Saturday Afternoon
Hmmm… He lazily opened his eyes to see a perfect, cloudless blue sky. Not bad. Shifting downward a bit there was a sparkling, green ocean. Even better. A little further down was a water nymph lazing back in a beach chair, complete with skimpy red bikini bottom, marvelous bare breasts, olive skin and flowing chestnut hair, still damp from - he assumed - a dip in that endless green ocean. A little more to the left and there was another nymph, this one with pixie-cut chestnut hair and a blue bikini, also topless and displaying that burnished tone of the people from the Mediterranean area. Sisters, the pixie was Antonia, the long-haired one was Chryssa, his fiancee.

Nice scenery, indeed. He continued scanning around and soon focused on ten emerald green toenails. Nice color, but as they were his toenails he was a bit taken aback.

It had been a long haul form Ohio to Virginia, and he had thoroughly enjoyed napping on the beach this Saturday morning. Since even tickling his toes with a nail polish brush hadn't awakened him, he assumed he had had a thoroughly refreshing nap. Shaking off the last vestiges of his afternoon repose, he spoke.

"What have you two vixen been up to while I was communing with the gods of Lethe?" he asked.

"It speaks!" the one barely clad in blue responded.

"Why, just enjoying the sand and sun on this fine day, JJ," his love responded.

Our hero - one Jimmy-John Walker, otherwise known as JJ - smiled. At first sight, JJ was not an impressive man. Coming from a small town in Mississippi, he had taken more than his share of grief because of that. Neither very tall or very short, you would never find a six-pack perched upon a well muscled body, but he wasn't your ninety-eight pound weakling either. Being of a curious nature, he spent much of his life with a book in front of him, so much so that he was at the head of his class. The jocks shunned him, the rednecks dismissed him with the nickname 'professor', but the girls that weren't into cheerleading kinda liked to hang out with him, since he was the lead singer of the one and only garage band in town. They weren't half bad at the gig, either, playing at Bubba's Bar and to hell with the age restrictions in the barroom.

JJ was the despair of his mother, who yearned to have a classical musician as her son. When he was six years old his mother started him on piano lessons, and he took to it with a vengeance. Not to be outdone, JJ's father put a banjo in his hands and they started singing Bluegrass together. Even after puberty JJ kept his high tenor voice, becoming a staple at the VFW hall when everybody got together to play. To the despair of both his parents, JJ saved his pennies and bought an elderly, beat-up solid body electric and started playing 'that rock crap' in his buddy's garage.

How he found time to become fascinated with science was anybody's guess, but he was right there in the top three at every science fair and science project. To his amazement, he became a good example to his siblings because he always got straight A's on his report cards and the bad example for the other parents in town because played that rock crap and he hadn't cut his hair in several years. JJ wisely kept his opinions about religion to himself, sitting quietly through services and pleading he was too busy with music and school to attend youth groups and such.

Is it any wonder that JJ ended up with pretty much a free ride at a college in Ohio? JJ just didn't fit in any small town, let alone one in the rural south, and jumped at the chance to put many miles between himself and his birthplace. He blossomed at a school where he could exercise his curiosity and where his scholarship earned him the praise instead of the scorn of his peers.

He finally settled on physics as his major course of study, but he was driven to minor in music; years of his mother's passion had left its mark. Falling into a well-worn role, he became the despair of the music faculty by heading up a punk-rock revival band. The band regularly played the bars around town, and no one in the band cared what anyone called the music they were making as fashions and nomenclature changed. Loud, obnoxious, anti-whatever was their forte, and outrageous as possible was their goal. Amazing what people will pay good money to see. Or hear.

Away from home and in the liberal culture of higher education, he met and fallen in love with a Greek-descended goddess by the name of Chryssa, a determined woman whose interests lay in mechanical engineering. In her own way, Chryssa was the despair of her urban New Jersey/New York City parents. While her parents were the second generation after those who braved the sea voyage to the New World, they still had hopes she would marry a nice Greek boy and settle down to raise an abundance of nice Greek grandchildren, even if she was needlessly over-educated for a girl.

Yeah, some people still think like that.

They had met courtesy of the college's insistence that they take several so-called breadth courses in order to become well-rounded students. (JJ always insisted that Chryssa was perfectly well-rounded in all the right places, usually before ducking from her annoyed swat.) They had both chosen a class on improv performance, something well outside their professional boundaries, and had had fallen in love with acting as well as each other.

Alas Chryssa's parents' had found their hopes dashed, just as JJ's parents' hopes fell to muti-cultural reality, when they moved in together in their senior year. Marriage was off the table despite their love since their scholarships and grants would would be affected. Plans were to have the ceremony next Thanksgiving after their final awards were in the bank and they had passed GO collected a good deal more than $200.

By the way, neither one of them were particularly excited about having their families meet - the whole 'bring your lover home to meet mom & dad' thing had been a bit tense. They had even worked up a very funny scenario involving the Mississippi rednecks meeting the New York foreigners at the wedding. Well, funny if you weren't the couple in the middle, anyway. Such are the ancient troubles of the modern generation.

JJ and Chryssa were visiting her older sister Antonia during the summer break before completing their doctorates. With the grants and a lot of hard work, they could afford to take the summer off to enjoy life before returning to the academic grind. They had stopped for two weeks to visit his almost-sister-in-law at her beachfront digs in Virginia. Antonia was about five years older than Chryssa and has done very well for herself, as witness her desirable residence in vacation country.

Antonia had always relished the air of mystery that surrounded her. She was employed in one of the vast government buildings doing something Brobdingnagian and secret in their innermost recesses. A striking woman and a sought-after party guest, she was highly adept at providing ambiguiouis answers to the flocks of young men who were interested in just who she was. If her subtle redirection failed, she was quite capable of responding "I spend half my days making terrorists quake in their boots and the other half making Senators and Congresscritters shit their pants. If I gave you any more detail you'd end up in Guantanamo Bay."

Not the shy, retiring flower her Greek mother envisioned, but then Greeks have a long and noble history of giving their governments what-for. Mama was proud of Antonia in her heart-of-hearts.

Now that you have a little backstory on our protagonists, we return you to our regularly scheduled program. Remember - JJ had just discovered his nails were a pretty emerald green.

 

"Well, we are here to relax, and from my point of view the scenery is quite spectacular, but there seems to be a fungus growing on my toenails. I hope it won't keep me from swimming."

"Fungus?! Jimmy-John honey, your fingers and toes now match that cute little speedo you're wearing."

As the light dawned, he moved his hands into his line of vision and, sure enough, the fingernails were emerald green, too.

"You've been busy little beavers while I was napping, I see."

"Watch it, buster! Words like that could be misconstrued."

"My apologies. I wouldn't want to muff it."

He couldn't help it - but he paid. He was dragged bodily from his chair and unceremoniously thrown in the ocean. Not that you'll hear him complaining, frolicking in the ocean with a pair of nymphs is a fine way to spend the afternoon.

Eventually even the most fun frolicking becomes too much effort to sustain, so they adjourned to Antonia's place to shower off the salt and wash up.

With Antonia's short hair she was done in a few minutes. Chryssa took a bit longer and he took quite some time as his hair hung down to his ass. At times like this when the beauteous nymphs were waiting to go to dinner that hair could be a pain, but on stage it was a major asset, along with the makeup and the edgy wardrobe.

Yeah, JJ was a cynic, but the look made money and they had fun. He was no Iggy Pop, but nothing draws them into an overpriced bar like a long haired guy in a corset and fishnet stockings screaming into the mike while shredding a guitar. It takes all kinds.

But he was on vacation. No corsets or lab coats for either side of JJ, just a t-shirt and jean shorts in this warm weather. It still took forever for his hair to dry, though.

Now, if this were a romance story, the author would be describing JJ's hair as something like 'long, flowing golden tresses cascading down his back.' Since this is a fantasy story written by an old man who wants to be a woman part time, this author is going to describe JJ's hair as 'long and curly blonde down to his ass.' You're welcome to use whichever description turns you on, the point is his hair was really long.

"Jeez - we're going to be late, JJ."

"Sorry, but who's idea was it to drag me into the briny deep?"

"Details, details. There's seafood waiting. How much longer will that mop take to dry?"

"Maybe another hour."

"No! Sit your ass down, I'm getting my hair dryer," ordered Antonia.

"Yes, mistress!"

So that's how he ended up with a nymph plying a brush through his lengthy locks while fluffing them with warm air. Actually, it was kind of relaxing.

"I think I'm jealous of your hair, JJ. How long have you been letting it grow?"

"Since the summer before I started high school."

"Impressive! What made you do it? I wondered how a southern boy like you ended up with Rapunzel hair."

"A few reasons. One, it pissed off my dad. Two it really pissed off the assistant principal at the high school. Old Asshole Artie thought boys should look like Marine recruits. One of the boys in the year before me actually took the school to court over sex discrimination with long hair and won, so he had to give in and shut up."

"A rebel with a cause!"

"Not me, partly lazy and partly too cheap to pay for a haircut after dad told me he wouldn't spring for a salon to cut it. Boys don't do that, you know."

"That was what, nine years ago?"

"Yeah. Then when we started the band it went with the image. Besides, I like long hair. Oooh, whatever you're doing it feels heavenly."

"You mean my sister doesn't play with your hair? I could run my fingers through it all night. Forget about going out, frozen pizza and hair play will do me."

"Fat chance, sis! His hair is all mine, but you're welcome to borrow it for a little while."

"You've aroused my inner stylist, JJ. Chryssa? How about getting my hair things from the second drawer in my vanity. This hair cries out for some fashion enhancement!"

"Dare I ask?" queried JJ.

"Not on your life. I vill make you be-you-tee-ful, my dah-link!"

"I didn't know Natasha was a stylist."

"How do you think old Boris kept that stupid hair style for all those shows. Natasha was constantly fixing his hairdo."

"And I was told that college would provide me with a complete education. I should have watched the Saturday morning cartoons more assiduously."

"You will be a masterwork, my friend."

JJ relaxed and went with the flow, feeling the various tugs and pulls and caresses. He started to worry a bit when Antonia started to yodel softly under her breath. What was that all about?

At last the job was finished and JJ was led to the bedroom with his eyes closed. He was commanded to open them and, looking in the mirror he found his hair had been expertly braided, then wound up and pinned on his head like a Swiss maiden. Think Heidi and you've got the picture. Now the yodeling made sense.

"I'm going to have to hire a bodyguard to protect me from my sister-in-law. I think I'm glad I'm not related to you two, growing up in your house would have been torture for any poor, unsuspecting brother."

"I'm rather glad you're not my brother, either," replied Chryssa. "No way I'd be sleeping with you, and I wouldn't want to give that up."

"I may have to give up sleeping with you if I keep waking up like this," he said as he waved his emerald fingertips.

"I'll be glad to take him off your hands, sis."

"It's not his hands I'm thinking about."

"They do seem rather… large… at that."

"Let's not go there, ladies." he offered.

"Yeah, let's go out for dinner."

"Is there a dress code?" he asked.

"What, you want to borrow a dress?"

"Might go with the hairstyle at that. Antonia, I left all my dresses back home. Besides, I only wear them on stage; I'm plain old JJ offstage, thank you."

"I thought you liked wearing dresses."

"Only if I get paid. There are limits."

"I've seen pictures, JJ. Is he bullshitting me, sis?"

"Nope, JJ is a big strong man offstage. Strong like bull! eh, JJ"

"As far as I can remember, nobody but you has cowed me yet, Chryssa."

"Nuts! I think he'd look kind of cute in a dress."

"Sister mine, even if JJ is the love of my life his taste in women's fashion is abominable! No sense of taste, clashing colors and he'd wear a mini to a royal wedding. Every damn thing in his wardrobe is enough to gag a maggot."

"Antonia, I don't do cute, I don't do good taste, I do shock and awe. Counter-culture, you know."

"See - even he admits it. JJ has the most atrocious taste in dresses of any person on this planet.

"Thank you, my dear. I have achieved my goal in life."

"You want to be an ugly woman?" Antonia asked.

"No, I want to be a man in an ugly dress. It's called showmanship."

"Not only that, but his makeup skills are about where we were at fifteen, sweet sister mine. Shoveled on with a trowel and eyes like a racoon who has been flattened by a truck on the highway."

"You wound me! I bet I could do a very creditable makeup job on myself under the right conditions. I even took some lessons when we started the band."

"You'll have to show me sometime. It could be interesting."

"Too bad you didn't bring any dresses. We could have had a girl's night out."

"I don't think he'd know what to do if you put a dress on him and didn't hand him a mike and a guitar. It's sort of a conditioned reflex to have him start screaming lyrics when he dresses up."

"Might be a bit off-putting to the other diners. I suppose we'll have to just go as we are."

"Ought to be interesting with my hair like this. Lead on, ladies!"

With Antonia at the wheel, they soon were back at the Virginia shore, this time at one of the many eateries that dot the Atlantic coast. Seated on the deck overlooking the beach, they feasted on seafood while watching the waves roll in as the sky turned to magnificent colors.

"Too bad we're facing East, the setting sun would be the perfect thing to be watching tonight," lamented Chryssa.

"Maybe you should wangle a transfer to California?"

"You have any idea what beachfront property goes for in the land of fruits and nuts?"

"You could always marry a rich geek from the Silicon valley."

"I suppose if he was geeky enough he'd never be home so I wouldn't have to put up with a geek."

"Isn't it nice when a plan comes together?"

"I wonder if those three guys over at that table are rich geeks?"

"JJ! Don't turn around. It would just attract their attention."

"As if the one on the right hasn't been checking us out for the last fifteen minutes."

"You don't suppose…" queried Chryssa.

"You may be right." answered Antonia.

"Are you two doing the sisters secret language thing again?" asked JJ.

"I suppose we are."

"Would you care to enlighten this poor, benighted male of the species?"

"That's just the point! With your hair up like that and flashing those pretty green nails, anyone looking at your back, like those three bozos over there, would think we're three hot chicks."

"Maybe I ought to evacuate to the west coast. First it's painted nails, then it's Swiss Miss hair and now you have some half-drunk guy ready to try out his lame pickup lines with me."

"Don't worry, JJ," Chryssa grinned. "They can look but not touch. You're mine and I don't share."

"Even with your sister?" queried Antonia.

"Especially with my sister!"

About that time the waiter approached their table bearing three glasses on a tray.

"Your pardon, sir and ladies, but the three gentlemen over there have asked you to accept these drinks on them. I fear they have had a little more to drink than was wise as they have failed to notice there are only two ladies at this table."

"It's the Demon Rum I tell you!" cried JJ. "Reverend Judd preached against just such licentiousness and he had the right of it. Next time I'm home I'll have to tell him about this evening."

Slipping something folded to the waiter Antonia asked "Kindly give the gentlemen our thanks and tell them we would be pleased to share their generous gift with them."

A smile lit the waiter's face. "I would be pleased to do just that, madam. OK if I watch?"

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."

"Chryssa," asked JJ, "Do I have to worry that you'll grow up to be like your sister?"

"Nope. Don't plan on growing up."

"That's a relief! However, I do think I might need that bodyguard I spoke of earlier when these guys realize what a low sense of humor you two share."

"I'm not worried, we have a big, strong man to protect us, don't we Chrys?"

"Right! I'll just challenge them to a head butting contest," our hero scoffed. "With all this padding you two have on the top of my head I won't be hurt."

"Good evening ladies… Ah shit!"

"Good evening, gentlemen," JJ said with a very wide smile on his face. "I do believe that a lesson I learned from my seventh grade art teacher is quite relevant to the situation."

"Huh?" came the somewhat inebriated reply.

"My art teacher repeatedly told us to examine everything from all angles before trying to capture it as a work of art. I think you have just realized that your impressions of me from the back are quite different from my front view."

"Jesus, ain't that the truth!"

"Hey guys," Antonia grinned. "As long as you're here why don't you pull up a chair and sit down? Those two are already taken, but who knows? You could get lucky with me."

As odd as it may seem, the six of them had a pretty good time just talking and drinking for the rest of a warm summer's evening.

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning JJ arose to find his bed empty, quite an unusual occurrence as Chryssa was a dedicated morning sleeper if given the chance. After stumbling into the bathroom and rinsing the sleep from his body with a hot shower, he belted on his robe and padded to the living room, where he found the women giggling over something on the computer.

"So what's so funny, ladies?" he asked. "Checking to see if the Chippendales are coming to town?"

Darned if they didn't look guilty! Now just what could provoke guilt from these two hoydens?

"Nah, they're in Vegas. We do Men In Motion around here," Antonia replied.

"Figures, you'd be the one to be looking for a little action."

"Smartass."

"Your sister seems to think my ass is pretty smart."

"Obviously the most intelligent part of your body, I suppose."

