Part 5 of 11

Chapter 8
It took three more days for the storm to stop and the plows to clear the streets so cars could move once more. Other than sleepin' with Patty, I had a hard time learnin' to be Liza. The girls were determined that I would be the kind of girl that no one would think twice about bein' anythin' but what she looked like.

Girls did just about everything different. Walked, talked, pissed, moved their legs and arms and ass, cut their hair, just everything!

And to top it off they were on me all the time about my language. For a guy, swearin' was second nature; this had to be the worst. I talked like all the guys at school. It was how guys talked, OK?

Nope, NOT OK. The mornin' I slipped up and said 'shit' three times Jenny threatened to wash my mouth out with soap. My Momma had given that up long ago, she knew when she was licked.

But these three gals were heck on wheels. They were determined to make me a lady they could take out in public. They even made me watch My Fair Lady when it came on the tube. Bor-ring! But I did get the message. I was goin' to have to do good enough so they wouldn't make me watch it again.

They did have somethin' there about the whole lady thing, I hadda admit. The only lady I knew that talked like the guys I knew was cousin Ros, and she not only talked like a trucker but she looked like a trucker and was a trucker. The family didn't see much of cousin Ros because she was always off drivin' her rig somewhere. I don't remember anybody bitchin' about that too much.

Actually, hangin' out with cousin Ros made even Vito nervous. Guess the girls were right that I had to start talking like a lady. If I started swearing at a cop I might just regret it.

It hurt to admit it though.

Not only did I have to think about what words I used, but I had to try to sound more like a girl. Not that my voice was all that deep, but it was not what you'd expect to hear from a girl. Jenny had me singing with her as high as I could manage to get me used to talkin' up where girls talk.

The changes never ended, it seemed. By Monday I noticed I had a few hairs sprouting on my chin. Now that was somethin' girls didn't have, but I didn't have a razor. Patty had a bunch of disposable razors, so I asked her if I could use one. She looked at my chin and told me that it would be better to wait until she could get me into the beauty salon. One of the girls there would be able to fix it so that the hair would be gone and not come back.

Really? Well, I suppose that would make being Liza easier, but what about Vito? Well, Vito hardly shaved anyway, so who cared if the hair would grow or not?

Then there was the walkin' around in high heels. Why did chicks - I mean ladies, 'chicks' is demeaning according to Wendy - have to wear these stupid things? Patty said it showed off their legs, but how could anyone see my legs with knee high boots and a knee length dress?

Women just don't make no sense. Wendy said when I got waxed I wouldn't need the boots, but she still didn't say just what waxin' was all about. Must be some kind of secret code only girls know.

By the time we could get out again I had learned how to paint my own fingers and toes, and how to take the old polish off and put new polish on when I changed my dress. There wasn't much else to do while we were snowed in, so they had me doin' all kinds of girly stuff and then tellin' me how bad I was at it. It was gettin' to the point where I was gonna do it right just to show them up.

Patty started teachin' me to cook, somethin' guys in my family didn't do. Pops could burn steaks on the grill sometimes and cousin Thibideaux made this stuff called Étouffée that wasn't bad, but he married into the family from Louisiana so he ain't a blood relative.

Actually, cooking bacon wasn't all that hard if I remembered to keep the flame low and scrambled eggs were pretty simple. Sure beats plain toast for breakfast. The hard part was getting used to granola and yogurt and shi… stuff like that. Guys just didn't eat that stuff, but girls did. I was happy when we ran out before we could go shoppin' again.

So OK, yogurt tasted kinda like melted ice cream. If you thought of it that way it wasn't bad.
 

It was Wednesday before anyone could go to work again, and all three girls had to go. I sorta was lookin' forward to a day alone to recover from all this girly training - and even though sex was something really special it was drainin' in its own way - but Patty had other ideas. She took the covers away and made me get out of bed. By then I could put on my own bra almost like I had been doin' it for years, OK it was Patty's bra, but you get the idea, and get myself dressed.

Since we was goin' out, Patty did her makeup, which was interestin' to watch. Bein' home all day, none of the girls had bothered with makeup, so this was a new thing. She tells me that I'll get made up at the salon, so I don't get to put any makeup on just yet.

Jeez! I hadn't even considered puttin' on makeup, but looks like I'm gonna get more girly lessons. I had no freaking' idea how many girly lessons were in store for me that day.

While Patty finished herself up, I was in the kitchen and making coffee for the other girls before they got there. Get that? The other girls! I was includin' myself in the world of girls already.

