highlights, as well?"

"What do you think?"

"No, not yet. Sit," he said, leading me to a shampoo chair. "Darling," he said to the shampoo girl. "Shampoo her and bring her to me. I leaned back in the chair and the warm water began caressing my head. The girl began rubbing shampoo and then conditioner in my hair. "Mmmm, that feels so good."

The girl laughed. "Boy, someone needs a little something something."

I laughed. "True enough. But, even so, this feels good."

"Thank you, miss. Come let’s go to Robert." We walked over. "Here she is," she said, giggling.

"So, sit. So the Keira cut, yes?" he said, lifting my hands with his fingers.

"Exactly."

He began snipping and cutting. About halfway through, he said, out of nowhere, "So, what’s your name?"

"Uh, we covered this. Jessica Rosen."

"Oh, please, princess. Your real name."

I turned blank white. "How did you know?"

"Please , queen. It takes one to know one."

"Oh my god, did the shampoo girl read me? That’s why she giggled. I’m doomed."

"Oh, don’t worry. That little slut can’t walk and chew gum. If she figured you out, every shampoo girl and receptionist here would’ve come by to take a look. Anyway, what’s your name?"

"Brian. How did you figure me out?"

"A couple of tips. First, get used to saying your girl name. You pause too much. Second, the makeup was flawless, you’ve been practicing, good girl. But the robe was too tight. Also, the hair was rat’s nest. Any real girl with flawless makeup coming here would NOT be caught dead with her hair in a scrunchie. But, don’t worry, noone could read you. And, when I’m done, you’ll be beating the straight boys off with a stick."

I grinned. "Oooh, that sounds like fun."

"I like you girl," he said, laughing. "So what’s the story? Why are you here?"

I told him the whole story. When I finished, he blew out a breath. "Damn, you are one good friend, Miss Jessica. That’s a lot of her to ask."

"Tell me about it. So what do you think "I’ll take care of it" means?"

"I was thinking about that. I don’t know. Something’s up though. And that friend of yours is in on it. Get even with her though. Use up that debit card. Anyway, take a look. I’m done."

I stared in the mirror. I was dumbfounded. "Ohmigod, Robert, it’s gorgeous."

"No, you are."

I started tearing up. "Oh stop it," he said. "Your makeup will run. Now go pay."

I paid, put on my sweater and came back. I slipped my hand into his front pocket with his tip, and gave a little squeeze. "This is for you."

"Oh, please," he said, rolling his eyes. "Sorry, but I like my men manly, Miss Jessica."

I folded my arms, in mock exasperation. "I just can’t win. The first man says you’re too manly. The second one says you’re too queeny..."

"OK, Goldicocks. You’ll find the one that’s just right."

I gave him a peck on the cheek and left. "Let’s hope so. I’ll keep you posted."

I decided to give the debit card a whirl. I still felt uncomfortable and scared, but decided to try. If I got caught, this would be over. I was walking on Lex, when I passed Ann Taylor. I saw a floral print dress in the window. It was the dress from the dream. I must’ve walked past it a hundred times and it must’ve been burned into my subconscious. I walked in.

"May I help you, miss?" said the salesgirl.

"Uh, yes. I’m looking for the dress in the window. The floral print. Size 8."

"Of course, follow me."

We found the rack. "Here you are. The fitting room’s over there. Can I show you anything else?"

"Do you have any suggestions?"

"With your complexion, I’d go with pale pastels. Pink, baby blue. Tell you what, go try on the dress and I’ll bring you things."

"Uh, that’s great." I drew a deep breath. Into the belly of the beast. I went in. The other women going in and out didn’t even give me a second look. Well, nothing beyond the usual once over women give each other. I went into the fitting room and tried on the dress. I couldn’t believe it. I looked so cute. I gave a little twirl. I heard the saleswoman say, "Let me see." I came out tentatively.

"That is adorable," she said.

"You think?"

"Absolutely. Someone is just going to eat you up."

I blushed. "I don’t think so."

"Don’t be so modest. Try these on," she said, handing me all manner of tops, skirts and dresses.

As I went to pay, she said, "Do you wear pants often?"

"Yes, why?"

"You shouldn’t. You have a figure that was made for skirts. I would kill for your legs."

I blushed. "I bet you say that to all of your commissions."

She laughed, "But I don’t always mean it."

I left the store $550 lighter. I spent the rest of the day, going from store to store. When I got home, I went upstairs and called Lisa. "Hi, Lise!’

"Oh, Bri. Thank god. I was beginning to worry."

"I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you. Let’s go to dinner. Your treat."

"Very cute. When?"

"Come over in fifteen minutes?"

"Sure."

I went into the bedroom, put on my new floral print dress and fixed my make up. Then, the doorbell rang. "Come in," I said, "Door’s open."

I walked out. Lisa’s jaw dropped, "Brian?"

{to be continued}