"She always been this nasty, Chrys?"

"Believe it or not, she's mellowed."

"Glad I got the better sister in my bed, then."

"Hey buster! You making comparisons?" Antonia queried.

"You offering?"

"JJ," Chryssa warned, "you're skating on thin ice."

"In the summer in Virginia?"

"In your bed if you're not careful."

"In that case, I withdraw the subject from consideration. So just what are you two looking at?"

"Dresses and petticoats."

"Petticoats? How quaint. Not exactly your usual style, eh?"

"Nope, but when we go to visit Colonial Williamsburg we thought we'd dress the part."

"So do I get to wear a frock coat and hose or something like that?"

"Wrong historical period, but you're getting close. Something like that. They promise two day delivery so we can go in a couple of days."

"Amazon sells revolutionary war clothing?

"Not Amazon, but they're plenty of places that sell the right kind of clothing."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but somewhere I learned that women didn't wear bras back then, they had … what were they called… oh yeah, stays! Looked damned uncomfortable."

"We are not going to insist on complete historical accuracy, love. And just why were you investigating women's undergarments in the first place?"

"I'm male - I have a vested interest in removing women's undergarments, thus I did my research. Bras snaps are far preferable to lots of laces and such."

"You seem to have an interest in wearing women's clothes, too." Antonia enjoined.

"Purely professional. I get my stuff at the Goodwill - the uglier the better for the show. And I don't wear bras or stays or suchlike as I don't have boobs."

"You'd look cute in a corset."

"Uh, I do have to have enough breath to sing, you know."

"You could have fooled those guys last night."

"Please! That was just weird."

"Shame, though. I've never been on a triple date." Antonia lamented.

"Count yourself lucky if you can get one guy," JJ taunted.

"Just 'cuz you couldn't snag one of them."

"I'm taken."

"He's got a point there, sis."

"Now that we have that out of the way, shall we fix some breakfast?'

"Sounds like a plan to me," JJ replied as he headed for the kitchen.

"Just so he doesn't know all your plans - until it's too late, snickered Antonia."

The sisters exchanged a pair of wicked grins before joining JJ for breakfast.

Tuesday Afternoon

The afternoon was waning when the two sisters, giddy from a day spent shopping - well, wandering through stores without buying much, but that counts, doesn't it? - entered the lobby of the apartment complex to find several boxes waiting below the mailboxes. A slow smile crept across Chryssa's face as she realized the packages were addressed to her; the costumes and assorted supporting materials had arrived. This was going to be fun.

Burdened not only with the bags from their afternoon troll of the stores as well as the boxes, Antonia elbowed the right floor button on the elevator and jumped out of the way of the closing door. With a melodious chime and a slight lurch the door opened on the 5th floor and the two women exited.

There was a slight problem upon reaching Antonia's locked door, both of them had their hands full of packages, so Antonia had to drop her lucre and fish in her purse for the key. While she searched for the elusive object, the faint sounds of an electric guitar came through the door. Oddly enough, it was not a rendition of some heavy metal anthem or punk rock classic, but Bach's Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring.

With a finger to her lips, Antonia quietly entered her home and the sisters stood listening to JJ as he was completely absorbed in his music. It was a tribute both to old JS and young JJ that the music was as fresh and new and brilliant on an electric guitar as it was several hundred years ago on a harpsichord. As the last note faded away, Antonia let out the breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.

"That was simply beautiful!" she enthused."

JJ started, he had been so absorbed in his music he hadn't heard them come in.

"Not my usual style, is it?"

"You haven't lived with JJ, have you, sis?" grinned Chryssa.

"I don't have enough of a death wish to go poaching, sister. Not that I wouldn't die happy with music like that."

"Years of classical training, Antonia. I still love the music almost as much as the hard stuff. That one sounds better on a piano or harpsichord, you can't quite get some of the subtleties on the guitar. Not enough fingers."

"Could have fooled me, JJ."

"Your sister tells me that isn't all that hard to do."

"And I assure you, JJ has quite enough fingers - and other things - to satisfy me."

"Geez sis, is that all you think about?"

"Sometimes I think about food. Where we going for dinner?"

"I suppose it is that time. We need to get JJ nice and mellow before we show him his new clothes for tomorrow."

"Wait a minute!" JJ looked pained. "Just what are you two planning that you need to get me mellow?"

"Nothing that you haven't done before or that need concern you, love," purred Chryssa.

"Be afraid," intoned Antonia. "Be very afraid!"

"Thanks for the warning, but it's too late. Remember I live with this, uh, woman. I recognize the signs."

"Of what?" asked Chryssa sweetly.

"Of something that I'm going to regret."

 

A couple of hours later.

 

JJ was, as promised, quite mellow. A few glasses of wine, some surf-and turf, an obscene dessert and two delightful dinner companions had assured that.

"Ready for the fashion show, JJ?" asked Chryssa.

"I knew I was going to regret this."

"JJ, you get to pick box number one, box number two or box number three."

"There are four boxes," JJ observed.

"The fourth one is for you, no need to pick," Antonia replied as she removed one box and set it aside. That was the one from Amazon with it's smiling arrow upon the side. The rest were unmarked except for the ubiquitous bar codes required of any parcel in transport these days.

"I am going to regret this, I just know I am."

"Au contraire, my little lamb. You will be the belle of the ball before we are done."

"Yeah, I'm a ding-a-ling to go along with this," grumped JJ.

"One, two or three. Time to choose."

"OK, I'll go with two."

"And the lovely Antonia will reveal what is inside box number two!" intoned Chryssa.

Slicing carefully, the box opened to reveal a dark brown colonial woman's dress.

"Lovely!" Chryssa cried. "Not quite authentic as an authentic outfit would be with several pieces like a shift and stays and stomachers and petticoats, but close enough for a few days at Williamsburg."

"The light dawns," offered JJ. "That's what you two conspirators were doing on the computer."

"Right the first time, bucko. We're going to do this right."

"You're actually going to wear stays?" asked JJ.

"Hardly. I'm really not into whalebones sewn into a cloth and squashing my tits into a big blob. The ideal revolutionary woman would have had a slightly tapered tubular trunk, and stays did do a good job of pushing the tops of her boobs up to let horny colonial men ogle her cleavage if she had a low neckline, though."

"Sounds uncomfortable."

"I'm sure it was, but it could be worse. There was actually a time when fashion dictated a woman shove a piece of wood down the front of her body along with the stays so she couldn't bend at the waist."

"I'm damn glad I only wear a dress to perform. The whole underwear bit is really strange."

"I intend to wear a regular old bra under the dress. I'm not going to be in authentic layers of wool during the Virginia summer!" announced Chryssa.

"A wise woman."

"OK JJ, pick another box."

"Let's go for number one this time."

Which revealed several pairs of stockings, petticoats and some of those pleated bonnets women used to wear.

"So now we have the appropriate stuff for either end of the body. Cute."

"No need to pick any more, sister. Open the last one," instructed Chryssa.

Which revealed a second dress in emerald green.

"Why JJ, it matches your nail polish!" smiled Chryssa.

"I knew I was going to regret this. You don't really expect…"

"Hey, if you could fool those guys the other night into thinking you're a woman without even trying, then think of how good you'd be with the proper clothes. You'll have to remove the nail polish, though, it's out-of-period. They didn't really invent colored nail polish until the 1920s."

"If I'm counting correctly that is two, but only two, dresses and it appears you are expecting three so-called women to be in on this gig."

"An astute observation," grinned Antonia. "I have several of these confections already in my closet. I love Colonial Williamsburg and go there quite often. It's lots more fun in period dress."

"I'm glad you enjoy the whole thing, but how come you think I should play dress up for you?"

"Because you'd be cute," Chryssa answered. "It's not like you've never done it before."

"On stage. I've never tried to fool anyone and I've never worn a bra. Besides, I don't have any boobs."

"Ah!" smiled Antonia, "we will now open box number four."

"You didn't!"

"Of course we did!" crowed Chryssa as she removed a pair of breast forms from their packing.

"You guys are sick!"

"Simply creative geniuses. You shall be our finest work, right sis?" asked Chryssa.

"Of course right! We even got you a bra while we were out this afternoon." replied Antonia.

"Excuse me ladies, I hear nature calling. I'll be back in about three months."

JJ began edging toward the door.

"Nice try, buster."

"Look JJ, we spent a pile of bucks on this stuff, so you are going to cooperate or else."

"Or else what?"

"Or else you won't get any until you do."

"So I got to put on a bra to get yours off of you?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Who goes first?"

"Me!" announced Antonia and started to shuck her T-shirt.

"Close your eyes, lover!" commanded Chryssa.

"I'm going into this with my eyes wide open." declared JJ. "Besides, I got an eyeful last Saturday and it didn't hurt a bit. Geez! Do I get a bra like that one? Sexy!"

"I hate to bust your bubble, JJ, but if you wore something like this your falsies would be on the floor the first time you bent over."

"I thought you could glue them on."

"We did order some glue, too. Don't expect to be showing any cleavage, though. You get a modest neckline and no cleavage for your low-end falsies."

"Low end? I have to wear my falsies on my butt?"

"If you do it will only confirm what and ass you are."

"Spoilsport! If Antonia lends you that bra for a few hours I think I just might go along with this farce."

"I've got one even better, but you won't see it until you get outfitted properly."

"Deal!"

"Good. Now take off your clothes."

"With your sister watching?"

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about it. We are all women here for the next little while."

"In your dreams!"

JJ didn't realize it, but he was going to get off rather easily because the standards of beauty in colonial America were quite different than in modern America. As the ladies had pointed out, nail varnish, while it had been invented some 3,000 years ago in China, was not part of the beauty scene back then.

Colonial women tended to wear their hair long, so JJ was quite in fashion. However, showing your long hair was not the done thing, so it mostly got stuffed up into your cap or bonnet. Considering the hair styling the sisters had done before, hair would be no problem.

Nylons were far in the colonial future, women wore stockings or long socks, which were completely hidden by their skirts, so there was no need to remove any leg hair. Not that JJ had a lot of the stuff, but it was certainly present. No problem with shaving the armpits, either - nobody would be able to see them.

Shaving the face was another matter. Most colonial American women didn't use makeup, which many rich European visitors found quaint. (The poor only sailed for months to get to America to be servants or some such menial type.) Of course, not using lead-based makeup probably kept American women a lot more healthy and sane.

This was a bit of a problem for JJ, whose only exposed skin when in costume was his hands and face. Concealer was out-of-period but necessary, along with the traditional crossdresser's close shave.

The colors of the clothes had some significance. A well-born woman would never wear dull blue clothing because dull blue clothes were relegated to servants. Woad, the common blue dye, was cheap and thus used to clothe the lower and servant classes, so only a bright blue would be considered acceptable for a proper lady.

Then there was underwear - or rather there wasn't any underwear. The idea of a sexy panty was off the table. Maybe to balance this lack, the idea that more is better! was very big. Start with a plain linen shift worn over nothing, add a ankle-length pleated petticoat (made from enough fabric to make a complete modern dress), then prop your stays on your hips and have someone else lace your bosom up and in.

With the stays in place, step into your hoop skirt or pannier - think of a big skirt with a Hula-hoop in the bottom hem - then tie a pair of pockets about your waist to carry the little things you need for the day. Don't worry, you'll have so much clothing on your body that no one will notice a lump or bump, believe me.

Time for the next petticoat now, but be sure to line up its slits with your pockets so you can get to them. At long last you are ready to put on your gown, which you lace up over your stomacher. That's a piece of cloth running from neckline to waist under the front laces of your gown. With no easy way to wash clothes, the stomacher could be cleaned or replaced as needed if you were a sloppy eater.

Oh, I hope you remembered to put on your stockings before you started - bending over when dressed can be quite a chore. Shoes? No need to learn to walk in high heels, clunky black men's shoes are close enough for the purpose. Once again, they'll seldom be seen under all those skirts.

After all that, you can see where the term bodice ripper came to be given to romantic novels. What horny male would want to take the time to get his lady-love properly unlaced and undressed, assuming he could find his lady love under all that cloth. If it was winter she wouldn't want to lose the warmth and if it was summer she would be unconscious from heat prostration before he could work his wiles on her.

You can see why our heroines were perfectly happy to purchase modern versions of colonial dress with everything sewn together with a highly out-of-period zipper up the back.

Wednesday Morning

The following morning, JJ was rousted out of bed far too soon for his liking and ordered into the shower to shave both face and chest closely. Fortunately, JJ wasn't the hairiest of men, but he wasn't so sure he was really into this colonial woman thing. Squelching his doubts, he plied the razor and presented himself for inspection. A train of kisses down his newly-shorn chest went a long way to returning his mood to a positive place.

Handing him a pair of plain, white panties Chryssa absolved him of period authenticity, since no one would be able to tell under all the overlying layers. JJ was allowed to return to their bed with his eyes closed while Chryssa performed some obscure ritual with his pecs. Suddenly there was a coolness spreading over his chest and a weight applied over the coolness.

"Stay still, this needs a few minutes to work." she commanded.

"Jeez, it smells worse than the nail polish!"

"Shush, you're moving your chest."

The time went a bit faster as Chryssa applied kisses to random parts of JJ's body, effectively distracting him from what was happening.

"Time's up! Today is a milestone in your life, JJ, you get to wear your first bra! Sit up and put your arms out."

"Oh joy!"

He did as he was told and felt the garment slide along his arms and get snugged around the strange weights on his chest.

"I'll hook it for you this time, but every woman needs to learn how to do this for herself."

"Need I remind you…"

"Yeah, we've heard it before - you're not a woman. You've received a brevet promotion to the rank of woman for the duration. Congratulations, recruit! Your uniform awaits."

JJ bowed to the inevitable. While his stage persona was a mockery of femininity, this was something new to him. This was far more than throwing on a thrift-store dress, slapping Kiss-worthy makeup all over his face and screwing around a little with his hair. No, the ladies were determined to have JJ look like a natural woman. And no, not the one Aretha sang about.

Thus JJ was escorted to Antonia's room and seated before her vanity, where various pluckings, pullings, brushings and teasings caused his still-empty, pre-breakfast stomach to flutter. Every movement both made him aware that he was wearing a bra with something pretty close to breasts filling it and that he was annoying the sisters because he wouldn't stay still.

"Dammit, JJ!" grumped Antonia. "I'm gonna poke your eye out or leave a bald spot on your head when I pull your hair if you bob your noggin. Sit still, fer cryin' out loud!"

"Antonia? You don't happen to work for some Black Ops branch of the government and are practicing your torture techniques while you're on vacation?"

"If you think this is torture, just wait for your first trip to the beauty salon. We're rank amateurs at this."

"Somehow that's less than reassuring."

"It's not to easy to do your face when we have to make it look like you're not wearing makeup. There's no way a real Colonial housewife would be wearing her hair like this or sporting fancy earrings when she was doing her marketing in town, but we need to convince the modern eye as to your femininity."

"You'll have to convince me first!"

"Keep still another minute and we'll let you look."

"Do I have to?"

"Can you really tell me you don't want to see the result?"

"Uh…"

"Alright, stand up and let me guide you to the full length mirror."

"What is this, some kind of trust game?"

"The minute I glued those forms on you it was pretty clear you trusted me, lover." Chryssa said.

"It happened a long time before that, Chryssa."

"I know. Open your eyes."

"Uh…"

"So what do you think?"

"That's me?"

"Since you reflect in the mirror it ain't Count Dracula."

"It's… I… But…"

"You're babbling, darling."

"I'm amazed."

"We're not," chipped in Antonia. You can't tell me that you've been dressing up on stage for years and weren't interested in really dressing up. We just cut out your excuses."

"So you did. That's really me?"

"Wave your hand, JJ."

He did.

"See, the mirror waved back. That's really you."

"I'll be damned."

"Only if you suddenly found Jesus. Since you're an atheist you'll still be gone after you die. Live it up now, lover."

"Well Glory Hallelujah! That's really me."

"Yup. Interested in breakfast, lover."

"I thought you'd never ask.

 

"How the hell do you stand wearing this thing all day long?"

"Quit whining and eat, JJ."

"Yeah, it takes balls to wear a bra, doesn't it sis? asked Antonia."

"I feel like there's a couple of basketballs in these cups."

"Says the guy who thinks big bazoobas on a woman are just fine," sneered Chryssa.

"This thing is too tight. I can't breathe."

"It takes time for a girl to get used to her first bra, doesn't it, sis? That's what Mom always told us." Antonia was highly amused.

"Your mother wasn't wearing this damned bra!"

"Shocked! I'm shocked, I tell you. Mother would never be caught without proper undergarments. I got my ass warmed when I tried to sneak out of the house without one when I was sixteen."

"Too bad for you, sis. She didn't catch me, but boy did I regret it a couple of hours later. Bouncing boobs are not a girl's best friend!"