We did breakfast and left the dishes for later and headed out. The first thing I discovered was that stairs and high heeled boots is not things that go together. I almost fell on my… tush, but I hung on to the railing and Patty laughed. It was still cold, but since girls seem to need five of everything there were plenty of warm coats for me to borrow.

We made it to the bus stop before it hit me I was out on the street dressed as a girl. I got real nervous because we could see the Police Department storefront quite easily from the bus stop. Every time a cop came in or out I got real nervous, but they didn't pay no attention to me at all. Sometimes we make our own worst enemies.

Good thing we was early for the bus cuz I kinda froze when I realized where I was. Patty figured it out pretty quick and whispers in my ear that it was goin' to be all right. Then she stuck her tongue in my ear nibbled on my earring. I was very glad I had a heavy coat coverin' my crotch. She shouldn't have oughtta done something like that.

At least not in public.

So the bus bounced over the snow and ice and I felt my fake boobs bouncing with every jolt. It had gotten so that I almost didn't even notice I was wearin' a bra after only a few days, but I sure noticed on that bus. Patty whispers in my ear that the next stop is ours and she sticks her tongue in there again, with the same results. She thinks it's funny, but I'm not so sure. I don't want no cops figurin' out who I am because I have a boner.
 

The shop is pretty much deserted, not many people ready to go for a haircut or a dye job in the snow, I guess. Patty says that's just what she hoped for and hands me over to her friend Bonnie, who's going to take care of the hairs on my chinny-chin-chin. I sure hope she don't figure out I'm a billy goat.

So Bonnie tells me she uses something called the blend method of electrolysis, and then she has to explain just what that means. More girl secret code, I figure. I finally get it that Bonnie sticks a teeny-tiny needle next to each hair and zaps it until it's dead. Hair murder for a wanted murderer, I guess.

Anyway, she tells me the session will last about an hour this time and I'll have to come back a few more times to get all the hair. Good thing I don't have too much of the stuff cuz she says some guys with heavy beards can take hours and hours and cost a fortune. Since Patty works here and there are no other customers it won't cost us anythin' but havin' Patty do her hair next time.

So I sit there and let Bonnie work. It ain't too bad, no worse than having your eyebrows ripped out hair by hair. She and Patty are yakkin' up a storm with another lady, whose name I don't know until a customer comes in and it's off to work for the girls.

Bonnie tells me I'm done and rubs my face with some smelly gunk and warns me I might be a little irritated for a day or two, but it'll go away. The price we gals pay for beauty, she sez.

They tell me there's coffee and cokes available if I want any, so I get a coke cuz I've been doing a lot of coffee with the girls while we were stuck in the apartment. I suck down the coke and after a while the lady I didn't know tells me she's ready for my waxing.

Good enough, I'll finally find out what this waxing stuff is all about. We go through this curtain and she tells me to strip to my panties.

Whoa! Can they do this kinda shit - I mean stuff - in a beauty parlor?

I guess they can, cuz she tells me she's a professional and I'm gonna be OK. Since this is my first time it's gonna sting a bit, but the next time it'll be easier.

I've heard that line from the doctor, and he was lyin' through his teeth. She's a 'professional' like the doc? I'm in deep trouble here!

But what can I do. I can't run out on the street with my panties flappin' in the breeze and If I take the time to put on my clothes she'll be able to catch me. Besides, Patty would have my ass, or maybe wouldn't let me get a piece of her ass.

The first part wasn't so bad, she paints me with this warm goop and it felt pretty nice. She lets it cool down and set, then warns me that here comes the sting. Then she proceeds to rip the skin off my leg, leaving the bones exposed and blood dripping down the sides of the bed.

At least that's what if felt like. Jesus it hurt! I knew she was lyin' just like that effin doctor did. Sting a little my ass! Or my legs. She tries to make up for torturing me by rubbing smelly stuff on the raw wounds that used to be my right leg, but it ain't helping.

Then she proceeds to do it over again to my left leg. Then she has me turn over and expects me to lie there and let her do it to the fronts of my legs! She has to know I'm a guy cuz my package is pretty obvious through my panties, but she doesn't say a thing. She's a professional, I know - right?

If the CIA ever needs help torturin' the secret location of the bomb from a terrorist cell, I know just who they can hire to get it. By the time she was done I was ready to tell her anything just to make it stop. Only problem was I couldn't talk cuz I was too busy whimperin'.

I finally was released from the undisclosed location of the CIA torture chamber and sat around a while cuz there were a few women there now and Patty was clippin' some woman's hair. She looked to be about ninety years old and her hair was blue. I mean - c'mon! Who has blue hair?