"Now see, JJ, we have only your best interests in mind by making you wear a bra."

"If you hadn't glued these beachballs to my manly chest I wouldn't have any boobs to bounce. Then I wouldn't need to be wearing this damned bra."

"Details, details!"

"You look positively sweet as a colonial woman.

"Sweet? Gack! If this gets out the band will never get another gig. Sweet is not the image we project. We flout cultural norms, we don't want to look sweet!"

"Then you're safe, they didn't have electric guitars during the Revolution. Your band wouldn't get a gig back then anyway. I think it was chamber music and stuff like that. You couldn't rock out on a harpsichord, anyway."

"Wanna bet? My teacher got quite perturbed when I started playing a classic riff from Dead Kennedys. Poor woman never understood why I liked punk."

"Thomas JJ Jefferson and the Revolutionary Rockers. Has possibilities, I think." Antonia couldn't help herself.

"I need an air sickness bag. I'm gonna puke!" moaned JJ.

"Don't you dare - this outfit is dry clean only!"

"So if I go play in a mud puddle I won't have to wear it?"

"Only if you want to exchange it for a monk's habit, JJ," threatened Chryssa.

"You've made your point. So let's get this over with and do something colonial with my hair, you evil temptress."

"Sit. Stay. And hand me that brush!"

"Uh, Antonia…?"

"Yes?"

"With all your harping on out-or-period, this place hardly looks colonial. I could have worn my t-shirt here and not looked out of place. All these frills and petticoats…" complained JJ.

"This is the visitor's center. The people who run the place have the foolish idea that you have to pay to get in. The 18th century awaits out the back door."

"I suppose they hired Dr. Who as the architect?"

"Funny. Out-of-period, but funny."

"I guess the Redcoats didn't install any police boxes over here in the colonies, eh?"

"Chryssa, how do you put up with her?" asked Antonia.

"She has her virtues, but they can be hard to find."

"Under all these damn petticoats there isn't a hope in hell that I could find my virtue in order to lose it!"

"Sounds like you're ready to start a revolution of your own."

"I'd call having me prance around in these clothes pretty revolutionary."

"Says the guy who goes on stage trying to invoke revulsion in her audiences. By the way, careful with the voice, you don't want to give yourself away."

"Why honeychile," she drawled, "I purely wouldn't want to do that."

"Out-of-period! That's the civil war, not the revolutionary period. We can try for Scarlet O'Hara some other time. You'd shine in one of those flouncy ball gowns. You wouldn't like it any better, though. Some of those hoop skirts were six feet across."

"I suppose Rhett had to take a running start to shove Scarlet through the doorway to the ballroom?"

"Why do you think they had those big double doors?"

"For the bathrooms, too?"

"Outhouses, lover. Rich or poor, the necessary was outside for daytime use unless you had a really big house. At night you squatted over a pot. Scarlet had a maid to empty the thing, but most people weren't so lucky."

"I suppose a pot worked better when you were wearing stuff like this. The no underwear bit may have been a godsend."

"No toilet paper, though!"

"I suppose I do have to thank you for getting me a pair of panties, though. Wait! Did I just say that?"

"Can we find another topic, please?" pleaded Chryssa.

Eventually the trio reached the doors and entered the visitor's center. Being a weekday, there wasn't much of a line, but standing before the computerized ticket counter in colonial costume felt just plain weird.

"Can I help you," asked the woman at the desk."

"I have a season pass, but these two lovely ladies need one, too."

"Season pass?" queried JJ, remembering to use a more feminine intonation. Must have worked as the woman didn't even blink..

"Of course, there's far too much to see in only one day."

"If you say so…"

"Of course I say so. Pay the lady."

Again, the out-of-period plastic came into play, and the transaction was completed.

"Thank you." said the clerk. "Please step to your left and smile. JJ obeyed, not knowing why.

"Your turn, ma'am." and Chryssa stood where indicated.

"Give me a moment and I'll have your ID badges."

Something whirred and clicked under the counter and the woman slid two photo ID badges into a plastic holder.

"There you go, ladies. These will get you into all the programs and such while you're here. By the way, I love the costumes. You'll fit right in here. Thank you and enjoy your visit."

JJ stared down at her picture - her picture! - on the badge and was speechless. She followed the sisters out the back door in a daze.

"Wait a minute!" she exclaimed as they left the building. "Do you mean I have to do this dress-up stuff for every damned day we visit this place?"

"It is a photo ID, so I guess that means you need to look like your photo."

"You two really have it in for me, don't you?"

"JJ love, you know I've had it in for you for ages. Why else would I be marrying you? Chryssa replied sweetly.

"We just figured you should learn how to act like a real woman instead of a parody on stage."

"I have to say I sometimes cringe at your outfits, love. I'm sorry to say but you have abominable taste."

"Which means I'm getting it right. It's supposed to make people cringe."

"So humor me, I'd like to see you looking pretty once in a while."

"Pretty?"

"Pretty. You have a beautiful face and lovely hair. It's a shame to hide them."

"So why am I wearing this frigging bonnet?

"Authenticity. You can let your hair down tonight, in the bedroom."

"TMI, sister!" exclaimed Antonia.

"Is that a sheep over there?" asked JJ.

"Several sheep, I do believe."

"I thought this was a colonial city?"

"It is, but how do you think they got their food, at the Kroger?"

"I never thought about it."

"Bet you don't think about where your food comes from today, either."

"I don't take sucker bets."

"Most of colonial America was rural; even in the big cities people kept livestock if they could."

"I feel like Little Bo Peep in this getup."

"I think I found your sheep," Chryssa said, pointing to the shaggy critters beyond the fence.

"So, let's go over to the farm and see what's what."

"Geez, that cabin isn't much bigger than your living room, sis."

"And probably six people lived in there; parents and kids jammed in together."

"Too cozy for me, but I suppose it helped keep everybody warm in the winter."

"Bet they spent a lot of time outdoors in the summer."

"Yeah, in the fields raising the crops, like what's right behind you."

"That green stuff over there?"

"Good thing you're not a colonial wife, you'd starve to death if all you could recognize is 'green stuff' "

"Good thing I can't be any kind of wife, isn't it?"

"Role playing, JJ, role playing. You have to get into the head of your character."

"Sorry, but a woman's head is not the usual part of her body I think about getting into, although there are times..."

"You really must want to sleep on the couch tonight," warned Chryssa.

"You can't tell me colonial women didn't think of such things or there wouldn't have been colonial children."

"True," conceded Chryssa, "but in that cabin the colonial children would be watching you make their brothers or sisters, don't you think?"

"At least as a colonial gentleman I would only have one pile of petticoats to find my way through. I suppose the no underwear bit might be a plus, there."

"Will you two stop it?" Antonia grumped. "We're supposed to be enjoying a day of fun and history, not colonial sex!"

"And who was it that selected my wardrobe for the day? What did you expect to be on my mind?" asked JJ."

"Be quiet, sis. If putting on a bra has JJ turned on, it all seems like a good idea to me."

"I don't need a bra to have you turn me on, sweetheart."

"Quiet, you two. There are people coming, don't want to shock the guests."

"Who says?" inquired JJ. "Maybe a colonial strip-tease with a surprise ending?"

"The way this is going it's going to involve those sheep over there before long."

"Now wouldn't that be an interesting demonstration of colonial life?"

"I suspect you'd end up in the stocks on the village green or in the colonial hoosegow."

"Excuse me, is this the farm?" asked a guy in Bermuda shorts and a Hawaiian shirt. Oddly enough, it was JJ he addressed.

"That's right, goodman. Welcome to our humble farm, where my dear husband Joey and our children, Dee-Dee, Johnny and Tommy toil to wrest a living from the soil all day." It can only be said that JJ had an evil grin as he spoke. Chryssa just rolled her eyes, being careful not to be facing the hapless tourist.

"Oh good! What's that green stuff growing over there?"

"It's cotton, sir. Still pretty small since it's still spring, but by fall it well be ready to be harvested. Our children will pick out the seeds during the winter, helping to while away the endless hours of cold weather. We only grow enough cotton for our own needs as it doesn't sell well enough to be a commercial crop on the land we have."

"Cool! Thank you, ma'am."

With that the family continued on their way.

"Look out, sis. Put a dress on him and he's a housewife with three kids." Antonia exclaimed.

"Yeah, what's with Joey and little Dee-Dee and whoever the hell the other kids were? Is there something I should know before we get married?"

"Philistines! Joey, Dee-Dee, Johnny and Tommy were the Ramones. Only the finest punk band ever formed."

"OK, madame rock historian, the history of punk I can see, but where did the rest of that come from?"

"The Colonial Williamsburg web site, of course. While you were conspiring to get me into this feminine frippery I was reading about the place. They really did have to spend a lot of time picking seeds out of cotton before they could use it. Eli Whitney didn't invent the cotton gin until a couple of decades later."

"You'd make a great docent, JJ. I doubt those tourists even realized you weren't part of the place. "

"Just getting into character and living the life. I'm surprised you don't volunteer here, Antonia."

"Ah, but I do volunteer whenever I have the time, but in the background. I'm not one of the reenactors."

"So what do we do now?"

"Head for the Governor's Palace. It's right across the way. He absconded last night and we can get all the juicy details."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's always June 8, 1775 at the palace. The town got royally pissed at His Excellency because he gave the
Redcoats all of the town's gunpowder, so he loaded everything he could carry into a wagon and took off after the rebels shot him in the leg. He ended up as the governor of Bermuda, and gave land to the Loyalists that came there, but the tropical weather and diseases didn't make it a happy place for the Brits."

By this time the trio had reached the palace.

"Wow! You weren't kidding about the palace part. The place looks like it was just built - it's beautiful."

"You're close - it burned down and the Williamsburg people rebuilt it in the thirties, so it's only like eighty-odd years old. It's supposed to be pretty close to the original because they had plans and sketches and such, and the archaeologists found the original foundation and the stuff that was buried by the fire. Watch your skirts on the steps, JJ. A face plant would mess up your makeup."

"Thank you for your concern, Antonia. Wouldn't these bouncy things you've got strapped to my chest provide a cushion?"

"We gave you quite modest breasts, JJ. I suppose if you really get into it we could order something bigger. Never known a man who didn't get off on big boobs."

"I refuse to dignify that with an answer."

"See, sis! I told you I was going to marry a smart fella."

"Who seems to have been turned into a smart woman. Do I have to wear a wedding dress when we tie the knot?"

"Do you want to?"

"There could be problems. When the preacher says 'you may kiss the bride' there could be some confusion and I'm afraid we couldn't reach each other's lips because our boobies would get in the way."

"I suppose we should call Jill and Paula to see if they have a solution. I'm sure they haven't remained celibate since they got married."

"Simple solution, sis. Just have your maids-of-honor stand behind you and push until contact is made."

"I suppose that's why a tux is traditional for the groom. If you two are done with your premature wedding planning, I'd like to see what's inside."

"Guns! Lots of guns and swords and knives and all that martial stuff."

"Am I allowed to look at such warlike displays while wearing a skirt? I might swoon in horror if I keep in character."

"Back to Gone With The Wind again. Colonial ladies were hearty folk and didn't wear corsets except if you were rich and going to a ball or something. As a middle class housewife you are not required to swoon."

"Darn! I was hoping Rhett Butler would revive me and wave my fan in front of my pale face."

"Just goes to prove that the American education system is a complete failure at teaching history if you can't separate the Revolution from the Civil War."

"Don't know much about history…" JJ began to warble.

"Shush! Sam Cooke is way out of period!"

"OK, Miss-Font-Of-All-Colonial-Knowledge, since I've been involuntarily inducted into the ranks of femininity, this pseudo-woman has to ask: how did real women handle their periods in the colonial period?"

"Gee, JJ. Maybe you should ask one of the tour guides that question."

"Antonia, I'm fond of my balls, although at the moment it may not seem like it. I suppose that subject isn't covered by the standard tour."

"Too right! However, the answer is we just don't really know. That was a subject that didn't appear in contemporary journals and isn't included in the fossil record, shall we say."

"Man! And I thought the guys that looked at dinosaur scat had a tough job!"

"JJ!" The stereo effect was noticeable.

"Most people think she just bled into her clothes and washed them a lot."

"Yucch! No tampons back then, right sis?"

"Not over here, but there is evidence that ancient Egyptians used hemp for the purpose. If you've ever handled a hempen rope you have to wonder just what they were thinking, though."

"Look, I'm sorry I asked, can we talk about something else?"

"For a couple of days, JJ," Chryssa said. "I'm afraid the subject will come up again by then."

"Don't feel bad, JJ," smirked Antonia. "After all, there's just us girls here, right?"

"For the nonce, my love."

"Nonce?"

"Just trying to live in the proper time frame."

"That's Shakespeare, JJ."

"Close enough. I'm sure the colonists weren't rubes and knew of the bard. We going to see those guns or just stand out here in the gardens?"

"Remember to lift your skirt as we go up the stairs."

"And expose my shapely limbs?"

"Either that or bash your shapely nose on the bricks when you fall down."

"I guess blood would clash with this outfit."

"See, you're thinking like a woman already - color coordinating your presentation."

 

As JJ and his escorts entered the palace, he was acutely aware of what he was wearing. Each step of the stairs caused his breast forms to shift in his bra, drawing them to his attention. His skirt and petticoats, carefully raised as he mounted the stairs, brushed against his legs with an almost sensual feeling.

There was no comparison to his mockery of the feminine when on stage, he was too busy singing and playing to notice such subtle things as a long skirt caressing his legs. Actually, his dresses were deliberately short and did nothing to hide his masculinity. This was a whole new experience.

Underneath it all was the basic fear any male will experience the first time in public crossdressed. As a musician, JJ was well versed in reading his audience and tailoring his performance to them; he called on those same skills now to project an aura of femininity, unconsciously watching Chryssa and Antonia and following their lead.

The entrance hall was indeed filled with guns and sharp objects. It also had a dozen or so tourists, waiting for the next tour to start. To this point JJ and only been close to that clueless dude wanting to know if he was at the farm (as if all the crops and gardens didn't give the secret away); now there were a horde of people staring at him right close up. Not too surprising all fancied up in this colonial outfit, but unnerving nonetheless.

He smiled rather wanly when someone caught his eye, standing a bit straighter while wishing that didn't make his faux breasts stand out so damn far. One thing the girls hadn't really thought through was how much attention they were going to get dressed in period costume in a living museum.

Everybody was looking at them, thinking they were part of the show. Sure, they had those little ID badges that identified them as regular tourists, but how many people actually looked at an ID badge? All kinds of people in this world have ID badges, just like the people who give tours or work in some high-tech salt mine.

So they stood there with all those people looking at them like they expected them to actually do something and JJ was getting nervous. Finally, a woman entered in period costume and relieved them of that scrutiny.

JJ immediately noticed that the woman's clothing was subtly different than the dress he was wearing. The fabrics were authentic, cotton and linen and such. No compromises with modern materials and the colors were subtly different; she was wearing the real thing.

Breathlessly, the woman welcomed them and explained that they would be unable to see the governor because he was not in the house. She then told us the story that Antonia had related, but in much grater detail, it was quite vivid.

Throughout the tour, which was quite interesting, JJ and his ladies were much impressed by the building and its furnishings, not to mention the colorful people who had lived in it. After a pleasant half hour, during which JJ completely forgot what he was wearing (other than coping with stairways) the tour ended with an invitation to see the gardens at the back of the palace. Antonia hung back a bit as the tourists filtered out and the guide came over to her and greeted her effusively.

"Antonia! It's been a while, so good to see you."

"And you, too, Lucy. Still waiting for that bit part in Groundhog Day II?"

"Every day's the same here in the palatial palace. Who are these lovely ladies you've brought with you?"

"My sister Chryssa and her friend JJ. They're here for a visit during their summer break. The powers-that-be really should decree a summer break in the working world just like at college."

"Paid vacation, of course!"

"Naturally," Lucy agreed. "Are you two enjoying the place?"

"So far it's great," answered Chryssa. "We've even been mistaken for volunteers at the farm already."

"You certainly look the part. Not completely authentic, but I doubt most of our guests would know the difference. Having fun?"

"It's certainly been a change from the ordinary, hasn't it JJ?"

"You could say that. These full skirts do make a change from my usual style, but I would hardly consider myself authentic in this getup."

JJ could do deadpan quite well when he put his mind to it.

"You should visit the costume shop sometime when they have their open house. The people here go to great lengths to be sure we're wearing as close to authentic clothing as we can. It costs thousands of dollars to outfit a full time docent here, so we really do try."

"That much?" JJ was aghast. And I thought this dress was too much to pay for something I was only going to wear for a few days."

"You'll just have to keep coming back so you get some use out of it."

"Kind of a long commute from Ohio, though."

"Then wear it around your campus. You'll certainly stand out."

Chryssa couldn't hold back her laugh any longer, and JJ had a look on his face that fails of description.

"You might even start a whole new fashion trend, JJ," snarked Chryssa. "Might be kind of hard to fit a lab coat over it, though."

"I'm sure it would be quite a sensation if I wore this in the lab, alright."

"Maybe you can help me answer a question I've always wondered about, JJ," Lucy asked.

"I'll give it a try."

"How does a female geek cope with a pocket protector when she has breasts where her pocket is?"

"I couldn't answer from personal experience, I'm afraid."

"Oh?"

"I use a scientific calculator. Paper and pencil is so old fashioned."

"I guess it beats writing with a goose quill. I've tried just to see what it was like and all I got were blobs of ink all over the paper."

"Another lost art fallen to modern technology. I won't complain, though. Without modern technology I wouldn't be the woman I am today."

"That's for sure. There are some days I can't wait to take off these stays and put on a regular old bra."

"I have to admit," answered JJ, "that I've been known to complain about having to wear a bra, but those stays look pretty uncomfortable."

"Oh, you get used to them after a while. After all, women wore them for quite a long time before there was something better available."

"I really think, "Antonia offered, "that whoever invented elastic should have gotten the Nobel prize."

"Actually," JJ said, "it wasn't invented but discovered. Latex rubber comes from a South American tree. It was a very valuable commodity until artificial elastic was invented. It wouldn't have done our colonial ladies any good, though, since Latex didn't really make it into Europe until the late 1700s, too late to free the revolutionary bosom."

"Next time some tourist gets the nerve to ask about stays I'll have something new to tell them, mused Lucy.

"How the hell did you know that?" Chryssa was dumbfounded.

"Comes from hanging out with chemistry majors, they have all kinds of little factoids that stick in the mind. A guy named Thomas Hancock figured out how to make rubber into elastic to hold up garters and such. That was back in the days when men wore stockings along with women, you know."

"Weird."

"What's even weirder is he invented a machine that chewed up the leftover rubber from the manufacturing so it could reused. He didn't patent it, but he called it a pickle so that his competitors would be thrown off the track."

"So our boobs are supported by something made by a pickle?"

"A cucumber by any other name…"

"...would not be found on a woman's body." finished Chryssa, to another round of hearty laughter.

"Now in a woman's body," began Antonia with a faraway smile, "that can be… interesting."

"With certain exceptions," whispered JJ in Chryssa's ear.

"I have to be going, people," said Lucy. "Almost showtime. Nice to meet you and don't be such a stranger, Antonia."

"Nice to meet you," they replied and headed for the gardens.

 

"Think you'd like to be a governor and live in a place like this, JJ?" asked Antonia.

"Nah, no bathrooms in the place. Besides, they didn't appoint women as governors back then."

"Ah, there was a precedent for such as you, however."

"Oh-oh! I feel a story coming on."

"Of course. You probably couldn't do it here in Virginia, but in the Big Apple…"

"There's something rotten to the core, I assume."

"A bit fruity, to use a modern idiom."

"So alright, already. Get it over with!"

"Let me tell you about Governor Edward Hyde, earl of Cornbury and Governor of New York and New Jersey back in 1702. It appears he loved dresses just like you."

"I'm never going to convince you otherwise, am I?"

"Just look in the mirror and tell me all about it."

"That's out-or-period, but OK, what about Edwina? Did they call him Edwina?"

"Damned if I know, but they called him a bunch of things that usually get replaced by punctuation in the history books."

"Just like the politicians today."

"Remarkably similar. Allegations of corruption and bribery, squandering public funds, and of course a cover-up."

"Things never change, do they?"

"Have you looked in a mirror lately?"

"Dracula was my uncle, it wouldn't do any good."

"Yeah, that sucks, commiserated Antonia."

"He's been known to," Chryssa observed.

"Enough! Anyway, like any guy wearing a dress, there's controversy."

"Why am I not surprised?" asked JJ."

"Because you're an intelligent woman, and don't bother to deny it again. Historians disagree about whether he really crossdressed or if it was just political nastiness. There is a picture, though."

"From the National Enquirer of the day, I presume."

"No, a portrait, but nobody can agree if it's a picture of him in drag or just a not-so-pretty woman."

"I suppose in a couple of centuries some historian will be questioning the pictures you've been taking."

"Only if your band hits it big, then they'll have the publicity shots to work with and they'll have the answer already."

"Ah yes! The dream of every college bar band - hitting it big and living the life. Will you guys be my groupies?"

"Speaking of bars, or I suppose here you should say taverns, it's just about lunchtime. Shall we sup?"

"Do they let women quaff ale here?"

"If she has the cash."

"Then I'm all for it. Lead on, oh colonial guide."

Consulting their map, the trio found that the places to eat were on the opposite side of the town from the Governor's Palace. Finding their way to the village green, they waited a few minutes and boarded a horse-drawn carriage to be transported to Shield's tavern, an establishment catering to people of their apparent status; what were called middling women in vernacular of the times.

Driving the team was a large man (if you're old enough to remember Bonanza, he could have played Hoss) with a broad smile and a hearty manner.

"Welcome aboard, ladies," he cried as he drew up. "And how are you on this fine and glorious day?"

"Hungry!"

"And thirsty!"

"There's a cure for that, you know. Go get something to eat!" he laughed.

"Practical, just like a man," cried Antonia.

"Well, this lady is hungry enough to be practical, and I don't care if anyone calls me a man as long as there's food in front of me," JJ answered.

"Now goodwife," the driver grinned, "would you be carousing in a tavern when you should be home preparing victuals for you own husband?"

"He does enough carousing on his own that he doesn't need my help, my good man!"

"Now J... uh, Jane, don't be running the poor man down."

"I promise not to if this handsome driver will do it for me. A few hoof prints up his backside will do him a world of good."

"I fear the town fathers would look poorly on me if I were to do that, good woman. If he's such a souse you should talk to the pastor about it."

"Perhaps I shall. Perhaps when I tell him I shall be unable to produce any more brats for him he will find another woman to pester."

"I truly think you need to see the pastor, my dear. Such problems are serious."

"Fortunately, I'm not. I'm a terrible liar and can't help myself. There is no man in this world who will consider marrying me."

"Now there I have to differ with you, ma'am. You're a perfectly splendid liar as far as I can tell."

"You don't know the half of it, my good man, but I thank you for your compliment, which I accept in the spirit in which it was offered."

"As we are approaching Shields Tavern, I shall bid you all a good day."

"And a good day to you as well."

 

Lunch was quite satisfactory, if you ignored the quaint spelling and rather ornate script on the menu the fare was pretty much what you would expect at a good diner. After spending the morning as a colonial lady, JJ was feeling almost comfortable. That lasted until the meal was over and nature started calling. How ironic that a man who spent much of his life flouting the conventions of society by playing edgy music, dressing in a mockery of women's clothing on stage and generally being in-your-face would be brought up short by a dress-wearing icon on a restroom door.

"Uh, Chryssa, what am I supposed to do here?"

"Most people usually pee in a restroom. Some of them poop, and some even do both. Heck, when most people get done pooping they have to pee, too."

"Thanks for the basic biology lecture, but I got all that when I was about two years old. I even read Captain Underpants for my advanced degree."

"So you know what to do, what's your problem? By the way, a proper woman will remember to put the seat down and wash their hands before leaving the place."

"As I have repeatedly said, I'm not a woman."

"Coulda fooled me, and the driver and Lucy and everyone else we've met today. Don't tell me the man I love is afraid of peeing with women! We do have separate stalls, you know."

"After twenty odd years of conditioning to use the door with the trousers on it, it's a hard habit to break."

"Unless you want to squat in the bushes, you'd better overcome your fears. You don't want to end up in the stocks for public lewdness."

So JJ faced his fears and did what comes naturally in an unnatural setting. Being sure to wash his hands he left as quickly as he could. Back at the table he was embarrassed as Chryssa returned and handed him his purse.

"You could have made some lucky woman very rich by leaving your valuables in the restroom, Jane."

"Jane?"

"Sounds better than JJ when you're looking like that. Not to many colonial women used their initials."

"I guess… Not only do I have to break the bathroom habit but now I have to get in the habit of watching my purse. This lady stuff is more complicated than I thought."

"As those of us with a matching pair of sex chromosomes are naturally endowed with superior skills compared to those of you with a missing bit on one of them, we will graciously endeavor to help you improve your deficient skill set."

"You swallow too much alphabet soup at lunch? You sound like a dictionary is trying to escape your brain because there's not enough room in there."

"Ladies," warned Antonia, "Let's be civil. We need to demonstrate why the ERA should have been part of the constitution when they wrote it."

"I just love historical fiction. Anyone want to go and rip a bodice?" asked Jane.

"That's why we ordered these dresses with zippers. When the time comes there is no need to damage the packaging."

"My mind is so relieved! Shall we continue on our adventures in colonial-land?"

And continue they did, discovering that in the days before automobiles people walked everywhere. JJ and Chryssa were used to walking around campus and Colonial Williamsburg was only about seven blocks long and four blocks wide in the center of a pretty normal modern city, but by the end of the afternoon the trio was ready to head back to Antonia's place.

With a sigh of relief, the newly christened Jane removed her bonnet and tried to unzip her dress as soon as they had shut the door to their room. Since the zipper was on the back of the dress, that proved to be a problem.

"I think I need some help, my love. If you unzip me then I'll unzip you."

"Of course. See what we women have to cope with to be beautiful?"

"You are beautiful no matter what you wear or what you're doing."

"And you're pretty sexy in a bra and panties. I think they look much better than your tighty-whities."

"Hey! That's my line. I'll be very happy to remove this instrument of torture you call a bra," opined Jane as she wiggled out of the garment. "Hey! These things are stuck on my pecs."

"JJ darling, you really need to learn to be awake once you're out of bed in the morning. Remember, we glued them on so they wouldn't dribble down your belly during the day?"

"You what!"

"Glued them on. I really think you'd be more comfortable wearing a bra until we go to bed, darling."

"It's a conspiracy!"

"Yup. Go ahead and do a shimmy for me and tell me if you'll be comfortable without a bra."

It didn't take more than a couple of twists of the torso to convince JJ that the braless look was not for him. Ruefully he picked up his bra and shrugged into it.

"How do you manage to snap these things together?" He mumbled.

"Practice. You'll get the hang of it in a few weeks."

"Right. I'm going back and exchanging that pass for a one day ticket. After that I won't need a bra."

"Remember the glue? You'll want a bra. Time will tell. You really don't think I haven't noticed you fondling my frillies even when I'm not wearing them," Chryssa observed as she wiggled into a pair of shorts.

"They do feel pretty good. Us guys don't get to do things like you women."

JJ picked a T-shirt from the drawer and put it on. Absently he noted that the breasts on his body looked perfectly natural.

"You certainly seemed to be comfortable this afternoon as a woman. I bet you never even noticed you were wearing a bra for most of the time."

"I have to say you're right. I did notice the skirts every time I tripped over them, though."

"A matter of practice, my dear. It might be easier if you shaved your legs and wore a shorter skirt."

"Thanks, I'll stick to jeans," JJ replied as he donned his own shorts.

"JJ, you'd best look in the mirror."

"Huh?"

"Look in the mirror, darling block-headed man."

"Oh, I think I see."

"A woman can be well endowed up top and a man can be well endowed below and that's perfectly natural. As you are now well endowed both top and bottom it is a bit too much endowment."

"The money guys at the college would never agree that you can be too well endowed."

"They don't stuff their bras with cash, either."

"This isn't going to work, is it?"

"Not outside the bedroom."

"A double mastectomy is out of the question?"

"Ask your doctor."

"Hey doc, can I take these things off?"

"Glue, remember?"

"And hairy legs are likewise verboten?"

"You learn fast, lover. You can use my razor and borrow my wraparound skirt when you're done."

 

"So what happened, sis?" inquired Antonia.

"Token protest and a sheepish grin. The poor man still thinks he can only show his feminine side on stage while being the macho musician. Took off the bra and realized his boobs are heavy and practically tore the straps putting it back on.

"You sure know how to pick 'em, sis."

"Don't I? JJ is a very complicated character. He's a natural-born feminist, stops to pet puppies and cuddle children and I love him to pieces. Then he gets up on stage and screams in-your-face lyrics and makes people cringe by clashing stereotypes. After his shows he sometimes goes home and plays Bach and Hayden. I've even caught him lip-syncing Brenda Lee on the oldies channel when he didn't know I was watching. JJ is a mass of contradictions."

"You may be looking at it from the wrong angle, sis. Not contradictions but complements. All those parts of his - or maybe her - personality complement each other and make a rather unusual whole. The feminine is there to balance the masculine."

"You sound like a shrink, but you may be on to something. He's fascinated by breasts and I think he's just plain thrilled to have them on his own body."

"Like I said, you sure know how to pick 'em. And you're OK with that, I mean the breast part?"

"Sure, part of the package. And his normal package works just fine no matter what's on top."

"I could tell. You aren't exactly the strong silent type and the walls here are thin. Good thing mom & dad didn't hear you with whoever your boyfriend was or you'd still be grounded."

"As if I would have chanced it with them home. His van was a lot safer."

"Just as long as he was using safes."

"He damned well did. JJ is better at it. Like I said, his package and all the rest works just fine."

"You're making me jealous. It's been a while."

"Should have taken one of those guys home with you the other night."

"I'm too old for one night stands. I'm looking for something more permanent. Trouble is all the good men are taken."

"That old story. Try looking somewhere besides the bars and the strip clubs."

"As if! The whole party scene has gotten old. Actually, there is one guy at Williamsburg that might be a possibility. I'm working on it."

"You'll have to introduce us. Maybe a double date?"

"Right, you and me and Jane and him. You glued those things on him, remember, so he's Jane for the duration."

"Heh, heh, heh."

"You got to work on that evil laugh, Chryssa."

"It was fun to spend the day with Jane and watch her finding herself."

"I just about lost it with that drunken husband bit she pulled on the horse cart."

"We've both done improv at school. Sometimes it just pops out in the darnedest places."

"A feminist physicist who does improv on a horse cart. What will they think of next?"

"Dinner. I loaned Jane one of my wraparound skirts. Think one of your tops would fit Jane?"

"We could try. What's the skirt look like?"

"Sort of orangy-brown with a small pattern."

"I might have something, let me look. You know she'll have to have her nail polish changed."

"Might be harder while she's awake. She's shaving her legs right now, so she can wear her own sandals when we go out. Maybe we can have some fun if we meet those guys again."

"You don't do things by half measures, do you sis?"

"Have I ever?"

"Silly question. How far do you intend to go with this?"

"As far as Jane is comfortable. The panties came in a six-pack, so we really should get the full use out of them."

"Being a colonial lady can only go so far."

"But if she likes dressing up then she won't be hard to convince. She may even try to convince me."

"I suppose that means I should put on a skirt or something dressy so Jane doesn't outshine me at dinner. What's she going to do about makeup? She's a lot lighter skinned than we are."

"She has her own in her gig bag. Might be a problem learning how to use it sparingly instead of painting a clown face for the shows."

"Really? Somehow the denials about not wanting to dress like a woman are becoming a bit thin, don't you think?"

"Why do you think I suggested this whole caper?"

"Have you noticed we've been referring to him as a her?"

"Practice."

"Makes perfect?"

"Well, at least passable."

Thursday Morning

The following morning the sun shone brilliantly, but the kitchen curtains were drawn closed. To call it morning was to be generous, the hour of noon was far closer than the hour of midnight. Nobody was dressed yet, robes and slippers were the order of the day. There was coffee in the pot and orange juice in the pitcher, but so far no one was able to face food. An illustration of the scene in the style of the 1940s would have included a hot water bottle on top of a disheveled head and a flock of birds tweeting as they flew in circles around their aching heads.

"What time did we get back?" groaned Chryssa.

"Who knows. Ask the Uber driver and he could tell you."

"Can't. Phone's dead. I never plugged it in."

"I feel dead," moaned Jane. She sniffed her pits. "I think I smell dead, too, even after a shower."

"You have to learn that the contents of your glass is better off down your throat than down your blouse, Jane.

"Thank you for that sage advice, my love. I had to leave that damned bra on when I showered last night; sticky and bras are not a good combination."

"I take it you've never seen those glue-on bras that were in fashion a while back?" Chryssa asked.

"Have you ever worn one?"

You know I haven't."

"Then how would I be knowing about bras that were intentionally sticky? And why would anyone want to wear a sticky bra in the first place. I can tell you from personal experience it isn't comfortable."

"The idea is to emphasize your cleavage and let you wear a backless dress, High fashion, you know."

"Some women are crazy!" was Jane's comment.