So I sat around until one o'clock, readin' magazines and stuff, and no one thought I shouldn't be in such a place at all. Patty finished at one and we went a coupla doors down to this Mom & Pop place and had Philly Cheesesteaks for lunch. I'd never heard of them, but they was pretty good.

After lunch, Patty tells me to get in her chair and she goes to work on me. She washes my hair again. What is it with girls that they're always washin' their hair? I always thought it was an excuse not to go out with a guy, but I'm starting to think they really do wash their hair all the time.

She puts on gloves and soaks my head in some smelly stuff, then washes it yet again. Then she wraps it around these plastic thingies and pours more smelly stuff all over it. She waits a while and washes that smelly stuff out, then washes my hair one more time. I ain't been so clean since I don't know when.

She gets this blow dryer out and proceeds to blow it at my head, which actually feels pretty good on a cold day. Once it's done she starts snippin' at it again and brushin' it all over the place. She's finally done and she turns me around to look in the mirror and there's a whole 'nother girl sitting in the chair than was there when I sat down. This girl has light brown, curly hair with lots of red in it, and a real different do. No way anybody is goin' to find Vito Sabbatini in there, not nohow!

They weren't done with me yet. Off to another chair and one to the gals starts doing my makeup. This time I'm facing the mirror and the chick starts tellin' me just what she's doin' and why she's doin' it. Suddenly I'm not so sure about all this. I mean, sure I'm sittin' here with a bra and fake boobs and a dress and all, but makeup is sorta one step too far.

I don't get no choice, though. I trys to listen as she tells me all about color palettes and warm colors and cool colors, but it all gets to be too much. Kinda like Math in school where it just floats in one ear and squirts out the other cuz my head is too full to let any more stuff settle down in there.

I have to admit the girl in the mirror looks even better when she's done, which I hadn't thought was possible when I saw her the first time. I'm not sure I like the taste of lipstick, though. If they can make Chap-stick taste decent then why can't they do that for lipstick? I guess you're not supposed to ask that kind of stuff.

Lookin' at the girl in the mirror I gets this insane urge to take the bus home and show Momma and Pops their new daughter, but figure that if the cops didn't toss me in the slammer then Mom and Pops would end up in the hospital with heart attacks. Not one of my better ideas.

When they was all done, Patty sez that all the girls chipped in to donate the labor to make me beautiful, but I should outta pay for the makeup and hair junk they used. Only fair, I guess, so I parts with a few bucks from my getaway stash and everybody's happy. Even me, but they keep tellin' me to keep my hands off my face or I'll mess up the makeup.

I never knew how hard it was to be a girl.
 

By the time Patty and her crew was done the place was closin', so we got back on the bus. I figured we was goin' home, but Patty passes the stop and we keep goin' right downtown. It lets us off in front of the Adam, Meldrum & Anderson building, where Patty takes me up to the Ladies Wear Floor.

She whispers in my ear I need my own undies and I should pick out what I like. Like I know what I'm doing up here. Well actually, since the girls have been treatin' me like one of the girls since I got there I got a pretty good idea of what real woman wear under their regular clothes. I sure know what Patty likes since I been wearing her bras and I know what Wendy likes in panties since I been wearing hers. And no, I ain't gotten in her panties, at least while she's wearin' 'em. Patty keeps me busy enough, OK?

So I picks out three white bras, a few in pretty colors and a couple of packages of panties, one plain and one lacy. Ya never know, right? I got a bunch of stockings, too, since Patty tells me I'll need them if I get any kind of decent job as Eliza. That meant getting a couple of garter belts, since considering how I'm built down there pantyhose can be uncomfortable.

So I was stocked up with undies for Eliza, but Patty tells me not to be buying dresses and such here, there are better places. I take her advice, she knows better than me.

As we go out the door inta the snow with me holding all these bags I realize that I just went and bought all these girly things with my own getaway money and I even picked them out all by myself since Patty made me do the choosin'. It's then I actually realize that I did the choosin because I liked the girly shit I bought. Girly clothes.

The thing is, I was lookin' forward to wearin' my own undies and not havin' to borrow Patty and Wendy's stuff. Here I was actually happy to be out of the apartment wearin' a dress and lookin' like a girl, and not just cuz the cops are lookin for that Vito character. Strange!

We finally make it home to the apartment and Patty clears out one of her drawers for my stuff. Doin' that kinda brings home that that I'm gonna be Eliza for a long time. I don't really think I'm gonna mind it too much after all.