"Uh Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you noticed that my sister has a shit-eating grin on her face, just like she's remembering something particularly pleasant?"

"I'd have to wait until my vision clears."

"Those sticky bras can be quite effective. Don't knock 'em until you've tried 'em"

"Just what I'd need," commented Jane. "Glue on both sides of my boobs. My head is already sore, it doesn't need any more help, thank you."

"Poor baby! I'd check your vitals but my head is throbbing so bad I couldn't hear your pulse."

"If I ever mix red wine, dark beer and schnapps again, please take the glass from my hand and talk some sense into me," Jane expressed her regrets.

"I'd save talking sense to you for the next time you try to do karaoke while you're half in the bag. The air guitar solo was impressive, but you messed up the lyrics so bad that ASCAP is going to demand a penalty for performing new lyrics to a copyrighted song."

"Fuck ASCAP! Now you know why the band doesn't drink during a gig. We learned that one along about the third time we got tossed out of the bar without getting paid. Besides, it wasn't me who picked the lousy bar with the karaoke machine."

"It wasn't me who took the mike away from that poor woman and told her that you could do better."

"So did I?"

"Who knows. I've never heard Purple Haze sung to a Jimmy Web tune before."

"Shows you my deeply creative side," Jane answered. "Chryssa never told me you could sing harmony so well. Once I can sing without hurting my head we'll have to see what we can work up. Do the colonial taverns in Williamsburg hire live entertainers?"

"The taverns in town have been cleaned up quite a bit from the ones in the 18th century because we're a family-oriented place. The reality was a bit different. Think a cross between a hotel and the playboy club, or maybe a sleazy gentleman's club if it was on the wrong side of town. Taverns were the domains of men and respectable women such as ourselves would not be found there. If a woman was tough and resourceful she might run a tavern after her husband died, but mostly women couldn't own anything for themselves.

"Traveling bards tended toward fiddles and flutes and such, the early guitar-type instrument s were more often found in a parlour. A gut-strung guitar couldn't cut through the noise very well."

"Maybe we can get the Governor to hire us for a gig in the ballroom. Oh, that's right - the Governor took a powder after the Redcoats took the powder. I guess we'll just have to stick to being tourists.

"Not for a while. I intend to take the day off and rest my poor, aching head. You're a temptress who led me into temptation last night, Jane. I haven't had a hangover like this in ages."

"Who led who into temptation, oh sister mine?" growled Chryssa. "I seem to remember it was a relative of mine who insisted we go to that karaoke place after dinner."

"You have gaps in your memory from too much booze, Chryssa."

"Even a professional liar like you can't get away with that one, sis."

"Ladies, please keep it down," begged Jane. "My head hurts and so do my pseudo-boobs. I'm going to have to put that bra back on before it dries completely and hope one of you escapes nausea long enough to fix breakfast."

With that parting line, Jane left for the bedroom.

"Um, Antonia?"

"Yes?" came the languid reply.

"Did you ever wonder what Dr Frankenstein felt when that lightning bolt hit?"

" 'That's Fraahnk-en-steen!' " quoted the big sister.

"I stand corrected."

"You're sitting down, sis."

"You're trying to confuse me."

"Never was all that hard. What's this about monsters and lightning?"

"It's just that I collected a bunch of disconnected hints and clues that JJ might have more of a feminine side than he even admitted to himself, so I stitched them together and thought I might help those feelings come out. Hanging out with you in a place where nobody knows us gives us both a kind of freedom to explore."

"But when the lightning struck - or more like when we started cranking on the Van der graaf Generator - you got more than you bargained for."

"Uh-uh."

"Didn't Dad always tell us to be careful what you wish for…"

"...because you might get it!" Chryssa completed the old saying in triumph.

"Maybe the taking him out in a skirt last night was a bad idea. I really thought JJ wouldn't have the nerve."

"You've never seen what he wears on stage; nerve is not the problem. His fashion taste is almost as much of a monster as the Doc's handiwork."

"So maybe we should take Jane to the Goodwill and see what she picks out on her own. I think she'll surprise you. If she has a shopping gene then your worries are over."

"She already has surprised me, that's the point."

"The question is: are you happy with the results. Jane seems to be just fine with it, despite her minor protests."

"That's for sure!"

"It could be just 'kid with a new toy syndrome,' you know. As Mom would say, I don't think it's hit the Den mas ekatse stage yet." (Greek slang for it didn’t work out for us.)

"Funny how times of stress make you go back to your childhood. I haven't used any Greek in, like, forever! Not many people in Ohio would have a clue."

"Not here, either. We've kind of drifted away from the point."

"Jane is turning out to be a bit more outgoing than JJ, and I kind of like being able to share the jokes we can't let anyone else know we're making, but having a pair of warm breasts poking me in the back in bed is something I hadn't even considered."

"They get warm?"

"Yup. If I close my eyes I could think I'm touching the real thing."

"Maybe we should go back to the diversions. I don't think I wanted to know that."

"Coward! So you think we should take Jane shopping and see if she's interested in adding to her wardrobe?"

"If she isn't interested, then you'll know it's just a new toy. If she is then maybe you two need to do some talking. I'm just in this to have some fun with my little sister, you're going to have to live with whatever happens."

"So we see what Jane wants to wear out to dinner tonight. I suppose it's a good thing that none of us want to do the dishes so we have an excuse to eat out."

"I wouldn't let you, I remember how bad you were at dishes. I don't want to get food poisoning from my own china."

"Coward!"

Putting their plans into action, the sisters declared that, as the day was half over, it would be a day of leisure and shopping. Jane, still finding her way to her feminine self, was somewhat skeptical about the shopping part, but once again donned the skirt she wore the previous evening and another of Antonia's blouses that kind of went with it.

The blouse from the previous night's adventures was the victim of sloppy drinking and Jane now realized that a woman needed more than one bra. A damp bra was not quite as uncomfortable as none at all, but really… Those breast forms were still firmly attached despite her best efforts; there was little choice as to her wardrobe.

With only a little twinge, Jane sat down to do her makeup, going even lighter for daytime wear than the night before. Jane had admitted to taking lessons in makeup for performing, but rather glossed over the fact that, with all that stuff sitting right there, she had spent far more time than would be justified learning how to do feminine makeup properly.

When Jane finally appeared, the sisters exchanged knowing smiles and suggested a trip to the Goodwill; Jane was going to answer Chryssa's questions as to her ability to select a decent wardrobe.

What's that I hear you thinking? How could anyone get something decent for a trendy young woman to adorn her body with at the Goodwill? Isn't that where the old bags dump their unwanted, out-of-style clothes that no one under 90 would wear short of the need to avoid freezing to death in a blizzard?

Times have changed, my friends. Goodwill has been opening a few, select stores with their 'higher end' donations in the last few years. Since Antonia lived in a rather trendy apartment in a rather trendy district alongside a not inconsiderable number of fashionable young women; the pickings weren't half-bad.

Carefully refraining from offering advice, the sisters turned Jane loose to prowl the aisles while they set off on their own quest for an item that just had to be bought and taken home. They were careful not to seem to be watching Jane, but they couldn't help tracking her through the store.

Jane was an interesting study in contrasts. She still shopped like a man, scanning the aisles for just what she wanted and tossing it in the cart, but it appeared that living with Chryssa for the past few years had given her a tolerable sense of fashion. With the cart well-stocked she headed for the changing rooms and tried on her selections, winnowing the right from the wrong.

Unfortunately, she retained too much of her masculine side to think of modeling the outfits for her friends. It was going to take more than a day and a half to get the hang of letting her feminine self become fully developed.

In the end she had six blouses, five skirts, two dresses, a nightgown, a swimsuit, a pair of black flats (Her mother always said that black flats would go with anything, little knowing her son would take this advice to heart while ignoring most of the rest of her solemn teachings.) and a pair of modest heels. As an added bonus, Jane had found two brand-new bras of the correct size that some retailer had donated unopened to the Goodwill. Less than seventy bucks all told; not bad at all. The sisters exchanged knowing glances as she bagged her purchases.

"The 'kid-in-a-candy-store' theory may still have some life to it, but I think you just might have to pick up a copy of Mary Shelly for advice," Antonia smirked.

"Actually, I hope I can borrow that pink top from her, I don't think I'm going to have to worry about her taste in fashion any more. JJ really has been selecting his stage clothes for shock value."

"Too bad all they have is plain, white bras. Wouldn't it be fun if all of us had matching unmentionables."

"You just mentioned them so how could they be unmentionable any longer?"

"The complete phrase would be unmentionable in polite conversation. We've never had to worry about polite conversation between us, have we?"

"Well, when mom or dad were listening…"

"We won't mention that, either. Here she comes."

"That's quite a haul you have there, lover," Chryssa observed.

"Since you and your glue gun have arranged my life for the foreseeable future, I do need to have something to wear. I can't always be borrowing clothes from your sister, especially when we continue onward on our vacation."

"Oh?"

"You seem to be getting a kick out of having me as your girlfriend, and I have to admit it isn't as silly as it seemed at first. In fact, I'm rather enjoying it."

"Told you sis," crowed Antonia, "you've created a monster."

"I hope I don't look that bad."

"You'll do until we can whip you into shape."

"You haven't made enough changes to my shape already?"

"Heh… heh… heh…" Antonia must have been practicing her evil laugh.

"Do I get to be an honorary sister? We could all wear the same dress and really knock 'em dead."

"First lesson, Jane. A woman absolutely never would wear the same dress as another woman at the same place. Strictly verboten!"

"But we could hit the mall and pick up matching bras and panties." Chryssa suggested. "That's OK as long as we don't get drunk enough to remove our clothes."

"After last night, I'm climbing on the wagon. Between having to pee half a dozen times last night, then waking up every time I rolled over on these boobs, not to mention the hangover this morning, sober sounds good to me."

"I think I can get behind that plan, lover. You woke me up quite a few times as well."

"Give me a minute to change into my new clothes. My bra finally dried out, but it just doesn't feel right. I'll be right back."

As Jane headed toward the changing booths, Antonia said with a smile, "Nope, not 'kid-in-a-candy-store.' I think you may have a girlfriend for the rest of your vacation."

"Just wait until we start living in the tent, Jane may change her mind. I can't imagine doing makeup in the blue filtered light inside the tent."

"There's always the rear view mirror in the van."

"Oh joy!"

 

Fortunately for Jane's heretofore unexpressed shopping gene, the sisters had spent the day trolling the malls very recently, so the newly-minted woman's enthusiasm did not flag before the ladies had had their fill. Short of half-remembered trips to the big city with his mother as a small child, JJ had never been in a lingerie department. No stranger to the range of bras available to modern women after spending the last few years watching Chryssa dress or (preferably!) undress, it was a surreal experience to contemplate selecting such a garment for himself. Herself. Whatever.

Consultations ensued, opinions were solicited and discarded, the seduction power of this one or that one was debated - was it JJ or Jane that was expected to answer such questions? - colors and patterns deliberated and still the selection was too large. Nothing for it but to try them on.

To Jane's relief there was no one else present in the changing rooms. Silently pledging to become one with Jane in thought as well as form while in the presence of a topless Antonia, consensus was reached in the form of a bright maroon bra with tiny crescents woven into the fabric of the cups and delicate lace edging. While Jane could appreciate the aesthetics, deep within her a voice worried about just what the sisters had in mind when they were wearing their matching treasures.

Life sure had become interesting. Especially so when Chryssa insisted Jane needed a thin, white nylon shell so that her new bra would be easily noticed underneath the fabric. It was fortunate that Antonia was in a generous mood and put everything on her account. While not exactly a starving student, JJ would never have paid that much for a shirt, and she couldn't believe how much a pair of pantyhose cost. Chryssa was lucky to get two or three wearings out of a pair, which was why she seldom wore them.

The blouse did look pretty good in the mirror, though.

It was getting late before the girls made it back to Antonia's apartment. If you were to ask them where the afternoon went I'm afraid you would be met with blank stares. Time, it would appear, is as elastic a material as that which allows a brassiere to fulfil it's intended purpose. It stretches and circles around to rejoin itself while supporting the exquisite curve of a breast or the arcing path of a gaggle of giggling girls as they reveled in initiating Jane into the sisterhood of the feminine.

The only thing that prevented the entire compliment of bags from landing on the floor as the door closed behind them was the necessity to retrieve their purchases and try them on. None of the trio even thought twice about stripping off right there in the living room and, pausing only to remove the sales tags, fitting their new, matching bras about their breasts. A further, unmeasured period of that same elastic time ensued while they dithered about just what should be placed over those selfsame bras. For Jane it was quick, her new white blouse was the obvious choice. For the biological sisters it was more complex. The final choice must be thin enough to be sure that the maroon of the bra was easily discernible, that was a given. A plain color was called for so that the bra was not lost in a pattern, and that color must be of a lighter hue that did not clash or cover the bra. After much debate, Antonia chose a pale yellow and Chryssa a very light beige.

Now came the choice of what to wear below it. With the white shell, Jane had the widest choice. In far less time than she had ever observed Chryssa taking to decide what to wear, she chose a violet patterned skirt that came just above her knees.

"Did you pick that one out to match the bra, lover?"

"Hardly. I bought it before we got the bras. I did lobby for one that might be a good match, if you remember. I also thought about how smelly it would be to change my nail color."

"Good grief! I'm once again impressed at your feminine intuition."

"Hardly. We physicists are astute observers and place a premium on planning things out. By the way, do I get to appreciate my two favorite sisters in their panties for a bit longer or are you going to get dressed?"

"Shall we just lay around in provocative poses until poor Jane is overcome by raging male hormones and begins to drool and pant like a dog?"

"Wolf, I think. More appropriate in the circumstances."

"Pussy cat, or is that indelicate in the situation?" quipped Jane.

"I didn't bring too many skirts with me," mused Chryssa. "You got anything that would fit me, sis?"

"Let's leave this annoying person to her fantasies and we can see what's in my closet."

"As you wish. Are we doing sandals or hose tonight?"

"Let's go whole hog. Hose and spike heels."

"Sorry, I only have one pair and they're not spikes," Jane reminded them.

"Go with what you got, girl. You going to be able to walk in them without falling flat on your face?"

"Piece of cake, I have some six inch, silver sparkle, open toe killers for the glam rock bit."

"And you were worried that JJ would be upset if we brought him into the sisterhood, Chryssa? I'd say it was a no-brainer even before you glued those babies on."

"I'm really starting to wonder just how far the little, bloody gobbets of our parents would spread if we invited them to a two bride ceremony."

"Hey, Ms Physicist. You got any way to measure that and make a prediction?"

"It would be difficult," JJ mused. "You'd have to take into consideration the multiplier effect of my parents exploding simultaneously. Wait! If we could time it properly we could get one set of outraged parents to spontaneously explode slightly before the second set, thus giving the cloud of flying debris a further push and spreading the carnage."

"I suspect that we could get Aunt Koralia and Uncle Yianni sufficiently worked up to start a chain reaction."

"I don't think we should be re-staging the Blood Wedding from Game of Thrones at our own nuptials," warned Jane "At what a wedding gown costs we wouldn't want to have to send it off to the cleaners after the ceremony, but maybe we could talk them into a bulk rate for two. If we include the bridesmaids we might be able to spread the cost around, you know."

"At least we won't have to pay for the funerals, just hose the place down and put up a marker. ON THIS SPOT…"

"Enough!" cried Antonia. "We're supposed to be painting the town red, not providing a feast for the crows."

"Might I remind you of last night? I'm leaving the paintbrush home and just eating dinner. I'd rather eat at Burger King than have to wake up like that again tomorrow morning."

"Wimp!"

"You're still standing there in your panties. Do I have to go out and eat by myself?"

 

Our trio, looking quite sharp, entered the restaurant to the muted buzz of several of the people already there. With last night's debauch still fresh in their minds, they refused the wine with their dinner and settled for a simple glass of water.

The evening afterward was enjoyable, simply sitting on the couch and watching a video. Not very exciting, but Jane proved that snuggling up to Chryssa as Jane was just as satisfying as doing so as JJ. With Antonia close on the other side, grinning like one who is in possession of a vast secret, there's not much more to tell about Jane's first full day as a woman of the twenty-first century.

Friday Morning

The following morning Chryssa was roused from her slumber by the strains of Jane's voice - it was certainly Jane's almost-soprano as opposed to JJ's high tenor - singing the praises of Yankee Doodle. I suppose you can only change a personality so much, singing in the shower must be a part of the genetic structure of her lover.

From long experience she knew it was hopeless to wait for JJ to vacate the shower before her bladder burst, so she wished Jane a good morning as she relieved herself, courteously not flushing quite yet. With a happy smile on her lips, she joined Jane under the water and they had a little slippery, soapy fun before the hot water started to wane.

Laughing at the sight of JJ with breasts and an erection, they proved that finding the feminine was no bar to enjoying the masculine side of his/her personality. That required another quick rinse-off, but the water was warm again by the time it was needed.

20th century Jane decided that having to wear tie-up stockings as 18th century Jane was a real pain. She was going to have to pick up some neutral, heavy duty tights before her next Colonial outing. The phrase 'screw authenticity' passed through her mind, which reminded her of what had just recently happened and almost had her removing her clothes, but Chryssa firmly refused to co-operate and demanded help with her zipper.

The plain, white bra seemed awful, well, plain after last night's restrained revels, but it was soon holding up her pseudo-breasts so she in turn could ask Chryssa for help with her zipper. Putting on JJ's plain, black nerd shoes may have been closer to the attire of the period, but seemed almost a sacrilege after floating around in heels and a short skirt. Those poor colonial women didn't know what they were missing.

Apply some minimal makeup - hum, going to have to get more of that, too, supplies were running low - and they were ready for a day in Colonial Williamsburg. Checking her smartphone (I know! Out-of -period again, but there's an app to let you know what's happening in Williamsburg. Screw authenticity!) Antonia found that they could meet General Lafayette at eleven o'clock that morning. Once again they took JJ's van as trying to fit three ladies in voluminous skirts into a Mazda was questionable at best.

They attracted the usual interested gazes from the other tourists as they settled into their seats in a thoroughly modern auditorium. Soon the lights lowered and the tall, thin form of General Lafayette himself strode on the stage. Stopping to examine his audience closely, he soon had the audience enthralled with his humor and aristocratically folksy stories of the American Revolution. His light and humorous description of his wounds in battle and the months of recovery among the Mennonites were one of the highlights of his talk. Throughout the storytelling it became clear that the General was still a young man and much desired by the ladies, an interest he happily returned. The time passed quickly until the General invited questions from the audience. Most were serious, but eventually one man arose and queried the General.

"Sir, my daughter was one of the women helping our brave soldiers recover at that hospital. After hearing you speak I have grave concerns for her virtue."

Without the slightest hesitation the General replied: "My good man, I must confess that during that time I was severely ill and could not be held responsible for my actions. I hope the knowledge that my leg wound would have rendered any improprieties difficult at best will calm your mind."

To this day, Jane cannot say what come over her as she rose to say "General, I was there myself and can testify that there were absolutely no complaints about your actions from the ladies. In fact, they were all highly complimentary about your ability with your… sword."

With a theatrical sigh Jane returned to her seat as the audience roared with laughter.

When the performance ended, Jane and Chryssa were surprised to see General Lafayette slowly making his way over to them, conversing with the audience and showing the same sparkling personality he had displayed on stage.

"Antonia, my dear! I might have known you would be the one to bring a friend who could match wits with the best."

"Not my fault, Charles. Meet my sister Chryssa and her friend Jane. In the last few days we have become astounded by her talent at improv."

"My dear, little scenes like that are what makes this job so enticing. I thank you most humbly."

"With that the General bowed low and swept off his hat. Hoping she could do it properly, Jane attempted a curtsy. She must have gotten it right because she was able to return to a standing position without spending any embarrassing time on the floor.

"A pleasure, General, I'm sure. Since meeting Antonia I have been honing my improv skills to a far greater extent than I ever imagined."

"So much so," offered Chryssa, "It’s almost like she's become a whole new person."

"Beauty reborn once again. Thank you for your affirmation of my, ahem, swordsmanship. It made a nice variation on a question that is asked frequently. I try to play the general as a dashing young man with a lively interest in the ladies. The history hints at it, so I try to make it live."

"You've succeeded."

"My thanks. Williamsburg is always interested in new volunteers, my dear. You might consider it."

"I'm afraid physics is my true calling, General. If I can ever finish my dissertation I intend to put my doctorate to good use."

"This poor eighteenth-century soldier is continually astounded by twenty-first century women. I'm sure you could tell some very interesting tales of being a woman in a traditionally male field."

"I think you'd be very surprised. Just ask Chryssa about her life as a mechanical engineer."

"Madame!" Again the sweeping bow. "My admiration know no bounds. Antonia, we must find time to get together so I can get to know these peerless women."

"General, considering your reputation with the ladies, I should insist on several chaperons. One may not be nearly enough," Chryssa said with a smile.

"Relax, sis. Out of uniform Charlie is a reliable fellow. He's also married so he and Verna need to come over for a pool party and dinner tomorrow. These two have been denigrating my skills in the kitchen just because we've eaten out a lot since they arrived."

"My dears, you have blinded me with your beauty, but do not let yourselves be blinded as to dear Antonia's culinary genius. I heartily accept your invitation to share your repast and I do not have the faintest reservation about including my own dear wife without asking her assent, as she is always ready for a superb dining experience."

"Well golly gee!" exclaimed Jane, "You almost had me convinced there, General. I do have some doubts about your eyesight if you can refer to this little old colonial housewife as a blinding beauty. Perhaps the blindness has come upon you so slowly you haven't realized how weak your eyes have become."

"While your modesty does you credit, my good lady…"

"Enough!" cried Antonia. "If you two keep this crap up we'll be here all day and miss the concert."

"Yeah," seconded Chryssa, "If you keep it up, Jane, you might convince me you're too ugly to marry and I'll call the wedding off."

"Alas, my hopes are dashed yet again. Both of you off the market! My congratulations to you both must outweigh my lamentations at my loss."

"Goodbye, Charlie. Tomorrow afternoon?"

"I'm free after the morning performance. I'll give you a call when I know when Verna will be free."

"Of course, see you then."

 

As they made their way through the halls, Jane turned to Antonia and sighed theatrically. "I thought your sister was bad enough with this little caper, but did you have to invite two perfect strangers to dinner to peer closely at my new and still wobbly self? And you, my innocent bride-to-be, 'Almost a new person,' is it?"

"You're cute when you're excited. Too bad the foundation hides your blush."

"It's a damn good thing that some things are staying hidden. Could be embarrassing."

"If you could match wits with Charlie and stay in there with him, you don't have to worry about anyone thinking your sparkling personality is anything but feminine. I'm really getting to like Jane, you know. Not that JJ was at all objectionable, but… I'll shut up now."

"My sister is finally learning. Mom and Dad would be proud."

"Can we leave them out of it for now? Jane is enough to cope with."

"And you think I'm not running at full speed coping with you two?" muttered Jane.

"I didn't quite hear that," Chryssa said.

"Good. I think Antonia mentioned something about music?"

"I did. Since you mentioned your classical music education, I thought you might enjoy the harpsichord concert."

"Wouldn't a French gown and a lady's fan be more appropriate to the music than a colonial housewife?"

"You want to buy another dress? This is getting serious, your shopping gene has been turned on good and proper."

"Heaven forfend I should be proper in any degree. Lead on, my dear."

 

It was a challenge to walk through the museum without stopping frequently to see the displays or read a particularly interesting sign, but the made their way to a display of some fine musical instruments. Once again, their colonial dress made them the object of much interest, so they smiled at the people and paused now and then to delight the children who were staring shyly. Settling on one of several nearby benches, the trio awaited the concert.

A short time later a gentleman in a beautiful frock coat and breaches approached carrying a sheaf of papers and settled at the harpsichord bench. He introduced himself and told a little bit about the instrument and its place in Colonial Williamsburg before playing some period music. None of this was news to JJ with his classical background, but he certainly enjoyed the music. For someone who also loved punk and rap and other modern forms, JJ had strangely varied tastes. Perhaps that flexibility had something to do with how easily Jane had come into being.

When the show was over, Jane was compelled to examine the instrument more closely.

"A lovely instrument, the tone is quite good," she offered."

"You seem to be knowledgeable on the subject, madam."

"Years of study under Mrs Fletcher, then a minor in music at school."

"Classical, I assume?"

"Yes, and a little jazz. I was the despair of my professors when I picked up the guitar,"

"Not classical, I assume."

"Electric, and about as far from classical as you can get."

"I cringe at the thought!"

"As does anybody over forty. That's the point."

"Music as a bludgeon of rebellion?"

"I'm sure the colonists had similar ideas when they got fed up with King George."

"So they did. I suppose they were lucky electric instruments weren't available at the time."

"Maybe. They drove Manuel Noriega out of his hidey-hole with loud rock music. Can you imagine driving shiploads of redcoats back across the sea with The Stones or Def Leppard?"

"The mind boggles! Are you a SF fan into time travel stories?"

"Not really, although I've been switching centuries every other day lately. My sister-in-law practically stuffed me into this dress and dragged me here."

"It's quite becoming, no matter how you ended up wearing it. Do you play the harpsichord?"

"Not for some time, but I wouldn't mind."

"Be my guest, madam."

He moved off the seat and Jane settled in his place, automatically sweeping her voluminous skirts out of the way. She closed her eyes in a moment of concentration and began one of the Goldberg variations, drawing on some deep well of memory for the proper notes. People stopped their headlong rush to listen, watching the woman at the instrument deep in musical rapture as she poured forth the notes. With a triumphant smile she finished the piece and was surprised by the applause from the crowd that had gathered.

"A lovely instrument, thank you so much for allowing me to play it."

"It's a shame that Bach's music never really made it to the colonies before the revolution. Please, do you have anything else you can play?"

"Let me think."

Again her eyes closed and the notes came unbidden to her fingers. Again the music poured forth, weaving and winding it's way around and around until it finally found the right spot to end. This time the applause wasn't such a shock.

"Lovely, but I don't recognize the tune."

Before Jane could answer a young voice from the audience shouted "Radical! That's Metallica! Very cool, lady!"

"I told you I was the despair of my teachers. That was Metallica's Nothing Else Matters. My own arrangement."

"Revolutionary indeed! Madam, you have just taught me a lesson in music appreciation."

"One of my professors - one that was always faintly revolutionary himself - taught me that there is no such thing as bad music. There is music you don't like and music you don't appreciate, but bad is a value judgement that doesn't mean anything when applied to personal preference."

"I can't argue, but many of my friends could - and would most vociferously. It's been a pleasure to meet you, madam."

"Jane, just think of me as another music lover."

"Richard. I shall remember you fondly, my dear. I'm afraid I must be going."

With that he picked up his music, made sure the rope barriers were in place around the instruments and went on his way.

"Jane, you're a wonder," enthused Antonia. "When I said you had hidden depths to you I had no idea. Metallica on a harpsichord? I don't know if I'm more surprised at your performance or that the tune is so melodic and beautiful."

"If you take the time to actually listen to the tunes in almost any genre of music, you will find they can be translated and transposed into other styles quite successfully. I worked that one up for one of my exams in music class a while back. I'm pleased I remembered it all the way through, I haven't played it in a while."

"Don't tell my sister, but she has good taste in both women and men."

"I'm right here, sister," observed Chryssa.

"So you are. Nice of you to bring this lady with you."

Time once proved its elasticity for the rest of the day seemed to pass in just moments. They watched the cooper make barrels, talked to some very interesting people from native American tribes who demonstrated how they lived and how they interacted with the people of Williamsburg, drank cider in the tavern and walked until their feet began to complain. Finding a convenient bench, the ladies sat and rested a bit.

While idly watching the people passing by, Jane mused on how quickly her life had changed, and how pleasant it was to be sitting here in skirts with the pressure of a bra around her torso and the weight of breasts warm against her body.

To her surprise, it just felt right. She hardly noticed how she was dressed as she had gone through the day unless some movement stretched her bra or a vagrant breeze had fleetingly ruffled her skirts. There was a joy that approached what she felt when the music filled her during a performance or some esoteric problem in physics suddenly resolved itself in her mind.

How lucky she was to be sharing her life with a woman who had the remarkable ability to have seen the potential for Jane within JJ, and to have the love and generosity to set her free. Without thought, she embraced Chryssa and exchanged a loving kiss.

"What was that for?" asked the astonished Chryssa.

"For being you. For showing me Jane was more than a gimmick on the stage to make people cringe. For making me a happy person no matter what clothes I'm wearing."

"Deep thoughts for a fine summer's day."

"As deep as our love, if you want to get poetical."

"Speak to me of love…"

""Not Barbara Streisand!"

"Hey, I can't help if my parents loved her and I had to listen to her records over and over growing up. Besides, who was just telling the world that there is no such thing as bad music?"

"I may have to revise that opinion. If I can revise my gender, can an opinion be any harder?

"You can have surgery for changing your gender, changing an opinion is a task even the gods would eschew. Haven't you been listening to the news lately."

"I concede. I just realized - I could live my life in this town quite happily. I haven't seen one of those damned red hats since we got here."

"Not surprising, such people clearly have no understanding of history."

"How did we get from the joys of femininity to politics?"

"By the usual crooked path taken by the usual crooked politicians."

"Then let us strike off on our own and leave that path."

"Hey!" Antonia cried. "You aren't planning to leave me behind, I hope."

"I speak those immortal words once again," intoned Jane, "One for all and all for one!"

"Actually I was thinking more along the lines of 'All you can eat' " Chryssa answered. "Where do you want to eat?"

"At a table."

"Any particular location for that table?

"Considering your foray into politics, I think Mexican is in order. There's a little hole-in-the-wall place called El Sabor, but it's a ways off."

"Hole-in-the-wall? How appropriate. Lead on, sister mine."

So they once again maneuvered their billowing skirts into the van and drove off. On arriving, Jane untied her bonnet and began systematically removing the hairpins from her hair, carefully dropping them in her purse. Standing beside the door she shook her head and let her long hair free.

"That's much better," she sighed. "It's times like this that I can truly appreciate that old cliche of 'letting your hair down.' "

"And it's times like waiting hours for it to dry that I can appreciate a pixie cut," answered Antonia.

"Each to their own, and I think I'm about to own a burrito."

If anyone should ever need an illustration of multiculturalism in action, a man crossdressed as a colonial American woman eating with with two Greek sisters enjoying the food in a Mexican restaurant in Virginia should fit the bill nicely.

"Here you go, Jane," Chryssa said as she handed her a small bottle.

"What's this?"

The remover for the glue. You really have to take those things off once in a while to let your skin breathe."

"I am starting to feel a bit itchy, at that."

"You know, I'm going to miss having your boobs poking me in the back."

"Really? Sometimes I get annoyed because I can't feel you when I snuggle up close."

"Well, I certainly can feel you."

"You're welcome to start feeling any time."

"You may have breasts but you still think like a man."

"You'd be right at the moment, but actually I have been finding myself thinking more like a woman these days. Or at least more like a man thinks a woman thinks like."

"Says the man in the process of removing his breasts."

"That's one! I'm feeling lopsided."

"Well, they say that the two breasts are never exactly the same, but you seem to be taking it to extremes."

"And having two breasts on my body isn't extreme?"

"From what I've seen in the last few days, no."

"There! I am no longer lopsided. Feels like I'm missing something, though."

"Like I said, not so extreme if you've adopted them into the family."

"Now that is one truly bizarre metaphor. More like I'm just babysitting them, I'd need a plastic surgeon to adopt them."

"Now just who is being weird? By the way, it looks like you still have one appendage in working order on your body."

"Might have something to do with the fact that your breasts are not detachable. Or maybe it's because you're wearing a very sexy pair of panties."

"You like?"

"Jane likes, JJ lusts."

"You just want to wear them yourself."

"Another time, perhaps. There are other things on my mind."

"It's not you mind that's reacting. Still remember what to do with that thing?"

"If Jane could use it, then so can I."

"Ummmm…"

Saturday Morning

A very contented Chryssa awoke the next morning to hear JJ singing in the shower. This time it was something she didn't recognize, one of the things he sang on stage, no doubt. Some people were insufferably cheerful in the morning.

Once again, her bladder bade her to heed its clarion call, so she joined JJ in the bathroom without knocking. This morning there was no particular urge to join him in the shower, last night had been exceptional. Be that as it may, she was quite happy to feast her eyes on the dripping man who emerged form the steam of the shower.

"Ah, and a good morning to you, my love," he spoke as he grabbed a towel from the rack. You look rather satisfied this morning."

"I'm always satisfied when I get to pee in the morning, you big lunk."

"Is that the only cause?"

"Fishing for compliments?"

"I seem to be hooked on you."

"That's an old line, buster. You can be JJ today as long as you don't have your boobies on, you know."

"Your sister invited strangers to dinner, remember. They're expecting to see Jane."

"Damn! My brain is still fuzzy after last night."

"Not the only part of you I found to be fuzzy, eh?"

"Letch. If you're going to be Jane such thoughts would be quite improper."

"Look ma, no boobies! Wanna do something improper?"

"I wonder if you could get it up again after last night?"

"An interesting question. As a physicist, such questions are resolved by experiment."

"As a satisfied woman such experiments are best postponed. Besides, if you can't get it up that's all the better if Jane intends to go swimming."

"See, the world is in love with Jane and can't live without her. Good thing I found you first, I'm half in love with Jane myself."

"Narcissist! Are you really going to wear that swimsuit?"

"Make with the glue gun and we can see if it can be done."

"Looks like Jane is becoming a permanent houseguest."

"As long as you don't mind. I rather like being her, but you tell me when she isn't welcome."

"After watching that video I just hope pushing your little friends up into yourself won't do anything permanent."

"You just love me for the sex."

"There you go! Fishing for compliments again. Lie down on the bed and I'll glue you together."

 

With her breasts securely glued on and held firmly in place by her bra, Jane again found the video on You-tube.

"That looks awfully uncomfortable and I don't even have any balls to worry about. You sure you want to try this?" asked Chryssa.

"Now what better role-model can I ask for than an exhibitionist crossdresser?"

"I'd offer to help but I suspect that would be counterproductive."

"You think?"

"More than you, apparently. I don't think I want to watch this, I'll see you when you're done."

Firmly pushing his doubts away, JJ carefully followed the directions and found to his surprise (and mild discomfort) that he actually could hide his genitals. Naturally, he discovered the need to pee as soon as this was accomplished and had to undo all his good work. He consoled himself with the notion that practice makes perfect.

Borrowing a pair of Chryssa's slightly smaller panties to help keep everything in place, (No way she was using tape in that particular location!) Jane looked at the swimsuit. It was a conservative one-piece garment in gold with a silly little skirt and built-in bra. Even his mother wouldn't be too embarrassed to wear it in public, but Jane was having second thoughts.

At least Jane wouldn't have to change her nail polish again. Taking off the old color wasn't so bad, at least if you ignored the smell, but you needed a steady hand to put the new stuff on without painting stripes down your knuckles. She had tried to do her own toes but gave it up as a bad job and let the ladies take care of that.

She did rather like the woman in the mirror, despite her resemblance to her mother. Did she actually like looking like her mother? This was going to take some thought. Later.

Jane didn't realize how lucky she was to find a suit with a generous cut, one that completely hid the plastic cleavage that would have given away her true gender. Watching herself in the mirror the gentle swell of her breasts was downright fascinating. JJ had always appreciated a woman's breasts, they certainly drew his eye in most any circumstances, but seeing them on his own body was … was… the words to describe what he - or she - was feeling wouldn't come.

With a start Jane realized that having breasts felt… good. From out of nowhere came a longing for the real thing, not some plastic imitation. Jane had to close her eyes and just let her emotions subside. Life had become far more complicated since visiting Antonia.

Opening her eyes again, Jane followed the rest of the image in the mirror and was less satisfied. without a full skirt hiding her legs and a lot of her butt, her lack of hips and that delicious feminine curvature was sadly obvious. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Her long hair went quite well with the swimsuit. Letting that hair grow had started out as a protest, but soon became a vanity as well as a way to stir up the conservative rednecks back home. It was almost inevitable that when he started using makeup for the stage JJ just had to see if he could make his face more compatible with the long hair. Many garbage bags filled with cold-cream soaked tissues got piled in the dorm room while the learning took place, much to the annoyance of his roommate. Good thing Frank liked the band's music or he might have been strangled in his sleep one night.

Trying to come up with makeup that wouldn't be terribly out-of-place on a beach was a real challenge, but even his light blonde beard would be all too visible in the direct sun so it had to be done. Plump the lashes, enhance the eyes, a dab of color here, a pat of powder there. Jane was going to have to spend a lot of time in the water or laying on the lounger with a magazine over her face.

Just why was she doing this, again?

Well, she'd had a damned good time as Jane in the last few days and Chryssa was encouraging. Swimming as Jane had overtones of Miss America in the part of Jane's brain that still contained JJ. Didn't every girl want to display her body?

With that faintly lascivious thought Mom popped into Jane's brain and the answer was an unequivocal NO! Thinking of Mom certainly put a damper on Jane.

Just why did she have to show up now? Stupid question - the whole idea of Jane wearing a swimsuit her mother would approve of was downright silly. No way in hell that mom would approve of this swimsuit on her son. Not that she'd scream or lose her cool, but mom sure had a way of showing her disapproval that was as polite as it was clear.

Like when he brought Chryssa home to meet the family. Mom got super polite and you could feel the frost rolling off her body in waves. Face it, Chryssa's dusky olive complexion was just not the done thing in a small Mississippi town. Nor was a man gluing on a pair of false breasts and enjoying being a woman for a while.

At least there was no need to let mom know about Jane. Chryssa she was going to have to live with; that was a done thing.

Enough woolgathering. Robe in hand, she started out to the kitchen, knowing it would be a waste of time to put it on as the girls would just make her take it off again to see what she looked like.

 

The sisters were waiting. They had given up any pretense of doing anything but waiting to see Jane in a swimsuit, not even speculating as to just why Jane would have bought a swimsuit in the first place. In fact, Antonia was berating herself for offering an dinner invitation to her old friend without thinking it through.

JJ had hardly been introduced before Jane appeared; she had simply accepted Jane as her sister's friend and related to her as she would any other woman. JJ was so damned natural as Jane.

"Sis?" asked Chryssa. "What are we going to do if Jane is a travesty in a swimsuit? She's so damned nice I don't want to hurt her feelings."

"I suppose a burka would be too much?"

"On anybody, anywhere! I just can't figure why any woman would allow that to happen to her."

Looks like Antonia had hit a hot button.

"Different cultures, different standards. You get to think about such things when you spend time at Williamsburg. So many things that the colonists considered ordained by God are anathema to us in the modern world. Before I started spending time here I had quite a grudge against the founding fathers who thought slavery was the way God wanted it to be. Even with something as blatant as slavery there are shades and questions to be pondered."

"I get the feeling that women weren't so far from slavery back then."

"Well, they couldn't be bought and sold outright, but they sure were under a man's thumb most of their lives."

"Barefoot and pregnant seems to be just a given thing."

"I suppose they kept getting pregnant as much because they liked sex as well as their men liked sex. I doubt we'll ever know because I can't see anyone writing stuff like that down."

"They must have had porn back then, but I wouldn't risk my life savings over finding any written by a woman."

"Fat chance a woman could find a publisher or that most women could afford to actually buy a book."

"Is she ever going to come out?"

"Nervous, sis?"

"I don't know if I should hope Jane looks so good in a swimsuit I'll be jealous or she looks so bad she won't dare wear it in public."

"Now there's an idea for a modern romance novel. 'Will she or won't she?' with a really different twist."

"I suppose with computers and all we wouldn't have to worry about finding a publisher these days."

"I think we're about to find out. I hear the door opening."

 

"Good morning," Jane said hesitantly.

There wasn't any answer.

"It isn't going to work, then?" she asked.

"Uh…" was as far as Chryssa got.

"Um…" That was Antonia.

"I was just thinking of my mother. One of the things she always said was 'If you can't say something nice then don't say anything at all.' I should just tear up my application for the Miss America pageant, then?"

"Oh Jane, I'm so sorry," Chryssa blurted. "I don't think you have the figure for a swimsuit."

"If you stayed in the water and kept your tush out of sight it might work," offered Antonia.

"Nice legs, though," Chryssa tried to mitigate the problem.

"But let's be honest, without wearing something with a petticoat or two I just don't make it as Jane."

"I don't believe it," Antonia mused. "A woman asking 'Does this make my ass look big' and actually wanting the answer to be 'yes.' It's unnatural!"

"I might point out that I am an unnatural woman." laughed Jane.

"If they wonder about swimming we'll just tell them you have problems with yeast infections. That stops just about any male from asking any more questions every time."

"I guess that's one thing I don't have to worry about. You know, the other day when I woke up on the beach I thought I was surrounded by water nymphs for a moment. I kinda had a fantasy that I could be one, too."

"It's a shame we don't have a hot tub. We could cavort in that while we feed your fantasies."

"I'm sorry, but that fantasy might make it a bit hard to wear this suit convincingly."

"Among other things, I suppose," said Antonia with a wicked grin.

"That, sister mine, will have to remain one of your fantasies. I'm not sharing."

"And there goes one of my fantasies," quipped Jane.

"Oh, go put on a skirt and shut up!"

 

Softly closing the bedroom door behind her, Jane stood looking at herself in the full length mirror. Without the rosy filter of her fantasies, the reflection showed that a bathing suit was just not going to work - her days as a water nymph were over before they had begun.

The analytical brain of JJ the physicist knew that no matter how seductive and compelling a hypothesis might be, if actual experimentation showed it was wrong then that was it - it was wrong and you had to try something else. With the right clothes the experiment that was Jane had worked fairly well, far better than JJ would have believed, but in a skintight swimming suit there was no hiding the lack of feminine curves, even if she had successfully hidden the masculine bump in her crotch.

With a sigh she mentally ran through her limited wardrobe, trying to decide just what she would wear. The door opened and Chryssa came in and gently placed her arms around Jane.

"Disappointed?" she asked.

"Yeah. I've been so comfortable as Jane these past few days I let myself get carried away."

"That's a good word - comfortable. Not that JJ wasn't comfortable in his skin, but something about the whole glam-rock thing just made me wonder. Are you sorry I pushed?"

"Not a bit. If you hadn't pushed I might have gone hiding this part of myself from myself. If that makes any sense."

"I get it, lover. Tell me what you're feeling."

"Disappointed I can't pull off the swimsuit. Amused that by putting on extra clothes like a bra I feel so much more free and alive. Wondering how I managed to ignore that I wanted to be more feminine for so long."

"Might have something to do with growing up a 'lil redneck in a small Mississippi town? Think anyone would have understood if you went out wearing a skirt?"

"Hell, the hair got me enough grief."

"So why did you keep it long?"

"Because I like it and I liked pissing some people off, I suppose."

"Sounds like a redneck attitude to me."

"Y'all want to make something of it, lady?"

"Yup, once a redneck, always a redneck. Is there a feminine form of redneck?"

"The original gender-neutral term, even if a real redneck wouldn't know what a gender was."

"So you can still be a redneck wearing a dress?"

"If nobody knows what's under the dress, I suppose. Fer sure if nobody knew me before, 'lil lady. If they did I'd just be red - blood red, that is."

"Call me 'lil lady one more time and you'll certainly be blood red."

"See how easy it is to revert to your childhood vocabulary?"

"I guess we all have a thin veneer of civilization just waiting to be scratched. Feeling any better now?"

"You know, I am. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Tell me one thing, though?"

"Of course."

"Have you ever wanted to try on my clothes? After all, they were right there in our bedroom."

"Sometimes was when I was on stage and really into whole glam-rock scene it crossed my mind. By the time I got home the urge was gone. When I left the stage I shut down most of those feelings."

"Most?"

"Once in a while I just opened up your drawer and kind of fondled your stuff. I really don't know what I was thinking those times."

"Zis appears to be a clazzic caze of repression, Mein Herr. Tell me did you vant to screw your mozzeer?" Chryssa's Viennese accent needed work, but they both broke up.

"No, Doctor, but I vanted to vack off vith her panties. Zee frilly ones vith ze little pink bow on them."

"Did you really?"

"Hell no! Mom would have figured it out five minutes before I did it. No way I could ever fool that woman."

"I always wondered if you wanted to dress up for real, but it just didn't seem like you would welcome the question."

"So you had your sister be the fall guy for the whole dress-up thing."

"Better you blame her than me."

"Was I really that intimidating?"

"I don't know. Your family was no more open about sex than mine. Look how long it took us to get into the same bed. I'm glad that we had that first time together."

"And look how fast it was over that first time. Sure deflated my ego as a macho stud."

"And you near tickled me to death until you found the right place trying to get me off."

"Funny. Here I am trying to hook up my bra and feeling a bit embarrassed because I wasn't a macho stud."

"Sweetheart, sex with you is just fine weather you're wearing a bra and I'm watching your tits shake or admiring your pecs. Most of the time I have my eyes closed anyway, so who cares."

"It is sort of interesting to have tits while we're making love. Just a little extra, if you know what I mean."

"You'll have to show me later."

"I sure can't show you all poked in like I am now. Oh, I forgot - I have been wearing your clothes. I borrowed a pair of your panties to help hold things in without duct tape."

"Yucch! I don't want to think about tape down there."

"I didn't either and we both remember the night we decided to shave ourselves bald."

Not so much that night, which was rather interesting. It was about four days later when you were the first cousin to a porcupine."

"Three long weeks of sandpaper for five short minutes of love."

"It lasted longer than five minutes as I recall."

"Hyperbole. Poetic license."

"You write a poem about that and you're history, buster."

"Which skirt should I wear?"

"The long one. If you can't go swimming then you can demurely hike up your skirts and go wading. That ought to get the General's pulse elevated."

"Just what I need."

"Besides, a full skirt will help disguise your boyish figure down below."

"That's what your panties are for."

Maybe we need to find a pair of padded panties for you."

"Padded panties?"

"Sometimes a girl needs a little help. If you can stuff a bra then you can pad the hips."

"Whatever happened to truth in advertising?"

"And just when did Madison Avenue ever give a damn about telling the truth?"

"I suppose since I'm false advertising on the hoof I shouldn't complain."

"No, but you should change your nail polish to go with your outfit. You should just about have time to do it before the company arrives."

"At the risk of sounding like a country singer, 'Sometimes it's hard to be a woman.' "

 

Sometime later Antonia found Jane at her computer, clicking away with a confused look on her face. Eventually whatever she was viewing seemed to make sense and she clicked the last button triumphantly.

"Looking much better now, Jane," Antonia commented, causing Jane to jump and reminding her forcefully that she had bouncy breasts on her body..

"Am I?" Jane's confidence had taken quite a hit.

"I'd quote a platitude such as 'clothing makes the man' except it would be wildly inappropriate."

"I suppose since it literally makes the woman in my case it wouldn't be entirely false."

"I like the outfit. You did very well with the limited selection at the Goodwill. I wasn't even sure you would have the nerve to get anything, let alone a decent wardrobe."

"I'm not sure what happened, but my father drilled into me that if you're going to do something you had damned well do it right. Not that he would have said 'damned' or approved of me dressing like this, but you get the idea."

"Funny how we revert to childhood teachings when we confront something new and different."

"And funny how those childhood teachings turn out to be wrong. This whole 'man is man and woman is woman and never shall the twain meet' bit is insane. I spent a whole lot of years denying the part of me that's turning into Jane."

"I think my sister finally made the right choice in men by finding one who can let go and be the person that they need to be."

"Did my sister actually give me a compliment?" asked Chryssa in wonder as she entered the kitchen.

"Just pointing out that some of your earlier boyfriends were less than optimal."

"You need more than a week of vacation, sis. You're spouting jargon again."

"Don't remind me. Only a week left before I have to start protecting the country by shuffling paperwork and buzzing words so that I can talk for half an hour without saying a damned thing."

"It's been a fun week."

"So it has, but if I'm going to prove I can cook we need to get to work. I know I don't want to be in the same room as my sister when she's holding a sharp knife, so maybe you could chop some onions and celery."

"Blunt trauma is just as deadly as a knife wound, sister mine. Be careful."

"That's why I want Jane to handle the knife. A half an hour or so and we'll have everything ready once I get the pulled pork in the crockpot. Company will be coming in just a couple of hours."

"You know, I don't think I've ever met a mechanical engineer before."

"We are a rare breed, indeed," answered Chryssa languidly.

The answer was languid because just about everything was languid that afternoon. There were five bodies sprawled on one section of the sun deck. Exposed skin, of which there was plenty, was shining with sunblock. There were assorted cold drinks sweating in the warm air, conveniently in reach of the drinker, with a cooler under a sunshade promising refills in plenitude as the occasion warranted.

"Charlie! Don't even think about it," Charlie's wife Verna warned.

"You wound me!" came the reply.

"Yeah, just like General Lafayette. Except you'd put a foot in your mouth instead of a bullet in your leg."

"I suppose that would be much less painful than a war wound."

"Only for you. We'd be the ones suffering if you used that corny line."

"Now Verna, I'm sure Charlie wouldn't use a time-worn pickup line on a woman he's just met," Chryssa said sweetly.

"Shows that you've just met him. The old Letch still uses those lines on me."

"They still work, don't they love?"

"Sometimes - if I'm in the mood."

"He's welcome to try, Verna. I have my protector by my side, don't I love?"

"It's an old move, but I could spill my drink in his lap," replied Jane.

"He's an old man, it might work." Antonia had a gleam in her eye.

"I say! Old man?"

"Charlie, I hadn't been born by the time you had your first woman dump her drink in your crotch."

"Time has given me the experience to avoid such embarrassing situations."

"As long as I'm there to keep him in line," Verna crowed.

"Ahem! Before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to ask Chryssa just what a mechanical engineer does."

"Simple answer - whatever my boss tells me to. Sorry, I think Jane's humor is rubbing off on me. A mechanical engineer designs physical things to do whatever the customer needs. Some design cars, some design machines, some design sensors or tools or a whole lot of things."

"So what are you designing?"

"Actually, Jane and I are working on a research project. She plays physicist and tries to create materials that can store electricity and I try to make them actually store electricity. It's a lot more complicated than that and we are members of a large team from half a dozen disciplines."

"Storing electricity?"

"That's sort of the holy grail," Chryssa continued. "You know that wind and solar can generate a lot of power, but if you get a calm night neither one will do you much good. Right now we have to have traditional electric generating plants available for those times. If we could store electricity like they store water at a hydroelectric plant then we would be able to use renewable sources even if the sun isn't shining and the wind isn't blowing."

"I can see the problem."

"Have you ever been to Niagara Falls?"

Verna got a faraway smile. "We spent our honeymoon there."

"Well, I'm sure that looking at a generating plant wasn't high on your agenda, although I hope a few sparks flew between you."

"You might say that, wouldn't you, love," Charlie grinned.

"Yup!"

"It's kind of the reverse of the wind/solar problem. During the day there are gazillions of tourists that want to see the Falls. In fact, tourism is what keeps the cities both sides of the border running. If they ran the generators flat out the flow to the Falls would be reduced significantly. So what they do is fill up a big pond every night when they turn off the lights on the falls, then use that stored water to run the generators during the day and let the Falls thunder along in its full glory."

"It's one of those simple ideas that take a whole lot of engineering and money to turn into reality." Jane took up the story. "They use a lot of water. The two intakes for the power project are each taller than a railroad boxcar and there are two four-lane highways that run over the dam for the generators. The scale is huge and it's only one place where we generate electricity."

"Amazing. I never really thought about how the electricity gets to my light bulb."

"Most people don't. I didn't until we got involved in this project."

"So how do you store electricity?"

"Poorly," replied Jane. "Not to be flip, but we just don't have any good ways to do it. Batteries are a small part of the solution, but they they just can't be scaled up to the need. Lithium batteries are the best we have right now, but there isn't enough lithium on the planet to make enough batteries for the power grid."

"Then there's the problem of what to do with all that lithium every five years or so when the batteries wear out." Chryssa continued. That's where our team comes in, trying to find a better way."

"One of the ideas we crazy physicists are working is using superconductors as a sort of super battery. A superconductor will conduct electricity with no loss, so if we could find a material that works we could get the electricity to chase around in a big superconducting loop until we tap some of it off. Problem is, it will take a theoretical breakthrough before we can make something practical and cheap enough for widespread use."

"So I'm not going to have a superconducting battery next week or next year?"

"Or next century. It's sort of like the people who are working on nuclear fusion. It's always twenty years in the future and has been for sixty years. Who knows? If you'd asked me ten years ago I would have laughed in your face if you had told me that Jane would be running around Williamsburg in a silly bonnet and a pile of skirts. The future is good at keeping secrets secret.

"We've done it again, haven't we Jane," Chryssa smiled. "Gotten carried away about our projects and bored anyone within the sound of our voices."

"Not boring to me," Antonia rejoined. "My little sister is out to save the world and I didn't even know it."

"Not boring to me, either," Charlie reiterated. "I doubt if I'd grasp the details, but it's good to know somebody is trying to find a solution, even if I didn't know what the problem was."

"See Charlie," Verna said. "I told you it was us women who would be saving the world. All in a day's work and then we whip up dinner for the poor misinformed male who thought he was protecting the fair damsels while they were really saving his ass."

"I stand mute in the face of such wisdom. Pardon me if my stomach rumbles a bit while waiting for my protectors to get to the dinner part."

"That'll be the day!" replied his skeptical wife. "Need any help in the kitchen, Antonia?"

"Sure. The salad needs chopping and we can eat."

 

They ate, and Antonia was toasted as a superb purveyor of the culinary arts. Lentil soup, Carolina style pulled pork with the traditional fixings and homemade chocolate pudding for dessert. Lounging replete in the living room, they continued their conversation.

"So Charlie," Jane asked, "When you're not being a hero of the revolution, what do you do with your time?"

"Hero of the revolution? For one of my age that phrase brings thoughts of giant posters of communist leaders and the Red Army marching in ranks to display their martial prowess."

"My grandfather told me about that."

"Grandfather! Surely you misspeak; you refer to your father, no doubt."

"Sorry, Charlie," Verna smirked. "You are a grandfather several times over."

"Don't remind me!"

"Reminders are useless, that's why I do the birthday cards, you old coot."

"No respect, especially for a man of my years."

"Make up you mind, are you old and venerable or young and intolerable?" Verna goaded.

"He's a pussycat, isn't he Chryssa?" asked Antonia.

"The way he's been roaring he couldn't be a pussycat. A feline can either roar or purr, they can't do both, so you couldn't be a pussycat, Charlie." Chryssa was pleased to announce.

"Maybe if I scratched behind his ears he would calm down," Jane offered.

"Please, child! My wife is present. We can speak of this later."

"Sorry, Charlie. She's already mine. You lose again." warned Chryssa with a laugh.

"Such are the burdens of life, I suppose. To answer your question, Jane, which has been obscured by the recent badinage, I do nothing for a living. Not that that is much of a change from before my retirement, but now I don't have to hide in a closet to catch an afternoon nap away from the prying eyes of the boss."

"I bet you were a politician, no one else could use so many words to avoid answering a simple question."

"Perhaps I was a lexicographer."

"Then you'd be whatever title the guy who compiles a thesaurus holds."

"Word nerd? I don't think there's a job title for that."

"You're still avoiding the question."

"Charlie," warned Verna, "Just tell them and get it over with."

"I don't do anything. I'm retired."

"Ah! A retired dentist. Getting answers from him is like pulling teeth."

"OK, sis," growled Chryssa. "Has he told you what he used to do?"

"Of course, but it's so much more fun watching you figure it out. I had to wrestle him three out of five to find out, so why should I make it easy for you?"

"Verna?" asked Jane, "Could I appeal to you in womanly solidarity to help here?"

"You could certainly appeal."

"But it won't help."

"I have to go home with him, after all."

"Jane, look at that straight line as an exercise in self control," Warned Chryssa.

"I wasn't even tempted," Jane lied. "So we are playing twenty questions, are we?"

"If you can't contain your curiosity, I suppose we shall," Charlie replied.

"First question: were you connected to the entertainment industry?"

"Nope"

"Since you are working at Williamsburg, an historian, perhaps?"

"That's two wrong."

"Wait! You're obviously well below sixty-five but you're retired and you play a General. Something in the military?"

"Correct."

"Land, sea or air?"

"Twenty questions is yes/no."

"A stickler for detail. Obviously a sergeant."

"Was that a question?"

"An observation. Were you in the Army?"

"Nope."

"Navy?"

"Nope"

"Marines?"

"Nope"

"Air Force?"

"Nope."

"Wait a minute. You can't be in the Space Force because that's only political bullshit."

"You forgot the Coast Guard!" Chryssa exclaimed.

"Right. Chief Petty Officer Charles J. Glockner, no longer at your service."

"What? They wouldn't make you an admiral so you gave yourself a promotion to General?"

"And a demotion from German to French."

"Good thing our family's Greek, Charlie," Antonia warned, "or we might be offended."

"That's OK. Keep listening to me long enough and I can offend anyone." said Charlie smugly.

"That was too much like work, Jane. I'm almost afraid to ask Verna if she will reveal her job title," Chryssa said.

"I'm nowhere as cranky as Charlie. I'm a freelance editor - something I could do when Charlie got transferred around the country at some higher-up's whim."

"That was easy. I know better than to ask my sister because she can't tell me what she does for a living."

"Too true."

"And to think, I'm the one everyone gives grief to because I'm Jane… Jane Bond."

"If that's the case, why were you scarfing rum punch instead of a martini the other night?"

"Because I don't give a damn if a rum punch is shaken or stirred. And after the other night I'm sticking to Shirley Temples for the duration."

"Do tell," asked Charlie avidly.

"Well, it was this way…"

The rest of the day passed quite amiably.

Sunday Morning

"You know what's even worse than me being a woman?" asked Jane as they were getting dressed the following morning."

"What's with this 'worse' stuff? I like being a woman and I kind of like having a boyfriend who can be a girlfriend. Still bummed about the swimsuit?"

"It's not that. It's the one day a colonial belle and the next day a twenty-first century liberated woman."

"We sure as hell liberated the woman in you, lover."

"So you did. It's the whole change-of-personality that goes with the change of clothes. I just get used to being one character and then I get to be someone else completely different."

"Aren't you glad we did all that improv? Jane was pretty real yesterday."

"That's because she's been somewhere inside me just waiting for a chance to get out. You saw that, didn't you?"

"I had an inkling, but you didn't seem to be interested in talking about it."

"Sometimes after the shows I hated changing back into myself, but as long as it was for the show I didn't have to think about that side of me. Thanks for giving Jane a shove, I don't think I could have done it without you."

"You're really happy with letting Jane be out?"

"Yes. No quibbling, I truly am enjoying letting me be free to be Jane. How much longer it will last, who knows?"

"As long as we are enjoying it, then we can see just what happens."

"Good. Zip me up?"

"Sure. We'll have to ship these dresses back home so we can wear them again. They take up too much space in the van to bring them with us."

"It is pretty full with the tent and camping gear. Maybe we should pack JJ's stuff along with the dresses."

"Really? You think you want to be Jane for the next couple of months?"

"If I don't try I'll never know."

"Living in a tent? Maybe you'd better keep the colonial dress after all."

"I can just see me driving the
Blue Ridge Parkway in this getup. The whole idea is for Jane to fit in, not stand out."

"Spoilsport. Just like a man to be practical about being a woman."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer."

"Then let's go find my sister and get going.

 

What's the matter, Jane? You're fidgeting like a three-year-old."

My bra strap keeps slipping."

"You poor dear!"

"Just what I want to hear from my sympathetic helpmate."

"That sounds so colonial. Helpmate!"

"I could use some help, mate."

"A colonial Australian, perhaps? You just get your finger out and slip it under the strap."

"It appears my bra strap is down under my collar. My finger won't reach."

"Try to keep yourself under control until we reach the ladies' room, OK?"

"What? Not in the shade of the coolibah tree?"

"No coolibah trees in Colonial Williamsburg, darling.

 

"Let me unzip you and we can make some adjustments," Chryssa offered.

"Fine by me. Why don't they put bra adjusters on the front where you can get at them yourself?"

"Why didn't you adjust it before you put on your bra?"

"Give me a break. I've only been wearing a bra for a few days. You've been doing it for years and know all the secrets."

"I suppose you can have another week to get all the little things down. You're doing surprisingly well at being a woman, you know."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one."

"Actually, I get a kick out of having my bra strap slip so I can flip it back up. It's such a feminine gesture. If only I could reach it in this getup."
 

"There! That should keep your strap in place."

"Thanks, love. You know - I do find it very sexy when your bra strap slips down. I always liked those scenes in the movies when the camera zooms in close on the love interest with her eyes wide open, her hair artfully disarranged and one bra strap just peeking out of her dress. You can't get more sexy than that."

"I'll have to do it more often, then."

"You can make it slip down?"

"Just have to loosen it a bit and wear something sleeveless."

"I'm going to have to get a sundress so I can try it."

"You're really into being a woman, aren't you?"

"I suppose so. It's a lot of fun. Just one question…"

"And?"

"Why did you and your sister think you should dress me up?"

"You ask when you've been dressing yourself for years?"

"On stage!"

"Honey, we've been sharing a bed and married in all but signing on the dotted line for years now. You think I don't know you by now?"

"I guess when you put it like that…"

"You just needed an excuse to do what you've been thinking about for years. Maybe nobody else could see it, but I love you and I know you better than you maybe know yourself."

"You sound like my mother!"

"She may be a tad nervous about my complexion, but she's one smart lady. You going to keep wearing a dress when we visit them?"

"I don't have a death wish, just a slightly off-balance psyche."

"Good. I wouldn't want to lose you before you say 'I do.' We've been in here long enough to make some prude wonder what we're doing to each other."

"And wouldn't they be surprised if they knew just what I could be doing to you if we took off our panties."

"It didn't take long to flip that boy-girl switch in your fevered brain, did it?"

"I'll be good."

"And you'll be even better tonight without your panties, but don't lose the bra, those babies are still glued on."

"Jeez, you two!" jeered Antonia. "What took you so long?"

"You're familiar with the expression 'you're full of shit,' dear sister?"

"I've heard it a time or two."

"Well, it's no longer true."

"I had to ask. Since I'm in a curious mood, I'll ask another question. Where to next?"

"How about the weaver? Since Jane has a new-found interest in clothing it might be a place to start."

"Suits me."

"Just one of the many things you can do with the cloth after you weave it."

"Ouch. Actually, they didn't do much weaving here in colonial times. It was cheaper and easier to buy cloth from England, where it was produced on an industrial scale, often from raw materials from the colonies. Cloth even came from India or China."

"Sounds like not much has changed, then." quipped Jane.

"Ain't that the truth, present company excepted. It wasn't until the Revolution that the colonials started weaving their own cloth. The new manufactury was just outside of town and was making linen and hempen cloth by 1777."

"Not wool? Those poor sheep, obsolete before they knew it. I wonder why." asked Jane.

"I haven't got the faintest idea, I'm only a part-time volunteer and don't know everything. I do know that wool was the easiest material to dye, but nobody told me why the early mill wasn't using wool."

"Another of life's little mysteries." Chryssa responded.

"I know the image of an industrious farm wife sitting at her loom while her man whittles a toy during the long winter nights is quite fetching, but like most things industrial scale production is simply better and cheaper."

"Wouldn't she have loved ordering online instead of catching a sheep and shearing it before she could get a new dress?" asked Jane.

"Progress is a beautiful thing sometimes."

"But we still get our clothes from overseas. Old King George would be smiling at the irony. I've gotten to like new dresses and I certainly appreciate buying off the rack."

"I wonder what our colonial housewife would think of getting clothing from someplace like Goodwill. I doubt she would believe such a thing would be possible."

"Good thing I was born now and not back then. I wouldn't have been able to realize Jane was such a big part of me so easily."

"Thoroughly Modern Millie, eh?"

"I haven't sunk so low as to be singing Broadway show tunes."

"Why is it," asked Chryssa, "that conversations with you always turn surreal?"

"Might have something to do with my hanging out with two sisters who waved a magic wand and turned me into a woman. After that, what could possibly be considered unusual?"

"Just shut up and let's see what other things there are to see here in the past."

The rest of the vacation passed far faster than any of the women wanted. The area was liberally dotted with tourist attractions, so they rode the ferry, then visited Jamestown and Fort Monroe, not neglecting to enjoy some fine seafood along the Atlantic coast. Sunday Morning came before any of them were ready for it.

"So you're up and getting dressed already, Jane." Chryssa lazily peeked out of the bedclothes, relishing those last few moments of rest.

"Couldn't sleep any more."

"So you're really going to stay Jane when we leave."

"Really. I like being someone new and different. It's an adventure."

"Even trying to get dressed in a tent in the rain and heading into the deep South?"

"I was born there. No problem."

"Then I'd advise you to free the back of your skirt from your panties before you try to seduce some good 'ol boy."

"Shit!"

"For that you need to drop your panties, girl."

"What would I do without you to mentor me, my love."

"Probably run around with toilet paper stuck to your shoe."

"Hey! If the prez can do it, why can't I"

"Because there's no fucking way I'd screw the president."

"Oh."

I can't believe how well you've taken to picking out a great outfit. It looks quite nice on you."

"Thanks. I'll put the coffee on while you dress."

"Thanks. I'll shower and meet you in the kitchen."

"Great."

 

"It's been a great visit, sis," enthused Chryssa.

"We'll have to do it more often, maybe I'll come visit you next time."

"That would be fine with us, right Jane?"

"Who am I to argue with my creators?"

"You're sure you want to keep traveling as Jane? Camping as Jane?"

"Anything JJ can do Jane can do better..."

"When you're Jane you've retired your gun for the duration, Annie."

"Huh?" Jane was confused.

"Jesus, sis. You've got to stream Annie Get Your Gun for her when you get to a wifi connection."

"If it ain't rock or bluegrass Jane is at a disadvantage."

"Well, if she could learn to be Jane she can learn about the great musicals. Goodbye, you two. It's been fun."

"Bye."

"See you, sis."

With that Jane started the van and put it in gear. Antonia watched them motor out of sight, shook her head, and muttered "I just hope Jane doesn't get mugged or end up in a ditch on the side of the road. 'Course anyone who tries to get fresh with her is in for a surprise. Good luck, you two."